#the evidence of my love for ghouls can be found here
Note
🐐🌵
hancock and a trans man sole survivor having romantic, slow sex?? please please please include biting if you can i beg of u
thank u bestie 🙏 u feed me well
Awwwwwww, yes. Absolutely. Totally, I can do that. 😏
Gosh darn it though, we love sweet Hancock <3
I hope you enjoy!
NSFW below, minors please don't interact!
"Fuck sweetheart..." Hancock's voice rasped into his partner's ear, his hot breath spilling over Sole's searing skin as he gave another dizzying thrust into him.
"You don't understand how good you feel for me, baby."
Hancock felt the shudder of Sole's body against his own, and couldn't help the toothy grin that spread his ruined lips.
"John..." Sole damn near whimpered his name, the sound going straight to the ghoul's cock as he gave another slow, deep thrust.
He felt Sole's fingers tighten over his shoulders as he drove further into his tight heat, as his rough skin pressed up against Sole's flawless body, steamy and stimulating in the way he strategically angled his hips to drive pleasure into his partner's aching core.
"C'mere... Lemme taste you, Sunshine." Hancock leaned his head down on the next thrust, the remnants of his lips exploring the hollow of Sole's throat like he wanted to commit it to memory. He only pulled away to chance a glance at his partner's expression, the enchanting way Sole took his bottom lip between his teeth, his expressive eyes hidden behind tightly closed lids, his brows drawn together in pure bliss.
Hancock could watch him like this for hours and still never get enough.
Shit was somethin' else.
The ghoul shook his head at the thought, suddenly held hostage by Sole's face, by his light, sweet sounds, the all-encompassing feel of him wrapped within his wiry arms, the way his hot walls caressed his cock so lovingly, like all of him refused to let Hancock go.
"Don't stop..." Sole breathed, his eyes falling half-open, centering in on his partner above him, as Hancock's deep, midnight eyes, filled to bursting with affection for him. That raw emotion was enough to inspire an ache deep within Sole's chest that burned down to the rest of his pleasure-ridden body.
"Please, John. Don't-- don't stop loving me." He pleaded with a subtle thrust of his own hips up and into Hancock's contact.
"Fuck, never, baby." Hancock dove back in instantly, catching Sole's mouth with his, pouring desire into his tender touch as he resumed his dizzyingly slow pace, reaching as far as he could go and still not feeling close enough, not satiated enough.
"'S not possible." He moaned against him. "Gonna love you like this long as I can. Long as you can take it."
Sole's channel tightened like a vise around him, and Hancock nearly faltered, feeling his cock twitch in response to the intense stimulation. Unwittingly, Hancock's pace quickened as he felt his release building, as Sole continued to constrict his achingly hard cock.
"Ah, fuck--" Hancock hissed as a sudden pain erupted on his shoulder.
"Did, did you just bite me, Sunshine?"
The sharp pressure released instantly, and Sole began to stutter beneath him, his expression one of embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry, I-I just, I don't know why..."
"Nah, baby." Hancock leaned forward, nuzzling his lips over Sole's flushed cheek, "Don't you dare apologize for somethin' like that."
Hancock's head turned swiftly, catching him in a searing kiss, stealing Sole's breath and clouding his head all at once.
"In fact," He continued as he pulled away, forehead still pressed affectionately against his partner's as he quirked one brow upwards, "Why don't you do it again?"
#1.5k event#1.5k celebration#fallout#fallout 4#fallout companions#fallout 4 companions#fo4 hancock#john hancock#hancock#bighorner#dwd.nsfw#sole survivor#trans m!sole#the evidence of my love for ghouls can be found here#and many other places#but it was funny that I got that comment while proofreading this
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Hey I absolutely love your writing! Could I request a 10, 14, and 17 with Dewdrop and Fem!reader (with a little bit of body worship in the mix)? I am in dire need of a feral-ass Dew. Thanks! ❤️🔥
PRAISE KINK
"Please be gentle." “You’ve never even touched yourself?” “It’s my first time…”
There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.
(Fem!Reader: This is about a first time with Dewdrop and it's also HIS first time with a human. dirty talk; swearing; oral sex, m-f; fingering; penetration, p in v; unprotected sex; praise kink; body worship; first time)
Available on AO3
Day 20 | Day 22
Taking a deep breath, you observed the modest bedroom you found yourself in. It was smaller than your own quarters, which struck you as peculiar given that Dewdrop was one of the Papa's Ghouls. You had assumed that the Ghouls would enjoy certain privileges or more comfortable accommodations, at the very least better windows.
The creaking of a door pulled your attention, and you turned to see the shadow of Dewdrop entering the room before his physical presence came into view. As the soft sound of his approaching steps signaled his presence, a nervous flutter filled your stomach once again. Instinctively, you pulled the sheets further up to cover more of your body as you braced for his arrival.
You had made a somewhat unconventional decision, one you weren't entirely sure you could explain to others. You wanted Dewdrop to be your first, a choice you kept secret for fear of the raised eyebrows and questions you'd surely face. After all, who would choose a Ghoul over Papa Emeritus? However, deep down, you didn't regret your choice.
Dewdrop entered the room and but stopped abruptly when he noticed you.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his curiosity evident.
"Hi..." you greeted him in a low tone.
"Hi," Dewdrop replied. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I needed to talk to you," you confessed.
"Under my sheets?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Well..." you hesitated.
"Come on, tell me! What are you doing here? Do you know what could happen if someone came in and saw you here?"
Indeed, the possibility of getting caught in the Ghouls' quarters after midnight was a concern. The Siblings were allowed to interact with the Ghouls to an extent, but being in their quarters at this time of night was against the rules, though you couldn't quite fathom the reason for that restriction.
"Surprise?" you said nervously.
"Surprise? Is that all you have to say to me?" Dewdrop asked, clearly not entirely pleased.
"No..." you responded, feeling a mix of nerves and regret.
Dewdrop approached the bed but stopped as he stepped on your habit lying on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, inspecting it, and then turned his gaze toward you.
"What are you..." Dewdrop began, but you interrupted.
"Surprise..."
"No, you need to go," he insisted firmly.
You gazed at him with pleading eyes. You had summoned the courage to come to his bedroom and tell him that you wanted him, and you weren't ready to turn back now.
"Can you please listen to me?" you implored softly.
Dewdrop reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed, his patience wearing thin. "You have exactly one minute."
You took a deep breath and began, "Ok... I'm sorry that I came here like this. I know it's not allowed, and I shouldn't be here, but..." You slowly sat on the bed, letting the sheets fall away to reveal the lingerie set you were still wearing. "I came here to ask you to be my first."
Dewdrop's eyes widened in astonishment as he looked at your face, struggling not to avert his gaze to your revealing attire.
"You what!?" he stammered. "Have you... thought about that?"
"Look," you continued, "I know how things work here. You can ask Papa for it, or you can do it with another sibling, but I... I want you. We had a sermon today about how we don't need to be ashamed of our desires, and I... I don't want to be."
"I can see you're not ashamed of it," Dewdrop remarked, gesturing to your body, causing you to blush.
You giggled nervously as you reached for the sheet to cover yourself, but Dewdrop's hand gently intercepted yours, halting your movement. Your eyes fell to his hand, feeling the warmth emanating from his touch. It was the first time you were being touched by a Ghoul, and you were surprised by the heat of his hand against yours.
“I’m sorry, this was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?” you asked, sighing.
Dewdrop shook his head. “It wasn’t a terrible idea. It’s just that I… I’ve never been with a human before, so… It’s my first time being with a human.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah… so, please, be gentle…”
You moved closer to him, sitting next to him. With both your hands, you held his face and planted a gentle kiss on his mask. Then, you delicately removed his mask, placing it on your lap. He reached for his long yellow hair, fixing it. It was uncommon to see the Ghouls in such a vulnerable state, without their masks.
"Please be gentle with me too," you whispered, bringing your face closer to his.
"Is this really your first time?" he inquired.
You nodded.
"You've never even touched yourself?"
You shook your head.
"Don't worry, I will be gentle with you. And if I do anything that hurts you or anything else, please tell me, okay?"
You nodded in agreement, and he smiled. His face drew nearer to yours, and he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. He then pulled away, looking at you as if discovering a new sensation. With a deeper intensity, he leaned in again, this time holding your face with both hands, engaging your lips in a passionate kiss.
As the kiss deepened, you could feel Dewdrop's warmth and desire. His lips moved against yours with a sweet, cautious hunger, as if he was both gentle and longing for more. The sensations ran through your body, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his mouth.
He broke the kiss and gazed at you with a deep, searching intensity. Slowly, you reclined on his bed once more, and he crawled on top of you. His hand gently caressed your face, and he lowered his head to press a series of tender kisses on your forehead, then your nose, your cheeks, and finally your neck. His soft kisses elicited a gasp from you, followed by a soft moan as you surrendered to the sensations.
Dewdrop's lips continued their journey down your neck, kissing and nipping gently. He moved down to your collarbone, then to your chest, and his hands began to explore your body, caressing your sides and hips. His touch was gentle and considerate, making you feel cherished and desired.
"Can I say how beautiful you are?" Dewdrop spoke softly.
"Yes, you can..."
"Good, because you are amazing," he whispered. "Your body is amazing, your skin feels good under my touch... you feel so good."
His words were filled with admiration and desire. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as his sweet words washed over you. Dewdrop's lips and hands continued to worship your body, every touch and kiss igniting your senses. As the intensity between you grew, his fingers ventured lower, tracing your curves with delicate care. His hands reached for your breasts, gently cupping them in his palms, and he applied a slight pressure, causing you to emit a soft whine while looking at him.
"Is this good?" he asked.
You nodded, and he squeezed them again before lowering his face to pepper the area around your breasts with tender kisses. Your fingers found their way to his hair, intertwining in the locks.
"You are so soft," he whispered against your skin. "So beautiful." His lips pressed a kiss on one of your breasts, and he slowly pulled down your bra, exposing your already hardened nipples to him.
Dewdrop gazed at your breasts, biting his lower lip with desire. He lowered his face again, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and gently sucking on it.
Dewdrop's gentle attention to your breasts and the delightful sensations he caused sent waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching your back slightly, offering yourself to him. The warmth of his mouth, the suction of his lips, and the flickering of his tongue on your sensitive nipple made you tremble with desire.
"Your touch feels amazing," you whispered, caressing his hair as he continued his ministrations.
"Does it?" he inquired.
"Yes..." you confirmed.
He smiled at your response and returned his attention to your nipple, kissing it all around and then biting it delicately. The sensation made you shiver and arch your back, overwhelmed by the pleasure.
His lips left a trail of soft kisses from your breast to your navel, and then lower, descending toward your thighs. Dewdrop's hands caressed your sides as he journeyed further, his fingers tracing the curves of your body.
"Can I touch you down here?" Dewdrop asked, his fingers gently inching towards the waistband of your panties.
You nodded in agreement. "Yes, Dewdrop."
With your consent, he slowly began to lower your panties, revealing your aching core to his gaze. His fingers danced lightly across your skin as he moved closer, and his warm breath sent shivers down your spine.
At that very moment, you noticed a transformation in Dewdrop’s gaze. His pupils seemed to dilate as his eyes locked onto your glistening arousal. His hands swiftly moved to your thighs, spreading them wide and holding them with a powerful grip, raising your legs in the air.
“Dewdrop…?” you called for him, your voice quivering with anticipation.
But he remained silent, lowering his face between your legs and using his tongue to lick your folds, sending a wave of sensation coursing through your body.
"Oh, Dewdrop," you moaned, your other hand instinctively reaching out to hold onto his hair as he continued to explore your wetness with his tongue.
"You're so sweet," he lifted his head as he spoke with a smile on his lip.
Dewdrop lowered his face once more, his lips brushing over your flesh in a sensual kiss. His mouth expertly navigated to your clit, and his tongue began to flick over the tip, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He smiled against your core, his mouth pressing firmly against your clit and skillfully sucking it into his warm mouth, sending intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
You gasped loudly, your hips arching off the bed involuntarily as Dewdrop's tongue and lips sent bolts of ecstasy throughout your body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your arousal building with each passing moment.
"O-Oh, Dewdro-Oh-p," you moaned again, your voice trembling with desire. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
Dewdrop continued his sensual assault on your core, his tongue expertly dancing over your clit and his fingers slipping inside you. The pleasure was intense, your moans and gasps grew louder as your body quivered. You pulled his hair, your hips bucking uncontrollably. Dewdrop continued to lavish your core with his tongue, leaving you breathless, moaning his name with a fervor that mirrored his own passion.
You were grinding your core against his mouth, desperate for more of his talented touch. Dewdrop eagerly complied, intensifying his efforts as he delved deeper into your desires, his tongue and lips expertly pleasuring you. The sensations coursing through your body were overwhelming, and you could feel the intensity building.
"Dewdrop!" You cried out, your voice hoarse with need.
He lifted his head, his smile suggestive, and his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I know what you want," he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "But I don't think you're ready for that just yet."
You looked at him, panting and yearning for more. "Dewdrop, please..." you begged.
He grinned at your plea and pressed a gentle kiss to your flesh. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you." With that, he began to kiss his way down your entrance, setting you on a path of continued pleasure and exploration.
He leaned down again, and kissed your inner thigh before moving back to your core. He licked the length of your slit, making sure to pay special attention to your clit.
Your hips rocked up against him, begging for more. "Please..." You begged, breathlessly. "Please, Dewdrop... please..."
He chuckled softly, his amusement evident, before he slid two fingers inside of you, expertly curling them upwards to explore the depths of your desire. Your moans grew louder as Dewdrop's skilled tongue worked its magic on your sensitive core. Your hands reached for the bedsheets, grasping them tightly as pleasure surged through your body. Each lick and kiss was like an electric shock of ecstasy.
"You are so hot down here, so sweet, wet, and hot," Dewdrop whispered, his voice filled with desire. "I can't wait to be inside you."
His words sent shivers down your spine, and your body throbbed with anticipation for what was to come. Dewdrop continued thrusting his fingers inside you, expertly pumping them in and out, relentlessly stimulating that sensitive spot within you.
"Dew... Oh! Please, Dew... I need you, I want you..." you cried out, your voice filled with longing and desire.
He kept up his relentless rhythm, the wet, sensual sounds of your arousal filling the room. You couldn't contain your cries of pleasure as your body began to tremble. Dewdrop continued to work his fingers inside you.
"You want me? What do you want?" Dewdrop asked, grinning mischievously at you.
"I want you to... to fuck me," you whispered softly.
He chuckled softly, his fingers sliding in and out of you. "You want me to fuck you, my good girl?"
"Yes... please..." you begged, the need in your voice evident.
Dewdrop responded by thrusting his fingers faster inside of you, your head rolling back and forth on the bed as the sensations overwhelmed you. He grinned mischievously and removed his fingers from your core, causing you to whimper in disappointment at the sudden emptiness. However, he didn't leave you waiting for long. Skillfully, he undid his pants and pressed something else against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed forward, teasing you with his length.
"I heard this can hurt a little," Dewdrop began. "But we can go slow if you want."
"It's okay... I think I can... handle it," you replied, your voice filled with anticipation.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours, and you moaned into his mouth. Your tongue sought entrance between his lips, engaging in a passionate kiss that deepened the connection between you. He captured your tongue with his, sliding just the tip inside you, causing you to gasp as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. Dewdrop continued to push forward, and your moans filled the room as he buried his length deep into you.
"Ah!" a loud moan escaped your mouth, shattering the kiss.
You let out a soft cry as your hips moved in rhythm with his, pressing back against him, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Dewdrop lowered his head, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, moving down to your shoulder.
"Did I hurt you?" Dewdrop asked, concern etching his features.
"No... it's... it's just very good..." you gasped, your breath coming in short, exhilarated bursts. "It's just... mmm... big, I guess..."
He paused there, letting you get used to the feel of him inside you. Then, he pulled himself almost completely out of you, before pushing back inside of you. You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him.
"Oh Satan, Dewdrop..." you moaned, your body writhing beneath him, consumed by the intensity of the pleasure.
"I may... fuck... admit... that I'm controlling myself to do not get rough..." he growled, his voice filled with desire. "Your pussy just feels very tight and hot around my cock."
"Dewdrop, it's okay, I want you to let go," you purred, your own desire surging. "I want to feel everything... all of you..."
With your words serving as a catalyst, Dewdrop began to thrust into you with a deliberate rhythm. He pulled himself almost completely out of you before pushing back in, each time delving deeper than the previous one. With each thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, and you groaned in response.
Finally, he stopped and held himself deep inside you. "So tight," he groaned, and then began thrusting his length inside you again. "So hot." Your walls contracted around him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.
You nodded eagerly, unable to speak.
"Good girl, then let's see how good you are at taking it," he whispered, his voice thick with lust.
He began to thrust in and out of you, your walls stretching to accommodate him. You moaned, arching your back as the pleasure of his movements overwhelmed you. His hands came up to cup your breasts, and he squeezed it gently.
"Do you like having my cock inside of you?" he asked, his voice full of desire.
"Yes-yes!" you cried out, your voice breaking with pleasure.
You wrapped your legs around Dewdrop's waist, pulling him even closer to you. He groaned, his hips slamming into yours with greater force. His hands remained on your breasts, firmly grasping them. He pinched your nipples between his fingers and squeezed your breasts more roughly, intensifying the sensations coursing through your body.
"Ah, yes, Dew... Oh!" you moaned, your voice trembling with passion. "Yes, Dew... Fuck me... It feels so good... so good..."
The room was filled with your shared moans and the sound of your bodies coming together, creating an atmosphere of intense desire and pleasure. Dewdrop's thrusts grew more urgent and powerful.
"You're so good... fuck! Your body is amazing, you are amazing... fuck... you are making me crazy!" Dewdrop exclaimed, his voice filled with passion and desire as he continued to thrust into you with unrelenting fervor.
He released his hold on your breasts, his eyes fixated on them as they bounced wildly in response to his powerful thrusts. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly as he continued to pound into you with unrelenting passion. Each thrust hit a new spot inside you, and the repeated, powerful movements of his length over and over again sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your entire being quivered with the intensity of the sensations that were building between you.
"Fuck, I never thought a pussy could feel this good," Dewdrop growled.
Your arms found their way to Dewdrop's neck, and you wrapped them around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes locked onto each other, reflecting the intense lust that burned between you. Your breaths mingled, and his forehead rested against yours. Even as you maintained this intimate connection, neither of you showed any signs of slowing down. He continued his relentless thrusts, and you responded by bucking your hips against him. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he sped up his movements, causing you to throw your head back and arch your back.
"Oh... Dew... that's so good, you fuck me so good... Oh yes, yes!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls.
He continued to thrust with increasing intensity, his hips colliding with yours in a symphony of pleasure. Your moans grew louder, each one a testament to the ecstasy you were feeling. Your body responded to his every movement, and you could feel your climax building with every thrust. It was as if he had unlocked a wellspring of desire within you, and you were swept away in the tide of passion that flowed between you.
"Dew... I don't... I don't know if I can handle anymore..." you gasped, your voice filled with both desire and a hint of concern.
He immediately stopped moving and looked at you with concern. "Are you okay?"
You met his gaze and nodded. "I... I am..." you giggled softly, the pleasure rendering you breathless. "I was trying to say... You're going... to make me cum..."
His eyes sparkled with satisfaction and desire as he understood your words. The realization that you were on the brink of climax only fueled his passion, and he resumed his thrusts with renewed fervor.
"Ah!" you gasped. "Yes... Oh Dew... you are so good..."
"You are amazing, cum for me, my good girl," he said, his voice filled with desire. "Cum for me."
Your bodies moved together with a sensual rhythm, a dance of passion that left you both breathless and longing for more. Dewdrop's thrusts grew faster and more intense, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you. Your walls clenched around him, and you knew that you were both hurtling toward a powerful release.
"I... I will... Oh... yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...!" you cried out, your body shook beneath him with orgasmic bliss.
The intensity of your orgasm took over, and your hands moved down to your core, rubbing it fervently as your body convulsed with pleasure. You tightly squeezed your legs together around Dewdrop, and he groaned loudly, thrusting into you one final time as he released his seed deep inside of you.
