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#word of honor fic recommendation

concealedrecs · 9 months

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Fic: a jackal; a thief

Author: brawlite

Fandom: Word of Honor

Pairing: Wen Kexing/Ye Baiyi

Rating: Explicit

Length: 10719

Recommendation: This is incredibly well told and profoundly intimate - a sex pollen adjacent fic, this deals in dubious consent and fuck or die, but it’s also a character piece about how Wen Kexing treats intimacy. This is definitely a case of “mind the tags” but a worthwhile read.

#fic rec #fic recommendation #word of honor fic rec #word of honor fic recommendation #word of honor #wen Kexing/ye baiyi #ye baiyi #wen kexing

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lovewanxian · 1 month

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Why didn't anyone warn me about Word of Honor 😭😭😭😭

Me for 33 episodes: haha this is great! Fantastic storyline, lovable characters, and they managed to sneak so much of the queer romance past censorship! So good!

Episode 34: oohh everyone is getting happy endings! I'm so happy! But why are there two whole episodes left after this? S-surely it's because they have so many happy endings to tell they need 2 episodes just for that? Fear.jpeg

Episodes 35-36: SUFFERING

#word of honor #im sobbing right now 😭😭😭#quick: someone recommend me a good fix it fic before i die of heartbreak

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sirenofthegreenbanks · 9 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021), 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers - priest Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu Characters: Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu Series: Part 2 of a meeting of worlds Summary:

Zhou Zishu stands up too. Silently they regard each other like wild dogs passing in the night. Wen Kexing is older, fine-boned. His eyes are dark and arresting. He is beautiful in the way of fine jade, sharp and cool like a bird of prey. His hair, black as anything, falls down his back, with no wisps to tickle his jaw.

This Wen Kexing frowns, looking around the mountain that envelops them. It has become a home in the way that a rotten stump flourishes and becomes a home to fungi, insects and rodents; not where you plan to end up, but an environment that grows with you all the same.

#fic rec #companion piece to part 1. i would say its almost like a character study of tyk wkx #its not necessary to read part 1 first but i highly recommend. everything comes to a close with part 2 its very satisfying #word of honor #shan he ling #faraway wanderers #fan fiction

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

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Yoongi fic recs 2024 🥳

In honor of Yoongi’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Yoongi stories, that I’ve read this past year (2023-2024) 💜 I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹 🥳

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the fic, it might seem like a tiny gesture, but it really means a lot for writers and I can guarantee it will put a smile on their faces💜 Let’s share and give lots of love!

Looking for more to read? Check ‘The Library’ or last years recs 🙂

[index] → jan | feb (jhs) | mar (💜) | apr | may | jun | jul | aug | sep (jjk)(knj) | oct (pjm) | nov | dec (kth)(ksj) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, fantasy = 🪄.

⭐Illicit Favors @yoongiofmine // myg x f.reader // producer!yoongi, virgin!reader, f2l // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

🗨️ Matchmaker Namjoon!! The premise is funny and leads to slight awkwardness, but it’s so good. I love the reader and Yoongi’s friendship in this. I was left speechless after reading it, I can’t recommend this enough 🙂

⭐Tricks of the Trade @stutterfly // myg x f.reader // body swap!au, soulmates!au, idiots to lovers, frenemies to lovers // 🥰😂🥵

📝 The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That’s why you frequent it. It’s definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you’ve been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you’re waking up in a body that definitely doesn’t belong to you. You can’t decide if it’s the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

🗨️ This is utterly perfection! It is so funny and hilarious - but it is also insanely smutty! It’s really interesting with body swapping, what they learn about each other, lol. I read this on a day where I was feeling down, and it honestly made my day! 💜Also, now I kinda wanna watch ‘She’s the Man’ 😂

⭐Backtrack @mapofthesea // myg x pjm x reader // producers!yoonmin, assistant!reader, bi!yoongi // 🥵🥰

📝 There’s no telling just how long you’d been stuck in the windowless studio, and you’re just about ready to walk out and forfeit your paycheck for the week, until your bosses strike up an interesting bargain.

🗨️ Holy fuck 🥵 I feel like I need to take a very long shower now 🫣🫣🫣 this is probably one of the dirtiest fics I’ve read. It’s so good 🤤

⭐Workaholic @hobiwonder [10K] // myg x f.reader // “‘strangers” to lovers (I don’t want to spoil!) // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night.

🗨️ Wow okay, this was so freaking great! Like, what??? Incredible! A masterpiece! I really really loved it 🥺 everything was so fucking good, their chemistry, the tense build up ugh, so fucking good! 💯 ✨

⭐What the Moon Saw + Stolen Tides @violetsiren90 // myg x f.reader // non-idol!au, f2l // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 In the words of the great Stevie Nicks, "Time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too."

🗨️ This is just so fucking beautiful. Everything. About. It. Period. 😭 It is emotional, it is young love, and it is tender and loving - like, Yoongi is just so sweet. Their timing sucks, but thankfully Violet wrote a beautiful drabble to give the couple a lovely ending! 💜 Truly, please go read it, it is so good I was crying and felt so good after, it’s sweet – OKAY I’M SOFT I know.

