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etinarcadiabayego · 4 years

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Can you give us a sneak peek on what is going to happen next on the listening?pls feed us momma

Okay, okay. I give. I haven’t had much time to write and whatnot with my art stuff and everything else, but I did have about 3,000 words written for chapter 27. Again, I’ve been really busy and don’t have a clear indication myself how everything is going to go until I really just sit down and write it out, BUT I’ll post what I’ve got under a “Read More” here for you guys. You all deserve something for this painful wait. :) Keep in mind it’s not completely proof-read and is subjected to change, but here you all go. <3

The Listening - Ch. 27 [Chapter Title Pending] “Feel like getting some food? I’m starving.” To Max, Warren’s voice was muffled and far away, like it had also been dragged under the same waves that overtook her and Nathan. She had to wonder then if she was the same person now that she had surfaced. Max closed her eyes and let the blackness take over. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t the same. She hadn’t surfaced, not completely. She was in a perpetual Dead-Man’s Float, and treading water. None of what happened in the library was any part of her batshit crazy visions or photo ventures. It happened. For real. Whatever real was anymore. She kissed Nathan. And he would never know. ‘Which is for the best, Max,’ she kept telling herself, but felt guiltier and guiltier every time she tried to skew that mantra into an agreeable truth. ‘Why me?’ “Max?” Stella’s concerned chords snapped her back into reality. The feeling was even more intense and sickening as Warren’s flivver of a car rattled into full stereo. The crackle in her ears became a deafening roar. “Yeah?” “What are you craving? We’re heading to the Two Whales.” the bespectacled girl asked once again, her mouth turning downward with more worry. “Craving? Uh. I…I think I’m okay. Sorry.” Max didn’t think she sounded like herself anymore. She had to swallow again and again, attempting to coat her throat with moisture. The heat of the car didn’t help, felt like it was baking the life out of her by the second as it rushed up her neck and magnified in her face with recent memories. “I’m not all that hungry.” Warren chuckled, trying to lift the atmosphere Max knew she was projecting at that point. “Really? If I were researching as much as you – and I have – I’d have a heck of an appetite by now.” When neither Stella nor Max said anything more, he then asked, “How goes the time travel project, anyway? Use any of the info I passed along to you? Did you turn it in to Mrs. Grant? Do you need any more help with this other stuff you’re looking into?” “Jeeze, Warren. Just because you can fire off questions as fast as a supercomputer doesn’t mean she can answer them as fast,” Stella said with a light laugh and a shake of her head. Max saw his sheepish grin as he gave her an apologetic glance in the rear-view mirror. “Right. Sorry.” “Though I do have to say, time travel sounds interesting!” Stella added, trying to coax Max out of the shell she reinforced around herself. “Uh…” Max was at a loss for words, Warren’s flurry of questions turning into flies as they entered and buzzed around her eardrums, and Max couldn’t help but wonder if Stella was trying to make her feel more at ease in order to help or to further churn the waters for her rumor mill later on. Max was too out of it to discern. Their curiosities were only becoming irritations for her then, and she wished they would stop. “It’s, um…Well, it’s going.” With a reserved laugh of her own, she added a quiet thanks to the end of it all. “Are you okay?” Stella asked. That hit another raw nerve. “Stomachache,” Max replied, short and to the point. Of course she wasn’t okay. That damned question only made her remember Nathan all the more—above her, encased in a halo of light, flushed and flustered and… Max clenched her jaw to stop her brain from imploding, but she couldn’t help her repetitious worries from consistently returning. This feeling was awful. Absolutely awful. But rewinding then was her only option. The way he looked at her just wasn’t normal. Not for him. Not that long ago he despised her very existence. Sure, maybe they were some semblance of the definition of friends now, but if she hadn’t rewound, all of that would have been destroyed. All their progress. All the good. Not that his kiss wasn’t good. ‘God…’ It was all like guzzling a heap of concrete that lined and filled her gut. It hardened into a cinderblock, made her sick with its weight. She didn’t want to be reminded that it wasn’t just a peck, or that it wasn’t only once, or that he was so fluid with the way his lips moved against hers. So patient and so gentle. At the start, at least. Max couldn’t help but let a small gasp of disbelief slip out. It mixed with the shadow of an unexpected laugh. She shivered, afraid of herself in that moment. Near the end, he was rougher, more demanding, and she became compliant. She had tried to keep up. What scared her the most was that she wanted to keep up. ‘And he was almost into French territory! I felt his tongue! At least, I think I did. A little. Maybe. Oh my God, Max, you are such a loser! The hell’s wrong with you?!’ They drove over a big bump. Max sighed, unknowingly pulling in her lower lip, thinking of his. Soft, if a little dry. Tentative and needy all at once. ‘And that sound he made. That feral growl…And he was shaking. Did he hate it? I’m definitely not experienced with any of…that. He probably hated it. Uuuugh…’ Another big bump. Max blushed redder and redder as Warren braked for a stop sign that could have been substituted with her head. The lack of movement made her feel more vulnerable, like he and Stella could see into her thoughts with all her dirty little secrets. ‘Good Lord, I don’t even know what to think anymore! Just forget about it! It didn’t happen for him now! It doesn’t matter!’ But even before they were trapped in that closet, there was a moment between them. Like at the Vortex party, there was…something. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge. And another bump. ‘WHY?!’ As Max had another freak-out with herself, Stella piped up, “Well, we’ll think about it when we get there. Get a homemade muffin or some soup and crackers to soak up your stomachache, yeah?” She twisted her body and gave Max a hopeful smile. A sweet gesture, Max thought. Stella was a lot like Warren in a way, despite her gift of gab. Still, Max was hesitant, wanting to get back to Blackwell and… ‘And what exactly?’ She had no idea how to even look at Nathan now let alone speak with him. If she was this bad alone, she could only imagine how much worse she’d be in his vicinity. It was only a matter of time. She hoped she could get over this whenever that time came. In the end, she surrendered. “Okay.” As the familiar sight of the diner came into view, Max noticed that the paparazzi had significantly died down over the past few days. Some reporters were still hanging around, blatant sore thumbs that stuck out among the bay’s fisherman and trucker population. They reminded Max of the day Nathan’s parents paid a visit to Blackwell. Varieties of people that didn’t quite fit within the scene of such a small seaside town. Max wondered if the homeless woman was still out back of the restaurant. If she was, she was no doubt trying to keep herself scarce in the wake of all the unwanted visitors. It was ironic to think that both parties thought of each other as parasites in a way. Ironic and sad. It was for the best that she didn’t sit on those thoughts. For now, space was good. Space was necessary. For all parties. Nathan looked like he needed some as much as her after finding out what they had at the library. So, she’d give it to him. This was a good thing! Procession time! Everything else at the library was stressful and tiresome all on its own with Sean lurking around. Why was he even there? What did he know about all of this? Max exhaled and patted her bag. She felt the outline and crinkle of the tabloid article within, pushing herself further into the fabric of her seat. She wouldn’t have minded if a monster spawned within its filling and pulled her into its plush depths. Stella and Warren talked about the beached whale in light of their new surroundings. Apparently, the poor creature was still there and had died the past night. There wasn’t any word of anyone moving it anytime soon. Max cringed. She hoped Nathan hadn’t heard about it, ever-worried about him and his initial reaction to the sea beast. His precognitive nightmare certainly didn’t help him, was another