"Fuck!" Dewdrop exclaimed, his voice echoing through the room.
As Dewdrop released his seed inside you, you whimpered in satisfaction, your body still trembling with pleasure. After your climax subsided, he slowly pulled out of you, and you both lay there, panting heavily. The sensation of his seed dripping from you made your legs instinctively close, and he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction. Gently, he kissed your forehead and rolled over to lie beside you. Dewdrop gently brought you closer to him, his touch tender and loving. He held you close, and you cuddled into his warm embrace, feeling utterly content and satisfied.
"We should probably do it again," Dewdrop said, his breathing still heavy.
You gazed at Dewdrop with a mischievous glint in your eyes and replied, "Maybe I can sneak into your room more times." Your desire flared once more as you leaned in for another passionate kiss.
#kinktober#ghost band#ghost bc#the band ghost#ghost the band#smut#dewdrop#dewdrop smut#dewdrop ghoul#dewdrop ghost#dewdrop x reader#nameless ghoul#ghouls#sodomizer ghoul#sodo ghoul#sodo ghost#sodomizer#sodo#sodo x reader#sodo smut#sodo ghoul smut#nameless ghoul x reader#nameless ghouls#ghost ghouls
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Violence & Gentleness by @anamelessfool
You made me forget myself…I thought I was someone else, someone good…
LATE OCTOBER 1979
Primo has his work cut out for him as the bodyguard of the beautiful and fearsome Mater Emerita Jocasta.
As mystery after mystery unfolds, it becomes harder to remain a honest man in this den of thieves called the Ministry.
(Thank you in advance for humoring me whilst I scream at the top of my lungs into the abyss about this wonderful fanfic under the cut.)
@anamelessfool is creating something really special here. Her writing style is cinematic and engaging as she weaves a mystery set in the late 70s featuring a VERY dreamy Primo before he becomes Papa. He is bodyguard and lover to the incredibly cool Papessa OC, Mater Emerita Jocasta. Fool’s world building and lore are so creative without being intimidating or dense. This story is set in her wonderful Void AU but can easily be read as a standalone.
Papa-enjoyers will lose their fucking minds over Primo and all of his kid brothers. We’ve got sullen troublemaker teen Terzo (who just needs a hug tbh). We’ve got capable prodigy eager-to-prove-himself Secondo. WE HAVE THE CUTEST TODDLER COPIA THAT HAS EVER BEEN WRITTEN. Truly. You are not prepared for how much you’ll love him. And finally we’ve got a hilarious deadbeat hippie dad Nihil who definitely experimented with too many psychedelic drugs in the sixties.
I know many of us read fan fiction for horny reasons—whether it be ghoul-on-ghoul or papa-on-you—but I triple dog dare you to broaden your horizons for just a moment and check this one out.
A quick excerpt from one of my favorite scenes before you go:
Nihil stretched his face out into a wide, rubbery mask of enthusiasm. “Primo! Ah! Far out! Congratulations….” The stark white Infernal Eye shone in its socket. “He looks just like Jocasta! My grandson…”
“No, that's not— I'm not going to even…” Primo paused and threw his father a polite smile. He added that moment to the pile of evidence that suggested that either the Papa Emeritus Ritual or the Sixties scrambled the man's brain.
“Edelweiss Ghoul and I found him in the location the Conclave uncovered. His father was—” The image of the splattered wall shot through his mind. The dummy-like hands and splayed feet. Primo swallowed. “We think his father was killed.”
“Terrible! That's terrible, man!” Nihil’s face morphed again.
“He's yours now, right? So still my grandson.”
“We're only taking care of him until I find his family,” said Primo.
“We? Did you say “we?”” Terzo padded forward to stand a foot away from Copia on Primo’s knee. His expression was inscrutable.
“Yes, ‘we’,” Primo insisted. Copia started to kick in his lap and he brought the child down to the floor. “All of us. Need to take care of him. He doesn't have anyone else. Copia, this is Terzo.”
Copia flashed Terzo his furious little face. Terzo blanched, then stared right back. “What did I do to you, eh? Ragazzone?”
“Does he not speak?” From his seat at the window Secondo had a curious small smile hovering on his lips. He held his hands out to the child. Copia glanced back at Primo.
“Not really. Go on, Copia, that's Secondo.”
Secondo somehow brought the child into his lap and opened the book again. Right away Copia settled in and stared at the pages, his eyes wide with curiosity. Primo felt a shift in himself that he hadn’t experienced in a few days: he started to feel relaxed. As he watched his younger brother tend to the child with thoughtful muttering and an imperceptible smile he fell back a little on the couch. It was going to be okay.
You can read the rest here.
𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!
#one of my faves#please check this one out#you'll love it#my fic recs#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iv#the band ghost fic rec#cardinal copia#copia#the band ghost fanfiction#papa primo#primo emeritus#secondo emeritus#terzo emeritus#primo x oc#papa i x oc#fic rec!!#the band ghost#ghost fic#ghost band fanfic
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Hey!! I really love your writing! All witcher characters are very much on point, it’s amazing😍 i would have an idea for a Lambert fic if you don’t mind! How about reader is very much interested in learning from the witchers and hunting down monsters herself but Lambert is just very overprotective of her and thinks she’s insane for risking her life but in the end reader actually saves Lambert’s ass?? And they get together after that and it’s all fluff?? You can add anything to it, i love your Lambert!💜
Beasts and Books
A/N: Aww, thank you so much! I've been worried about my characterization- especially of Lambert, but I'm so glad you like him! and Okay, so fair warning this isn't edited like my other ones usually are and that's because I got carried away and wrote the longest one shot of my fucking life lol. I hope you enjoy it!!
Pairing: Lambert X Reader
Words: ~4k
________________________
Years ago- back when you were growing up in Velen, you actually started out as a farmer's daughter. Your mothers worked hard, taking care of the sheep, shearing them, and weaving the wool into yarn or bolts of fabric. You had been placed in charge of raising the lambs, rounding them up, and generally keeping them out of trouble. It was a lot harder than it sounded.
They often fought with each other or knocked over their milk buckets and seemed to do everything in their power to get you just that close to selling them and being done with them. But you knew your mothers would never allow it and so you grumbled and just kept on.
But it was the lambs actually that happened to change your life too. It had been raining all morning and you had almost finished feeding the lambs when “Hold on- One, two, three, four, five- Where is number six?” you questioned, looking to the rest of their little faces as if they’d even have the manners to answer you, let alone the vocal cords.
You scowled, hiking up your skirt as you stepped around in the muck, trying to find a sign of the tiny little lamb that got loose- the youngest of the batch this year. “Ah-hah!” you exclaimed when you spotted the trail of little hoofprints that slipped past the gate. He must’ve slipped through the fenceposts- he always was good at using his size to his advantage.
“Come on, lamb! I’m not gonna do this all day!” You followed the hoofprints into the forest nearby, prints few and far between as he must’ve been having the time of his life evading you. “Baaaa!” he let out a little bleat from just beyond the shrubs before you.
“Gotcha!” you grinned and popped your head over the shrubs, finding the lost lamb chewing on a rather damp book. “Well now, what have you gotten into?” You asked as you scooped him up, another bleat escaping him as the book fell away from his mouth. It looked like he’d found his way into an abandoned camp. There was a cold abandoned campfire and evidence of a bed roll flattening down the lengthy grass; you found bits of broken leather here and there- probably from someone doing repairs.
“Looks like whoever it was left in a hurry…” You commented, ignoring the lamb who was now more interested in chewing on the ends of your hair than anything else. You flipped open the worn cover and read the title of the book aloud, “Brother Adalbert’s Bestiary… huh”
“Y/N!” You heard one of your mothers call from the house; she must’ve come to check on how you were doing in the rain and not seen you in the lamb’s pen. “Coming, Mother!” You shouted in her direction and quickly scooped up the book before trudging back towards the house.
Once you got back home and finished up with the lambs you parked yourself right in front of the crackling fireplace, drying both yourself and the book as you carefully flipped through it again and again, reading as you dried out its pages.
‘Ghouls, nekkers, wyverns, barghest, the list goes on and on’ you thought to yourself as you skimmed through the pages, despite having been out in the rain it wasn’t as damaged as you thought it might be, even the notes lining the margins of each entry were still legible. You flipped to the beginning again to make sure the pages were dry when you came upon a little mark on the inside of the cover. It was a little sketchy and messy, but it looked like a little drawing of a wolf head next to the Letter ‘L’.
That was then- now you were a little older- still a farmer’s daughter, but now you were responsible for hunting monsters. You were no witcher, that was obvious- but you still made do. You had studied that bestiary until you knew it like the back of your hand, you saved up all your money to buy yourself a rinky-dinky set of armor and an old sword. You started small- fighting only what you knew you could take on; barghests and ghouls mostly- occasionally you attempted to help rid the swamp towns of bloedziuger, but you had yet to get down the speed you needed when they exploded into acid.
You ran your fingers over the dappled scaring on your arm, a testament to when you had started out on this path you had chosen. You had used your smarts to set traps for your monsters to make it easier for you as a regular human, earned some good coin, and invested that into better equipment. Now you had a good custom-made silver sword, a sturdy but light set of armor, and were beginning to save up for a good horse too.
“Alright Miss, this is as far as I’m taking you.” the cart driver had said, pulling his mule to a stop in the middle of a small village. “You can walk the rest if you really need.” he kept watching you expectantly as you hopped off the back of his cart, making sure he didn't see the few apples you had swiped into your bag.
“Yeah, thank you…” You murmured and handed him a few orens from your satchel to which he grinned and nodded his head.
“Much obliged, Miss…” He tipped the edge of his worn-out hat and continued off down the road.
“Yeah, sure you are…” You let out a sigh and stretched your legs, before heading over to the notice board. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”
You glanced it over, seeing mostly trade notices, but it seemed that there were a few notices you could actually fulfill too; wolves had attacked the livestock of one house, while wyvern seemed to be picking up the sheep of another one nearby. Probably were getting bothered by the same monster, but you figured you'd check them both out to be safe.
You glanced around the town as you stood- it smelled overwhelmingly of animals and stove fires, but your nose had become so used to those over the years that it hardly struck you anymore. A few old women sat out in front of a house, idling and chatting in the late afternoon while chickens clucked and scurried around the streets openly. You guessed there would be a few more hours of sunlight left, so you probably had time to start your investigation before it became too dark for you to see.
You set out to the other side of town to investigate the wolf contract first, figuring yours get the easy things out of the way first.
And Thankfully it really was only wolves that were bothering this farmer and you were able to finish up the contract just before the night began to really fall. So you headed back to the local Inn, coin enough for a room now in hand, and maybe even enough for dinner too if you negotiated right. You were fortunate, you knew, that you were completely human- After all, it meant that people almost always treated you better. You didn’t have any problem with nonhumans, in fact, in this line of work you had even met several pleasant ones you'd like to see again- but you also couldn't ignore that you benefited from the way others treated them.
It had just become fully dark when you came up outside the inn, torches along the road lighting your way back. When you came to the town square you heard a man trying to talk to one of the older ladies you had seen before.
“Hey, you. Yes, you Miss. Where the hell are all the notices for witchers? I thought this was Velen- you guys always have some sort of shit going on for us to solve.” he said, sounding rather obnoxious as even his horse seemed to huff in protest.
After grumbling something about ‘kids these days’, she motioned towards you, “apparently you’ve been beaten to it, Mutant. And I thought you witchers were supposed to be faster than us humans…” She snapped back at him with a smug look on her face.
The man quickly turned to you and now you could see his yellow cat-like eyes and the scar running down beside his right eye. He had worn but rather unique armor and twin blades strapped to his back.
‘Nope. I’m not dealing with this right now’, you thought to yourself and quickly slipped inside the Inn. You went up to the innkeeper first thing, getting a room for the night and what little food and drink you could afford with the rest of your coin. Thankfully the witcher still had yet to come inside yet so you tucked yourself in a corner to eat and read by yourself.
You opened up the bestiary as you ate, looking over the entry on wyverns. You had read this entry over dozens of times, but you didn’t want to risk missing anything that could help you later.
“One room for the night if you will.” The man from earlier asked, now at the innkeeper's table.
“Afraid we’re all out of rooms. She got the last one.” The keeper said as he threw a thumb in your direction.
The turned to look and you were sure he swore under his breath at the exact moment you did before his face twisted into a frown. His footsteps were quiet as he came over to your table, setting his swords down. “So first you take all my contracts, then you take my room. Who the hell are you anyway? You don’t even look like a witcher, you look more like a wannabe knight.” He said callously.
“Wow, quite the introduction. Are all witchers as charming as you Or do you have them all beat?” you retorted flatly, not even sparing another glance up at him. “It’s just my luck I guess. My luck and your getting fucked.” you added, chucking a bit at your own rhyme.
A wicked grin crossed his face and he leaned in closer, chin resting in his hand. “Oh..? You’ve got a bit of a bite in you, huh? I’m Lambert…” He introduced himself.
You looked at him, giving him a quick once-over with your eyes before you cracked a small smile his way and nodded. “I’m Y/n.”
“Y/n? Well, now I have a name for all my problems. So what’s got you so enwrapped that you can barely look up at me? It’s gotta be pretty good because I’m- Hey, I know that book.” He reached over and took it from right in front of you.
“Hey!” you yelled and went to snatch it back, but his witcher instincts made him far faster. “That's mine-”
“Where the hell did you get this?” he seemed a lot more serious now as he held up the book and looked back at you, suspicious eyes looking over your face to see any indication of lying.
“I found it in the woods years ago, its Mine-” you went to emphasize again, but he interrupted you once again.
“No. No, this is mine.” He stated and opened up the inside cover, pointing to the little wolf drawing and the ‘L’. “This is me. Lambert of the school of the wolf. I lost this thing ages ago. I didn’t think I’d ever find it again.”
You sighed as you watched him look over it with a level of care that was reserved for that of something like a childhood friend. This was the book that had shaped your life up to this point, but…. If it belonged to someone else, isn’t it only right that they have it again? You’d read that thing forwards and backward anyways, what more will it be able to tell you?
You let out a small sigh but kept quiet as he flipped through the pages when he paused for a moment. “Wait- this note isn’t mine… Neither is this. ‘Afraid of bees and will actively avoid established hives’ , ‘bad climbers. Easy to trap in pits and kill, but will become feral in their attacks. Keep out of reach.’ “ Lambert read aloud, looking from entry to entry at the notes you had written in as you learned.
“These are… yours? Did you… use this book to become a monster hunter?” He asked, looking at you in a mix of wonder and confusion. “You’ve got to be fuckin' insane- why would a human ever want to become a monster hunter?” after a half second of thought he handed the book back to you, which you brought to your chest possessively.
“You said it yourself, Velen always has shit going on for you guys to solve. I grew up here and it's turning into something that’s almost too dangerous to live in. I wanna change that.” you shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but what you did held great importance to you.
Lambert was quiet for a moment, something that you gathered was probably unusual for him, as he seemed to take in your words.
“But-” you started, trying to shift the topic and lighten the mood a bit. “How about to make up for stealing your book and all your jobs I let you stay in my room with me. You set up a bedroll in front of the fireplace or something.” you grinned a bit as you offered, watching his face turn from something serious into a charming smirk that you could feel draw you in a little more than you'd like to admit.
You two spent the rest of the night chatting and throwing quips back and forth at each other, and before your drinks were done it felt like you had known each other for decades. There was a layer of sarcasm over much of the vulnerability there, but you could see past it easily.
When you two made it up yo your room for the first time that night you discovered that the one bed the room had was actually a lot bigger than you had thought it would be. There was easily room for 2 people to sleep and still keep a bit of distance if they wanted.
“Hey, Lambert?” you looked back at him as he came to the door, “not to be too forward, but would you like to just share the bed? I can keep to my own side if you can.” you posed to him and set your stuff down on one side.
“Sure as hell beats the hell out of a bedroll.” He smiled and dropped his stuff on the other side and began pulling off his armor.
Your brain became like fuzzy static as you watched his tunic ride up through the motions he went through. The thin strip of skin and the distinct line of the ‘V’ his pelvis made was all you saw, but it was all you needed too.
“Don’t tell me our little monster hunter is getting distracted…” he said smoothly with a little chuckle to his voice.
Your blush glowed like a radiant lamp and you quickly turned away to snuff out that burning flame. “I just- well. You don’t want your armor on for sleeping? Isn’t it safer that way?”
“What- are you gonna stab me?” he moved to lounge out on the bed, putting his arms behind his head and exposing his midsection to you again.
“Well- I. No, of course not.”
“Well, then I should be fine. Are you just gonna stand there all night?” He said with a huge grin, patting the bed beside him. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
“Shut up” you looked away and quickly and quietly got down to your tunic and underclothes. You climbed under the warm covers and pulled the blanket high around your shoulders. “Are you gonna sleep above the covers tonight?” You asked, rolling over to face him and pushing your hair out of your face.
A smile came over him when he looked over at you, it was softer than the others he had offered you tonight and a little more sincere as well. “I’m gonna be up for a little while. You know us Witchers, we don't really sleep much.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his already pushed-back hair. “Don’t you worry about me, you get some sleep…”
You struggled to hold back a yawn as you nodded in agreement. “Goodnight, Lamb.” you mumbled before drifting off into a sound sleep.
“Goodnight, little monster hunter…” the witcher mumbled quietly as he watched your sleeping face. He hadn’t felt this… soft sort of feeling before. Something that felt so deep and so real it almost scared him to admit he was feeling it, but as he looked down at your sleeping face he felt ease wash over him. How could you throw yourself into such a profession? Didn’t you know the risks? You even had the choice of it, unlike him…
“Mmph…” you mumbled out as you shifted in your sleep, reaching out for something that wasn’t there.
Without a second thought, Lambert put his arm in the way of your reaching hands, smiling a bit as your hand naturally found his and you held his arm close to you in comfort.
“What am I gonna do with you..?” he mumbled into the quiet night once more.
When morning came you woke up to an empty and cold bed, but you weren't sure why that seemed to hurt for some reason…. But within minutes your witcher had returned with breakfast in hand.
“So, we’re hunting a wyvern?” Lambert asked as he handed you a plate.
“Good morning to you too.” you remarked with a smile, “looks like. We can prepare after breakfast?”
And so you two did, when breakfast was finished you two gathered up your things and made for the stables.
“Here, you can ride on the horse. I’ll walk- I hate trying to follow a creature's trail on horseback…” he justified as he helped you up, hands on your waist as he boosted you up.
“Thanks, Lamb… lead the way?” you smiled down at him, grabbing the reins.
You two made your way to towards the last house on the way out of town, looking around for evidence of this wyvern and following the blood trail towards what you could only guess would be a nest.
“So, look-” Lambert started. “Why don’t I just take this one? You know how tricky these draconids can be.” He offered, looking up at you to see your reaction, but it wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for.
Your brow furrowed and you shook your head. “What? No. I’ve taken monsters on my own before so why should this be any different?” you argued. “No, If you want we can fight it together, but I'm gonna be there either way.”
“Look- I get that you’re supposed to be a monster hunter and all, but why would you want to go ruin a pretty face like that? Why don’t you just keep yourself out of trouble?” he sounded a bit less hypothetical now and a little more like an argument.
“So you think I’m pretty?” you asked with a smirk, trying to turn the topic of conversation. You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You’re a monster hunter! And even though you’re still figuring things out you didn’t want it to stop you.
The witcher only sighed at your response. “Yeah, I do…” his words drifted off a bit as he slowed to a stop, his horse automatically stopping beside him. “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I’m gonna go take a leak before the fight. First rule of being a witcher you know”, He said and headed off into the thicker brush, his somber tone resonating in your mind.
“That cannot possibly be true.” you laughed a touch and watched him go, sighing a bit, but taking the moment to get your things ready, bombs and potions from the recipes scribbled in the back of the book.
But it was taking quite a while for Lambert to come back…
“Come on, Lamb! I’m not gonna do this all day!” You shouted, feeling a sense of Deja vu as you called those words. You waited around a few minutes more until you heard an exasperated and pained cry coming from far off past the brush.