⭐Oh, darling! [series; completed] @yoongiofmine // myg x f.reader // university!au, non idol au, professor!yoongi, student!reader // 🥰🌩️🥵

📝 Starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you’ve held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

🗨️ Holy fucking shit 🥵🫣😳 This is just one of my favorites series, EVER 💜 This is in my top 10, no questions! ✨

⭐Mami @kithtaehyung // myg x f.reader, knj x f.reader, jhs x f.reader // roommates!au, battle rap!au // 🥵

📝 You somehow have a conversation with Yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.

🗨️ So, so good 🥵 really looking forward to more of this series 🥵 🫣

⭐Damn the Charcuterie Board @bratkook // myg x f.reader x pjm // bestfriends!au, threesome // 🥵

📝 This doesn’t have a summary, so here goes mine; reader has has a sling of unfulfilling sexual times, and in the company of her best friends, she thinks about a video she watched recently. Could they give her what she needed?

🗨️ This has been on my reading list for so freaking long! 🥹 And now I finally got to read it, and damn, it is one of the best, filthiest fics out there. So, so good! 💯🥵

⭐Cotton Candy Computer (1) [series; discontinued] @softyoongiionly // myg x f.reader // hacker!au // 🥵🌩️

📝 Min Yoongi is the top hacker in the world. He has put away countless other cyber criminals all whilst evading detection by virtually everyone he has ever crossed paths with, including the government. The diabolical super hacker that came close to tracking him down is now serving a 10 year prison sentence, all thanks to Yoongi’s handiwork. So what happens when the sentence is shortened unexpectedly? What happens when the biggest threat to public safety is roaming the streets again, determined to get revenge on the man who put him away? What happens when the worlds most infamous hacker just so happens to manage your local Mikrokosmic Electronics? A terabyte of trouble.

🗨️ Shit this was incredibly good!!!! Why isn’t it finished? 😭 I don’t usually read unfinished or discontinued series, but the summary really had me and I just had to read it – and now I’m hooked and I want more of this sexy hot hacker Yoongi! 😭 The story was also just so well written and the chemistry between reader and oc was so fucking perfect, and don’t get me started on the smut, like ugh 🥵 Gosh, I’m so sad there aren’t more parts to it (like the author planned four parts). But it’s so so good, and the cliffhanger isn’t horrible (in terms of wanting to read the next chapter). It can definitely be read as a one shot, I just really, really wished there was more, because, fuck, it was perfect! 💯💜✨

⭐Three Tangerines [series; ongoing] @kithtaehyung // myg x f.reader // fuckboy!yoongi, brother’s best friend!au, age gap!au // 🌩️🥵

📝 Throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart.

🗨️ I will keep screaming about Ryen and 3tan, yes. And if you have not read it yet, please take 3-7 days off from work or school to do so 😂

⭐Sinful Lust [completed series] @oddinary4bts [71.9K] // myg x f.reader x jjk // slice of life!au, bisexual boyfriend!yoongi // 🥵🌩️🌩️🌩️

📝 in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

🗨️ this one is special to me (as is everything Ella writes honestly). This one is very controversial because of the cheating aspect in it, but it feels so real and it’s very well handled! I love it! It’s very angsty too, made me cry multiple times– I was just so invested in it! I’m really trying not to spoil too much (I already have lol). Just, read it okay??? ✨

⭐F*ck Christmas @sailoryooons [23.4K] // myg x f.reader // f2l // 🥰🥵

📝 Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

🗨️ Gosh, I remember reading this sometime last year and it was perfection - it still is! ✨ It’s so so so fucking good. If you haven’t read it, please do so 🥹 it’s also one of the best Christmasy fics 💜

⭐Eargasm + Eargasm II @lavishedinjimin [9.5K + 14K] // myg x f.reader // phonesex!au, sexhotline!au // 🥵

📝 the idea of having your first ever orgasm by talking to a hot, random stranger through your phone scares the living hell out of you, but maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.

🗨️ holy fuck, FUCK. this is insane 🥵🥵🥵

⭐Less of Them [ongoing series] @casuallyimagining [9.9K] // myg x f.reader // established relationship, arranged marriage!au, star-crossed lovers // 🥵🌩️🥰🪄

📝 as the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

🗨️ PLEASE, PLEASE— FUCKING PLEASE. If you have not read this one yet. Please do it now 😭🥺 It made me cry in the best way possible! The world building, the characters, their love for each other shines to fucking bright and then– [spoiler] READ IT yelling with hands frantically moving above my head

⭐Things that Grow @violetsiren90 [0.9k] // myg x f.reader // established relationship, idol!au // 🥰🌩️

📝 the idea of having your first ever orgasm by talking to a hot, random stranger through your phone scares the living hell out of you, but maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.

🗨️ it is so fucking beautiful, I can’t even begin to articulate… fuck. I know it’s very short, but dammit I love it. Every single freaking word in this is PERFECTION.