terrifying thought for Max as well. Max swallowed again and took out her phone as her body became a wisp. The Two Whales? What was she thinking? What about Joyce? Maybe even Chloe? Too many variables, but she just kept going, like she was on autopilot. She followed Warren and Stella, slipping in and out of air currents after they parked and exited the vehicle. Floating along, trembling, her mind wandering back to the library’s events once again. She couldn’t stop it. The diner door shut behind them, and its bell made a loud ding against the frame. Max reentered the atmosphere with a start as Warren and Stella raised their hands in a wave at some familiar faces. Max’s eyes met the grease-stained tiles of the floor as soon as they glimpsed the hues of Kate Marsh. On the topic of space, Kate surely needed more. Max had yet to tell Warren about her budding friendship with Victoria and Nathan, and she didn’t want him to find out like Kate had, didn’t want to disappoint anyone else with the obvious lack of initiative on her part to just tell the fucking truth. How would she ever explain it, though? Regarding Victoria, it was like she treaded a fine line between friend and foe, and regarding Nathan… Max felt the burst of yet another blush take over her rosy complexion. She hated this, this sickening churning in the bowls of her system. How she kept moving forward with balanced steps, she didn’t know, and she refused to question it lest she lose her momentum. “Hey, guys!” Kate greeted. Despite it all, she gave Max another honey-laced smile. Sickly-sweet with the culpability Max carried with her. “Looks like you picked up a stray,” said Luke Parker, another Blackwell student that was part of Warren’s diverse group of friends. “Sorta,” Warren replied. “We met up at the library. Thought we’d extend the offer for food to Max.” He, too, gave Max a sugary smile. The more it happened, the less she felt she deserved them. “Ah.” The noise Luke made in response was short and noncommittal. It reflected his cynical personality. He pushed up the bill of his cap to show off a suspicious glint in his dark, oval eyes. Max could never tell if Luke liked her or not. She didn’t know him that well, but his pessimistic outlook with everyone and everything seemed to just be who he was. It nevertheless made Max all the more wary to join their party for the evening. On one end of a booth, Kate sat with Alyssa, and on the other sate Luke and Brooke. Warren and Stella continued to exchange pleasantries with them, and Max just…hovered. Among Kate’s distance, Luke’s nihilism, Brook’s stink-eye, Alyssa’s indifference, Warren’s unintentional obviousness, and Stella’s lack of knowing much about Max herself, it was hard for Max to blend in with them. In a surprising turn, it was Kate who tried to break the ice. “I like your outfit, Max.” She paused to weave her hands around her mug. “You look really…official.” Her comment made Max genuinely smile, her innards loosening a bit out of their tight knot. It helped. A little. “Thank you.” Stella suggested the three sit across at the counter and continued their conversation from there. While Warren and her swiveled around to talk, Max stayed facing the steaming kitchen. She stared down the dessert case to her right, focusing too hard on a chocolate chip muffin. Every once in a while, she thought she saw them jitter, like dark ants stuck in the gooey, sugary top. Or… Something was moving. Through the glass, on the other side, creeping its way across the jukebox that was situated on the far wall was a lowly cockroach. “Gross,” Max mumbled. She was soon hit with a wave of shock and pain as the jukebox stuttered to life, and then died out in a burst of static. The diner’s patrons were silenced, cut off like the music. Max seethed, her head tightening as she turned to face…no one. Nothing. All of the guests had gone. Only empty seats remained. She realized she was no longer in the bay—her bay. She was somewhere else. This feeling, this pressure, this sensation of being lost, yet found, was the same as the others. It was like her visions, her photo jumps. Ethereal, quiet, and very, very lonely. She was suddenly the last living life form on the planet. And then, like the other times, the voices started. First a bit low, echo-y. Then, they grew. With them came the manifestation of figures in one of the booths. It was her and Chloe. “I pledge allegiance to Max and the power for which she stands.” The sitting, smiling, joyous Chloe’s voice bounced off the walls. “This isn’t a toy, Chloe. I do have to be careful how I use it.” Max found herself mouthing the same words with which her doppelganger replied. Booth Chloe almost launched herself out of the roof. “Screw that! Of course it’s a toy! The best toy ever! You can bang anyone with no strings attached, rewind and boom! It’s like it never happened!” “Grow up.” Max continued to be tied to her other self’s words. “Maybe you made a move on me and I would never know!” “Yes, that’s what I did.” She felt the humor of the situation, slightly smiled as she imagined her other self was doing. It was almost like muscle memory. She thought, ‘Maybe here…wherever here is…is safe.’ “You can rewind time, Max. That’s fucking insane! We have to play!” ‘Oh. So that’s…the whole story…? Huh.’ Max was becoming strangely calm. Warm. Comfortable. ‘Here is…good…’ Her muscles untensed, and she felt as though roots pulled her to the stool. ‘Here I don’t have to worry about much of anything anymore. No powers. No Rachel. No Chloe. No…Nathan…’ A small surge in her chest made her shiver and question her whereabouts for the briefest of seconds. Max turned her head. It was such a heavy weight, a hard effort. The scenery shifted with her. Where was she? Surely not the diner. Yet, it was the diner. That’s where she was. With Warren and the others. The Two Whales… “Or…whatever…” Her concerns quickly lifted, replaced again by the inviting, blanketing warmth this place offered. There were people slipping in and out of her vision, in and out of the layers of red and orange, in and out of things familiar and not. Here she could see them come and go at her leisure. Layers and layers of…realities? An assumption that seemed the most logical. Where was this place? How was this possible? Maybe it was a side effect of her powers? Messing with time, of course, was bound to have repercussions. Worse than measly nosebleeds and headaches. Surely. Still, this place was…nice. Max lazily smiled and closed her eyes, rolled her head to the side… …and was met with the cold blues of Joseph Prescott. Before she could react, the man’s hand was reaching out, his long fingers becoming tentacle-like as they snaked around her tiny neck, cold and harsh. She couldn’t gasp, the pressure too great and too sudden. The serenity melted away and was replaced with instant terror. Joseph looked tired, haggard. His hair from the time on the beach was a faraway fantasy compared to the unruly waves he now had, and the shadow of facial hair was prominent in this light. His eyes were sunken and dark, red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept in centuries. More than exhaustion, however, the coldness they held visibly prickled with that enraged electricity she knew too well. Choking, Max’s arm came up to meet his. Contact. He wasn’t a vision. He was very much tangible, real. As he sat next to her, his form stiff and straight, his hand at a leveled squeeze around her throat, his breathing rattled. And then, he spoke. “You…” As if realizing what he was doing, he released her. His look morphed into another Max recognized: Despair. His icy glare then melted and fell to the floor, a dam ready to burst. Max coughed, feeling the heat and marks his fingers and nails left behind as they dug into her skin. She scrambled to her feet, backed away as quickly as she could. She stumbled. Gravity felt different here, almost like she was weightless, yet feebler instead of freer. She couldn’t talk. It was too hard to concentrate, and she was too much in shock. Her brain detonated. There was a crater left where words wanted to be. He spoke to her again. “You shouldn’t be here.” He paused, but his head never looked back up. He was raspy. “You’ll only make things worse.” “Wh-Wha-?” “Trying to fix things never works, no matter how many times you try. Some things just…are.” His voice was becoming metallic. And Max could taste it. ‘Wait…’ “Max! Honey, your nose! My God, you’re drippin’ all over the counter!” There was a roar of thunder before it broke to the clanging of silverware and hiss of the fryer. Joyce, whose drawl she’d know anywhere, was trying to help Max soak up the blood flowing down her chin with some tissues straight from her purse’s motherly supply.