“Damn it, Lambert!” you yelled as you processed what he had done and stirred his horse into motion, tugging its reins towards said noise. You were angry, to be honest. I mean, did he just think you couldn’t do it by yourself? Did he think that because you were human you couldn't fight like he did? The thoughts alone made your blood boil and your skin grow hot and itchy as it was whipped by the wind.
When you finally came onto the scene you saw Lambert rushing around on the cliff's edge, battling the aged draconid all by himself. You practically threw yourself off the horse and into the fight as you came in close. “Damn it, Lambert! You lying bastard!” you yelled and drew the Wyvern's attention to you now as you stabbed your sword into its tail.
“Don’t yell at me, it was for your own good!” He yelled back as he cast Igni, vying for its attention to come back to him.
“My own good? You sound like my bloody mothers!”
“Sweet Melitele, I did it to protect you!” Lambert shouted, looking to you instead of the wyvern now and dropping his guard.
“Lambert…” you sighed, breath coming out in heavy huffs as you fought off the creature. But you didn’t get the chance to say anything more before the annoyed creature whipped its tail at the witcher and flew off with the last of its strength.
He had jumped back in just the nick of time but unfortunately didn’t realize how close he was to the edge. With one foot on stable ground and the other about to step off the cliff’s edge, his body's momentum had him off kilter and about to topple over….
“Lambert!’ you yelled and ran towards him, grabbing him by his sword’s sheath strap just in time and yanking him forcefully back onto safe ground. You stumbled backward to safety and landed on the ground right beside your annoying witcher.
“How’s that for ‘I did it to protect you’?” you huffed in an attempt to catch your breath, nudging Lambert with your elbow as he processed that he had almost died.
“Holy shit….” he muttered, reaching unconsciously for your hand- much like you had done just the night before.
You set your sword down and put your hand out to find his. “Lamb… while I admire you trying to protect me I don't want you to become overprotective. I love doing what I do- after all, I chose this path. And I know I'd love it more if I could work side-by-side with you” You looked to him as you talked, watching his expression turn sincere, but not uncomfortable. “I’d love to learn more about monster hunting from you, but don’t count me out just yet, okay?”
Lambert nodded, a smile forming over his features as he squeezed your hand. “I suppose it’s the least I can do since you saved my life… How about we finish off this wyvern together?”
You nodded, a grin spread across your face once again. “Together.”
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Taglist: @open--till--midnight @writingmysanity @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff
If you wanna get added/taken off the taglist or if I've made a mistake just DM me and let me know!
#yesss i love a good lambert#i hope you enjoyed it! i know it might not have been everything you asked for but i got really passionate.#Lambert#witcher lambert#lambert imagine#The witcher#As always im usually thinking of Game!lambert#but you can imagine him however#tw3#Lambert x you#Lambert x y/n#Lambert x Reader#Witcher self insert#self insert#the witcher fic#the witcher fanfiction#Request me anytime!
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Fanfic: Absolution (Papa Emeritus III and Cardinal Copia help the reader with Anxiety)
Hi lovelies! Here's a lil one for all you ghuleh's with anxiety! Mostly a shameless self-insert because it's something I'm dealing with rn.
Anyways enjoy!
WC: 1.4k
AO3 Link
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I felt particularly anxious that day, the coldness of the Abbey that I quite enjoyed was replaced with a strange, warm feeling. Not the good kind, almost too warm. I had the familiar heavy feeling in my chest, but I decided to ignore it and head out to mass anyway, I couldn’t miss another, I already missed out last night.
As I walked down the Abbey halls to mass, twiddling my thumbs with anxiety, I nodded graciously to all the sisters I passed, thinking if I faked being okay, I would be. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. Since I was early, I found a seat in the row closest to the front, sitting down next to an eager sister who was already there. Other siblings began to make their way in, mass was particularly full that day, crowded almost, I had sisters either side, our thighs touching uncomfortably as everyone tried to squeeze into the pews.
The ghouls began to make their way in and stood behind the altar as they always do, Papa Emeritus III and Cardinal Copia followed shortly after. Papa approached the altar and began his nightly sermon. I listened for about 5 minutes when a wave of nausea hit me. A warm rush through my body made me widen my eyes. Satanas not now. For the rest of the sermon, I had to stare at the stone floor and put all my focus into not throwing up on the floor in front of me, I felt terribly ignorant for ignoring Papa but I just couldn’t look up. My chest felt heavy and tight, my heart beating incredibly fast and a lump formed in my throat. The room seemed to be spinning, everything around me becoming a blur.
Before I knew it mass was over and all the siblings who attended started filtering out of the doors, chatting about everything Papa had just said. I sat there, still, quiet, not able to get up, scared stiff. I worried that someone would notice but my body just wouldn’t let me move. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, turned my head slightly, wide-eyed, it was the Cardinal. “I-I’m sorry Cardinal, I’ll make my way back to my bedroom in a moment” I told him. “Sorella, are you okay?” He asked, “You had your head down for the entirety of mass and now you’re sitting there, stiff as a board”. I decided to try and stand, hoping my legs would take my outside for some fresh air, alas, an intense wave of nausea and dizziness struck me. Papa rushed over and grabbed my arm, steadying me “Cara, you look pale, sit” he gestured to the pew, and I sat. The Cardinal signalled for one of the ghouls to come over, Aether hurried over, a look of concern and confusion evident in his eyes behind the mask. “Would you be so kind as to go get a glass of water?” the Cardinal said. With that command, Aether rushed to fetch some water.
“I’m sorry, I’m okay, really” I said, still staring at the stone flooring. “If you’re sick Cara, we can take you to the infirmary” Papa assured. “No. It’s not that kind of illness…” I replied, “It’s in my-my head.”
The Cardinal gave Papa a look of concern. Aether returned with the glass of water and handed it to me, it was ice cold, exactly what I needed when my head felt like it was on fire. The Cardinal took off his glove and placed his bare hand on my chest, “Cara, your heart is beating out of your chest, what is troubling you?”
“It’s just some anxiety Cardinal, I will be fine, you and Papa should leave me, you must be busy” I replied. “Tesoro, we are never too busy for you” Papa assured me. “Also, I don’t think it’s just anxiety Cara, you’re as white as a ghost, eh?” the Cardinal added. Warm tears trickled down my face, the kind of tears you just can’t stop, tear after tear landing on my lap. Papa placed his pointer finger under my chin, moving my head so my eyes meet his “Tesoro, talk to us, we’re here to help”.
“I keep getting horrible nausea and dizziness when my anxiety gets bad, it’s-it’s just so hard to get out, every time I need to leave my room, I feel nauseated and I don’t know what to do anymore” I sobbed. The Cardinal sat to my right and Papa sat to my left, both close enough to feel their warmth, this eased my anxiety somewhat. The Cardinal put his hands on the small of my back, rubbing gentle circles as I sobbed. “How long has this been happening?” the Cardinal enquired. “I’ve had anxiety for years, but the nausea and dizziness has been a more recent thing, a couple of months maybe?” I answered. “Tesoro, I wasn’t going to say anything but I’ve not seen you in the dining hall recently either, how have you been eating?” Papa asked. “Barely Papa. My appetite is practically nothing at this point” I confessed. The Cardinal looked at me, eyes full of concern but managed to show me a comforting smile. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both Papa and the Cardinal urging me to take small sips of water.
“Okay, Tesoro, you’re still looking very pale, I think we should get you back to your room, sì?” Papa suggested. I nodded reluctantly. Papa took my left side, and the Cardinal took my right, holding me up as we walked through the Abbey halls. Realising how far my quarters were, Papa suggested we take a rest stop at his office nearby, we entered his office, it was dimly lit with candles and the fire was still going, only just. They laid me on the deep-red sofa that sat near the window. “Here, take this Cara” the cardinal said as he gently handed me a knitted blanket. I wasn’t cold but blankets brought me comfort, so it was very much welcomed.
The Cardinal took a seat directly next to me in an armchair, he softly grabbed my hand and began rubbing his thumb in circles, it was comforting. “You must be tired after enduring all of this Cara, don’t be afraid to fall asleep.” He told me. “Cardinal, the nausea is just so overwhelming, and I can’t seem to shake it. I know it’s in my head, but I don’t know how to get rid of it” I said, tears slowly rolling down my cheek again.
Papa walked over and knelt beside me, he placed his hand softly on my face and began to wipe the tears. “Tesoro, we’re here now. Have you eaten at all today?” he enquired with a soft tone. “No Papa, I-I couldn’t leave my room, the feeling in my chest was just too persistent” I replied. “How about we get you something to eat? Then you can sleep here, we will both be here all night, I promise Cara” he insisted. I nodded shyly, feeling embarrassed that my Papa had to make sure I was eating. I couldn’t even look after myself. Lucifer, I couldn’t even eat properly, I was a mess.
Papa swiftly left to get some food, noticing how late it was while the Cardinal stayed by my side. It wasn’t long before Papa was back, I must have nodded off at least a little bit because I remember nothing from when he left to when he returned. He walked into the room with a small plate in his hands “Okay Tesoro, I got you some toast, only a few slices, if you haven’t eaten all day we don’t want anything too heavy, we don’t want to upset your stomach, sì?” It was unusual to see this soft side of Papa, normally every other sentence was some sort of sexual innuendo but I was grateful for his father-like behaviour in these moments. He handed me the toast which I gratefully accepted, “Thank you Papa.” I began eating the toast, savouring every mouthful of this simple dish my own Papa had prepared for me while the Cardinal was sat nearby urging me not to eat too quickly.
After finishing my food, I felt exhausted beyond measure. All the anxiety and weeks of not eating properly had finally caught up to me. I yawned, feeling my eyes droop from my tiredness. “You look tired Cara, you should get some sleep, eh?” the Cardinal remarked as he began running his hands through my hair. “Yes Tesoro, sleep now, we’ll be here in the morning” Papa told me. I wasn’t going to argue “Goodnight Papa, Goodnight Cardinal. Thank you”
“Goodnight Tesoro” Papa said softly.
“Goodnight Cara, sweet dreams” the Cardinal whispered.
I immediately let sleep envelop me, hoping that I would wake up to better days.
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Peachy⛧Ghuleh
#the band ghost#ghost band fanfic#papa emeritus fic#shitghosting#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus the fourth#papa emeritus lll#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus 4#ghost band#fanfiction#comfort#hurt/comfort#anxiety#peachy writes
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I find ur art very cute! would love to see what u think a cowbell ghoul would look like if ur up for it!
you have unleashed something within me, anon. i have a lot of Cowbell Ghoul Thoughts
if u want to witness my ramblings it is under the cut! otherwise, here’s my design of this silly cryptid fella :)
Ministry Mysteries: Cowbell Ghoul
Cowbell is not just strange in the sense of their physical appearance (the many eyes and double set of horns never failing to make siblings and other ghouls alike uneasy), but their overall aura is quite off-putting.
The best way to describe Cowbell is an anomaly. They reside within the shadows of the abbey, only being spotted on rare occasions and never for very long. If you happen to catch a glimpse of this unusual ghoul, they’re gone in the blink of an eye. No one has figured out if they’re just really fast or have the ability to teleport.
Cowbell does not have a known element. It is assumed that they have some connection with earth as the cowbell is a percussion instrument, but they haven’t shown any signs of possessing magic. It is also theorized that they might be quintessential if they can, in fact, ‘teleport’ through the shadows.
Cowbell is docile. They have never shown signs of aggression towards anyone or anything and the few ghouls who have interacted with them describe them as very friendly.
Cowbell does not have a mouth so they can not speak. They communicate with animalistic noises (purrs, trills, growls, etc.) and other gestures.
Cowbell is usually seen with Special Ghoul. Special is also the only one to ever have physically touched Cowbell, proving that they are, in fact, a physical being.
The most eerie thing about this ghoul is not their many eyes or their fondness for darkness. It’s not their behavior or anything like that.
There is no record of Cowbell ever being summoned.
Every summoning is recorded. Every ghoul has a file that is constantly updated with information.
Cowbell is no where to be found in the archives. There is no evidence of their summoning.
No one knows where Cowbell came from. They don’t know how long they’ve been around. They’re not even sure what exactly they are at this point.
Are they even a ghoul?
#maybe i’ll make Ministry Mysteries a series#who knows#anyway cryptid cowbell my love <3#pebble art#request#ghoul refs#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#cowbell ghoul
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Something about Young Nihil after he’d just become Papa maybe? 😊
Thought this gif was fitting
“Pretty Boy? Me?”
.
.
.
.
Nihil groaned as he opened his eyes. His father hadn’t been lying when he said rituals drain you of energy. His facepaint was faded from him just collapsing on the bed. He got up and did his usual routine of washing his face, styling his hair etc.
After he was dressed he headed downstairs to be greeted by a very unhappy Imperator and a few ghouls. He rose a brow at them, clearly confused.
“So? You found someone last night?”
Imperators words were harsh and cold. He’d only been Papa for a day, if that. He looked at her confused and reached for her. He understood despite being so young she’d been hurt before. She pulled away and the hurt was evident on his face.
“amore what are you talking about? Last night after the ritual I came straight back here and collapsed, I didn’t even have time to wipe my makeup off”
Imperator looked at him confused for a second before Nihils father walked in. Nihil bowed slightly to his father, realizing that the woman he was suppose to call mother, was clinging to his arm. His true mother, his fathers prime mover, had long left the ministry after Nihils father didn’t let her see Nihil after birth.
“Papa, do you remember what happened last night, Imperator seems to think I’m cheating”
The father looked over and shook his head in disbelief.
“No, you haven’t cheated. If she’s talking of the woman that brought you home, that was your…birth mother.”
Nihils eyes widened. His fathers voice held such venom speaking of his ex prime mover. He felt a squirm in his stomach and looked at imperator with a faint smile. She was always so cranky before coffee, but he loved her. Or…he thought he did.
Later that day Nihil was writing lyrics when Imperator came in and sat with him. Not unusual, in his Cardinal days they would have done….less appropriate things, but he knew she was tired.
“Amore, I’m glad to see you! I was thinking the next concert we could do-“
He was cut of by a sniffle. Looking over Imperators eyes were full of tears. His heart beat quickened and he held her face, scanning for injuries.
“T…tesoro! What’s wrong? Did my father say anything?”
Imperator looked at him so upset. It broke his heart, and angered him. It was obvious his father was behind his dearest’s pain.
“Your father said you have to have a prime mover a…and it can’t be me”
His heart dropped further. But she was the love of his life. He didn’t want to part from her at all. He brought her into a sweet kiss and kissed all over her face.
“I promise amore that when my father kicks the bucket, we can have children, though you know him I’ll have to produce one heir before he dies…”
Imperator nodded smiling at the idea of carrying Nihils child, she knew how rowdy he could be when sexually aroused, and that she wasn’t always available but the fear of him cheating was next to none.
For now.
Fin
#the band ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fic#the band ghost#Nihil X imperator#only slightly tho#probs gonna make this a series
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6, 9, 11, 17 and 20 for Hazel? :3
6. what quality do they like the most about themselves?
Hazel loves that she is still basically alive. Being somewhere inbetween life and death as a Duskborn is beautiful and wonderful and terrifying all at once. And she wouldn't have it any other way.
9. who do they admire? why?
Shout out to Fina Motisi of Clan Ventrue for simultaneously being a great and terrible role model. I could give you paragraphs of how Hazel looks up to Fina, but in short: Hazel wants to be in charge and seen as competent- but not lose herself to cruelty and ruthlessness when in power. From an outside perspective though, Fina is just another 300 yr old trying her damn best and with a heart that keeps bleeding.
11. what does a usual outfit of theirs look like?
I think these pieces do a really great job showing off what she considers an everyday look.
17. when were they the most angry that they’ve ever been?
There are a few moments.
Tommy Baker used dominate to make a kindred take their third drink from her. Hazel is no stranger to the blood bond and its usefulness- and harm to the receiver. When two Tremere learned they were Duskborn, they had to get them on their side- fast. So a little vitae goes a long way. Originally, Hazel was planning on keeping this Tremere at two steps bound- letting him keep an ounce of freedom she believed he still deserved. But now she has the equivalent of a sorcerous kicked puppy in her haven begging for more thinned vitae.
Her ultimate ambition is to forge Thinblood Safehouses in cities. These safehouses will be places that Duskborn know they will be able to hunt and rest easy- and thats no easy feat surrounded by Camarilla, Sabbat, and Anarchs. It requires her fellow thinbloods to work with her- not cause a masquerade breach on purpose. Corina had lost her humanity and fear of Hazel and bit someone in broad daylight. It took months of resources and careful hiding to make up for what political ground she lost with a single bite. She caught the fledgling and it was a lot of willpower to not kill Corina right then (it would have ruined her personal masquerade of making the local Camarilla think she is a ghoul).
The moment she knew she had been betrayed by a fellow thinblood named Wei. He was working for the Second Inquisition, and one of the coterie had been discovered as a blank. In retaliation, Hazel and a different Tommy (different chronicles) tortured the location of the SI hideout out of one of Wei's fellow operatives, presumably killed him, and then burned the hideout to the ground.
20. describe one of your favourite rp moments with this character
I have wholeheartedly loved several scenes my friends and I have run together. It is extremely difficult to pick one, so here are my top three:
Hazel's first night. When my coworker and soon to be friend offered to be the Storyteller for a ttrpg I had never heard of, I was excited. We had crafted characters and then...dropped immediately in the horror of it all. Hazel woke up with three strangers and surrounded by exsanguinated corpses. The four fledglings had to piece together what had happened to them and what to do next- while some of them had powers manifesting in obvious ways and others were still basically human.
2. Ignite the Shadows: This entire plot has yet to fully resolve itself and actually has Hazel unconscious for most of the story's duration. The inciting moment was that Hazel had used alchemy that made her vitae flammable, and it went off in the middle of Elysium. The blast claimed the Prince, sending her into Torpor. What made this roleplay event so fun was watching the ripples cascade as each character found out what happened. Some mocked the Camarilla's weakness, some offered aid. Some immediately believed that Hazel had to have been sabbat all along, some argued against all evidence and defended the thinblood. You can read the initial comic here.
3. This one is a text based roleplay between me and one of my mutuals (now an irl friend <3). Hazel and Tommy Baker confide what ills they have both experienced at the hands of the Tremere. Tommy was nearly breaking down recalling the nights with his sister, Sam, but Hazel was right there to offer comfort. I cannot remember if this is the first scene where Hazel and Tommy declare themselves to be siblings, but it is the moment where I knew these two would be inseparable- no matter what the world threw at them.
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Okay, I’m gonna start world building on main here again. Specifically for Dead Dove Copia.
Dead Dove Copia is a AU where Copia has both the antichrist within him and an “guardian” angel attached to his soul. It screws with him in the worst way possible, sending him down a spiral of madness and tragedy.
Anyways HC time:
Copia and Terzo were very close before Copia went through the ritual to become Cardinal.
Copia is ex catholic, and still has a “guardian” angel connected to his soul after all those years being devout.
Copia is the antichrist. When he goes through the process to become cardinal, this “awakens”, along with his “guardian” angel trying to “save” him after detecting the antichrist within him, which greatly fucks with his sense of reality and mental stability.
Imperator basically groomed Copia into a monster when he after he became Cardinal. She’d constantly mock him and demean him about his features and his life, making him anxious and self conscious. At least, she thought that was what she was doing.
In reality, Copia had lost his mind long ago after the ritual to become cardinal. This only solidified his very little connection to reality, especially after he realized they were going to use him as the lead singer for Ghost.
Copia had the Papas killed in a fit of jealousy when he realized they were coming on tour with him. Then he dragged around their bodies to mock Imperator.
Imperator didn’t know who killed the Papa’s until her own investigation with her sisters of sin proved that Terzo’s own ghouls did it. When she found out, she was horrified at the monster she created. She had wanted Copia to become strong through “tough love”, but it’s evident that’s not what happened.
Copia had torn apart and defiled the former Papa’s corpses to send a message to Imperator: “This could be you.”
Imperator becomes deeply concerned not only for herself but Papa Nihil.
Copia deeply regrets killing Papa’s, but refuses to accept that’s what happened. Because of the antichrist and angel within, he can’t seem to face his issues when he’s awake. Instead, he hallucinates and gets stuck in nightmares about the papas, specifically Terzo.