⭐Hard Liquor @chateautae [8k] // myg x f.reader x jjk // business!au, age!au, executive boss!yoongi x employee!reader // 🥵

📝 your dull evening at a bar becomes hopeful when your mysterious, handsome boss min yoongi shows you the ropes on everything alcohol, but shows you much more when he ends up buried deep inside you.

🗨️ it was SO FUCKING INCREDIBLE like I don’t even know where to begin??? The smut??? That has left me in utter need of Holy Water, because DAMN 🥵 The writing, flow of the story was also just 💯✨

This is my little corner with my own fics— I don’t write that much (I prefer to read), but it would mean a lot to me if you checked out my work or read it. You don’t have to, it’s up to you of course 🥰

⭐Friendcation [110.5k] // myg x f. reader // roadtrip!au/camping!au, f2bfwb2l, mechanic!Yoongi // 🥵🥰😂

📝going camping with your best friends seemed like a brilliant idea when you initially made the plans. But when you harbor secret feelings for one of them, what will become of you being close confined for three months? Trouble, that’s what.

🗨️ you might laugh, but this is very special to me because it’s the first long fic I wrote and I wrote it because I missed my sister and brother-in-law (they were going on a roadtrip across Europe, lol).

⭐Learn to Love Again [19.4k ] // myg x f. reader // hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), s2l, slice of life!au // 🌩️👻🥵🥰

📝people always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

🗨️ this one is quite sad, but I really adore it. I wrote it when I was very depressed, so it’s very heavy in that department 🥲

And as a something little extra, here’s a few fics that I haven’t had the time to read yet, but damn I’m buzzing to get to read them:

Those Eyes Chico [ongoing series] @kookslastbutton

Burden @casuallyimagining

Pour some sugar on me @yoonia

Turbulence [AO3] by orphan_account

Only Yesterday [completed series] @borathae

Happy birthday to our Lotus flowers, YOONGI!!!! 🥳💜✨

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peachesofteal · 9 months

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Which Witch

Painting by Joseph Tomanek Thank you to the lovely anons who's beautiful brains helped create this story. Part 1 - Part 2 here John "Soap" MacTavish/witch!reader 13k words - AO3 You do not need to read Mermaids to enjoy this fic, but it exists in the same world and for the full experience, I do recommend it. Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Mature and dark themes. Fae!AU. Brief blink of smut. Blood Magic. Fae Magic. Violence. Killing. Human Sacrifice. Angst. Tenderness. Protective Johnny. "I'm not beat up by this yet, you can't tell me to regret, Been in the dark since the day we met, Fire, help me to forget." - F + TM

Johnny presses the heel of his boot into the cheek of the being on the ground, his eyes glazed with a vacancy he has seen more times than he cares to count, or remember, the bleakness of his irises meaning only one thing: the end of their life.

“Was it worth it to ye?” he spits, and the male shudders beneath his sole, twisting pathetically, a half attempt at getting away. Blood sputters and pools, lamely leaking from his body, drenching the air in an earth rich scent.

It does not matter, there is not where for him to go, nowhere for him to flee. He will be lost to the 141, just as almost every other being is this castle has.

The echo of his brother’s power, Gaz’s light magic, rips through the room and shudders down Johnny’s spine as he appears in the hall, his boots leaving red marks on the marble floor, remnants of lives spent squelching with each step.

“Where’s Ghost?” Kyle’s voice booms across the distance, and Johnny jerks his head northward, to where Simon is ransacking the library like a madman.

He is a madman, Johnny thinks, shaking his head, didn’t even stay to see the job through before he went tearing through those books.

He cannot fault him, his brother is a being possessed, tortured by his own heart, a heart that beats for a creature that does not even know he exists. He is miserable, and brutish, and half the time almost unbearable to be around, and Johnny really, really hopes it all comes to an end soon.

The being beneath Johnny’s heel gurgles, rubied ichor slipping down his face towards the floor before he spits and glares upwards at Gaz and himself.

“Mercenaries.” He snarls, and Johnny can feel him trying to pull a sliver of power, a desperate and feeble attempt that fails before he chokes again. “That’s all ya are. Mercenaries with no code, no honor.” Gaz rolls his eyes in a dramatic motion, rotating his neck before a dagger born from the shimmer of suns materializes in his hand, and the male on the floor whines in fear.

“Yes, yes.” Gaz sighs impatiently, and then in a blink has the point pressed to the being’s neck, right below where his pulse hammers. It sears his skin, burning away at the flesh slowly, filling the air between them with putrid smoke, the smell of incinerating sinew stinging in Johnny’s nostrils. “But how are we so different from you, then?”

“I don’t kill for money.”

“Just for sport.” Johnny follows up drily, and the male has no argument. His fighting rings are known throughout the realm. In the closest town over, one can make a fair amount of profit, or lose their freedom, if you knew where to look.