#asks #caulscott #fic: the listening #chapter 27 #wip #sneak peek #first 3000 words #a gift for y'all for waiting so damn long for me #etinarcadiabayego #chichiricatsan #fanfiction #fanfic #life is strange #lis

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

tentacledipity | four

➛pairing: jimin x reader

➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut (coming)

➛rating: sfw

➛words: 8.1k

➛warnings: none! well, a sprinkle of grinding and tentacle mentions but other than that *shrugs*

➛notes: finished this in the early hours of the morning so please dont mind any spelling or grammar mistakes if there are any pls & thank u!! also thank u for being so patient, uni isn’t kicking my ass per se but it’s definitely taking up a lot of my time these days! i hope u all like the next does of tentacle adventures!

ps; I will add links at a later date! pls enjoy & lmk what u think!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 23.04.2019 // ↞ prev. || four || next ↠

“What, you’re not even going to try and stop me?”

At your question, the two males shared an exasperated look.

“Well, no,” Jongin answered plainly, pointing an accusatory finger your way as he narrowed his eyes halfheartedly. “What is the point? You are just going to get away, anyway.”

Your incredulous gaze was drawn to Jongdae next, as he continued where his partner left off. He seemed entirely too pleased with himself, lips curled in a smug, kittenish grin and his expression sly, marks coloured light yellow. “Besides, we are no longer required to watch you. We have been relieved of our duties. Which, personally, I am more than glad for. I think I have aged more than ten sweeps from the stress alone of trying to keep track of you. Really, are all humans so slippery?”

“No, probably not. Just me.” You shrugged in answer, before his earlier words caught your attention and you gaped. “Wait—what do you mean ‘relieved of your duties’? I’m free?”

Jongin shrugged, stretching indolently across the cushioned swing that you’d found him and Jongdae reclining on, out on a patio near your rooms, when you’d attempted to sneak out of the wing. Now that you thought about it, they did have a particularly carefree air right now, something you weren’t really expecting considering how wired you’ve seen them some days. Jongdae swung one leg over the other, completely lax. The action left you in a state of shock, almost.

You continued to sputter for a moment, your brain unable to comprehend the sudden change in the status quo. Sure, this whole time you’d protested the fact that they thought you needed babysitting—ignoring the fact that it was thanks to an incident that came about thanks to you being a dumbass. But, if you weren’t under ‘watch’ anymore… who were you going to have fun evading and escaping? This was the highlight of your days sometimes, what were you going to do now that you couldn’t do it anymore? This felt like a big disruption to the routine you’d established here.

“Do not know, do not care,” Jongdae smiled at you. “We have not been told what will be happening.”

“Wh-what so I’m just, I’m just supposed to sneak around and pretend there are people trying to catch me?” you burst, feeling a little indignant. They should have consulted you first! This was unfair. “Who am I supposed to torment when I’m bored? Who am I supposed to trick with sweets and flee while they’re distracted?!”

Jongin lurched forward, eyes wide. “So you ADMIT that you did that to trick us!”

“No!” you wailed, mournfully. You turned away, dramatic as they likely expected you to be. “They were friend gifts… but I guess they mean nothing now. I’m… I’m leaving. I’m ending my friendship with you two. I’ll…I’ll find some other guard friends— better guard friends— who will chase me as long as I want them to!”

You stomped your foot, fighting a smile at the sound of their barely restrained snorts. You give them a half-hearted glare over your shoulder before turning and yelling, “Don’t look for me! You won’t find me!”

The second you started to walk away they could no longer hold their laughter and the sound of it makes you grin as you retreat down the hall, not bothering to try and sneak as you had earlier now that you knew no one was there to catch you. It was oddly liberating, to be honest, and you didn’t quite know what to do with the freedom. Maybe that’s because even when they were ‘watching’ you, you weren’t exactly restricted. Really, it was a wonder Jimin made them try for so long when it clearly had little to no effect.

Your arms swung a bit as you walked, a bounce in your step. You can’t even remember where you were going in the first place now. It wouldn’t surprise you at all if you didn’t even have a destination in mind when you left your room, actually. You’d been a bit lost in your thoughts lately.

There was a certain someone to blame for it.

As usual, the source of your dilemmas and deep-thinking was the ever-elusive Mister Jimin. Except, after the events of the other night in the hall, which were still painfully fresh in your memory, he had lost his right to the ‘elusive’ title. He hadn’t been bothering to try and avoid you any longer, something that kind of made you want to scream. It was what you wanted, yes, but not quite so soon and so intensely. You’d been in withdrawal for weeks and then he’d gone and given you such a big hit at once that you weren’t ready for it. You’d probably need another three weeks to come to terms with the male’s sudden flip that night and following one-eighty change in behaviour.

You were a little ashamed and excited to admit that he’d completely turned the tables and now you were the one frazzled and flustered. You couldn’t see his face in the halls—an alarmingly much more common occurrence after that night—without thinking of how it had felt when he pushed you to the wall, the way his body slotted so perfectly against yours. Every time your thoughts strayed to the memory the very same butterflies you felt that night returned with renewed vigour and you were flustered all over again.

Was this how he felt? All those times you tried so hard to fluster him? God, perhaps you were more annoying than you initially accepted.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the fact that the dynamic between you had shifted so suddenly and so sharply. Admittedly, that night if he had asked you to get on you hands and knees you wouldn’t have even blinked before doing so. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice…. They brought out a side of you that didn’t see the light of day that often. Honestly, you’d spent a lot of nights reflecting on what happened and you’d since realised that there wasn’t much that you wouldn’t let that man do to you.

Even so, you weren’t a submissive person by nature, despite your inclination in the bedroom, and you really didn’t want him to think that was the case. You wanted to give back as good as you got, and every time you left your room you steeled yourself to doing so should you run across him.

Except it was a little easier said than done. Despite your affirmations, the second you caught sight of him the butterflies would return and you’d turn tail and run. It was shameful, and you were incredibly embarrassed at your own behaviour. Your mother didn’t raise a coward! It was just that, perhaps, you were a little more rattled and flustered than you allowed yourself to believe.

You realised you needed to be more firm with yourself, though. You needed to make yourself stay and interact with him or you’d never get over the ridiculous butterflies or the way your heart flipped and your pulse started to race. Again, today, you steeled yourself and resolved yourself to sit through the suffering if you happened to run into him again. At the slight tone of flustered panic that ran through you at the thought, you were quick to reassure yourself that it actually wasn’t that likely you’d run into him at all.

Well, historically you had been prone to being proven wrong when assuming such things and today wasn’t an exception.

In your wandering of the halls like a ghost with unresolved business in the material plane, looking for something to entertain yourself with, you happened to walk past a room that had a number of funky sounds coming from within. Intrigued and able to smell entertainment from probably a mile away, you were eager to investigate once you saw that the door was slightly ajar.

When you pushed it open, you quickly realised that you probably should have waited and listened to the sounds a bit more first. But, well, you were nothing if not an idiot and at this point, you were at peace with it.

“Stop! Stop, I am too old for this! Gods, Jiminie, where do you get all this energy from?!”

Confused as to exactly what you just walked into, you leant against the doorframe as you watched Seokjin bend over slightly with his hands on his knees to brace himself. He was wearing a different sort of clothing than you’ve seen before, the fit and material resembling more fitness-wear than anything. His breath came in short pants, apparently winded from whatever he and the other male had been doing before you walked in. Which, you realised quickly from the weapons along the wall and the cushioning along the ground, was… fighting?

Seokjin rattled something out in his native tongue and Jimin burst into laughter from where he stood, stretching a few feet away. He was dressed similarly to Seokjin and god if it wasn’t the most mouth-watering image you’d ever seen in your entire life. Deep blue material complimented his honey skin and raven hair perfectly, not that you thought there would be a colour that didn’t suit Jimin. His marks were a delighted summer yellow and the apples of his cheeks were flushed in slight exertion. Seokjin was in a similar state but unfortunately for him you were too whipped for Jimin to appreciate it as you should have.

Jimin said something you couldn’t understand to the elder male, who burst out loudly in response, “I have duties, you @#&@)#! Not all of us can do whatever we want, you know, I am the one stuck with the royal duties today! Find someone else to help you.”

Jimin was grinning, but seemed a bit disappointed at Seokjin’s answer to whatever he had said. A part of you wandered exactly what Seokjin had called him and you regretted that you didn’t know much kelkoe at all. Seokjin let out a pained noise as he stretched, closing his eyes, and all of a sudden you were overcome with the realisation that you were in the same room, in very close proximity, with Jimin.

Instantly, as you expected, the butterflies returned full-force to barrage the walls of your stomach. The sudden nerves made you feel bit nauseous and at once you felt the familiar urge to turn tail and flee.