He misses Terzo deeply, and visits his corpse often. He goes as far as sewing together the body again after his rage incident with imperator in an attempt to “fix” him.
Nobody but Sister Imperator knows of this Copia however. Copia continues to play the naive, innocent and awkward version of Papa he’s always played. All the siblings assume he’s the same as he always was, especially Papa Nihil. Imperator won’t leave those 2 alone in fear of Copia doing something.
Mr. Saltarian had no idea of Copia’s streak of madness, and assumes he’s as stupid as he behaves. Though Imperator has tried to bring it up to him, she just gets too nervous and bails out last second every time.
Please send asks or something about this if you’re interested at all in the lore lol. I’m going to be writing fics for it ofc, I already have one called “Accusations” which you can find in the “My fanfics” tag if you’re interested.
Till I make more HC posts, toodles~
#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost headcanons#dead dove#evil copia#papa emeritus#popia#papa emeritus iv#sister imperator#fic idea#copiiia#c3#dead dove copia au
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pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!
summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you.
warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess
a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x
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Jung Hoseok is a lot of things.
Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world.
Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening.
Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.
“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.
Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.
“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?”
Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.
It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.
Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show.
And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.
Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.
Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.
It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)
Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.
So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.
Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.
“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”
“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.
“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”
Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.
The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.
He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)
The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.
“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”
“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”
Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity.
There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”
“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”
Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.
It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine. “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.
“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.
“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”
“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.
“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.
Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.
He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.
So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.
Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.
You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.
“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”
Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”
When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.
“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.”
Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay.
“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him.
“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”
Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.
“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.
“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”
Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.
He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs.
--
As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)
On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it.
(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)
Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him.
You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course.
“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”
“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.
“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.
“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”
Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”
“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”
“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared.
“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”
Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”
“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”
“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.
Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face.
For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.
“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”
“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”
Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”
“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”
You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.
“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.
“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.
“You realise other people work here, right?”
Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.
“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”
“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.
He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”
You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"
"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful.
"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.
Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.
Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you.
"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."
"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."
"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.
You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.
After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"
"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.
--
Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does.
“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”
There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.
Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.
You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.
She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.
"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"
"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"
"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you.
Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."
“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”
“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.
“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.
“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.
“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.
Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”
And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions.
Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.
“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.
“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.
“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout.
“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”
Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.
“Alright, done!”
You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips.
“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”
“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.
“Flatterer,” you say.
“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.
Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin.
“Let me have a proper look.”
You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.
“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.
“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.
“Yeah, she did.”
"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.
Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."
A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to.
"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time.
"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”
“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”
“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.
Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”
--
Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.
“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”
“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man.
“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.
“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”
“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple.
(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)
Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)
Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease.
Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.
“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.
“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.
“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.
Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.
“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.
“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”
“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone.
“There,” you declare. “All better.”
Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.
“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”
“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”
“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.
Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.
“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.
“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”
Your face twists in confusion. “What?”
“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.
“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.
“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.
--
There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.
“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.
“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress. “Guess we’re just telepathic.”
Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.
The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’
You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”
“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.
“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”
“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”
“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous.
Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.
When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.
“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”
“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”
You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”
Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”
“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.
“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”
Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.
“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.
“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.
“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”
“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.
“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”
Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.
“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”
“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”
“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”
“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”
“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”
You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.
“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”
“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”
“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.
“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio.
You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.
“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.
“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.
“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”
“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”
“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”
Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.
“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.
“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”
“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”
Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.
“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”
You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”
“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.
As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.
“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”
“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”
“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”
“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”
Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!”
And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.
“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.
--
Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it.
At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.
“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”
“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”
Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.
You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.
You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you.
“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.
“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”
Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”
You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”
“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”
You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features.
He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.
“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”
“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch.
Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.
Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”
You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?
Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.
Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)
“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.
You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.
“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”
You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.
“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.
Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.
“Long day?”
Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.
“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”
Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”
“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”
You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.
“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed.
Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”
Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”
“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”
“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.
“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”
You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.
“Oh,” you’d said.
You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.
Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.
And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.
“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”
“I- what?”
“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”
“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”
“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”
For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”
Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”
The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”
“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.
“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”
“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”
One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”
“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”
“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”
He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.
“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.
“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.
A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.
“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”
“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”
“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”
“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”
Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”
You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern.
“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”
Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked?
“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”
“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”
Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”
You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”
“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.
“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.
“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.
Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.
“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”
Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”
“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”
--
Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.
“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”
“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.
It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.
You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.
You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.
So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.
“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.
“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”
Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”
Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there.
“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”
Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”
Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”
Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”
You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)
By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.
“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”
“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”
When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”
“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”
“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”
You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”
“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”
“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.
“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”
“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.
“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.
“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin.
He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)
By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.
You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.
“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”
“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”
Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.
“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”
When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are.
Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-
Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser.
It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-
You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not.
It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.
“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”
You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole.
“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”
Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it.
You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.
So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.
You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.
You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-
“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”
You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.
“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”
All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ.
Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.
“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”
Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you.
“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.
“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”
“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”
It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.
“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.
“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of.
“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”
Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”
Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.
“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.
“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”
Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.
At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”
Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.
“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.
The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.
He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right.
The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.
Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room.
Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.
“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.
“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”
You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room.
“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.
“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”
You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”
“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”
You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”
“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”
You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”
“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”
“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”
“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.
“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.”
There. You said it.
You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.
“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”
You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back.
As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok.
A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.
“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”
You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.
“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Your eyes widen. “You’re-”
You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.
His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.
“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”
Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.
“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”
You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.
“Hoseok?”
“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you.
“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-
“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”
Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you.
“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”
It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”
The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”
He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.
Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.
“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”
“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”
Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.
“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”
“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”
“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.
“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”
“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.
One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth.
You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.
You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be.
You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles.
He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”
“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”
“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”
“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”
He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”
He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”
Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”
You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over.
It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”
The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly.
The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.
“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.
“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”
“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”
Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.
“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”
Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright.
“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him.
You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.
“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”
His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-
“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.
“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”
Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of.
“You’re always so good to me,” you say.
“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty.
“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly.
You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”
You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you.
“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”
Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.
“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”
He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.
The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.
“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”
You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.
“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”
Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”
He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.
You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.
“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”
Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.
“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”
He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.
You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”
Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology.
You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.
When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.
“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.
“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”
Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”
You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say.
The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.
“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”
“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.
When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.
Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”
You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.
Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”
“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”
You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast.
You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.
“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”
“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”
“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”
“I love you,” Hoseok says.
“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.
“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.
“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”
--
Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.
When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.
“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.
“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.
“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”
“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”
“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.
“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.
#jhope x reader#hoseok x reader#hoseok smut#jhope smut#bts x reader#jhope fluff#hoseok fluff#bts#jhope#jung hoseok#joy.masterlist
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C is for -- Charon
Oh, Charon 🥺
I just adore this guy, and still, I cannot believe how close it was between him and Boone on this poll. But either way is a win in my book, really😅
And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!
But I hope y'all love this! Just make sure to check out the rating 😉
--
Pair: Charon x F!Lone
Dialogue Prompt: “Can you just hold me for a moment?”
Word: Care
Rating: NSFW
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1.6k
NSFW below, minors, please do not interact!
“Charon–”
Lone’s strained voice sent another shock down the ghoul’s searing spine. He gritted his teeth, his strong fingers clenching her thigh tightly where he held her legs open for him, where his broad hips slotted between them with every forceful thrust.
“Say it again.” He growled, his grip like iron, his expression focused on staving off that great feeling of release, in favor of tipping his partner over the edge first and foremost.
“Charon, fuck,” She breathed out heavily, her mesmerizing chest rising and falling rapidly with his jostling, with her own jerky movements, the bucking of her hips pushing him deeper into her, and following him still as he pulled back.
Close. She’s so close.
Charon's eyes closed briefly, as he allowed his head to fall back, to soak in the mere feeling of her body beneath his. The warmth of her thighs and her ass, pressed flush against him, the softness of her smooth skin against his own rugged planes of flesh, his firm, calloused hands pressing divots into her yielding plushness.
The small, stone room within the abandoned house reeked of their lewd activities, and in it, he felt the slickness of her sweat, he reveled in the sweet sound of her keening moans, and the way her walls gripped him… Like she never wanted him to leave her.
It took effort to haul himself in and out of her tightness, but the way she reacted when he hit that sweet spot deep inside her, when the roughness of his skin rubbed her just right, he couldn’t take it.
Charon’s eyes sprang open again, his grip on her thigh tightened to the point of bruising, and he brought his free hand to her center. Expertly, his fingers delved between her lower lips, and began to press firm circles over the sensitive nub he found there.
He braced himself again, as Lone’s hips flew up off the old, creaky mattress, her own fingers tightening against the fabric until they paled, her eyes rolling back as lightning seemed to explode up her spine.
Charon groaned at the way her heat pulsed around him, as she came undone with the press of his fingers. He held onto her tightly as she rode out her pleasure, his stark eyes unblinking as he absorbed the rapturous sight beneath him. He usually made it a point not to ogle his employer– his partner.
Right.
‘Were together now,’ she’d told him. Almost a month ago; still, for one as old as him, one who was as set in his ways as a person could be, it took Charon some getting used to.
But he respected the hell out of her, no matter the nature of her personal relation to him. He’d seen enough of the way the other wasteland assholes treat young women, he’d ended enough of those interactions himself… He wouldn’t be a part of that problem, not like others had sometimes forced him to be. And yet… There were certain special times, where he let his eyes linger on her seemingly just as disrespectfully, where he let those feelings surrounding her engulf him, he let the sensations flow through his body and become evidence of the attraction he felt for her.
But therein lay the difference between him and them. He'd never disrespect her, beyond a bit of a gawking look, that is. But beyond that? Charon would give his life for Lone, and not just because of that scrap of paper she held. He would do or be whatever she needed most, any time that she asked, simply because she was Lone, and the way she allowed him to be this?
To show her how he felt, truthfully?
She was the first smoothskin– or person Charon felt this sort of affection for in… who the hell knows how long?
Now was one of those times, though. When-- despite his respect, his affection, the rareness, the novelty of being with her in the first place-- he let himself really look at her. The way her breasts heaved, glossy and picturesque with sweat, the way her delicate brows furrowed and shielded her eyes from him, the way her mouth hung open, releasing wanton gasps that, when they met Charon's ears, left his stomach tightening and his cock throbbing with need. Need to tip over his own threshold and into the same such pleasure he saw her enveloped in.
“Lone…” Charon’s low voice sounded from his chest, and he felt another shudder pass through her body and into his. Felt that heavenly gush of slick around him, felt the way she constricted him again, before her body fell, lax and tingling, back against the mattress.
Her eyes blinked open, dark and sensual with the way her pupils were blown out with the pleasure he’d just wrought from her.
“Hm?” She hummed, almost absently.
“Where?” His bright, intense eyes stayed locked to her glossy ones as he began to thrust into her relaxed body once again, with a renewed vigor. Lone grimaced slightly as she felt his cock drag along her walls, feeling every rough sensation amplified by her own recent release.
“A-anywhere, just– ah, just not inside.”
He gave a gruff nod, before setting his grip upon her hips, and pulled her forward into him, instantly picking up his pace as she gripped onto the mattress for dear life.
“God, Charon. Fuck, not too–”
“Almost. There.” He grunted, feeling his member swelling further with each harsh thrust, each blissful drag of her hot, tight walls around him.
He slammed in, one more time, before fully wrenching his cock out of her, just in time to spill his release onto the foot of the mattress.
Charon continued kneeling, allowing himself just a moment to breathe, to let that feeling of relief wash over him as one hand gripped his throbbing member, giving it a couple final jerks, until he was fully spent. His eyes darted to Lone, noting the way small tremors still ran through her body, and damn-near smirking at that blissed out look upon her face.
She’d closed her eyes, he noticed, as he stood up and gathered his clothes, already beginning to dress and prepare to take watch while his partner slept soundly behind him.
He’d only managed to haul his pants up over his hip bones, when he heard a small voice sound through the dim.
“Charon?”
“Hm?” He stepped over to the mattress, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her.
Lone’s hair was mussed, her eyes tired, her voice almost as raspy as his own.
She needs to rest, after all that.
He had to stop himself from looking visibly pleased at the thought.
“Do you… do you have to go on watch right now?”
Charon knelt down, as she sat up on the mattress. Meeting one another in the middle.
Distractedly, the ghoul found his hand moving to her arm, rubbing over a healing mark there. Maybe from some scuffle with raiders or mirelurks, maybe from him, he didn’t know.
Have to be more careful… He recalled his grip on her thigh earlier, and on her hips. She’ll bruise from that, too.
“Charon?”
Her voice hit him, and he looked back up to her with a shrug.
He should go on watch. It’s what he was supposed to do, if he was going to protect her. But the terms of their agreement had changed so much over the months…
“Well… Instead of that, do you think you could, um…”
She was always so strong, outspoken, usually so direct. It had surprised him in the beginning, knowing the soft vault life she’d come from. But he’d always admired it.
This behavior though… It was strange.
“Is something wrong?” He heard himself ask, even as one rough hand continued to stroke over her skin.
“N-no, I just… Can you just hold me? For a moment? It doesn’t have to be long, but…”
“Yes.” He stopped her. It sounded as though she were going to explain herself, try and justify this request, that to any other partner should be more than reasonable. It was expected, he was sure.
But with me…
Not for the first time in their relationship, not even for the first time that night, Charon found himself wondering what she saw in him. What she wanted from him.
But this… in a way, it helped him understand.
She truly sees me as her partner. Not an asset, not a bodyguard or a beast of burden, not a weapon, not a means to an end.
But an equal.
It was something that was going to take some getting used to.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or anything. I know we’re never mushy like this, really, but I don’t know, tonight, I just…”
“It’s alright.”
Lone moved over a bit on the mattress, making room for his bulk as Charon settled, albeit a bit uncomfortably, beside her. The mattress stopped supporting him almost as high as his knees, but Charon tried not to pay mind to it.
No, like he had earlier, he tried to ground himself in her.
Lone moved closer to him as he settled, and Charon’s arm snaked around her shoulders as her hands seamlessly wound about his bare waist. Her puffy cheek pressed into the firmness of his chest, and he felt the soft puffs of breath over his ruined skin lulling him into a blissful state of quietude.
A heavy sigh escaped her, and he felt any stiffness left in her body vacate, as she melted into his shared contact.
It was something he never knew he might come to enjoy. Never dared to want, not with the people he usually found himself close to. But this… Charon felt that he may just be able to get used to it.
#2k event#2k celebration#secret event#fallout#fallout companions#fallout 3#fallout 3 companions#charon fo3#fallout 3 charon#fallout charon#fo3 charon#charon#practicing safe and healthy sex with your ghoul boyfriend#👍
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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)
Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.
The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.
This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.
Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.
It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.
The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.
The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.
Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.
My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:
“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’
Silence.
‘Yes?’
The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”
Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.
Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?
But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.
Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.
And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.
But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.
When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.
You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.
The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.
That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.
If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.
Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.
Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.
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I know that it’s not the week for it, but you know what’s going through my head today?
Michael, going to Purgatory to fish out the Ghoul’s soul, just like he promised Adam that he would, and how annoyed he must have been when he realized he’d have to make the trip alone. Because of course the Ghoul couldn’t go, being soulless—that’s the whole reason Michael has to go in the first place, since Adam’s gone and enmeshed their lives together not just with the monster who had killed him in his first lifetime, but with the very part of that monster’s being that is tied to the earthly plane and incapable of traversing the higher levels of existence available to humanity and all its misfit offshoots only in the afterlife. And of course, with Adam now settled in his old, human body—having been painstakingly reformed from the ashes that the three of them had tirelessly rooted for in the woods outside of Windom—the Ghoul couldn’t very well be left on his own. Soulless and driven primarily by his id, there was no telling where the Ghoul would wind up or who he might hurt if left unsupervised.
And so, Michael begrudgingly has to go to Purgatory alone, possibly aware of the fact that no sooner would the portal close behind him (after all, Michael could open and close the door to Purgatory at will, there was no need to risk who knew what creeping out into their motel room), before the Ghoul leaned over to Adam and murmured something along the lines of, “So, you remember when Michael was dead, and how we’d get off telling each other all the things we’d do if we weren’t stuck in the same body?”
MEANWHILE, Michael was left with the nearly impossible task of finding one stray monster soul in the gruesome, ongoing battle royale that is Purgatory. His choices of strategy are to either assume his trueform and squint down at the souls scurrying over the realm like a swarm of ants in hopes of finding one specific ant, or to walk around in his human-looking form, hoping to find the one soul he needed to find in order to go home. Both were exhausting, and not helped by the fact that Michael had no idea if the Ghoul’s soul was even there—what with the way that the monsters were constantly murdering one another. Even the angels (as per Castiel in season 6) didn’t know where the shredded souls of Purgatory went after they died again here. On top of that, even when presenting himself as human, Michael’s grace gave off an aura that inherently attracted the attention of monsters and Leviathans alike, and while neither was a true threat to an archangel, the continuous fighting was numbingly tedious to say the least.
Especially since most of the beasts that Michael bested and offered to show mercy in exchange for information burst out laughing when Michael then revealed that he was looking for a ghoul from roughly ten years ago. Monsters on the more harmless end of the spectrum didn’t last long in Purgatory.
Eventually, Michael gets a lead about a cave rumored to be a djinn’s nest. Djinn were naturally highly sought after by the less violent souls who found themselves in Purgatory. With no way to escape, it wasn’t uncommon to pursue a gentler avenue to that second, inevitable death in a djinn’s trance. But some people had overheard telltale sounds of fighting coming from inside the nest, suggesting that something else might actually be hiding there.
Michael tracks down this nest, knowing that it’s a long shot. The Ghoul’s soul would have been living in this bloodbath for a decade, after all, but he steps into the alleged djinn’s nest and feels the solid impact of a club striking ineffectively against the back of his head, and sure enough, there stands the Ghoul.
One thing that Michael found unexpectedly jarring was how young the Ghoul looked. He hadn’t thought much of it when Adam had asked him to age up their shared body—supposedly to help him slip back into his old life if he came across anyone he used to know—but the difference was hard to ignore when he was looking at Adam’s face as it was the day they met, under the coating of grime that marked every moving thing in Purgatory. A face that was, additionally, staring at Michael in a mix of confusion and terror. And it was only then that Michael turned his head and realized that it wasn’t a club that had hit him, but an axe—made of silver, if Michael wasn’t mistaken.
It was an awkward first meeting. Naturally, having been in Purgatory over the entirety of his soulless-sona’s relationship with Michael and Adam, the Ghoul had no idea who or what Michael was, and looking between Michael and the now dented axe, could only reasonably conclude that whatever Michael was was a lot harder to kill than a shifter. He took about three seconds to assess the situation, and then did exactly what had helped him survive in Purgatory for so long: ran for all he was worth.
On Michael’s part, he was realizing that he’d been so caught up on the headache of finding the Ghoul in the first place, that he hadn’t even considered what he would say to him when they finally met in this place. “No, wait!” were certainly not the first words he would have planned on.
The next hour or so was spent with Michael reminding himself over and over again that he loved Adam, and Adam loved the Ghoul, and he had promised to do this for both of them. He let the ghoul run outside the cage and then used his wings to relocate himself into the Ghoul’s path, the wayward soul crashing directly into his chest, and Michael’s arms springing around him to keep him from getting away. The Ghoul turned out to be surprisingly feisty though, and while Michael had no doubt that the Ghoul wouldn’t break free, his struggling was a nuisance. Michael wound up pinning the Ghoul against a tree—decidedly ignoring how his soulless-sona would likely have enjoyed that.
“WHAT are you?”
“I am the archangel Michael—”
The Ghoul’s struggling promptly resumed, along with a line of panicked cursing. “Okay, fuck, I know I wasn’t the best guy, but fuck, really? There are so many bastards in here, and you’re going after—”
“I’m not here to hurt you!”
“Okay, but I’m not looking to accept anyone as my lord and savior either! GET OFF ME!”
“Adam Milligan sent me.”
The Ghoul finally stopped struggling at that. As best he could around Michael’s hold on him, he started to gesture to his own face—then stopped and gestured to both his and Michael’s face. “You mean Adam Milligan as in. . ?”
“Yes.”
“WHY?”