“As if you’re so appalled by it, MacTavish.” The being hisses, and Johnny stills. His power thrums in his blood, reacting to tense state of his body, churning in his mind, ready to strike. Chaos readies itself, pulsing deep, ready to blow this entire castle to the Netherworlds. “I know where ya’re from. I’ve heard rumor of what happens on the Isle, with it’s-“ Johnny’s magic bursts forward, twisting around Gaz to seek its target, tearing into the very essence of the male on the ground, ripping into the being’s own celestial connections and shredding them to pieces. The magic and rage combined electrifies Johnny, filling him with a heady power that pulses in every pore, every neuron existing in his body, and it’s a well fought effort to shove it down, to not give into the intoxicating feeling of the craze, the lust for battle and blood. He pulls and pulls the threads from the being’s crumpled form, draining him dry with each breath until there is no fight left, until he’s nothing but a carcass, an empty shell, eyes stuck wide in horror.

“Shite.” Johnny murmurs, finally releasing his heel. There’s not much left beneath it, just ropes of blood and bone, the body obliterated by the concentration of Johnny’s magic, dark red rivers seeping across the polished stone floor. Gaz chuckles darkly.

A ripple of power echoes towards them, and at the end of it, Price looms, arms crossed, mouth turned down in a huff of irritation.

“Job’s done then?” He motions to the pile of remains between them, Johnny nodding the obvious answer. Gaz’s dagger disappears, light seeping through his skin before it’s swallowed whole, tucked away for safekeeping.

“Simon’s finishing up the last bit.”

The three of them venture towards the library, a massive room with ceilings that stretch towards the moons, and shelves built from top to bottom. There are books of every kind here, books from every realm, even. Grimoires, from the witches in the mortal realm, and lost texts from its human inhabitants. Heavy volumes of history from the Netherworlds, sacred texts from a faraway realm that only Simon has been to. Books bound in human skin, books bound with being skin, books that only appear to those they choose. Books that possess their own spells, even if they’re not inherently magic. Books that contain the ability to give any being a gift, so long as they are willing to receive it. Johnny breathes deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of leather and paper, papyrus, and cloth, holding onto it for as long as possible before his lungs deflate with a whoosh. The taste settles on his tongue, and he tamps down the urge to start pulling volumes towards himself, eager to flick through them and devour what lies between their pages. He craves it, the knowledge, the magic that sits sleeping in this room. The bedlam that swirls in his bloodstream melds with his desire for new puzzles, new knowledge, and it creates a double-edged sword that only his brothers seem to understand. Maybe it’s because of his mum, and the deep, ravenous love of books that she had and instilled in him, the balance of his love for chaos and his love for puzzles lending well to learning, or maybe it’s because he’s lived too bloody long, walking the worlds with his brothers, seeking new truths like they were meals to feast on.

This is where they find Simon. He’s got a female sorceress of some kind, the one they were looking for in the first place, kneeling, in the middle of the room, arms pressed down to her sides, her eyes wild with fear. Johnny can smell it from here, the rank stench of her terror, the scent of her dread as the being in front of her walks in a tight circle, his eyes fixed on her quivering form.

“I cannot perform it.” She protests, and Simon makes a great show of sighing, like he’s tired, or exasperated. “That magic, it’s not of Faerie. We do not practice it here. Please-“ she sobs, and her desperation tugs at Johnny, just a bit, even though his sympathy is slim for this creature who cries pitifully in front of her soon to be executor.

“Simon.” Price intones from where he stands, a distance away, and her eyes flash to him, relief scrawling across her features as she mistakes John for one who may be kind to her, for a being who may help her.

She doesn’t know, that they know. That they’re fully aware, of the terrible things she’s done for the once ruler of this land, that they know the extent of her cruelty, her thirst for blood and pain.

Price crouches in front of where she sits on her knees, and cups her face between his palms, rubbing a placating thumb across her cheekbone.

“Tell us, love.” He encourages. “Tell us about the song. And perhaps, we’ll let you go.” It’s a lie, but she doesn’t know that, and it’s painfully obvious when she swallows, eyes darting between the four of them before settling back on Price.

“It’s blood magic.” She croaks. “The only way to capture the song is with the magic of blood and bone. I told him.” Price turns to Simon, who nods his affirmative. “There are few who still practice it.”

“Where?” Price urges, still soothing her with his touch, his words soft and reassuring.

“In the mortal realm.” Gaz rubs an exasperated palm over his face with a sigh, and Simon’s power pulses around the sorceress, tightening like a vice. She yelps in a panic, words rushing free like floodwaters. “There is a coven! There is a coven left, that still practices in the mortal realm, and they have a spinner, a blood spinner. She’s a witch, that-” She continues to babble, giving them everything, anything she had, where she believed they were located, what kind of witches they were, how long they’d been practicing. She gave and gave, until there was nothing left to say, and then she stared up at Price, with wistful hope on her face.

Hope, that dies, as she feels the slipknot of Simon’s power, twisting with torsion around her neck.

“No, no. You said… you said you’d let me go!” She cries, and Johnny feels his rage lash out inside him, distaste curdling his stomach. He can’t help but correct her.

“Is that what you told the mothers of the children ye slaughtered all those years? That you’d let them go? After ye sold them to fighting pits? After ye watched them die, and did nothing?”

“I wa-was only doing what I was told.” She sobs, flinging herself onto the floor in front of them. “Please!” Her fingers dig at her neck, clawing and scraping, but it’s pointless. The 141 has long had her in their sights. “Please… plea- please.” She moans, fragments of her life slipping through their fingers as it drains away, her body growing limp and her existence becoming futile by the moment. “I- ‘m sorry.” She tries, but it’s far too late now.