No, you bit back the flight aspect of your fight or flight response. No, you said you wouldn’t run, and you wouldn’t. You needed to claim back a bit of control in the new dynamic you’d found yourself in with Jimin and damn it if you didn’t do it now then you never would. So, you did what you usually did whenever you had to do something not so desirable to you at the time and turned your brain off.

“Find someone to help him with what?”

The attention of the two males was instantly on you, Seokjin instantly appearing a cross between amused and sly. You didn’t like that one bit, and quickly raked your eyes over the other male. A mistake—he was surprised at first but the way his features melted into a curious look and his eyes darkened into molten pools almost made your knees week, like you were experiencing your first crush all over again. God, damn it. This was harder than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but wonder if he recalled the events of the other night upon seeing you, like you did every time you saw him.

“Sparring,” Seokjin supplied a little too merrily, and it was almost like you could see the cogs turning in his head. “Kelkie have a lot of restless energy, so it is common practice and customary to have a sparring partner.”

“You two are sparring partners?” you queried, trying desperately to appear much less nervous than you were. Your voice didn’t tremble, so that was something, and at least you weren’t blushing. Yet.

Seokjin’s lips curled into a sly simper. “No, Jimin’s sparring partner is the King, actually. But, since His Majesty is still on leave and Jimin has had an awful lot of… pent up energy, lately, I have taken to being his partner in the meantime.”

Jimin shot the older male a glare at his words, and you couldn’t deny the stupid ripple of giddy hope that dared to bubble within you for a moment. You thought he’d say something to protest his words, anticipating banter, but were caught off guard when his gaze simply returned to you and you felt like you were suddenly in the spotlight once more. Your heart stuttered—shit, damn it. Stupid attractive alien. Your brain was still turned off so that you could remain riding a wave of pretend bravery, and you scrambled to make the most of it and recover.

“So, you need someone to spar with?” You looked to Jimin, interest and excitement leaking into your tone—and it wasn’t fake, in the least, despite your nerves. You almost kicked yourself for what you said next, though, a little too brave for your current state of hidden fluster. “I used to spar with my shipmates when we had long trips, it was always a lot of fun. I’ll spar with you.”

Very bold words from you since you knew how much stronger and faster kelkie were than you—you’d witnessed it one time when you tried to fix a piece of hair that was pulling your scalp from one of Joy’s hairstyles and she’d positively vaulted across the room at breakneck speed to smack your hands away.

Seokjin positively grinned, but Jimin’s face fell into an expression of protest. His dark brows drew together, lips tugging down at the corners.

“No,” he refused immediately, “You will get yourself hurt. I cannot spar with you.”

You sputtered, indignant, and felt a bit of your usual confidence return to you as you pushed from the door and walked forward a little bit. “What? Mister Jimin… are you afraid a weak little human is going to best you in combat? I suppose I understand, the shame for you would be unbearable…”

You’d poked the bear expecting him to continue resisting and refuting you, but to your complete and utter surprise the male’s expression shifted once more, his mouth snapping shut and jaw tensing as his eyes bore into you with a new sort of intensity. That look spelt trouble for you and boy if it didn’t send the most giddy, excited shiver down your spine. Were you perhaps a masochist? This might be the time Jimin finally snapped and killed you for being annoying but you couldn’t think of anything but how hot he looked and how good it would feel even if his hand did end up around your thr—

“That is an excellent idea!” Seokjin was quick to express his avid support, but you got the feeling from the shit-eating grin that never left his flushed face that he had an ulterior motive besides backing you up like a good friend. “There you go Jimin, nip that stress in the bud. I am off now, I have many duties to attend to. Don’t play too rough, children.”

With that he bounced, leaving you and a silent Jimin in his wake. You were still reeling from the abruptness of his departure when there was movement from the corner of your eye and you whipped to see Jimin walking further into the room. You could feel a shift in the air, a new sort of tension that tingled along the base of your spine and made your breath catch. Keep it cool, keep it cool— you needed to tip the scales back into balance.

“Weapons?”

You’d begun to walk further into the room to join Jimin, but froze in your steps at the sound of his voice. It was deeper, rougher than you’d anticipated—he’s back was still to you and though you couldn’t see his face you saw the tension in his shoulders and along firm lines of his back. The shirt was slim-fitting and clung to his form everywhere except the sides where, from about halfway down, the material sported a slit. You guessed it was so he didn’t get too stuffy and so didn’t pay it any mind.

You steeled yourself, summoning some of the confidence that had returned to you so fleetingly earlier, and moved closer, stretching as you did so. “None is fine.”

His jaw ticked as he sent you a curious glance over his shoulder before giving a short nod and turning to face you better. This was the first time you’d been in his presence for longer than three seconds since that night and you felt an absolute mess with each second more that ticked over. Fuck, it was fine, everything was fine. You just had to hold it together a little longer then your nerves would wear off and you’d be back to normal. Probably.

As he settled into a loose pose, readying himself for another ‘sparring’ session, his eyes wept slowly over your form. You squared your shoulders and kept the playful smile on your lips, doing your absolute best to ignore the frantic pattering of your heart against your ribcage. You relished the way his eyes darkened as you stretched your back and your shirt rode up a sliver, providing him the barest peek of your skin. You could tell as you slipped into a loose pose of your own that from the tension he still held in his form, he wasn’t going to be using his full strength on you at all.

You had no doubt he was going to go as easy on you as he could.

But then, if he wasn’t using all his strength and speed, how would he be releasing the pent up tension that these sessions were meant to relieve? He wouldn’t be, so there must have been another reason he was about to humour you and ‘spar’ with you. Your mind ticked it over for a bare second before it registered.

He was playing chicken with you.

Something had changed in him since your last encounter, after you finally seemed to push him over a line of sorts. He was no longer resisting, no longer flustering and growing embarrassed—he was poking and prodding back just as you had done to him from the beginning.

You nearly balked at the realisation, but schooled your features just in time. He wanted to tease, to play? Well, lucky for him playing and teasing was what you did best. A wave of excitement washed over you. Your nerves all but disappeared as you resolved yourself, intending to use this opportunity and treat him as you normally would. You wondered, which one of you would bow first?

He must have noticed the changed tone of your smile, as one dark eyebrow rose in question. He tilted his head, eyes boring into you with more intensity than expected. His marks shifted colours from plum to rose, to periwinkle. A sequence that you had no idea how to decode yet still made your stomach flutter instinctively.

“Are you ready, petal?” he asked, and the nickname nearly undid all the hard work you put into reclaiming your usual mojo.

“Of course, peach cheeks,” you fired back, smiling brightly. He tried to hide it but you saw the way his lips twitched and his marks flushed deep rose. Even so, he didn’t blush, and the observation made you both giddy and eager to try and pull the reaction out of him.

“You may make the first move,” he offered, keen eyes catching every twitch of your features and shift of your body. You’d learnt from Seokjin and Namjoon that the Kelkie were a race of elite warriors, and you could tell just from looking at Jimin and the way he regarded you that he knew how to read and predict moves in battle. You knew then, that you couldn’t turn this into a game of strategy, or he would best you before you even had a chance to have fun. He was stronger and faster than you, obviously, but you didn’t want to make this too easy for him.

You nodded, taking a moment to choose how to proceed before you threw caution to the wind and moved on instinct alone. He watched, waited, coiled and ready for whatever move you might give him first.

When you dipped then lurched forward, aiming a light hit to his face, he dodged with ease. He had a bit of an unreadable expression on his face before you moved, but now that you made the first swing and he was sinking into the sparring mindset once more, an excited glint began to make itself known in his eyes.

You were right in assuming he would hold back. He weaved out of the way, incredibly graceful, and twisted mid-movement to bring his knee up, aiming for your middle. He was fast, but you knew he could be faster—with an amused huff you slipped out of the way and took a few light steps back before darting forward once more to try and jab his ribs. Like that, the two of you began to fall into a pattern.