“I will likely ask him that question every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Our—”
And it is at that point that Michael becomes aware that his grace—beacon that it is in the madhouse that is Purgatory—had attracted a horde of Leviathans. The Ghoul can hear it too, as whatever’s coming their way is big enough to topple trees. Michael tells the Ghoul to stay close so he can keep him safe, which elicits another strange look from the Ghoul, who had had very few experiences with people wanting to keep him safe, even before he and his siblings were killed. He reminds Michael that Leviathans are pretty high up on the food chain, and Michael assures him that he’s so far above them that he isn’t even on the food chain. The Ghoul winds up running anyway when he sees how big the horde is, Michael shouting after him.
Leviathans, of course, can’t actually kill an archangel, but that isn’t the Leviathans’ goal. They’d heard the rumor about a vampire who managed to make its way out of Purgatory smuggled inside a human soul, and wondered what their chances would be stuffed inside an archangel’s grace. And as such, they abandoned their humanoid forms and proceeded to throw themselves onto Michael as tar-thick liquid goo. Michael could blast them off of himself, but it was difficult with how they skittered around, and there were so many of them—and then all at once, a bottle crashed against Michael’s side, and his entire being was enveloped in fire. A startled, terrified noise burst out of his throat, realization triggering a memory that Michael usually kept firmly out of mind. Then something heavier crashed against Michael’s chest, and he tumbled backward with a splash.
When he opened his eyes, the Ghoul was on top of him. The two of them were laying in the bed of a shallow river Michael hadn’t even noticed before.
Scrambling up into a sitting position, the Ghoul asked, “You alright?”
“What was that?”
The Ghoul reached into a satchel he was wearing—which was now soaked through. What he held up was clearly a molotov cocktail, but when Michael looked closely there was something swirling in the liquid inside.
“Phoenix ash. Djinn who had the cave first, um, had one. I heard it took out Eve, figured it could help with those things.”
“I see. . .” Michael started to sit up as the Ghoul carefully tucked the bottle away.
Then the Ghoul cleared his throat and asked, “So. . Are we friends, or something?”
“Something like that.”
The look the Ghoul shot Michael was sharp. After all, phoenix ash wasn’t exactly a resource to waste on just anyone, and Michael begrudgingly offered, “You have memories waiting on earth that will explain all of this.”
“How do I have memories on earth? I’m dead.”
“. . .It’s complicated.”
“And what, I’m supposed to just trust you? No secret code, or sales pitch or anything?”
“It’s a long story. If I go into it, we'll likely be interrupted.”
The Ghoul frowns and stands up, water running off his clothes as he wades out of the river, thinking. Michael moves to splash water on his face, still shaken from having been set on fire, even though his grace is already healed. He’s interrupted by the Ghoul saying, “Alright, let’s go.”
Michael says, “Just like that?”
And the Ghoul looks uncomfortable, frustrated and vulnerable because he isn’t convinced, but he gestures around them, to the scenery that is currently calm but littered with bones sticking out of the mud left and right, evidence of past bloodshed that would only repeat again and again throughout eternity. “What else am I gonna do?”
And so Michael snaps his fingers, and the portal back to earth opens.
Outside of a body, a soul is actually a very small thing (see season 11), and so Michael actually winds up cradling the Ghoul’s soul in his hands as he steps back into the motel room. And then promptly drops it when he finds Adam and the soulless Ghoul in a state of undress in their king-sized motel bed.
“Oh hey, you’re back!” Adam says, rising out of the bed in a pair of shorts, as if he hadn’t been doing anything wrong—which, of course, he hadn’t been, Michael reminds himself as he let Adam kiss him in greeting. Even so, he finds himself having to draw in a long, calming breath when he looks over and sees the soulless Ghoul grinning at him, reclining on the bed, unbothered and completely naked.
Souls are immaterial things and not subject to the laws of gravity. And as such, when Michael dropped the Ghoul’s soul, it didn’t so much hit the ground as float gently toward the bed, inherently drawn to the other part of itself that resided within the Ghoul’s body. When it reached him, it fazed right through the Ghoul’s chest, without ceremony, and only then did the self-satisfied smirk leave the Ghoul’s face, as he bolted upright, looking like he was about to be sick. Adam was concerned, but Michael assured him that everything was fine. The Ghoul’s head was merely spinning as a decade’s worth of memories inserted themselves into his consciousness, merging who he’d been on earth with the part of him that had fought for his life in Purgatory.
“He should probably stay in bed. It will take him awhile to adjust.”
“Right. . .” Adam nodded and turned back to Michael. It was actually a little surprising how quickly concern disappeared from Adam’s demeanor, Adam trusting Michael’s assessment of the situation unequivocally. Heat replaced it as Adam’s lips found Michael’s again. “I know you don’t need to sleep, but do you want to lay down with us for awhile?”
Adam already had a hand lightly resting on Michael’s belt.
Still on the bed, the Ghoul was watching them with interest.
Later, when Adam was asleep, half sprawled on Michael’s chest with the Ghoul curled against his back, Michael opened his eyes when he felt finger tips idly moving over his stomach. He looked over and found the Ghoul, propped up on one arm, watching the movements of his own hand over Adam’s shoulder, with an expression on his face that Michael found unreadable. The Ghoul’s hand withdrew, and Adam nuzzled in closer to Michael when he moved incrementally, trying to get a better look at their third companion. And even as the Ghoul laid there, perfectly still when their eyes met in the dark, as an angel Michael was aware of how the Ghoul’s heartrate spiked as he seemingly sucked his tongue for a moment before saying, “Thanks for, you know.”
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bokuakakuroken band hcs coz i can:
bokuto is the drummer n hes really good at it ,, he hears the beat more importantly he fEels the beat ,, when creating some new stuff he goes like y dont we badum here and tss bam bam there ?? n its weirdly good stuff always
kuroo the guitarist tm he n bo used to play in the kuroos garage ,, used to call themselves florine iodine neon bros ,, kuroo waited too long for sb to ask so just ended up w fine bros
kuroo the main vocalist coz please
kuroo found out that kenma had predispositions through some game n was begging him ,, kenma actually learned a song as a present for kuroos bday on the guitar,, well he mightve liked it and maybe jUst maybe kenma started playing w the fine bros in the garage tm he plays the electronic guitar
bo wrote once (1) a song it was a love confession n it had only those words : i lov u ! u ! agaashe ! please be ! be ! my boyfriend ! but the beat was good n they changed it to their hit song they didnt get to hear the song for the first time to the end due to some disruptions caused by some particular person named akaashi keiji
akaashi once came w bo to hear them play n just said that hed like to play the bass guitar bo was cryin also everybodys always like thats the groups bassist ????? before the show ah yeah thats the groups bassist after the show
they called themselves the tokyo ghouls idk man it just ,,, match it up go girl it matches just so fine it was obviously kuroos doing
kenma sang one song and everybody was just so shooketh n it boosted up so kenma agreed to become the main vocalist no2
kuroo has the biggest fandom
there are videos on yt of evidence that bokuaka is in a relationship and the fandom over analyses the songs to find them ! clues ! there ! have ! to ! be ! some ! and the boys fuckin know that ,,, kuroo w his devilish smirk lets fuck em up so we singing abt tomatoes today
the some many times that they accidentally commented on sth w their main on tt instead of the private ,,,,,
their debut song was the ace n had nothing to do w it bokuto was just really stubborn
vids : akaashi keiji being ethereal for 7 min straight
bokuaka actually was caught multiple times kissing
they have rap parts in some songs alWAYs done by kenma ucanttellmeotherwise
#kuroo n bo watch their own edits no shame no game#vids : kenma kozume being done for 5 min straight#they have huge tiktok fandom#bo sends their moments w akaashi to akaashi#they actually watch it together tears in their eyes#kuroken#bokuaka#haikyuu headcanons#bokuakakuroken#haikyuu!!#bokuaka headcanon#kuroken headcanons
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Always a Place For You
also on ao3
fair warning, this one is long
Initially, when they run into another Witcher on the road, Jaskier is thrilled. He’s been dying to hear more about Geralt’s adventures and hopes that having a familiar companion will make him more amenable to it. And maybe cheer him up a little. It's been a slow couple of weeks and while they've adjusted to it - and have certainly had worse periods - Geralt has been a little low lately. So when the other man walks toward them, arms stretched and a goat at his side, Jaskier is delighted.
His name is Eskel and he seems equally as enthusiastic to meet Jaskier as Jaskier is to meet him. Geralt makes a muttered comment about how it’s only because of the song and Eskel elbows him. Jaskier loves him immediately.
"Maybe I could write you your own song," he suggests and behind him, he can hear Geralt's snort of derision.
But it's fine. Geralt's never really grumpy with him about flirting - even, he suspects, with other Witchers - and how else is Jaskier supposed to learn about them? Every piece of Witcher knowledge he has, unless gleaned from his years with Geralt, is tainted with bias and fear, and he would very much like to know the truth.
Eskel is, in fact, far more forthcoming than Geralt ever has been, though this is likely a side-effect of Jaskier being Geralt's companion. He can't imagine Eskel would be so willing otherwise. And he can understand that, having overstepped with the wrong person and wound up in trouble more than his share of times.
The pair of them chat as they make their way along the road, heading toward Eskel’s camp. It’s not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes how quiet Geralt has been the whole time. It’s not as though he’s the chattiest person he's ever known, but Geralt has been talking very little today - even for him - and when Jaskier starts asking questions about their childhood, he shuts up entirely.
At the edge of Eskel’s camp, Geralt tethers Roach next to a black stallion who seems none too impressed with the company, then quietly comes to sit with them. He sits on Eskel's other side, staring intently into the fire and continuing to add nothing to the conversation. A couple of times, Eskel starts to say something, but a single look from Geralt is all it takes for him to switch tracks.
Eskel stays with them and Jaskier does his best to take a step back and not focus too hard on every interaction between the two Witchers. They spend a couple of days camping out before the weather turns wet and miserable and Geralt directs them toward town. Jaskier knows it's for his benefit mostly and he feels guilty for them having to change course, but Geralt won't take no for an answer. It's out of the way - they'd been heading toward Rinde and a sizable reward for killing a pack of ghouls - but it's the closest town to them, even if it's barely large enough to have an inn. But it does and once the horses and goat are housed for the night, that's where they head.
"We need a room for the night," Geralt says and Jaskier interjects with a hurried, "two rooms." Geralt turns to him with a confused frown, but Eskel lays a hand on Geralt's shoulder and he relents.
Jaskier tries not to think too much about what that means or why Geralt relents so quickly, but he fails. As he makes his way up to his own room, all he can think of is the way Eskel's fingers pressed into Geralt's shoulder, squeezing gently in a way that, apparently, was enough to reassure Geralt. He wants to be able to offer that kind of reassurance, for Geralt to feel that calm in his presence.
He's unpacking his things, hanging those that got wet to dry, when there's a knock on the door. Jaskier doesn't even have a chance to cross the room before the door opens and Geralt strolls into the room like it's his own.
"What's wrong?" he asks, which Jaskier supposes is polite, but he's so blunt about it that he almost sounds angry.
"Nothing," Jaskier offers, turning away to finish emptying the contents of his pack.
"Jaskier, you've barely said a word all day.”
“I composed an entire song before we reached the city walls."
"But you haven't spoken to anyone but yourself."
Jaskier opens his mouth to mention talking to the stable hand, but the look on Geralt's face tells him that won't go over well. Not that he understands why Geralt is so concerned about his silence, all of a sudden. There have been days when he's all but prayed for Jaskier to shut up. He should be happy about it.
"I'm just... not feeling well," he says, realizing the fault in his lie before he even finishes speaking it. Geralt's eyebrows knit together and he gives Jaskier a quick once-over before evidently deciding he's fine.
"You're lying to me. Jaskier you never lie to me. Why?"
"You can tell when I'm lying?"
"You smell like deceit, don't change the subject."
Jaskier doesn't know what to say because he certainly can't tell the truth. He goes with the one thing he knows Geralt won't want to talk about any further.
"I had a lover here once," he says quickly, "she dropped me quite quickly when she found out about my other lovers. I was quite hoping not to have to come back, but here we are."
It's close enough to the truth, and something realistic enough that Geralt should believe it. And he does, though he doesn't seem happy about it. He stiffens and Jaskier just sighs softly as Geralt turns back toward the door and leaves him alone again.
For four more days, Eskel travels with them. He leaves on the fifth morning, and watching him go is bittersweet, the weight of some unnamed pain sitting heavily on Jaskier's heart. Geralt shows no sign of sadness or regret, but Jaskier can feel something different about him as they turn and head in the opposite direction.
If Jaskier thought things would go back to the way before, he's sadly mistaken. And it's his own fault, really. Geralt, shockingly, returns to normal fairly quickly, falling back into their old routines, but Jaskier can't stop thinking about him and Eskel. When they're alone at night, he pretends not to be cold because he can't bear the thought of Geralt's arms around him if he's thinking of someone else.
But things do eventually get back to something like normal, aided by Geralt's silent persistence. For the first time in their relationship, Geralt is the one pushing boundaries, encouraging Jaskier to do things he doesn't necessarily want to do. But even when Geralt has wormed his way back to his proper place in Jaskier's life, Jaskier can't stop thinking about him with Eskel. So he flirts less - at least with Geralt - and he distances himself a little bit at a time because he wants Geralt to be happy.
They're up north when the weather starts to cool and out of the blue, Geralt broaches the subject of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier's sitting next to the fire, his lute case open next to him but untouched and he's prodding at the coals with a stick. Geralt comes and plops down next to him, staring directly ahead and not meeting Jaskier's eyes.
"I wonder if you would come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter." It's not a question, not really, and from Geralt's perspective, things have been good - exceptionally good - so he probably isn't expecting Jaskier to turn him down flat.
"No," Jaskier says and the look on Geralt's face tells him he's surprised about it. "I'm going to Oxenfurt."
"You'll freeze before you get there." Geralt says and he sounds a little irritated about it, so Jaskier smiles to ease the awkwardness.
"Well then," he says, "you had better come along and keep me warm."
It's supposed to be a joke, but Geralt agrees easily and Jaskier’s chest tightens. The night that follows is cold and Geralt is more distant than he has been, but he curls up around Jaskier next to the fire and pulls the extra blanket over them both.
For a little while, Jaskier almost thinks things could be okay again, but he's never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He wants Geralt, but he also wants him to be happy and there doesn't seem to be a way to have both - not if Geralt loves Eskel.
A couple of nights out, they're camped on the edge of a lake and Jaskier is struggling to get the fire lit. His fingers are so cold he fumbles with the flint and drops it into the placed sticks carefully. Geralt isn't around to help, having gone off to find something for them to eat, but Jaskier does eventually get the fire lit, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sits next to it, waiting for Geralt to return.
When he doesn't, Jaskier gets worried and hauls himself to his feet. He can't see much in the dark, his eyes having adjusted to the light of the fire, so he heads off in the direction Geralt left. It doesn't take long to figure out where he went; barely two minutes from camp, Jaskier hears the sounds of a fight and hurries toward it.
Geralt has his sword drawn, surrounded on all sides by a pack of drowners. Without thinking, Jaskier rushes into the fold, tugging the dagger from his boot, and launches himself at the closest creature. He gets his blade lodged in its neck, but it stumbles as it collapses, dislodging Jaskier from its back and as he bumps into another and finds himself thrown sideways into the lake.
He's underwater before he realizes what's happening and the icy water bites into his skin. He struggles against the weight of his own body, kicking his legs and searching for anything to push off of. He's not even sure which way is up, at this point and he knows Geralt is too busy to come after him; this time, he's going to have to save himself.
But he can't. He's already losing feeling in his limbs and even with his eyes open and stinging, he can't see anything in the dark, so all he can do is kick his legs and hope for the best. And then, as if like a beacon, an arm thrusts down toward him, scrabbling around until a hand curls around his collar and hauls him upward. Jaskier is helpless as he's hauled up onto the bank and he gasps to catch his breath as warm hands, slowly cooling against his skin, grab at him.
He's tugged up into strong arms and his mind is still struggling to catch up as Geralt lifts him into his arms and starts back toward camp. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and rests his chin on his shoulder, he looks back behind them. The entire horde of drowners is dead on the ground, the grass dark with their blood. Jaskier shudders at the sight and Geralt holds him closer, mistaking his shock for cold.
As soon as they're back at the fire, Geralt drops to his knees next to it, shifting to cross his legs and pull Jaskier into his lap. He has both their blankets and the one Jaskier was wearing and he pulls them around him now.
"Take off your clothes," he says and Jaskier stops, his head jerking up to meet his eyes.
"I-" he starts and finds he can't form the words.
“Jaskier, your clothes.”
“But I thought- Eskel, he won't mind?"
"Jaskier, you're going to freeze to death if you don't get out of your clothes, no one is going to mind." Jaskier hesitates just for a moment and Geralt sighs in frustration, reaching for his shirt himself. Geralt gets Jaskier out of his doublet before Jaskier's mind catches up and he fumbles with his shirt.
"I've got it," Geralt says softly, and Jaskier ducks his head. He still hasn't quite managed to catch up to the severity of the situation and he shifts awkwardly as Geralt lifts his shirt up.
"Geralt you shouldn't- I can do it. I don't want things to be complicated because of me, I- I know you and Eskel- and I want you to be happy so I can do it myself." He doesn't look up until he's finished speaking and realizes Geralt hasn't moved. He's frozen in place, his hands wrapped around the hem of Jaskier's shirt. As soon as Jaskier lifts his eyes, Geralt's snap up to meet them.
"That's what's been bothering you? Jaskier, that was months ago." He curses softly under his breath and tugs Jaskier's shirt up over his head. He quickly rids him of the rest of his clothes and bundles Jaskier up against his chest.
They sit together in silence and Jaskier leans further into him than he should, soaking up Geralt's body heat. He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck and a warm hand slides up his chest, wrapping him tight. It's a little weird being fully naked out in the middle of nowhere and pressed up against Geralt, but he likes the warmth of him against his back.
"Eskel and I," Geralt says suddenly, "it's not what you think."
"Dunno what else it could be," Jaskier mumbles, "you with your head between his legs and all. Though that explains why you were so weird about me meeting him." Geralt's hand makes its way up to his head, sliding into his hair.
"I didn't want to tell you," he admits and Jaskier huffs against him. "Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I didn't want it to change things. Obviously, it did."
"How long?" Jaskier asks, though he's not totally sure he wants to know.
"Always." Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's, looking out into the fire. "We were kids the first time, cold and alone in that huge keep with no one but each other. It started as a distraction and just grew into something... else."
It feels like all the breath has been sucked from his lungs and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath. He had hoped that it was just a relationship born out of necessity, but that's not what it sounds like.
"You're upset," Geralt realizes, but Jaskier shakes his head.
"Just cold."
"And lying." Jaskier says nothing and Geralt tips his head forward, pressing against the back of Jaskier's head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to upset you, I want you to be happy."
After a moment of silence, Geralt sighs. "You know I care for you, Jaskier." Jaskier's heart does a weird little flip that he can't quite describe, but it doesn't feel good.
"No, actually. You do quite a good job of pretending you don't." He's feeling raw and he wants to pull away, but his hair is still dripping and there's a real chance that he could actually die if he slept out in the cold tonight.
"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, dropping his chin so his nose bumps against Jaskier's ear. "There's no need to be jealous of Eskel. No one could ever replace you."
Jaskier hates being placated and he squirms in Geralt's arms, turning to frown at him. But Geralt's expression is soft and he almost looks like he's smiling. Jaskier's frown deepens, but Geralt holds him closer, looking at him silently for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's temple.
Jaskier freezes as soon as Geralt moves and Geralt doesn't draw back, not entirely. He presses back in, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's, and when their noses bump against each other, Jaskier inhales slowly. He tips his head, pressing forward again and Geralt meets him halfway.
Geralt's mouth is hot against his own and he turns Jaskier in his lap, pulling him as close as he can without letting the blankets slip away. And it takes him a minute to realize Geralt isn't going to pull away, but when he's sure, Jaskier slips his arms around his neck, risking the frigid night air to wrap himself around Geralt.
He's not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other by the fire, but at some point Jaskier drifts off, his face pressed into Geralt's neck.