It's far too late.

The tavern is packed. Every one and thing inside gives them a wide berth, their eyes jumping from Simon, who walks in front, dark gaze glaring from behind the skull mask and hood he dons in public, to Price, who casually strolls behind him, hand in one pocket, the other swinging by his side, free and available, should quick intervention be needed. Gaz stands at the bar, flirting with a striking female who is leaning towards him, her lips parting to reveal shiny, sharp golden teeth.

That’s odd. What’s a Harpy doing all the way out ‘ere? If Gaz is taken aback, he hides it well, instead slipping her a note that more than covers the cost of a round, and then points at the table where they’ve settled.

“Bit out o’ place.” Price comments, and Simon grunts.

“It’s curious.” He agrees, and they all track Gaz on his way back, watching him until he plants himself on the bench, casual grimace lining his lips.

Simon shifts restlessly, and they all can feel the hot singe of his power, the frustration lurking in the air. Waiting as he hedges.

“If it’s true-“

“At what cost?” Price cuts him off. They hold a silent conversation with their eyes, arguments and counters flowing back and forth between them. Price is the natural voice of reason; he’ll convince him it’s a bad idea. The thought sticks in Johnny’s mind uneasily, souring as he turns it over. What if this is real? What if there is a chance? To end this madness?

Johnny was no fool, he’s seen the change in Simon, year after year. His fear and confusion, anger and dread starting to seep from his skin, coloring everything around them, affecting them all in different ways. His Nereid was at the end of her rope, and so was Simon.

“All I want, is a chance, Johnny. A chance to know her, without standing in the shadow, for her to know me. To hold her, to tell her she’s not alone.” He confessed, years ago, in the dark of an empty wing in his too big house. “I love her. I cannot give her up, I won’t allow her to die.”

He had returned to their realm frantic, distress wracking his body, seizing his power and twisting it until it nearly suffocated all of them where they stood. It took hours for Johnny to calm him, to get him to explain what had happened, for him to realize why Simon had been so distraught. His Nereid had nearly failed her task, botched her own hunt, and Simon almost stole her away in a moment of blind panic, without even stopping to consider that she might die as soon as steps foot in Faerie.

“What you’re asking, Simon, is a massive undertaking, it’s-“

“I’m not asking. I’d never ask this of you.” He snapped, magic fizzling through the air above Johnny’s head, explosions of grey and black lighting with power.

“Do ye truly believe we’d leave ye alone to face this? To spend a year in the mortal realm, as a merc, without us? Your brothers?”

“It is not merely a year, Johnny. It could be two, or three, or one hundred. I cannot take her until I know how to sustain her, and we’re still not closer to the answer.”

“I’m with ye Simon. Just as you’ve been with me through difficult times. I won’t turn my back now.”

“And neither will I.” Price booms from the doorway, the two of them whirling to where he stands with Gaz at his side.

“Sign me up. You know how I feel about mortal females. And their food.” Gaz gives them an impish grin, flourishing a set of light daggers and then lowering himself in a mock bow, an ode to his bloodline and ridiculous family. Johnny doesn’t say anything, but he watches how Simon’s shoulders ease, how he releases the breath he’s been holding, before giving them all a nod.

“I will go.” Johnny declares, and Simon’s eyes crinkle with relief. The sooner we get this all done, the sooner we can return home for good. Johnny was tired. They had been in the mortal realm for nearly a decade, coming back to Faerie now and then when something needed attending or when Simon had a lead. And now, with Simon desperately searching for the final piece of the puzzle, the end of all this finally felt close enough to taste. The only thing left outstanding was, how to get his blood to sing the Nereid’s song.

“I fancy a field trip myself.” Price relents, sigh expelling from his lungs with vexation. “Could use a change of scenery. Better than bloody Verdansk.”

“Or Las Almas.” Gaz mutters and Johnny protests.

“I liked Las Almas.”

“You just like Ale and Rudy.” Gaz ribs him, and Johnny laughs full throated. He did a soft spot for the two Vaqueros. They were smart, cunning humans who excelled in battle and cared for their community. Rare traits to find amongst the greedy, swamp like mortals that mostly roam their world. He respected them.

“Aye.” He agrees. The table goes quiet for a moment, words on the knifes edge, waiting, watching, until Simon clears his throat.

“Very well. We will go together then.” Price echoes him, while Gaz nods readily.

“Together.”

“It’s not optional anymore.” Your aunt’s voice vibrates through the speaker of the phone. “Your coven is your family.” She prattles on, unaware you’ve put the phone down and walked away from it to stack a few books together on the table.

“She’s nuts.” You mouth to Jet, who weaves between your legs before hopping up in front of you, rubbing her face against your fingers, seeking a scratch behind her ear.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.” You sigh, and you swear you see Jet roll her eyes, right after you roll your own.