Something about sparring always set your blood alight, and you could tell the same was the case for the alien dodging and weaving your light-hearted swings. The thought excited you, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your throat as he swung and you spun out of the way just in time. You continued like that for the next few minutes, grinning uncontrollably at the sound of the huff he’d let out each time you dodged. So far, despite your occasional swings, you had been on the defensive. Even then, there was no heat or urgency behind his attacks. You wanted him to put a little more effort in.

His breath sped up the longer the two of you moved, his expression morphing. Slippery was how the guards had described you, and slippery was what you proved to be now. He was holding back almost all of his strength and speed, but he still should have been able to grasp you with ease. Yet each time he threw a hit or reached to grab you, you would dip and dodge, dancing out of the way. His stomach gave an excited flutter, the muscles of his back tingling. That was what this was—the way you were moving and interacting with him, reading his movements enough to flee but not to counter, with enough push and pull that it kept him on his toes…

It was like the two of you were dancing.

It was nothing like sparring with his own kind, yet he felt his heart stutter and kick into a higher gear in excitement nonetheless. You had a habit of making everything so exhilarating. The more you pulled back only to push lightly, prodding him and luring him to make a move for your gain, the more he felt himself slip into it. He was no longer moving with the intent to humour you or anything along those lines—he felt it, deep within his abdomen, the knot of longing forming once more. He wanted to chase, to catch you. And with each smooth dodge and light-footed prance out of reach you performed, he felt himself growing more and more riddled with the need to fulfil that instinctive desire.

It was as though you could feel the change in him, the longer the two of you tangled. You could sense a shift and, true to your nature, immediately went to exploit it.

“You’re so slow, peach cheeks!” you let out a breathless giggle as he lurched fluidly and tipped his body in a roundhouse kick of sorts. You ducked, darting forward and trying to land a hit on his gut as he righted himself. “Are you sure you beat Seokjin? You barely—”

The male didn’t even need to respond, as your smug tone was cut off the second his hand flew to grasp your fist before it could make contact with him. Your heart lurched into your throat, breath catching, as he adjusted his grip and tugged you forward, completely off balance. You crashed into his chest with your own, his other hand wrapping around your wrist like iron as he pulled them both behind your back with ease. You were arched into him with your heart racing, stomach flipping. He stared down at you with a dangerous curl to his lips.

“I thought I told you not to push so hard, petal,” his voice was so breathy and low it was absolutely sinful, a shudder rolling down your spine. You could barely tear your eyes away from his own, heat flushing over your skin. Weak as you may be for him, you refused to give in so easily.

You felt his breath brush your face before you shoved your rapidly-returning nerves away and leant up, lips brushing his ear and the cool metal that dangled from it. Your playful tone had his grip tightening “But I like the end result.”

You felt him stiffen in shock, posture turning rigid; apparently he hadn’t been expecting that. You used this to your advantage, breaking out of his hold and snapping your hand around one of his wrists instead. You darted back then danced around him, pulling his arm with you until you were completely behind him. While he was still dazed your free hand whipped to grab his other one, pulling both behind his back and pressing against it in a mockery of the position he’d just had you in. The sound of his breath catching in his throat made your stomach dip giddily.

Deciding to push further while you had him in this position, knowing he’d snap out of it and turn the tables in the next second or so, you pressed a teasing kiss to the nape of his neck, breasts pushed to his upper back. The move was dangerous as it kept you within his reach for longer, but at the shudder you felt move through him you deemed it worth it.

Unfortunately for you, right after that reaction he jerked into action and broke his wrists out of your hold. Letting out a soft squeak of alarm that bled into a short giggle, you leapt backwards and danced out of the way as he spun and lunged for you. The dance began anew.

Except this time, Jimin had changed his tune yet again.

His marks were stained rosy-purple, shifting to wine each time he neared you. His moves became less hits and kicks, and more dives, lunges and grabs—and each time he got closer to catching you in his hold you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt in anticipation and excitement, pulse racing. The way he moved was so incredibly graceful and fluid, like a predator in its natural element, and numerous times you were so mesmerised it almost got you caught. Still, you managed to evade him, and the longer you did so the more worked up he got. Faster and faster, molten gaze never losing track of your form. You wouldn’t be able to catch him like this, you realised; you’d have to let him get close first.

You meant to lure him in purposefully, but in one of your bids to dance out of his reach you ended up stumbling over your own feet—immediately, he pounced. Your arms flew to the side in an attempt to reclaim your balance but you didn’t get the chance to follow through. Jimin dove forward, powerful thighs keeping him stable and propelling him to you faster than you could register. His hand closed around your wrist, using your arm and off-kilter state to turn you before releasing it and looping his arm firmly around your middle instead. The breath whooshed out of your lungs as you were yanked backwards, back meeting his chest as he contained you in his iron grasp. A shot of arousal spiked down your spine as his other hand whipped up to sit over your throat, grip loose but still present, thumb pressing into the soft flesh and fingers tilting your jaw up and head back.

You were sure he could feel your harried breaths, hell could probably even hear the way your heart was currently racing. Your skin was damp with the slightest layer of sweat you’d worked up from your constant movement and activity. You could feel his own breath panting against your neck, his lips and nose brushing against the sensitive shell of your ear as he dipped his head.

“What did we say about saying things like that so carelessly, petal,” his voice was a sultry combination of a lilting purr and a teasing coo, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Your hands flew to grip the forearm currently pressing against your stomach, before moving to his bicep. You attempted to shift stance and haul him over your shoulder, like you’d managed to do to old sparring partners so many times before—yet Jimin didn’t so much as budge. The thrill of being faced with such unwavering strength made your stomach dip and butterflies swarm.

You didn’t have the words to respond, instead letting out a soft gasp as he rubbed his thumb along the sensitive column of your neck. Your mind raced, thoughts stumbling over one another as you scrambled for how to proceed and what to do. He was about to win, in more ways that one, but alarmingly you couldn’t find it within yourself to care all that much. There it was again, the yearning to just give yourself over and let him have you. It was getting to be a bit like an old friend, at this rate.

Your sudden desires gave you an idea, however. You rolled your body suddenly, rocking your hips back against him and grinding your ass back oh so ‘innocently’. Unprepared and unsuspecting, the action wrought a sharp, lilting gasp from the male’s throat. You felt the way his grip weakened for the barest second and were quick to take advantage of it.

Spinning in his hold, as you pivoted on your heel you used the other to catch his ankle. The result was his knee buckling, leg knocked out from under him, and as you pushed him backwards the two of you fell to the floor in a heap. You landed atop him, as you’d intended, with your thighs either side of his slim waist and your crotch pressed over his. You were out of breath as you braced yourself on his chest, one palm flat against the top of his sternum with your fingertips brushing his throat in a mock ‘dagger’. His tongue darted to wet full lips.

“Playing dirty,” he commented in between panting breaths, eyes boring into you as his voice brushed your eardrums, thick and low—shamefully, it had your thighs tensing with the urge to close. At your almost imperceptible shift, his nostrils twitched and his pupils blew up, hands suddenly on your hips with a firm grip. He didn’t move after that, but you felt the way his entire body tensed.

“I’m not above it,” you smiled, struggling to catch your own breath. You pushed your hands from his chest, leaning back, and in the process of shifting your weight unintentionally ground your core against him. His fingers instantly dug into your hips, leaving a delicious ache in their wake, as a soft groan that almost sounded like a growl slipped from his throat.

“You—”

“Jimin-ssi, I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but Seokjin called for you—there is an issue that requires your input.”

You jumped, startled beyond belief by the sound of a voice at the doorway to the room, and scrambled off of Jimin instantly. When you turned to see just who you expected, you offered a glare. Joy smiled back, unapologetic and clearly amused at the situation she’d walked in on.

Jimin sat up, a hand coming to pat his lower back—you watched the motion, wondering exactly why he did it but unable to suss a reason out. He turned to face you, eyes dark and swirling with something you couldn’t name but that made your heart skip a beat in anticipation nonetheless, before he rose to his feet and walked coolly to the door. You weren’t ashamed to say that you stared at his ass as he went.