They change course in the morning, turning back toward the mountains.
The following morning is frosty and Jaskier dresses as quickly as he can to avoid any more loss of heat. When he's fully clothed, he works on getting his own things together, but Geralt comes over with a large swatch of fabric draped over his arm. As he gets closer, Jaskier realizes it's his cloak but he doesn't have a chance to ask what he's doing before Geralt is wrapping it around him, fastening it around his neck.
"It'll keep you warm," he says, fastening the clasp and Jaskier's heart is beating so loudly he can barely think over it. He suspects Geralt can hear it as well and that's what the little lopsided smile is for. He presses a hand to Jaskier's shoulder and pauses for a moment before sliding the same hand up to the side of his neck and drawing him closer.
"I'm sorry you were miserable for so long, I should have realized."
"No," Jaskier insists, but Geralt is already leaning in for a kiss and Jaskier shuts his eyes. For once, he's happy to leave something in the past.
"Will it be okay?" he asks as Geralt breaks away. He's still only a breath away and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to him. "Me coming to Kaer Morhen with you, I mean."
"If you're worried about Eskel, don't be. He knows."
"What?"
"He knew before I did," Geralt grins, stroking his thumb across Jaskier's cheek before turning and returning to his task. Jaskier is left speechless again and desperately wanting to know how he came up when talking to Eskel. Maybe if things go as well as Geralt says, he can ask Eskel himself.
They're a week out from the mountain pass that Geralt keeps talking about and Jaskier can't help but wonder if he was always expecting to take him to Kaer Morhen. He certainly wasn't expecting to be told no. But none of that matters now, especially not with Jaskier in the saddle and Geralt pressed as close behind him as he can be, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.
The cloak is sufficiently warm, but he likes when Geralt touches him and his hood keeps blowing off anyway. Despite the cold wind, Jaskier likes it because Geralt will lean in and kiss his head and press his nose into his hair. Out in the wild, Geralt is careless with his affection, has been even before Jaskier realized what it was, and he can't blame him. If Geralt has been holding everything in for even half the time he has, it can't have been easy, even for a Witcher.
But Geralt likes to touch, likes to get his hands on whatever part of Jaskier he can reach and at times it proves to be frustrating. During the day, Jaskier lets him keep an arm around him and nothing more. He'd already learned the hard way that anything more than that affects him more than it should. Too many nights alone and too long on the road doesn't lead to anything good. And he's wanted for so long that his body overreacts to even the slightest touch. And the worst part is that Geralt seems amused by it, the bastard.
It's not until evening on the fifth night that Jaskier says something about it. They're sitting on the ground next to the fire and Jaskier is in Geralt's lap, watching the flames die down. Geralt has his hands on Jaskier's hips, slowly sliding down his thighs and back up again. His nose is pressed against the back of his ear and Jaskier decides there's nothing wrong with it tonight; it's just the two of them and nothing around for miles, so what does it matter?
Only tonight Geralt doesn't stop with soft, innocent touches. He slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric and Jaskier lets out a little gasp when he slips higher than before. His cock twitches in his trousers and he tries to stifle a groan, but it doesn't work. Geralt presses forward, letting his lips brush the curve of Jaskier's ear.
"Jask," he breathes, "we can't do this here." Jaskier groans and arches his back against him.
"Why not? You’re the one who started it."
"You'll freeze."
"You can keep me warm," Jaskier hums, already pressing up into the touch.
He turns his head to kiss Geralt's mouth and Geralt hums against him, still doubtful even as his fingers slide over his crotch. Strong fingers curve around him, stroking him quickly to full hardness and Jaskier whimpers as he bucks up into Geralt's palm. It's a tease and nothing more, but when he pushes back between Geralt's legs, it doesn't feel like he needs any encouragement.
In fact, he doesn't even have to say anything more before Geralt's fingers are tugging his trousers open. Jaskier gasps as the cold air hits his skin, but Geralt's hand is hot and quick to wrap around him, stroking slowly down to the base and squeezing his way back up. He's smooth and precise, his motions speaking to years of practice - a thought which makes Jaskier's skin prickle and his heart beat faster.
"Touch me how you like it," he whispers and he can feel Geralt's breath stutter against his skin.
"Okay," he breathes and his fingers spread along the underside of Jaskier's cock, his thumb and forefinger circling the head.
Geralt continues, his speed increasing just slightly as he works over Jaskier's cock. Jaskier whines, panting against Geralt's neck. The thought that this is how Geralt touches himself is overwhelming and he kisses his neck, running his tongue along the underside of his jaw.
Already, Jaskier's getting close. He's denied himself too long and he's wanted this for so much longer than that. Geralt's hand is hot and quick and Jaskier breathes in his scent, shutting his eyes against the pulsing need of his cock. His hips jerk forward unbidden and he mumbles into Geralt's skin.
Geralt's palm slips up his chest and neck, turning Jaskier's head so he can kiss him properly and then he's pulling off of Jaskier's cock and lifting him in his lap. He turns him around so Jaskier's straddling his thighs and before Jaskier can even adjust to the new position, Geralt is fumbling with his own trousers.
He strokes himself quickly, tugging Jaskier against him and his hand closes around both of them, holding as tight as he can as he thrusts up against Jaskier's cock.
"Oh. Gods, Geralt, yes." Jaskier snaps his hips in quick sharp bursts, pressing himself as close against Geralt's cock as he can. Geralt's hand slips from their cocks, both arms curling around his waist and he ruts against Jaskier rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts.
"Fuck, Jask," he huffs. His hands slip down, fingers pressing into Jaskier's ass and forcing the roll of his hips. Geralt's strong and enthusiastic and Jaskier shudders and groans as his own arousal burns through him.
He pushes up against him, so hard it's almost uncomfortable, but this position and their location aren't exactly conducive to comfort, not that Jaskier cares. Or Geralt, by the way his hand slips up, tangling itself in Jaskier's hair and tugging gently. Jaskier lifts his head obediently and as Geralt's eyes meet his, he feels his body release and before he can even warn Geralt, he's coming hard, spilling between them.
His hips stutter and his thighs shake and Geralt holds him, grunting softly in his ear as he continues the increasingly uneven roll of his hips. Jaskier's body feels heavy where it's sprawled over Geralt's chest, but his head is floating, empty and airy, the only thing still tying him to reality is Geralt's body wrapped around him. Geralt's cock digs into his hip and Jaskier's body shudders above him.
It's too much, but it's so good and Jaskier just goes limp, pressing his mouth against Geralt's neck and kissing him lazily. Geralt mumbles against him, breathing his praise into Jaskier's shoulder and he's never been so talkative. Jaskier can only hope he's always like this when he gets off.
When Geralt comes, it's with a low, rumbling growl that could almost get Jaskier hard again. His arms slip a little but stay firmly wrapped around him, and when he nudges Jaskier's cheek with his nose, Jaskier tips his head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss.
"You're incredible, darling."
Geralt huffs his amusement and tips his head back to kiss Jaskier's forehead. He doesn't speak, and Jaskier shuts his eyes, listening to Geralt's heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal. He's not sure what the rest of the winter has in store for them, but he's thankful for this one moment alone, even rushed and cold in the forest.
After a little while, he peels himself from Geralt with a significant amount of effort and flops onto his back, staring up into the dark sky. Next to him, Geralt sits up, smiles down at him softly.
"We have to get cleaned up," he says lightly, "get changed before we sleep. We'll have washing to do when we get to the keep."
Jaskier groans dramatically, but he pushes himself up and leans in to kiss Geralt. He strips and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, careful not to take too much off at once because now that his mind is clear again, the air is bitterly cold.
When he's dressed again and wrapped in a blanket, he lays down on his bedroll, watching as Geralt goes through the same motions, changing out of his soiled clothing. It was rough and it was messy and Jaskier wouldn't change it for anything. He pulls Geralt close to him, breathing softly against his ear. In the morning, they have to get up and go, but for now, Jaskier is content to let Geralt wrap around him and kiss his neck as he drifts off into a pleasant slumber.
The rest of his night doesn't go nearly so well. After waking up three times and still shivering despite having the extra blanket wrapped around him and pressing in as close to Geralt as he can, he gives up trying to sleep at all. So, hours before dawn, Geralt packs their entire camp up and hoists Jaskier up onto Roach's back, setting back out along the road.
Jaskier has no notion of time as they travel, drifting in and out of consciousness up until the moment they arrive at the gates. Geralt helps him down as they approach the stables and Jaskier resists the urge to lean into him and fall asleep. He helps remove Roach's tack, though Geralt takes it from him so he can guide Roach into the empty stall next to Eskel's horse. Geralt leads the way up through the courtyard and into the mess hall and Jaskier follows quietly, taking in very little of it.
Kaer Morhen isn't what he expected it to be. Not that he's had much of a chance to see it; as soon as Geralt got him inside, he ran through introductions and got him upstairs into a hot bath. In which, Jaskier promptly fell asleep against Geralt's chest. Since he's woken up, he's found the keep to be surprisingly warm and comfortable and nothing like the cold, dark dungeon Geralt has described to him time and time again. Then again, he thinks, living here as a young boy in training to be a Witcher must have been a very different environment. But he seems happy enough now.
That night, the pair of them head down for supper and Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Eskel. He feels bad about all the things he thought about him before, but now isn't the time to bring all of that up so he just smiles cheerfully at him. There will be time to talk later.
Later, they make their way up to bed together and there's a moment of quiet hesitation once they're alone before Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and leads him toward the bed.
Waking up next to Geralt, warm and safe in bed, is the greatest thing Jaskier has experienced thus far in his life. By the end of the evening, all hesitancy is gone and after a meal and drinks with the rest of their companions, Jaskier finds himself hauled upstairs and pressed into cold sheets. He's fairly certain the entire keep hears how easily Geralt pulls pleasure from his body, but it doesn't matter. The only person who matters is Eskel, and apparently, he already knows.
For the next couple of days Geralt shares his bed and then, on their fifth night in the keep, he pauses when Jasikier suggests heading to bed.
"Go to bed," he says gently, "but don't wait for me."
Jaskier smiles relieved that Geralt is comfortable enough not to lie about where he's going or what he's doing. "You don't have to come to bed tonight if you'd rather stay with Eskel."
Geralt's lips twitch up in a soft grin and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier sighs and as he opens to him, Geralt presses closer, slipping his hand into Jaskier's hair. He hums softly and Jaskier can feel the restless energy in him and for the first time since the first time tonight, he's a little bit jealous that he's not the one accompanying him. He breaks away first, leaning back in for just a second to press a final kiss to Geralt's lips.
"Have a good night," he whispers.
"Goodnight, Jaskier."
Sleeping alone in a big, unfamiliar room is odd, but Jaskier wraps himself up in the blankets and burrows in. He tries not to think too much about what's happening just down the hall, but it's not jealousy that has him trying to divert his thoughts.
Jaskier adjusts to sleeping alone and he adjusts to Eskel's soft closeness with Geralt during the days, appreciates it even. Geralt doesn't get enough affection in his life, as hard as Jaskier tries, so it's good to know someone else is there when he isn't. And he likes Eskel. More than he ever expected to, especially considering the circumstances. But Jaskier isn't a greedy person and if Geralt's happy, so is he. And considering what Geralt has told him of Eskel, maybe he should have expected him to be as welcoming as he is.
He never makes any attempt to draw Geralt away and any time Jaskier comes across the two of them alone, he's easily integrated into the conversation. They get along well and Geralt seems happiest when he's between them or when everyone's together in the mess hall, so even if Jaskier didn't like Eskel, he'd be willing to put up with him for Geralt's sake. But he does like him, though it isn't until midnight a week later that he really starts to appreciate him.
It's a warmer night than it has been, so Jaskier isn't missing Geralt's presence so much tonight. He's perfectly comfortable on his own and while he would be happier with someone to keep him company, he's not lonely. And all through the evening, it had been oh so clear how Geralt and Eskel were just waiting to slip away from the group and be alone. As he lies in the dark, he wonders if that's how he comes across when he slips into Geralt's lap and whispers in his ear. Maybe, but he doesn't mind and he's sure at least Eskel understands.
Jaskier shuts his eyes, wiggling deeper into the mattress as he tugs the blanket up to his chin. He could get used to spending the winters here if Geralt is willing to bring him.
When he wakes, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Jaskier doesn't remember crying out, but the knock on his door makes him think he must have. No one would be checking on him, otherwise.
"I'm fine," he calls, but he finds his voice hoarse and too quiet. It's been a long time since he's had nightmares this frequently and he doesn't know what's brought them on again, but he'd like it to stop.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, starting toward the door. Whoever knocked hasn't responded, so he pulls the door open, not expecting to see Eskel standing in the doorway.
"You alright?" he asks and Jaskier nods. "You cried out and I didn't want to wake Geralt, but I know he'd want to make sure you were okay."
"I am. Thank you."
"Geralt used to have terrible nightmares, too. Do you want to talk about it?"
Immediately, he wants to say no because Geralt's lover is the last person he wants to go complaining to. Especially a Witcher who has led a much harder life than he has. But as he's contemplating, he realizes Eskel's hand has found its way to his shoulder, warm and comforting and he doesn't want to be alone right now.
He tells Eskel about his dreams, though he doesn't go into detail. No one who cares about him wants to hear about all the gruesome ways Jaskier watches Geralt die in his dreams. But Eskel seems to get the gist of it. They head out onto the balcony where they're less likely to wake anyone and Eskel doesn't move when Jaskier leans into his body to keep warm.
"We've all been through it," he says, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders, "even Lambert, though you'd never get him to admit it. What do you dream about?"
"Geralt, mostly," he admits. "Sometimes I dream about dying, but mostly it's him."
"Understandable. Geralt lives a dangerous life, I'm still surprised he lets you follow along."
"I wouldn't say he lets me," Jaskier huffs, quirking his lips just slightly as he looks up at Eskel, "but he's never tried very hard to stop me."
Eskel huffs a soft laugh. "No, I can't imagine he did."
They talk for a while longer, but when Jaskier gets too cold, Eskel ushers him back into the keep and back to his room. When they reach the door, he offers his own bed that it might be more comfortable if he wasn't alone, but as much as Jaskier is happy to let Geralt and Eskel do their thing, he's not sure he wants to be that close to it. He declines the offer politely, ensuring that Eskel knows how much he appreciates it, and retreats into the room alone.
Now, at least, when he settles into bed, he falls asleep without any trouble.
It becomes a ritual, of sorts. Jaskier's dreams don't come every night and some nights Geralt is there to curl around him and ground him in the present, but when he's not, there's Eskel. And after a while, it's not just about the nightmares. If Jaskier is having a down day and Geralt is busy, Eskel is the one he turns to for comfort (gods know Lambert won't give in without a fight). Things are good between them and Jaskier regrets the way he acted the first time they met, but love can make people do stupid things and jealousy is worse.
Geralt spends most of his nights with Jaskier, even if they're just curled up together in the dark. The rest of the time, Geralt is with Eskel and as the weeks pass, Jaskier starts to feel the still-lingering discomfort shift. He's not jealous because admitting he's jealous would mean he has a problem with the way things are between them, or admitting that maybe Geralt isn't the only one he has feelings for. Which is absurd.
But he is closer to Eskel than he is with the others and more and more often he finds himself seeking him out, looking to bask in Eskel's warmth and understanding. But it's just because he's kind and understanding and willing to listen. Because Geralt has so few good things in his life. How could Jaskier even consider taking one of them away?
They're all drinking together one night and Geralt and Lambert are playing Gwent. Geralt gets too far into it every time he plays, so Jaskier keeps his distance, watching from his perch on the table, lute in his lap. When Lambert turns in for the night, Geralt frowns at the empty space across from him before glancing down the table at Jaskier.
"Do you want to play?" he asks and Jaskier scoffs.
"Maybe if you get me another drink?" he asks, smiling brightly down at Geralt. He gets a soft, bemused smile in response, but Geralt pushes himself up from the table and Jaskier watches as he leaves the room.
Jaskier is just drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm all over, the very few inhibitions he possesses lowered. Which is probably why, when Eskel slides down the bench to sit between his knees, he doesn't move. His heart beats a little quicker, but it's probably just the wine. Eskel lifts his arms, resting his elbows on Jaskier's knees and he tips his head to one side. Already, Jaskier is struggling against the swell of emotion that fills his chest, and the soft, lopsided smile Eskel gives him doesn't help.
"I hope Geralt realizes how lucky he is," he says and for a second, Jaskier is sure his heart stops. When Eskel's eyes flick up to his, curious, almost surprised, he's sure of it. Considering the amount of stuff Geralt overhears that he's not supposed to, Jaskier's just settled on the assumption that Witchers can hear everything. Including his heartbeat.
"You have a beautiful voice," Eskel continues and Jaskier fights a losing battle to get his body under control so he doesn't give himself away. If it's not too late already.
"Thank you," he chokes out, amazed that his voice is still working properly.
He doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. With Geralt it was simple; do nothing because it won't be well-received - or so he thought - but with Eskel he's sure he could just... lean in a little, press a little closer. But where does Geralt stand in that situation? Would he be upset, worried that maybe they'd go off together and leave him? Nevermind that Jaskier's been desperately in love with him for a couple of decades now. So once again, he does nothing and he shoves the feelings down and pretends like it's fine.
But he wants to kiss him and he can feel Eskel's body heat. And Eskel doesn't seem to share any of his concerns, letting his fingers slip over the side of Jaskier's thigh and tracing invisible patterns in the silk of his trousers. Jaskier startles when Eskel rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of Jaskier's hips and like this, they're barely a couple of inches apart and Jaskier can feel Eskel's breath on his face and he wants. But he can't, so he shuts his eyes.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Eskel asks and Jaskier has a witty remark right on the tip of his tongue, but then Eskel's mouth is against his own, kissing it away.
After kissing Geralt for the first time, he didn’t think anything as simple as a kiss would affect him this way, but as Eskel's lips part against his own, Jaskier can feel it all the way down to his toes. He lets out a soft sound as Eskel's arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. Eskel breaks the kiss a moment later, only pulling back far enough to look at Jaskier.
"Come to bed with us tonight," he breathes.
"Will Geralt be okay with that?"
"I hope so," Eskel chuckles, leaning back in and pressing his lips against Jaskier's jaw. "It was his idea." Oh. "I didn't think you'd want to."
"How could I not? Who wouldn't gladly climb into bed with two handsome men like you?" Eskel snorts and pulls back to look at him, but Jaskier just smiles.
The clink of bottles against each other signals Geralt's return and Jaskier instinctively leans back a little but Eskel leans in close, breathing against his ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, "he likes it."
And Jaskier knows they can both tell the way his heart beats a little quicker, but he can't help it. He leans back further as Geralt comes to kneel behind him on the bench.
"Do you?" Jaskier asks, offering his most charming smile, "like seeing me with him?"
"Mmm," Geralt hums, cupping a hand under Jaskier's head and turning him just slightly to kiss him. When he draws back, he looks up to Eskel. "I do."
It takes Jaskier a moment to realize Geralt is playing with his shirt and it's not until he shifts that he realizes he's got it untucked from his trousers. One warm hand slips up under the fabric, fingers brushing over the bare skin beneath it and Jaskier shuts his eyes with a hum, shifting to lean back against him. As far as he's concerned, they could stay right here all night and he'd be perfectly happy with it.
Eskel's hands find his thighs, pressing down as he leans forward and catches Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss. Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise but leans into it, and once Geralt gets him out of his doublet, he slips his arms around Eskel's neck. But the kiss doesn't last long and Eskel ducks his head, dragging his mouth down Jaskier's throat and down to press kisses into his chest.
Jaskier lets himself be moved and shifted into position, hips pulled forward so his body is flush against Eskel's. And Geralt climbs up behind him, knees on either side of his hips so Jaskier is pinned perfectly between them. His fingers slip into Eskel's hair, sliding through the strands as Eskel continues his exploration down Jaskier's stomach, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he goes. And if the sounds from behind him are anything to go by, Geralt does very much enjoy watching them together.