“You need to spend time with your coven. You can’t spend your entire life holed up in that shop with your familiar and your books.” Why not? You don’t say that, of course, lest she hex you through the phone, or worse. She doesn’t understand. You have a deep affection, a pure love for your connection to your power, for your magic, but that love did not extend to your coven, who were mostly still stuck in the darkest ages of time, who’s desire for power had pushed them to extremes. When you don’t respond, she bites out her directive before hanging up. “You must perform your duties. You’ll be expected on Samhain.”

And then the line goes dead.

You sigh, and Jet meows, like she sympathizes. Like she feels your pain. Maybe she does. You’re not sure. She is your familiar, but you don’t speak her language. You don’t know how she actually feels.

But you do know she dislikes your aunt, nearly as much as you do.

“I know, I know.” You give her another rub of your fingertips under her chin before pulling the stack of books towards you and carrying them through the back to the front of the shop.

Your day passes quietly. Mortals come and go, browsing the books in the front room, some choosing to stay and settle in the armchairs or the nooks with plush cushions, curled up with their selections for hours. There are places to tuck away here, corners between shelves where you could allow yourself to get lost in another world if you wanted, with no one to disturb or bother you, except maybe Jet. The black cat patrols the front room with high scrutiny, jumping to and from different heights while she ensures nothing is amiss in her domain.

You keep yourself busy with your daily tasks, organizing, counting, compiling, all while trying not think too much about the demand of your presence at Samhain.

You don’t want to go.

But you also don’t think you’ll be able to get out of it. You had already managed to dodge Lughnasa, and a fully body shudder rips through you when you recall the efforts of matchmaking that were done on your behalf before the festival had even started.

Not like anyone wanted to be matched with you to begin with. Not when there were effortless beauties by the dozen, witches and warlocks waiting with bated breath to be paired together.

Crazy, evil old hags. Crazier than the full moon herself.

By the end of your regular business hours, the store is empty, and you’ve settled yourself in the back room, the one that stays locked, the one where you keep all the things you don’t want the general public to see, ancient books bound with skin, grimoires with spells to summon demons, to kill lovers, to resurrect children. Books with magic of blood and bone, written by ancient witches from your own coven. Stories that come and go as they please. Stories of gods and monsters. Books that could open doors. Books that could trap you beyond those doors, forever. Banned books, by some’s standards.

Books you’re really not supposed to have but can’t help but collect. Your desire to absorb it all, learn it all unyielding, no matter how much information you consume, and it's become more than your livelihood now. The bookstore has become a place where others can come if they need something that their coven cannot provide, a place a witch can find a spell that’s long been forgotten, a place where answers can be found, if you knew where to look.

A safe place, for yourself, and for others.

A dangerous place, to some, and a dangerous place to you, at times. A place that made you known in magical communities, a place where you could be found.

And to your coven, nothing was worse.

Secret practitioners of blood magic, they were extremely closed off to outsiders. They stone walled others, refused friendships in magical society, kept to themselves as much as possible. It was their tradition, the only way they could survive and continue their practice, their devotion to blood, water and bone keeping them alive longer than others, keeping them young and fair when their counterparts aged and withered, kept them practicing for the entirety of their long lives.

And who would want to give that up?

You hadn’t been asked to be born into this complicated web of magic, hadn’t asked to become an orphan either, the loss of your parents forcing you into your aunt’s hands at a young age, where you learned all too quickly that your magic was different from other young witches, that you had been blessed with your coven’s ultimate gift.

Blood spinning.

Jet meows, leaping from the floor to the table to sit in front of you on her haunches, jet black fur shining under the dancing light of the candles. There are no lamps in this room, the bulbs too bright or too offensive for the books, some who’s pages don’t even show themselves unless they’re lit by magic.

You keep the flames in here lit by your power, day in and day out. Wax drips onto the mantle that sits over the fireplace, forming sand like castles on the wooden beam as the candles burn, staying in perfect stasis while the flames never go out.

You cast your magic out, just slightly, enough to straighten a shelf that was haphazardly arranged earlier, and then you wave a finger over a flame, just enough that it lightly heats your skin.

Fucking Samhain.

You can already feel the insistent pressure that will certainly be coming after today’s conversation, the demands of your participation in the Divination ritual and gods know what else.

Don’t these bats know you should stay home on Samhain? That’s when the Others get through.

You shiver.

You’re just about to ask Jet what she wants for dinner before you lock up when you hear a clattering smack, the sound of the broom that always stands so astute by the front door falling to floor, and your blood freezes in your veins.

Jet hisses.

Company’s coming.

“Hello?” A male voice calls, accent unusual to your ears, ricocheting past the shelves to where you sit in the back, hunched over a dusty tome. “Is anyone here?”

“I am!” You yell, standing up too fast, knocking into the heavy wooden table with your hip and letting out a hiss of air through your lips. Ow. Shit. That’s going to bruise. “I’m here, sorry.” You push away some hair from your face as you appear from the back room.

Oh.

Fuck.