“Understood, let him know that I will be there soon. I have… something to take care of first.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you wondered exactly what he had to take care of, but he was slipping through the doors with a hand pressed to his back and gone before you could think to ask. You might have been confused as to what he meant, but Joy seemed to be in the loop and very amused by it.

“I see you’re making progress in wooing him,” she observed, tone playful, and you rolled your eyes as you hopped to your feet. Now that you were no longer distracted by Jimin, you could feel how sweaty and sticky you were from the whole ordeal. Ugh, exercise. A wave of embarrassment coursed through you at the sudden thought—did he notice your gross state when you were on top of him? How humiliating.

“Yeah… Maybe,” you said, dusting off your bottoms. “I’ll gossip with you later though, first thing’s first I need a shower. Do all of you really spar that often to get your energy out? In this heat?”

Joy’s eyes lit up at this titbit of information, the long raven plait down her back swinging as she tilted her head. “Oh, so that is what you were doing? Interesting take on the practice, I will admit.”

You wanted to send her another half-hearted glare but found her words too funny to be able to pull it off. A snort escaped you instead, “Hardly. He went far too easy on me for it to be considered a real spar.”

The female snorted, her marks colouring a delighted blue-green in her amusement. “I am not surprised. Jimin is faster and stronger than most kelkie so I do not imagine he would use anything close to full strength when sparring with you. Interesting that he agreed, though.”

You hummed, unsure how to process her words just yet. “Huh. Well. I’m gonna go back to my rooms and get changed, I’ll find you again later. I have some…. Questions.”

Joy raised an eyebrow but you merely offered her a grin as you left. “See you! And don’t forget to tell Seokjin whatever Jimin wanted you to.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering a curse under her breath before she gave a wave in farewell. “Goodbye. Take your time, please.”

You couldn’t help you laugh as you ventured further down the hall, “I won’t!”

x x x x x x x

True to your word, as soon as you were done bathing and changing you zipped off down the halls in search of her for your promised interrogation session. You were expecting it to take much longer than it did for you to actually track her down.

When you found her, it was on a balcony with Namjoon, who she appeared to be playing a board game of sorts with, and Yoongi, who was to the back napping on large cushion in the sun. He protested whenever you called him a cat and then went and acted just like one, you couldn’t help but laugh.

When she caught sight of you, Joy seemed surprised. “Oh, you really did have some questions you wanted answered, did you?”

Namjoon looked at you curiously after he moved a piece on the board, taking advantage of Joy’s momentary distraction. You wondered what he was thinking before his lips adopted a sudden sly quirk and his teasing tone greeted your ears, “Got up to some fun this morning, did we?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out the third chair between them at the table and flopping into it with all the attitude you could muster. “I whooped Jimin’s ass in hand-to-hand combat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Namjoon laughed and Joy snorted, the former clearly having been told what kind of scene Joy had walked in on earlier.

“By playing dirty?”

“My specialty.”

Another chuckle rumbled from his chest as he shook his head, turning back to the board. You allowed a brief moment of silence to settle over you as you watched the two of them make a move. When you couldn’t immediately figure out the point of the game, you gave up your observation.

“Anyway, about those questions I had,” you said suddenly, making the kelkie female to your right smile and shake her head. “I’ll ask them now, since you’re not busy.”

Another snort of amusement and she turned her head in your direction, dark eyes glimmering with mirth and marks glowing soft orange. “Of course, since I am not busy. Go ahead, I know it must be burning you up inside. Has it been unbearable?”

You nodded dramatically, ignoring Namjoon’s eyeroll. “Yes, incredibly so. I haven’t slept in days.”

You received another laugh for that and could barely keep your face straight as Joy shook her head, placing her elbow on the table and leaning her face into her palm. “Well, cheeky human, what is it you are curious about?”

You bit your lip, pondering what you wanted to ask first for a moment before deciding to cut to the chase. “Well, I want to know—why is it that every time I tease Jimin he runs away holding his back?”

It was an innocent enough question in your mind, but the reactions you received made you think that the answer was otherwise. Namjoon choked on his own spit, and Joy’s eyebrows shot up as she clamped her mouth shut and looked very much like she was trying not to laugh. A strangled sound from the side of the room told you that Yoongi had woken up and heard what you said.

Confused, you tilted your head. “What? What is it? Does he have back spasms or something? Wait, are your hearts in your lower back? Am I stressing him out so much he’s having heart attacks?”

To your complete and utter surprise, Namjoon’s face slowly began to turn bright red, and when you turned to peer at Yoongi you found his cheeks had coloured as well, the tips of his ears pink as he coughed and averted his gaze to the balcony. Joy was the only one who didn’t seem incredibly embarrassed at your question—on the contrary, she seemed to be having the time of her life.

“Oh, I love it when you humans ask things like this.” She was positively gleeful, grinning so wide that it actually concerned you a bit. “Your reactions are so funny.”

“What?” you pressed again, worried but also ten times more curious than before. “What is it? Come on, tell me.”

Joy, still grinning, sent Namjoon a pointed look and the male coughed, unable to meet your eyes as he cleared his throat and started, “Uh, well, y/n, you know that there are certain physiological differences between us and kelkies…”

You nodded, slightly impatient but clamping your mouth shut nonetheless in the hopes he would hurry up and continue.

“And you know, uh…” Namjoon looked like he wanted to melt into the floor, face bright pink. “Y-you know that uh, s-sometimes the differences are the ones we can’t see—”

“Spit it out, Joonie!” you couldn’t hold it in, wriggling forward on the seat and placing your palms onto the table. “Please, I’m dying to know, you can’t keep me in suspense like this—”

“y/n, you’ve seen porn, right? From Earth.”

You turned to face Yoongi at the sound of his voice, nodding as you did so. “Yeah, I have. Why? You need some? I had a USB of it with me on the ship, I can go look for it if you want—"

Namjoon choked, coughing and smacking his chest. You ignored him for the moment as Yoongi’s cheeks seemed to darken before he swallowed and continued. “So. Have you seen uh… you’ve seen Japanese animated porn?”

You stared at him plainly for a second, wondering if he was serious. “Uh… yes? Of course I have, I was a teenager too—”

Namjoon let his head slam onto the table with a loud groan, Joy letting out a delighted peal of laughter. Yoongi steeled himself and pushed on. “S-so you know, in the… in Japanese animated porn…”

“Say it for what it is, Yoongi,” you said. “Hentai.”

For a second the urge to kill you flickered in his gaze but he seemed to wrangle it quicker than usual. He let out a great, anguished sigh. “Why do I even bother—have you seen tentacle porn or not?”

“Of course I have, what does that have to do with—” you stopped short, his words ticking over in your head for a few seconds before your jaw dropped and you spun to face Namjoon and Joy with wide eyes and warmed cheeks. “No—oh my god, really?! Holy—”

Namjoon made a strangled, mortified noise and Joy burst into laughter once more as you stumbled over your words, a mess of thoughts zipping around in your poor monkey brain. As utterly shocked as you were in this moment, in a sense you also weren’t that surprised and, shamefully, the knowledge sent something akin to a shiver of excitement down your spine. Wow, you were really a bit depraved, huh? Then again, if you paid attention to the raunchy shit you watched in your teen years (and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably would still watch now if you had it) it would have been a bit telling.

“Oh my god,” you slammed your hands onto the table, on the absolute edge of your seat. “You guys have tentacles? For real? Where? How many? Do both males and females have them, or only—”

“Slow down, y/n,” Joy snorted, withdrawing from the table for a moment to recline comfortably in her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, seeming incredibly tickled. “One question at a time, or I will revoke your question-asking rights.”

You let out a horrified gasp, before instantly snapping your mouth shut and letting her answer the questions you fired at her so rapidly.

“To answer your first question, yes, kelkie do have extra appendages utilised in intercourse. We call them #%&$*@ but you humans describe them as tentacles and that seems to be easier for you to say, so we go with that.” At the sound of a foreign kelkoe word your mind blanked for a moment, but the rest of her words quickly sank in. Namjoon and Yoongi were still dying of embarrassment in the background, and you were a little embarrassed yourself but was by far overpowered by your burning curiosity.