When Jaskier's shirt is entirely undone and Eskel has moved on to removing his boots, Geralt tugs the fabric from his shoulders. And Jaskier's pulse spikes as two sets of hands slide over his skin, then Eskel's settle on his waist, teasing the hem of his trousers. Jaskier is hardly ashamed to be half-hard already - anyone would be in his position - but his breath catches as Eskel's thumb brushes over the bulge of his cock. He tips his head back, intent on finding Geralt's mouth with his own, but when he looks up at him, he pauses.
Geralt is transfixed, paused mid-motion. His teeth pressed into his bottom lip, eyes focused on Eskel's hands where they tease at Jaskier's growing erection. Oh. He really does like to watch. Well, if that's what he wants, Jaskier isn't going to disappoint him.
He wiggles his hips enticingly and Eskel makes quick work of removing his trousers. With the last obstacle out of his way, Eskel presses in close, near enough that Jaskier's cock slips against his own - close but maddeningly separated by Eskel's clothes. Jaskier groans his disappointment, but in one surprisingly smooth motion, Eskel drops back to his seat, his fingers slipping over Jaskier's bare thighs and gripping around him. Jaskier tips his head down to watch as Eskel nuzzles between his thighs, thick stubble grazing against skin.
It's rough and a little bit ticklish, but the closeness and the way Eskel presses his face against him makes Jaskier's breath catch. He's been transfixed by Eskel for weeks now, his arms, his thighs, his lips, but now he's facing the very real possibility of having those lips wrapped around his cock and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt presses against him, kisses the back of his neck, and slides a hand down his stomach.
He curves a hand around his cock, only vaguely touching him as he slips up the length of him. It's maddening in its teasing and Jaskier drops his head back against Geralt's chest with a groan, but then Eskel's lips press against his heated cock, following the path of Geralt's hand and Jaskier goes limp between them.
Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's sides, steadying him as Eskel's lips slide over him and Jaskier leans into his warmth. Eskel's hands join Geralt's, fitting around Jaskier's hips and softly rubbing against his skin as he sinks down on him. It's never been a mystery why Geralt got involved with Eskel, but if this is what he's always like when they're alone, Jaskier can certainly see why he would keep coming back for more.
He groans as his cock bumps against the back of his throat, but Eskel doesn't let that stop him, pressing his nose into the curls at the base of his cock and swallowing around him. Jaskier is sure he's going to pass out when Eskel just stays like that and he wonders vaguely if the mutations took away his gag reflex because that could prove interesting. He bites his lip with a groan, failing miserably at an attempt to keep his hips steady. But Eskel doesn't seem to mind, guiding his hips with every little thrust. And Jaskier isn't sure he'll survive being treated this way.
He slips one arm back around Geralt's neck, steadying himself as the other slips into Eskel's hair. It takes all his concentration not to roll his hips up, slide his cock down Eskel's throat. His whole body shudders and he lets out a shuddering moan, mumbling softly as Eskel shifts and bobs in his lap.
One warm hand presses against his cheek and when he turns, Geralt catches his lips in a heated kiss. It's hot and possessive and Eskel groans at the way Jaskier’s cock throbs in response. The angle is a little off but Geralt nips at his lips and kisses him so deeply that Jaskier nearly forgets about the mouth around his cock until Eskel pulls off.
The little whine of disappointment is lost to Geralt's lips and when Jaskier eventually breaks free to look back down at Eskel, he has to remind himself not to be greedy. But it's hard when Eskel's looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes and a faint smirk on his lips.
He rises to his feet again, pushing a hand through Jaskier's hair and cupping his jaw. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he presses forward instead, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.
"Don't start without me," he mumbles and then he's pulling away, stepping over the bench and crossing toward the door.
Despite the fire, the room feels suddenly cold without Eskel pressed against him and Jaskier cuddles back against Geralt, tugging his arms around him and shifting to kiss his neck. Geralt grabs his hips, holding him firmly and turning him in his lap. He pulls Jaskier against him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and drawing his head back to look at him.
"You look good with Eskel," he breathes, "very good. But I have to know you want this. I don't want you to do it for our sake."
"Our sake?" Jaskier asks and Geralt's hand slides to the back of his head.
"Eskel's become... fond of you."
"And you're alright with that?" Jaskier asks, hopeful.
"Why wouldn't I be? I... care deeply for both of you, why wouldn't I want him to want you, too?" He presses his lips to Jaskier's just briefly and when he pulls back, he's smiling softly. "I know you want him and I want you to. He wants you, too. We both do."
Geralt ducks his head, kissing his neck and sucking at the spot right under his jaw. He slips one arm around Jaskier's waist, tugging him closer as his other hand snakes between them, wrapping around his cock. He tugs firmly, pulling a startled gasp from Jaskier as his fingers tighten around him.
Jaskier lets him for a moment, before shifting so they're facing the opposite direction. He pushes Geralt back against the table, shifting onto his knees and he bends over him, quickly running his mouth up the Geralt's length through his trousers. He mouths at him through the fabric, taking special care when he reaches the head and Geralt's hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rise against Jaskier's mouth.
The door creaks open but Jaskier is only distantly aware of it until he hears Geralt's muffled moan. Jaskier pushes himself up to find Eskel bent over Geralt, kissing him as Geralt's arms wind around his neck, fingers pushing through his hair. In that moment, he knows exactly why Geralt likes to watch.
Heat sears through him and he barely resists wrapping a hand around himself and getting off just like this. But he catches a glint of a vial in Eskel's hand and his heart thuds a little heavier in his chest. As Eskel pulls away, Geralt's hands fall to his sides and Jaskier can't help but smile at the soft expression on his face.
When Eskel steps away from him, Jaskier realizes he's hard, his cock straining hard against the front of his trousers. Fuck. And that fucking codpiece isn't doing anything to help matters. Jaskier climbs up, straddling Geralt's hips and rocking gently against him as he reaches out for Eskel, drawing him close with two fingers in the collar of his shirt. Eskel grins as Jaskier pulls him into a firm kiss, but he doesn't linger, even as one hand slides down to settle on the swell of Jaskier's ass.
"I think it's time we made our way upstairs," Eskel rumbles and Jaskier grumbles as Geralt asks,
"Vesemir?"
"Mm," Eskel confirms, "I don't think we need another lecture about bodily fluids." Geralt just huffs a laugh and pushes himself up, slipping a hand behind Eskel's head to guide his mouth to his own.
Eskel squeezes Jaskier's ass and dips to kiss him before pulling away to collect his clothes. Jaskier reluctantly slips from Geralt's lap and the three of them make their way upstairs toward Geralt's room.
As soon as they're in the room with the door shut, Jaskier finds himself pressed against it, a hot mouth against his own. The only way he knows it's Eskel is the scent of him. In time, he's sure he'll learn the differences in their touch, but right now he's already overwhelmed and not at all bothered with who is touching him.
He's lifted off his feet, legs snaking around Eskel's waist as one arm slips under his ass. Eskel's tongue slides between his lips and Jaskier groans, shifting his hips against him. He gets a little huff of a laugh from Eskel and is promptly deposited on the bed with Eskel on top of him. He never once breaks the kiss and Jaskier reaches up, encouraged by the press of Eskel's cock against his thigh. He tugs at Eskel's shirt, loosening it from his trousers and tugging it up over his head as Geralt joins them on the bed.
With Eskel free of his shirt, Jaskier reaches down, toying with the ties on his trousers. He gets a hum of approval and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from Geralt. He shifts above Jaskier's Jaskier, then, once he's settled, gently lifts Jaskier's head into his lap as Eskel moves back down his body. He gets his mouth around Jaskier's cock again, sucking him down as Jaskier whimpers under him.
It's not the first time Jaskier's gone to bed with more than one partner - far from it - but Jaskier more often than not finds himself in control in those situations. Tonight, though, Eskel has taken charge right from the start and Jaskier has never been happier to let himself be led. He writhes as Eskel's lips seal around him, squirms as his hands slip up over his thighs. Geralt's fingers wind through his hair and when Jaskier tips his head back he realizes Geralt is watching, his eyes focused on Eskel's mouth around him. And he's hard.
Jaskier lifts his head as well as he can, curling a hand around Geralt's neck to pull him into a kiss. It's a bit of an odd angle, but Geralt kisses him deeply, rumbles low against his lips and Jaskier arches off the bed. He feels Eskel chuckle around him before pulling off and climbing up over him. He kisses his way from Jaskier's chest up to his jaw and Geralt withdraws, letting Eskel claim Jaskier's mouth in a bruising kiss. He rocks his hips and Jaskier groans into his mouth. Eskel is thick and hard where he ruts against him and Jaskier desperately wants to get his mouth on him. Or Geralt. He isn't picky, but he is very impatient.
He's not sure if he'll get this opportunity again, so he pulls away regrettably sliding out from under Eskel's weight and leaving him with Geralt. And Eskel busies himself getting Geralt out of his shirt, something Jaskier finds difficult to tear his eyes from.
Geralt lets himself be manhandled much in the same way he does with Jaskier, but while it feels incredibly intimate and important when it's happening to him, there's something thrilling about seeing it from an outside point of view. The way Geralt lets himself be pushed and pulled into position, lets Eskel climb up over him and slot their bodies together perfectly.
Geralt reaches an arm out to him and Jaskier lies down next to him, kissing him when he turns his head toward him. Eskel hums, shifting so he and Jaskier bracket Geralt in, both pressed against his sides. And Jaskier takes his chance while he can, slipping a hand up the length of Geralt's cock through his trousers. He gets a soft groan in response, muffled against his lips, and squeezes a little firmer as Eskel's hand comes up below his.
Geralt bucks against them, rolling his head back and Jaskier takes advantage of the position to press his lips to Geralt's neck, sucking lightly as his fingers slip to his trousers, picking at the buttons. Eskel's strokes speed up a little, his hand bumping against Jaskier's every few seconds, but Jaskier still manages to undo the buttons and slip Geralt's cock free of its confines. Geralt groans as bare fingers wrap around him and Jaskier pulls from his mouth, kissing his way down to the head of his cock before licking a stripe up the side of him.
There's a muffled sound of pleasure from above him but Jaskier is focused on his task now, wrapped up in the taste of Geralt on his tongue to worry about anything else. He sinks down on him, sliding up and down his length with ease as Geralt moans above him, each sound muffled by Eskel's mouth against him. The thought of them together spurs him on and he slides one hand up Geralt's thigh, and up his chest as he flattens his tongue against him.
He's been paying attention to what Geralt likes, committing it to memory every time they're together, taking notes on what makes Geralt moan and what makes him writhe and arch off the bed. He's learning quickly. Geralt likes to be teased, even if he would never admit it; likes when Jaskier sucks him nice and slow, letting his tongue drag along the length of him, his lips slide delicately over the head. And Jaskier likes to take his time with Geralt, so it works out nicely.
Geralt groans and Eskel kisses the sounds from his mouth shifting against him and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to watch. He's not above admitting that watching them turns him on and if he's allowed, he may as well take advantage of it. But Eskel does something and Geralt whines against his lips, hips jumping forward to press his cock against the roof of Jaskier's mouth. He shudders as Jaskier sinks back on him and wraps an arm around Eskel's neck, pulling him closer.
Jaskier wants to watch, but he gets lost in the rock of Geralt's hips, the heady scent of him and he shuts his eyes and slides one hand up Geralt's chest. He teases at his nipple, rubbing it firmly, spurred on by the way Geralt twitches beneath him. He doesn't even realize Eskel's got his cock out until he hears a rumbling groan and looks over to find him with a hand around himself, leaning in so he's rutting against Geralt's thigh and that's certainly something.
Heat sears through him and Jaskier aches to get his mouth around him. He doesn't think he could, but he desperately wants to try. Eskel slips the hand from his cock to reach out, brushing his fingers against Jaskier's cheek and lifting him from Geralt's cock.
"Get him ready for me?" he breathes and Jaskier nods before he's pulled into a sloppy kiss.
It lingers longer than Jaskier's expecting and he finds himself pulled into Eskel's lap and he only just manages to snake a hand between them, wrapping around the head of Eskel's cock before Eskel's pulling away again.
He doesn't mind much when he considers the idea of watching Eskel fuck Geralt and he pulls away, running a hand up Geralt's thigh.
"Roll over for me?" he asks and Geralt is quick to comply, though he tugs Jaskier down against him. He smiles as he kisses him and Jaskier is loath to move, but he wriggles out of Geralt's grip nonetheless.
He shifts to straddle his hips, kissing a line down Geralt's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass. Jaskier squeezes the flesh, bending down to nip at him gently and he settles between Geralt's thighs. He feels when Eskel slips up behind him, but he tries to focus on Geralt, bending low to kiss him before pressing between his cheeks.
He licks a stripe over his hole and Geralt shudders under him, reaching back to grab Jaskier's hand and hold it. It's absurdly romantic when Jaskier has his face in his ass, but he loves it and he squeezes back hard. Jaskier starts off slow, with soft kisses and gentle touches, but Geralt rocks beneath him, pushing back against his mouth and it's hard to deny him exactly what he wants.
He presses his tongue against him, letting Geralt relax under him before pushing against the muscle. Geralt is surprisingly giving and Jaskier pushes into him without much effort. It's a heady feeling, the way Geralt trembles under his touch and squeezes his hand, thumb tracing circles in his skin. Jaskier fucks into him slowly, licking around his rim before pushing in again and Geralt whines as he pushes deeper, fucks him quicker.
When Jaskier gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Geralt arches off the bed and Jaskier almost thinks he could make him come just like this. And he's sorely tempted, even as Eskel presses up against his back, slipping a bottle of oil next to him.
"I want to see him come on your fingers," Eskel growls, low and rough against his ear and before Jaskier can even answer Eskel's nosing at his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear. Jaskier leans into the touch, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the oil. He has every intention of following through with Eskel's command.
He slicks his fingers and presses one back between Geralt's cheeks, vividly aware of Eskel leaning over him, watching every movement. And he's as determined to please Eskel as he is Geralt. He works one finger into him, leaning low again to lick around the intrusion and Geralt mumbles into the pillows and he rolls his hips.
It's' not long before he can get a second finger into him and Jaskier crooks both fingers, pressing deep and seeking out that certain spot. When he finds it, Geralt whimpers and Eskel nuzzles against his neck. It makes it hard to concentrate, but Eskel seems unworried, wrapping one arm around his waist and slipping a hand down to wrap around his cock. Jaskier keens, jerking into the touch.
"Needy," Eskel hums. Which. It's hardly his fault. Eskel rocks against him and Jaskier is tempted to ask him to fuck him instead, prep or no.
He bends over, pushing his hips back against him and grinds back against Eskel's cock as he works into Geralt. His rhythm is a little unsteady, but he's been hard for so long he can barely help the way he rocks between his hand and his cock. It's a miracle he can even think enough to keep fingering Geralt. But he does, and when he gets a third into him, Geralt is panting and rutting against the bed.
"Jask," he groans, "please-"
"Are you gonna come for me?" Jaskier asks, his voice shaking as Eskel's cock slides against his hole. He's pushing close to the edge too and he's not sure Geralt coming won't tip him over.
Eskel's fingers tighten around him and Jaskier pushes through with a groan, thighs shaking as he shoves his fingers deep and presses against his prostate. Geralt squeezes his hand so hard Jaskier thinks he'll lose sensation in his fingers and he pushes his hips back against him, encouraging the press of Jaskier's fingers.
"Fuck, he looks good like this, doesn't he?" Eskel hums. "We're so damn lucky." He's still working at a spot on Jaskier's neck and he knows he'll have a mark in the morning and something about the fact that it's from Eskel makes it all that much more thrilling.
He tries to lean back into Eskel, but then he's being pushed forward. Eskel keeps him steady, but Jaskier's overwhelmed. He pushes Geralt's hand up, shifting to lean low over him, rutting into Eskel's fist. He rubs into Geralt and he can feel that he's close. Geralt's hips twitch shakily under him and he pulls Jaskier's hand under him, kissing his palm and pressing his nose against it.
"Jask," he breathes and that's as far as he gets before he's coming, shuddering through his orgasm.
Jaskier keeps his fingers inside him, thrusting lightly as Geralt rides through it. Geralt squirms under him, rocking back onto him even after he's come down and when Jaskier moves to pull away, Eskel intervenes. He pulls Jaskier back against him, propping him up on his lap and Jaskier is too overwhelmed to do anything but slump against his chest, head rolling on his shoulder as Eskel jerks him quick and hard.
He comes in a matter of seconds, arching off of him and crying out. Eskel stokes him through it and when a second set of hands rest on his hips, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt sitting in front of him. He tips forward to kiss him and then, as he slumps back against Eskel, Geralt leans in to kiss Eskel too.
"Still wanna fuck me?" Geralt mumbles and Eskel huffs against his mouth.
"Gods, yes," he breathes. "Lie down for me."
Geralt does as he's asked, settling on his stomach, and Jaskier scoots out of the way, sprawling out next to him. He presses his nose into Geralt's side, inhaling the scent of him. He knows Geralt and Eskel will both have another couple of rounds in them, but he's already tired and quite happy to just cuddle up against Geralt's side.
Geralt's eyes drop shut and he breathes softly against Jaskier's lips, groaning as Eskel presses into him. Jaskier watches the way pleasure washes over his face and Eskel groans in time with him which is enough to have Jaskier's cock twitching again. Geralt flops against the bed, pulling Jaskier close to kiss him softly, even as he's jolted by Eskel.
Geralt is beautiful in the way he writhes against the bed and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off him. He shouldn't be getting hard again already but he's obsessed with the way Geralt moves and the sounds Eskel makes as he fucks him. Jaskier rolls onto his back, pressing against Geralt's side as he runs a hand down his own stomach. He slips down, wrapping a hand around himself and strokes slowly, feeling the way his cock swells under his touch. When he looks up, he finds Eskel watching him, a soft smirk on his face and Eskel reaches down, pushing Jaskier's hand away to jerk him off himself.
Jaskier slumps but his hips jump up. He's sensitive, but Eskel's hand feels incredible and he can't help but press into the touch. He groans as he leans into Geralt tipping his head to kiss his cheek, but Geralt shifts onto his elbows, leaning over to kiss him properly. He nips at his lips and Jaskier groans, reaching for Geralt and cupping his face.
He holds him close and Geralt kisses him hard, lips parting to deepen the kiss, shifting so he's closer, one arm draped over Jaskier's chest. Geralt's thumb brushes against his nipple and Jaskier whines against his lips, squirming against the bed. Eskel just squeezes him harder and slides his hand to the base, dipping down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.
"Fuck," Jaskier hisses, "Fuck, Eskel please-"
Eskel flicks his tongue at him and sinks down just far enough to press his tongue against the underside of the head and Jaskier whimpers.
Eskel pulls off abruptly, running a hand up the inside of Jaskier's thigh.
"What if Geralt sucks you off?" he asks and Geralt hums as Jaskier groans.
"Would you like that?" Geralt asks, drawing away to kiss his neck. "Do you want to come again?"
"Yeah," Jaskier breathes and Geralt hums against his lips again.
"Sit up, Jask, let me see you."
Jaskier pulls himself upright, scrambling to his knees and shifts to kneel in front of Geralt. He gives himself a couple of quick strokes and catches Eskel's eye over Geralt's head.
Eskel gives him a short smack and Geralt grumbles but he presses his head into Jaskier's stomach and Jaskier is so desperately in love with him. He reaches down to brush Geralt's cheek, smiling at him as Eskel does something particularly delightful behind him and Geralt shoves his hips back.
"Fuck, Eskel," he groans and Jaskier runs a soothing hand down his spine.
He meets Eskel's eyes just for a moment, the heat in them burning straight through to his core. His cock twitches just as Geralt ducks his head, his nose brushing against him. Jaskier's mouth drops open. He's trying to be patient because Geralt has been so fucking patient with him, but it's difficult when he's rock hard and Geralt's breath is so hot against his cock.
With a groan, he slips a hand around himself, watching as Eskel's face presses between Geralt's cheeks and the way Geralt jerks and groans under his attention. Jaskier sits back on his heel and Geralt drops with him, pressing kisses against Jaskier's thighs and moving up to suck his cock into his mouth.