There is a beautiful man standing in the front of the bookstore. A stunningly gorgeous, perfectly formed human being with crystalline blue eyes and a smile that practically beams. His hair is cut into a mohawk, a unique style that you don’t see too often, and his eyes glimmer with something mischievous, something wild. His bone structure reminiscent of the gods you grew up learning about, his face open, and handsome, watching you from where he stands, bolts of setting sunlight streaming in from the glass door behind him, framing him in the orange and pink goodness of dusk.

Just looking at him sets your body alight.

“H-hello.” Gods.. Get it together. It's just a guy. You've see plenty of mortal men before. His lips quirk, and you try not to look too closely at them, their sweet shape, perfectly pressed together while he cocks his head.

“Hello.” Jet meows by your feet, sharply, and you frown at her before looking back at the man.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a book.” He starts, stepping closer, eyes roving over the floor to ceiling shelves that line the front room.

“Well, this is a good place to do that.” Wow. You wish you could pull the words back into your mouth as soon as they slip out, but you can’t. All you can do is cringe and try not to melt into floor. Smooth. So smooth. He doesn’t seem bothered by your obvious statement, and he smiles at you, again, nodding his agreement.

“It’s well… it’s a rare book.”

“Oh?”

“And I’ve been told, you’re a purveyor of such rare and curious books.” Your skin feels warm under your sweater, and you try to beat back the feeling of the heat by taking a deep breath.

“I… have some books. That are considered rare. Or unusual, yes. It depends on what you’re looking for?”

“It’s a grimoire. Of the Ulster Cycle.” You cover your suspicion with a cheeky smile, before shaking your head. What could a man possibly want with that?

“I don’t have anything that old here.” The lie slips through your teeth with ease.

“Oh, my apologies. I was told ye were a collector of sorts. The bloke I spoke with said there was a rare books room an’ everything.” Something prickles along the back of your neck, and your magic flares to life, zinging through your veins like fire.

Magic. There’s magic in here with you, magic that is unlike yours. Magic that hovers above the surface, like it’s waiting for something, waiting to strike.

Is it his?

Like he can sense it, he tenses for a split second before relaxing, and offering you his hand.

“I’m Johnny.” You stare at his waiting gesture, poised on the edge of a decision, uncertainty hanging in the balance.

Something is different here.

Something is strange.

But the way he looks at you, like he’s really looking at you, seeing you, noticing you, soothes the wariness in your mind, the strong beating of your heart drowning out your more cautious nature.

Still, you’re not one to give your birth given name to anyone outside the coven, whether they be friend or foe.

You've seen someone learn that lesson first hand.

“My friends call me Fern.” It’s not a lie, your friends, what little you still had, do call you Fern. Have called you Fern ever since you were all children, when you were more interested in laying on your back in the woods and staring at the clouds through the trees, then you were learning basic spells at anyone’s house. Strange, they used to call you. Odd. Weird. Their parents, bless them, had instructed their children not to be cruel to you, but the nickname had persisted, and then stuck, until it was what you were calling yourself all through Uni and afterwards.

“Fern.” He echoes, a ripple of something you cannot name crossing his face before it smooths, and he releases your hand while giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s lovely to meet you.” The heat on your skin comes surging back, and your magic simmers inside your veins. You’re staring, up into his eyes, two perfect blue swirls of sea and sky, like you’re in a trance, unable to look way for a long moment before he’s clearing his throat and you’re blinking yourself free.

Odd. Your brain warns.

Enchanting. Your heart sings.

“Sorry, I uh. Don’t have your book.”

“It’s alright. Mind if I had a look around?”

“Sure!” you gush, over enthused, and then run your palms down the front of your skirt.

Calm down. He’s not here for you. He’s here for a book.

You try not to track his every move as he browses, instead staring at the blank computer screen at the front check out desk, clicking the mouse intermittently and shuffling some papers back and forth mindlessly while you sneak a look every now and then.

He’s fit, wide back snug in a t shirt and jacket that hangs loose over his hips, denim notched just right below his waist. You can’t help but stare when he reaches for a higher shelf, and his shirt rides up to expose a flash of his midriff, honey cream skin on full display that makes your mouth water, just a bit.

Jet meows loudly, and then makes an exaggerated point of licking her paw, pointing it in the direction of the clock that hangs over the door.

Welp.

“I’m actually closing up here, in a minute, is there anything-“

“Sorry to keep ye.” He turns, and you force your eyes away, the intensity of the eye contact too much, the pull of him practically overloading your senses.

“Oh, you’re not. I have other work to do, I just like to lock up.” You don’t know why exactly, but it feels like you’re stalling him. Like you don’t want him to leave. Jet jumps from the floor to the shelf behind you, and she growls as the man, Johnny, who takes a step away from the book he’s studying towards you. “Jet!” you admonish her. Johnny breathes a soft laugh.

“Smart, locking up, cannae be too sure about what’s lurking out there.” He jerks his head towards the door, and then flashes you another smile. It makes you dizzy.

“Uh, I do have some rarities, if that… if that’s something you’d like to come back and see.” What? What did you just say? Did you really just-

Johnny visibly brightens, like you’ve made his day. Like you’ve made him happy or given him a gift. The feeling warms you from the inside, trilling in your heart until it’s beating double time, and your magic is practically singing in your soul.