“They’re used specifically for sex?!” you couldn’t help yourself, unable to contain your questions. Obviously, when one hears tentacles they think of certain scenarios, but you didn’t want to just assume. Learning that that was what they were literally for though… god, if it wasn’t enough to make you sweat like a sinner in church.

You could have sworn you heard Yoongi mutter, “I should have known she’d be horny for tentacles, who am I kidding,” under his breath in the background, but ignored it in favour of watching Joy’s features as she compiled a response for you.

“Yes, they are reproductive organs,” she said, a sly smile curling her shapely lips as she easily pinpointed the direction your thoughts were going. “Additional ones to those that some have found we have in common.”

You blushed, but still said what you thought as soon as it entered your mind. “Oh—I—two sets?”

Joy nodded, still very much amused. “Yes—and that is to confirm what you asked earlier, as well. Both males and females have them, but females have less.”

You let that sink in for a moment, mulling over the sudden overload of information, before your mind caught on to a certain detail that it had glossed over earlier and you balked. “Wait—you said you ‘some found’? Who…?”

At your words, both males in the room seemed to shrink in their seats, eyes everywhere but meeting your own. Joy snickered and they flushed bright red. A cackled built in your chest as realisation began to sink in.

“We have had a few celebrations and festivals in the time since the Queen’s crew arrived—you humans like to enjoy yourselves, don’t you?” She might have been teasing you as well as the other two males in the room, but you weren’t ashamed enough of your libido for it to have any effect. At this point, you’d been openly horny for Jimin for a while.

“Oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, eyes flicking between the two sheepish-looking males. The insinuation of what the extra appendages meant for their extracurricular romping in the sheets… you blushed.

Eager to return to your earlier line of questioning, lest you lose the opportunity altogether and they changed the subject, you forced yourself to turn back to a grinning Joy.

“So uh, where are they?” you inquired, somewhat gingerly. It would seem you had some tact left, after all. Joy snorted at your manner and tapped her fingers on the table, marks a cool, light blue.

“They are in two lines along the lower portion of the spine,” she informed you, tilting her head and watching your expression keenly. She smiled the second she saw you make the connection between what she said and what you saw. At your questioning look, she continued, “Yes, that has to do with why Jimin, ah… holds his lower back when you tease him. For the most part, they are hidden. They aren’t appendages that we have entire control over, and in many senses it is as though they have a mind of their own, following our base instincts and urges. When a kelkie experiences a certain amount of stimulation or arousal, they are prone to appearing.”

She gave you a moment for the information to sink in before you made the connection she was waiting for. “Oh, oh—wait so—so every time he slaps a hand to his back and runs away its just because I made him pop a tentacle boner?”

The female raised a brow at your choice of words but seemed to understand the slang enough to snort and nod her head. You heard Namjoon and Yoongi choke on a laugh, Namjoon slamming his head onto the table once more and disrupting the board game that had long since been forgotten.

“Yes,” Joy confirmed simply, lips twitching. “I do not think I ever saw him give such a reaction before you came along, though. I have to give you credit.”

It probably wasn’t something you should be preening with pride to hear, but you were anyway. “Ah, finally. My efforts are being rewarded.”

Yoongi shook his head, squinting at you. “How are you so… unapologetically thirsty?”

“We’re talking about Jimin, how can I not be?” you answered simply, before straightening in your seat and whipping a finger to point in his direction. “And let’s not be the pot calling the kettle black, mister! Word on the street is you’re just as horny as me!”

Yoongi balked, face paling before it began to cycle through about seven different shades of red, and Namjoon let out a strangled chortle.

“Don’t you have more questions for Joy?” Yoongi tried weakly to deflect the attention and change the subject, but to no avail.

“Well, yes, but I also have questions for you—and don’t think you’re off the hook either, Namjoon, I see you looking mortified over there.”

The two males let out long, arduous groans, and Joy erupted in delighted peals of laughter. What was going to be an informative afternoon for you was clearly going to be a very long one for them. You wriggled in your seat, getting comfortable, and dove in headfirst.

You were going to get as much information on this new discovery as you could.

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falloutforties · 4 years

Text

Five Years (Deacon x Sole)

CHAPTER ONE: TOTAL ATOMIC ANNIHILATION!

Description: The second she crawled out of that vault, dead cockroach meat in her pocket and tongue still not completely thawed, she knew she didn’t have to lie anymore. No more candy-striped wallpaper coating the halls, no more perfect wife and mother. She was no one. She was everyone. She didn’t sugarcoat her feelings, she didn’t hold her tongue. And it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate that honesty, it’s that he had to mix in his honesty with a little sweet prevarication, like rum and coke-- but she was straight vodka, and he was starting to feel a little dizzy. Set in a world in which David Bowie did exist at one time, because the author can’t imagine a world in which he didn’t.

Warnings: Swearing and some fighting as well, but aside from that, no real warnings. I’m shit at writing angst, so there’s none of that. Slow burn, all chapters already written, hopefully one chapter a week unless grad school totally swamps me. Also, there are several elements of this story that are little fix-its for me, because todd really made me try to care about a son and husband smh. I was running around the wasteland like “why does everybody keep talking about my son? The only son I know is named Dogmeat, and he is a Good Boy.” ALSO because todd won’t let me romance Deacon.

Note from the Author: Hi folks! I wrote this to help me get through my writing block and because I needed a lil comfort in these trying times, so I figured I would make this blog to share it. I’m in the process of also putting it on ao3, but this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written so I’m not sure how this all works. I hope y’all enjoy!!!! This story gets started a little slow because I wanted to give an introduction for how I interpret the sole survivor’s personality and such. Pls let me know if you like this, and if you want to read more!! Love you!! <3

When she woke up in the morning, she knew the exact percentage of how likely she was to die that day, down to the decimal. It was not like a superpower, per se, just a sixth sense. An awareness, she might call it. She was incredibly aware of herself.

She couldn’t sense this clearly in other people, though she did have a sense of it. A vague direction as to how closely they’ll come to seeing their entire life flash before their eyes. She had seen it once or twice in Nate’s eyes over the breakfast table— a tint of green in his brown eyes that wasn’t there the day before, almost like a warning.

Something’s going to happen. It might not be bad, or it might be terrible. But it’s something.

She watched him turn his nose up at the box of Sugar Bombs sat on the countertop, favoring instead a cup of coffee and half a tato. She waited patiently for him to start his bi-weekly diatribe against the Sugar Bombs Corporation and their devious aims against the children of the Commonwealth.

“Did you know there’s a Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing?” He’d mentioned, several months ago for the first time. She was honestly just excited to hear that he’d managed to establish a new argument, though she wasn’t convinced that the Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing was a direct link to Childhood Communism as much as it was just outright standard capitalism.

When he finally settled at the table with his half-tato in one hand, coffee in the other, and Boston Bugle folded neatly under his arm, she watched his eyes. He was looking a little green, and she wondered errantly if perhaps he’d be scraped by a car while crossing the street. She herself, however, was at a solid 15%, which was a little higher than her standard measurements, but nothing out of the ordinary or concerning. Perhaps she would break a finger, sprain her ankle, crack a tooth on a Nuka-Cola bottle.

She appreciated the extra air of danger.

Life in Sanctuary was beautifully but painfully dull, less dull now that there was a child in the house, but dull nonetheless. Now, the stale quiet that usually settled over the house in the afternoon was permeated by the frequent cries and laughs of the child and the exclamations of their brand new housekeeper, who thought the child was a marvel of modern science.

He was, at the very moment his parents were eating breakfast, sleeping in his crib in the back room, the powder blue of his walls shielding him like a personal sky as he went completely unaware of everyone around him. He had the enviable manner of a child, crying whenever he felt a slight discomfort, laughing at the simplest of things.