He swallows him down in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows. Jaskier drops back, knees pressing apart instinctively and he presses a soft hand to the back of Geralt's head. He pushes his fingers through his hair, dropping his head back and following the motion of Geralt's as he takes Jaskier's cock all the way down. He's quicker at it than Eskel, slipping right back up to press his tongue under the head. And fuck if he isn't good with his tongue. It's one of the few things that really surprised Jaskier when they introduced sex into their relationship and he shudders now as Geralt winds his tongue around him.
"Oh," he groans. Eskel looks up at him again and whatever he does next has Geralt pitching forward, swallowing around Jaskier's cock as he shoves his hips back hard.
Jaskier nearly doubles over and his hips give a sharp thrust forward though Geralt doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he moans deeper and Jaskier feels the vibrations of it around his cock.
"It's okay," Eskel hums, "you can fuck his mouth, he likes it."
Lust swells in Jaskier's chest as Geralt gives a grunt of assent and he runs a hand through Geralt's hair, testing his reaction as he rolls his hips. The response he gets is unequivocally positive and Geralt's hands slip under his thighs, holding him like that as Jaskier rocks his hips a little harder.
Jaskier rocks forward, pressing into the wet heat of Geralt's mouth. He's still so sensitive and the occasional graze of Geralt's teeth sends sparks up his spine. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, tugging gently and winding through it.
Jaskier can feel when Eskel thrusts into him, the way Geralt's body sways with the motion, pushing forward onto Jaskier and backward onto Eskel. It's intoxicating to see Geralt this way, giving himself up completely to the pair of them. He's always been giving as long as Jaskier's known him, and in bed, he's no different, but this feels so much bigger than his usual caring demeanour and Jaskier is a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trust Geralt must have in them.
In a rush of emotion, Jaskier withdraws and when Geralt looks up at him, he pushes Geralt up to his knees, shuffling up close to wrap his arms around his neck. He twists the fingers of one hand in Geralt's hair, reaching down with the other to stroke him slowly. Geralt keens under the touch, rocking his hips slowly with a soft groan against Geralt's lips.
"Tell me how he feels," Jaskier breathes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck. He nips at his skin and kisses over the marks as they fade.
"Good," Geralt groans. "Really good."
Jaskier hums and flicks his eyes up to meet Eskel's. In an instant, he's tugged forward and Eskel's mouth crashes against his own, tugging his hair and biting softly at his lower lip. One of Geralt's arms slips around his waist and Jaskier presses forward, eager to be closer to both of them.
His cock aches where it's trapped against Geralt's hip and his hips shift as though of their own will, sliding through the dip of Geralt's hip. He moans softly, stuttering against Eskel's lips and then Eskel pulls away. He leans over Geralt's other side, whispering against his ear.
"On your back," is all he says as Geralt complies, Jaskier shuffles out of the way, watching the way his hair splays out around his head. Geralt truly is beautiful and when Jaskier looks up to Eskel, it's clear he's having the same thought.
Eskel gets his knees under Geralt's thighs, slipping two fingers into him and thrusting quickly. Geralt groans as he lifts his hips, pushing back onto Eskel's fingers. Jaskier watches with fascination, sitting back on his heels and absently stroking himself to the scene in front of him. He'd be happy to spend the rest of the night just like this, happy enough to have been invited to bed with them in the first place, but Geralt apparently has other ideas.
Eskel withdraws his fingers, smoothing up Geralt's side as he presses into him again and Geralt shuts his eyes and rolls his head back. He reaches out, running a hand down Jaskier's thigh before curling a hand around his wrist. He tugs him forward and Jaskier lets himself be pulled on top of him, straddling Geralt's hips.
Geralt kisses him and Jaskier drops onto his chest, winding his fingers through Geralt's hair as he deepens the kiss. A warm hand slides down his back and he arches into it, his cock slipping against Geralt's skin as he does. Eskel's hand slips over his hip, fingertips brushing along his thigh and dragging back up to his ass. Eskel's not subtle, not at all, but when his fingers press between Jaskier's cheeks, slick and probing, Jaskier whimpers.
Geralt's hand slips into his hair and he draws back, letting Jaskier bury his face in his neck. He groans softly, kissing Geralt's skin as Eskel works a finger into him. It's hot and tight and wonderful and Jaskier can't help the way he ruts against Geralt's stomach, pressing his cock into the soft flesh of his stomach. But Geralt evidently doesn't mind, cupping his ass with one hand while the other pushes through his hair.
"Feel good?" he asks and Jaskier groans a response as Eskel thrusts into him again.
"Yeah," Jaskier breathes, "gods, yes."
Eskel makes quick work of opening him up and Jaskier is disappointed when he withdraws. Eskel's fingers are thick and talented and he'd have been happy to come on them. He groans his dissatisfaction, rocking his hips back, but then Geralt's hands are on him, guiding him down onto his cock.
Geralt's hips stutter as he bumps against him, but Jaskier is hot and overstimulated and impatient. He pushes back onto him with a groan, sitting up to lean against Eskel's chest. Eskel's arm winds around his chest, holding him close as Jaskier rocks forward, adjusting to the stretch of Geralt's cock. He settles with Geralt fully sheathed and Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips down as he shifts, pushing off of Eskel's chest.
He drops his head back on Eskel's shoulder, moaning softly against his neck and reaches down to stroke himself, fingers slipping through pre-come to tease at the head of his cock. He's so close and being caught between the pair of them is doing nothing to stifle the need searing through him. And Geralt bucks under him, fingers digging into his skin as he arches off the bed. Jaskier braces himself on his chest, rubbing circles with his thumb until he's unceremoniously tugged back down.
Geralt kisses him hard, arms wound tightly around his shoulders and Jaskier just goes limp against him as he fucks him hard. When Geralt comes, he digs his fingers into Jaskier's scalp, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier whimpers as Geralt thrusts deep.
For a moment they're still and then Eskel shifts behind them and Geralt makes a little groaning sound as Eskel pulls out. Geralt follows after him, loosening his grip and shifting to withdraw. He runs his hands up Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the way Eskel leans over him, kissing his neck. He's still not wholly sure how he wound up wrapped up in not one but two Witchers, but he certainly doesn't regret it. Eskel is soft and sweet and apparently, excellent at making Jaskier lose his mind and Geralt is. Well, he's Geralt. Jaskier was lost on him from the very first moment.
"You didn't come," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier is just about to tell him it's fine when Eskel bends low over him, nipping playfully at the back of his neck.
"Can I fuck you?" Eskel breathes and a whole new wave of arousal engulfs Jaskier. He whines and pushes back as Eskel's cock presses between his cheeks.
"Yeah," Jaskier gasps, "yeah, please."
Eskel doesn't waste time, draping himself over Jaskier's back and pushing into him. He's bigger than Geralt and there's some resistance, but when Eskel groans against his ear, Jaskier nearly goes limp with it. He drops onto his hands, planted on the bed on either side of Geralt's head and presses his forehead against Geralt's. Two sets of hands hold him steady as Eskel bottoms out.
He's careful, moving in shallow movements and normally Jaskier would appreciate the thought with a cock like that, but he's already slick and fucked loose and he just wants to come again. He shoves his hips back hard, prompting a deep groan from Eskel, but it seems to get his point across. Eskel holds his hips, rutting into his before withdrawing and thrusting hard.
He picks up the pace and Jaskier's skin prickles with the pleasure of it, though he goes limp, draping himself across Geralt's chest and burying his face in his hair. Geralt's legs are still wrapped around Eskel's and he pulls him closer as he kisses Jaskier's temple, brushes the hair from his face.
"Oh," Jaskier whines and Geralt kisses him so softly, a stark contrast to the way Eskel fucks him, quick and hard.
They're both drawing close. He can feel it in the way Eskel's form falters, the way his hips stutter just the slightest bit, the way he presses deep and sprawls over Jaskier's back, content to rock into him. It's constant pressure against his prostate and Jaskier whimpers. His cock drips against Geralt's stomach and he's so fucking close but he can't tip over that edge. Eskel's breath is on his neck and he kisses his neck. It's obvious that he's not going to last much longer, but he nuzzles against Jaskier's shoulders.
"Still good?" he asks and Jaskier manages a weak nod.
"Close," he mumbles and Geralt hums from under him.
He gets a hand in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss as one hand winds around Jaskier's cock. The desperate moan is lost between Geralt's lips, but Jaskier is pushed forward with each of Eskel's thrusts and it doesn't take long before he's spilling all over Geralt's chest, forehead buried in his neck.
Eskel follows shortly, pulling out gently before flopping onto the bed next to Geralt. Jaskier tries to move, but he's held in place by a firm arm around his waist, and when Geralt kisses him, he lets himself relax.
Geralt gets an arm around Eskel's neck, drawing him closer and as Eskel shifts, he throws an arm over Jaskier's waist, fingers brushing lightly over Geralt's forearm. The last thing Jaskier knows is Eskel leaning in for a kiss before sleep overtakes him and his eyes drop shut.
It's dark when he wakes again. The middle of the night, he suspects. There's a soft moan from next to him and a heavy weight around his shoulders - Eskel - and he shuffles toward his warmth. But a sharp groan startles him to wakefulness and it only takes a second for him to realize Geralt isn't where he left him when he fell asleep.
A quick look around puts Geralt on his knees at the foot of the bed, his head between Eskel's thighs. Eskel groans again, shifting to arch off the bed and Jaskier smiles to himself. He's still exhausted, and while the thought of joining them makes his cock twitch with anticipation, he'd rather sleep for a few more hours. Let them have their fun.
These two are going to kill him one day, but at least it will be a good death.
#geralt x jaskier#geralt x eskel#geralt x eskel x jaskier#rex writes#v spicy#like#half of this is smut#oop!
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hey, if you don't mind, i want your advice: i'm going to be running a chronicle set in chicago (i am using the chicago by night 5e book) for players who are new to vampire for the most part in a few days and i can't For The Life of Me to come up with an interesting chronicle hook (yeah i have read the hooks in the book). any ideas/suggestions/general advice?
Hiya! I could talk your ears off on how I write my chronicles- so hopefully I have taken all my processes and reduced it down to a lovely World of Darkness jam.
Here are two good hooks I just came up with- feel free to use them! The third is what I got for my first chronicle, and I just think its a narrative that works very well for new players.
>Option 1: Guilty Until Proven Innocent
”Chicago is a series of paradoxes and transitions, of ever changing paradigms and whimsy,” (CbN 47). Have your coterie be newbies to the city. Ask why they have come to Chicago. Power? A new start? Perhaps this is a political arrangement between the clan of one city with another. Whatever their reason, they have arrived right when a Primogen vanishes- and guess who is first on the suspect list? The fresh faces on the streets >:) The coterie, having barely settled, has to suddenly prove their innocence. And finding evidence lets them uncover something much more sinister....
This one is ideal for new players as it sets everyone on an equal footing. Even if they create a character that has been a vampire for 50+ years and has amassed several dots of influence, herd, status- whatever, they are still new to the city. And being new means you have to start all over again. (This may be frustrating to a player that invested all those points at character creation- but it is on you as the ST to make sure they have opportunities to use those dots and on them as a player to think cleverly.)
Starting the tale off with defending their innocence is actually a very engaging questline. It effectively sets the stage for the political powerhouses. It lets new players know there are rules- and those in power are watching. It also sets the consequences for failure. Understand that the Camarilla probably isnt going to outright kill the coterie if they fail- always make the punishment just harsh and grueling enough to make final death feel like a mercy. Failure isn’t the end of the story.
For new players- I would be lenient with the time it takes for them to find evidence. But within reason. Think like your Prince and Seneschal. Do you really want this coterie running around for a full week, unsupervised, making more messes? No. You don’t. (You might wanna send an npc with them to watch and keep em out of trouble. Your npc is also able to vouch for them.)
This story lends itself to be a Camarilla Chronicle very easily. You can go Anarch, but an Anarch leader suddenly vanishing and blaming the newbies is much more quickly going to end with blood spilled. Thank your local sweeper.
> Option 2: Containment Breach
Blacksite 24 (Loresheet on page 264) was temporarily occupied by Operation Firstlight. It has now been transformed into a medical research facility. While most kindred of Chicago know of Blacksite 24, they have zero clue what happens inside other than bad news for them- the less they know the safer they are. The chronicle opens with a car crash. The captured soon-to-be coterie was in transit to this feared medical facility. The crash did kill the driver and the agent in charge of transporting them. The crash did not fully break their restraints, but it did enough damage that first responders are freaking out. They are all at hunger 3. The chronicle is a hunt. The coterie should have some knowledge of what had happened to them and how lucky they are to have escaped. Operatives are already on their way to recapture them. They must hide in this city- and do their best to survive and stay out of sight.
The point of this story is to invoke dread. I highly recommend one player either being a thin-blood (or an npc) with the Daydrinker merit, or a player to have a ghoul. If they decide to not have a daywatch, they increase their chance of being found.
This story also sets up a feeling of desperation. They would be willing to take shelter from anyone- anyone. Eventually the other kindred will catch on that these guys are on the run from something. Any sane kindred would toss them out to protect themselves. A compassionate kindred who takes them in will suffer the final death as a compassionate fool- or join them in captivity.
This story lends itself to be an Anarch Chronicle much more easily. This is the time the Camarilla will likely be a bit more paranoid and bloody. While they might not outright kill the coterie- they will send them somewhere that is a death trap. They wont dirty their hands with this. After all, you do not want any evidence to fall into the hands of the SI if you hired the hit.
This story is ideal for newbies without background merits. No allies, no influence, no herd. Let them take more mythic merits such as bloodhound and unbondable (Consider finding some from V20 too! There are some really awesome supernatural merits!). These powers would certainly be more fascinating for a medical team to study- not how many instagram followers they have. This kind of story also lets your players feel more powerful- but out of the loop. It lends itself to them forging alliances and getting caught in one-sided favors a lot more quickly.
The challenging aspect of this story is that is starts with a masquerade breach. New players may not know how to handle such a blatant breach and thats okay. I would let the crash slide- and the Camarilla in the background handles it. Breaches after the crash need to be handled with proper consequences.
> Option 3: New Blood
This is what my storyteller did to me and my first time players (and its also very close to the plot of CoNY). We were shovelheads. Embraced to make a huge mess for the Camarilla and die quick deaths. We were all thin-bloods.
The last thing the pcs remember is the sweet rush of ecstasy washing over them, before clawing out of the earth and driven mad by an insatiable hunger. The thrill of the hunt, and the sweet, warm blood on their tongue, nothing was going to be better. All three will awake next to each other, surrounded by the corpses they drank dry in their frenzy. What a way to play the name game! The players have three nights were they figure out their new condition or coverup their tracks (if they think to do it). They contend with their hunger and hatred of sunlight, wrestle with accidentally drinking their family member dry. After three nights, the Scourge comes knocking. Rather than outright killed, they are dragged to Elysium. For some reason, they are adopted by an upstanding member of the Camarilla- or the Prince orders a political rival care for them (hoping they fail). The players are the errand childer of this kindred, and slowly they figure out what they have been gathering through all these errands....
This one lets the characters all have the moments where they discover their disciplines and powers- and bestial tendencies. It naturally flows to allow players to slowly discover the rules and mechanics as well. All players must play fledglings for this tale.
This story is much more a personal tale than a political one. Eventually politics makes its way in...but it does not have to be a focus.
This story has less of a hook and more of a “Figure it Out” survival mode until the errands begin. The story is how the character’s react to their condition. It very quickly lends itself to a narrative of finding your own path in the night, rather than mindlessly obeying.
So here are a few questions that I ask myself when crafting a chronicle story:
1. What kind of story do you want to tell? Not asking for a plot hook, I’m asking for a general concept. Is it a tale of good triumphing over evil? (Not necessarily a wrong answer, but if you wanna play good guys...vampire is not the best game for that). Is this a chase? Is this a race against time?
2. How do you want your story to make your players feel? Do you want to tell a story that invokes as much dread as possible in your players? Do you want them to feel ultra powerful? Vampire is both a power fantasy and a dread inducing game- it can do both.
3. If you don’t know what kind of story you want to tell, switch gears to worldbuilding. CbN has so many NPCs with the rumors already written for you. Its your setting, perhaps switch two rumors around with prominent NPCs. Decide which ones are true in your setting- Maybe Primogen Annabell did kill her predecessor. Perhaps the Lasombra are attempting to infiltrate the Camarilla as everyone fears- but no one is able to prove it or stop it. Deciding what is true, false, and undetermined usually blossoms into hooks and stories worth investigating.
4. What is a historical event of the city that the Vampires would have endured/ scars would have remained? For example, in my chronicle set in Richmond, the tale of the Richmond Vampire is true. Depending on who you ask, it is the Camarilla’s best or sloppiest cover up. Have the chronicle coincide with the events and the coterie live through them. No one said this must take place in 2021- you can do 2015, 2008, -hell go back the 1990s. Its actually super fun if you set your chronicle in the 90s and your Malkavian is using phrases from 2020.
5. One of my things I do when writing scenes and moments is play Dread by myself. Dread is a role playing game played with jenga. There are no dice rolls, if you want to attempt something, you have to pull pieces from the tower. If the tower falls, you die. If there is a moment where I really really really dont want to pull from the tower, though the reward for succeeding is so so sweet- I keep the moment. If its really easy to shrug and go eh, I can live without performing that action- go back and rewrite it. If you have no incentive to pull from the tower, why would they?
6. Examine your player’s desires and ambitions- and do not neglect them in your chronicle. The plot wont magically allow all of them to achieve their ambitions. However, provide opportunities for them through the plot. Its on them to strive for what their character wants- its on you to make them struggle but have the path to get there. For example, if a player wants to become a Baron, provide a political opening. Perhaps then by announcing their power, they have made a bigger name for themselves and it has become harder to hide. Perhaps by doing this, the kindred they owe a favor is suddenly much more vocal about it.
Here are some suggestions for handling new players:
> You are going to have to handhold them through some things. New players to vtm won’t be able to see the cascading political web and how the consequences of their actions will ripple into waves. I like to use Wits+Insight and call it Common Sense. Common Sense was a merit in V20- and damn is it WONDERFUL. All they need is just 1 success (they can take half) to have you explain how whatever plan they just thought of is actually a TERRIBLE idea.
> Do your RPG consent list. Know what is safe to discuss and what is off the table. I highly recommend utilizing something my Storyteller used for my first chronicle, and subsequently I use for all my ttrpgs now: Invoking the Veil. The metaphor is that you are slowly lessening the intensity of a scene- as if raising the opacity or looking through layers of fabric. Eventually, there is too much fabric and you can no longer see the scene. If something is too intense, the ST or the player may announce they are invoking the veil. Reduce the scene by lowering music, speaking in third person, or avoiding heavy descriptors. You can reduce it further to just dice rolls. Role play stops, and the consequences of the scene are solely dictated by the dice. Or fade to black. If a player is repeatedly fading to black on something- ask to talk to them about it. Clearly something is too intense and they are not having as much fun as they can. Debriefing after a session is also a good idea. Do something silly! Share and check all the memes in the discord chat. Its important to make sure you and your players know that at the end of the night- its all just a game.
> I find the sabbat and new players don’t tend to mix well. You may absolutely still use the sabbat in your chronicle! But the dogma and philosophical ideals of the sabbat can be offputting and downright upsetting to a first time player. You may absolutely build to it- that’s what I did to my players. And in the moment of the truth, they chose to cling to humanity.
> The taking half mechanic is your friend! V5 says players may announce how many dice they are rolling- and if the dividend is greater than the DC- they auto succeed. This streamlines play. Of course, you as the Storyteller may say this is a roll they are not allowed to take half on. Usually these are contested rolls (combat).
> The three turns and out rule keeps combat intense but not too lengthy. It actually streamlines encounters super super well.
> My ST used a phrase, “The quickest way to kill Cthulhu is to give it a healthbar.” If Methuselahs and Elders are involved in your game- avoid giving them stat blocks. This cultivates a conflict that new players must find a way to overcome without brute force combat. It makes them think critically and defy these super old antagonists through narrative means. This also gets the notion out of your and their heads, “if they die, its over.” Its never that easy. Never.
#steph answers questions#thanks for asking!#vtm#vampire the masquerade#vamp tag#storyteller vibes#ghostravens
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