She wished sometimes she could burst into tears just because she was hungry, or weep at the thought of being sleepy. It had been so long since someone had properly addressed her humanity that she thought if someone held her against their chest, she’d fall asleep, just like the child did at night when she rocked him.

“Mum,” Codsworth chirped as he hovered into the kitchen with a wet rag in one hand and a rattle in the other.

“Morning, Codsworth,” she replied with a mouth full of cereal. She, unlike Nate, was not too good for Sugar Bombs, and if they were implanting Communist Tracking Chips into her brain, well, that was a risk she was going to have to take. As long as she was the one who had to do the grocery shopping, she was not going to deny herself the simple pleasure of marshmallow cereal.

“Young Shaun should be asleep for approximately the next two hours.”

“Thank you, Codsworth.”

Nora loved Codsworth. There were days when she thought of him more as a husband than Nate. Codsworth, in his thrumming metallic voice, asked her everyday how she was feeling. Nate sometimes quirked his brow at her, and she nodded in response, but their marital conversation was frustratingly dry.

Like Sugar Bombs without milk.

Chip Harris was grandstanding on the news, and his thick croon filled the background of the house with a pleasant sort of domestic white noise along with the gentle clink of her silverware and the crinkling of Nate’s paper. She tuned her ears for a moment to Chip’s voice as he read from a teleprompter about some new information about China’s secret nuclear plants.

Everyone has nukes nowadays, she thought bitterly. Her Sugar Bombs were now soggy. Why are we allowed to hide them, but China has to send us a report or else we accuse them of some kind of crime?

She absentmindedly wondered if having a crush on the newscaster might turn her into more of a nuclear housewife. She knew Natalie Hawthorne had a crush on Chip Harris. She watched him every morning, even had a signed picture of him that she kept in her nightstand. Mr. Hawthorne was fine with it, of course, because no one in Sanctuary Hills could even prove that Chip Harris was real. No one could prove that he wasn’t just an incredibly advanced Protectron— a Mr. Handy in a pinstripe suit. Mr. Hawthorne didn’t have to worry about Chip Harris stealing his wife.

A knock on the door broke Nora’s concentration.

“Must be that sales guy,” Nate intoned, obviously bored senseless by the notion of a salesman at the door. “He’s been asking for you all morning.”

“All morning? I didn’t even hear him knock before now.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you sleep until 9 AM.”

Thank you, Nora, for staying up until the Devil’s Ass-Crack of dawn comforting a weeping child. Thank you for feeding him while I put earplugs in and turned over to the cold side of the pillow so I could go back to sleep. I answered the door for you, and the salesman gave me a free ticket to Fuck-Off-Ville, and I’m taking the child with me. You and Codsworth have fun now!

A woman could dream.

The salesman at the door was a weasel-looking fellow with an awfully mustardy-colored coat and matching hat. His smile seemed like it might be genuine, but based on the wrinkles that beamed from the corners of his eyes, it seemed he was well-versed in faking a good smile.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am! I am glad you took the time to answer the door today, because what I am about to tell you is a matter of utmost importance,” he promised, his smile somehow extended as he emphasized utmost importance.

“Utmost importance, huh? Glad I answered the door, then.”

“As you should be. Because of your family’s service in the military, you are eligible for entrance into the local vault— Vault 111!”

She eyed him warily before glancing up towards the hill at the end of the cul-de-sac. She had remembered the day Vault-Tec had started construction into the hillside, promising the neighborhood that “We won’t work until 9 AM, we’ll be gone in a flash, and you and your family will soon be protected in the unlikely event of total atomic annihilation!”

She didn’t buy the working until 9 AM part, she was skeptical about them being gone in a flash, and she hadn’t taken the time to assess the thought of total atomic annihilation. That was something that happened to people in the movies, or on radio shows, not in Sanctuary Hills. Total atomic annihilation might actually spice up her life, if it deigned to come close to Sanctuary Hills.

“Thanks,” she mentioned passively, ignoring the clipboard that was slowly being edged towards her. “My family too?”

“Yes, of course! Except the robot, mind you. Would you mind taking a few moments to fill out some paperwork?”

Nora turned her head to eye the situation inside the house before accepting the clipboard. If the salesman had knocked before, there was no reason to send him away then. He was working hard, and she appreciated the thought if not the persistence.

“Excellent! Now you and your family are… Prepared for the Future!”

She gave a half-hearted laugh at the way he performed his reading of the motto— the Vault-Tec promise that had been broadcasted via billboard all over every cityscape and neighborhood nearby. If total atomic annihilation never came around, Vault-Tec was sure going to look foolish.

She shut the door and sauntered back over to the breakfast table, but just as she sat down, a cry rang through the house. Shaun was awake, and Nate was eyeing her above the folded edge of his paper.

“Mum!” Codsworth chirped once again, hovering back into the kitchen. “Young Shaun seems to be inconsolable. Would you mind using some of that… maternal instinct you seem to be so good at?”

“Sure, Codsworth. Thank you.”

Once the door was closed in Shaun’s little room, she felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. True, she had not liked the child at first, but he was growing on her, and she appreciated the fact that he had to listen to everything she said without commentary or judgement.

“You might be unsure now, but once that beautiful baby boy is handed to you in a pretty blue blanket, you’ll love him more than you’ve ever loved anything,” Natalie Hawthorne had told her at the baby shower in a moment of vulnerability. Nora had escaped the Hawthorne’s living room to cry in their bathroom, marking it up to hormones at first, but the second she looked in the mirror and saw that damned stomach of hers, the crying got worse. Natalie stumbled into the bathroom by accident, catching Nora in the midst of a coughing fit.

So, Nora waited until Shaun was born, and when the nurse handed him to her, she stared at him and felt absolutely nothing. But she cooed and tickled his tiny feet, promising to herself that if she could just get the child home, maybe it would get better. Maybe it was the anesthetic and the drugs that made her so emotionless. It wasn’t.

It was the fact that she hadn’t wanted a child at all, the fact that she hadn’t even really wanted a husband, but her parents had set her up with some soldier boy, fresh out of a set of power armor, and that was that. She would marry Nate because it was what she was supposed to do, not because she had fallen in love.

She adjusted Shaun’s cap before scooping him into her arms.

“What do you have to cry about?” She muttered to the child. “You don’t have to pay taxes. You’re not going to have to wear heels and go grocery shopping and attend baby showers. You’re going to play catch in the backyard with your father, and then one day, some girl will marry you because she has to. You’re set for life, little buddy.”

Shaun merely gargled something, his hands grabbing for her hair. He was like a partially-sentient diary. She would pile her troubles on him, and he would go, “Ah!” And then go back to sleep.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today,” Nate remarked as he stepped into the nursery. “Would you be interested?”

“Sure, sure. Might be nice to get some fresh air.” She had intended to say more, perhaps something about finishing her Halloween preparations, but when she turned to him, she saw his eyes fully for the first time that day, and Shaun nearly slipped from her grasp.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Nate took the child from her arms. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… are you feeling alright?”

“Fine. You look pale, though. Maybe it’s all that Chinese Cereal.”

She chuckled despite herself and maintained eye contact with as much focus as she could muster. His eyes were near fully green. She was sure it was nothing. It had to be nothing. They were going for a walk in the park, and besides, her percentage was still standing at a solid 15%. It was nothing.

But Chip Harris knew more than she did, and when Codsworth called them all into the living room, Chip Harris was, for the first time on the air, misty-eyed. His head was in his hands, the morning report discarded as he faced the camera with shaking eyes.

“Shit,” Nora whispered, and Nate scolded her for her foul mouth. “Sorry, I just… is this it?”

“I think this is it.”

“Whatever it is, I will certainly miss you all dearly. Sir, Mum, Young Shaun. I believe this is goodbye.”

Codsworth’s goodbye started her heart thrumming at an unbelievable pace, and she kicked into gear, sweeping herself up from the loveseat and rushing towards the door, ushering Nate and Shaun behind her.

This was it. This was the end of the world, but it wasn’t going to kill her.

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