He tells you he’ll come back then, that he’d like to come back, and you nod numbly as you wave goodbye.

What the fuck was that?

Two days later, the bells that hang from the front door jangle and chime to announce his arrival, and the butterflies swirl in your stomach as you walk up front.

“Good evening.” He greets you, and you have to snap yourself to attention after nearly getting lost in the whirled sea glass of his eyes. “It’s Foxglove? Or… Sage?” Your eyes widen and then close to slits before glaring at him. “You’re named after a plant, right?”

“It’s Fern.” You deadpan, and he chuckles, lips splitting to reveal unnaturally white teeth.

“My apologies, Fern.” He does not hide the way his eyes trace you up and down, from your black boots to where your two times two big, button-down shirt is parted to reveal your clavicle. “Are ye well?” He asks, and you try to stutter out a response.

“Y-yes. Thanks. Yourself?”

“Aye, thanks. Excited to see what secrets you’re keeping.” He raises an eyebrow, and you gulp. Where has the air gone? Why does it feel so warm in here?

“I uh. Yeah, well. Let’s… it’s this way.” You punctuate the rambling sentence with deflated inflection, and his lips press together like you’ve amused him.

You pull your magic under the current of the atmosphere in the hallway to wrap around the lock and spring it free, allowing the door to open before the two of you and step inside. The room itself is a marvel, deep burgundy walls with more floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a giant table in the middle, it’s top carved from an ash tree far older than you. The candles dance in your presence, and you feed the wicks just a small sampling of magic, allowing them to gradually brighten so Johnny can see better. Mortal’s eyes were not known for being so sharp.

“And these are all…?”

“Varying. Some very old, storybooks about monsters and fairies and mermaids and such. You know, fairytales.” You laugh, but he doesn’t, only nods thoughtfully as he reads along the spines. “I’ve got some… old magic books. From when people thought witches were real. And some old religious texts. Nothing crazy, not museum worthy or anything.”

Definitely a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“When people thought witches were real?” He turns, voice laden with skepticism, and something heavy sinks in your belly.

“Yeah, you know. Old pagan beliefs, that kind of stuff.” You try to play it off but can’t escape his gaze, can’t escape the way it feels to have him staring at you, reading you like an open book.

“And you’re usually in the habit of lying to customers?” You stare him, bewildered, your mind racing to come up with something clever, something snappy to throw him. Nothing comes. “I can feel you.” He explains, like it’s normal, or natural. Like you’re both speaking the same language. “Can feel ye from across the street, actually. Didn’t know little plants could hold so much magic.” He teases, lighthearted and sweet, but your fingers tighten into fists.

“I-“ you start, but abruptly stop when words fail you, and your chest tightens with panic. You internally scream at yourself, the strange feelings from when he first stepped foot in the shop coming back to haunt you, to teach you a lesson.

“Hey, hey.” He croons, and you stare at him vacantly, mind scrambling a mile a minute. “It’s alright. I mean ye no harm, Fern.” The way he says your nickname feels like a bite, like a mark against your skin, the word singed with some sort of magic, something flavorless that you cannot taste, yet you know it’s there all the same. You realize he’s staring at your hands, which are open now, pushed out in front of you like a barrier.

“What are you?” you challenge, and his lips twist.

“I’m no threat to ye.”

“Sounds like what someone who is a threat would say.”

“I promise, 'm just a low-level Wielder. You have more power in your pinky finger than I have in my entire body.” A Wielder. That explains the weird feelings. It’s an old term, one used to describe those born into magical families without marginal power. Wielding witches or warlocks usually have enough magic in them to cast minimal impact spells, some charms and enchantments, things of little consequence. “I ah, work in the military. I don’t practice.” He admits, and that takes you by surprise.

“The military?”

“Aye.” An impish grin splits across his face. “I like blowing things up. Work with a special ops team, around the world. We’re on leave right now, but. That’s usually what I’m doing.” That’s different. Magical beings usually stay far away from things like government, or military. Easier to remain undetected that way, and it was fairly known that mortals were left to their own affairs, without magical interference. You find yourself asking the question before you can smack your lips shut.

“But, your family must-“ not like that? Shun you? Worry about you? must hate you for that? You’re not sure why you blurted it out, or even where you were going with it.

“My mum’s gone. Da too. Got a few siblings left but, we mostly keep to ourselves.” Oh.

“I’m sorry.” Shame curdles in your stomach, and you grimace. “I wasn’t trying to pry, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, happened a long time ago.”

“I shouldn’t have-“

“Fern.” He says quickly, your name laden with the same feeling from before, the richness of some unintelligible power, and you draw a sharp breath. “It’s alright, I promise.” You duck your head in silent apology, and the room stays quiet for a moment before he’s speaking again. “What is this?” He’s pointing to a black book, its spine cracked and writing illegible, to most.

“That’s a grimoire.”

“It looks… old. Like it’s seen better days.”

“It is, and it has.” You don’t elaborate, because you don’t know if you should, or even if you want to.

“Where’s it from?” He pushes.

“Here. It’s uh… from my coven. From a very long time ago.”

“You lot been around a long time?”

“You could say that.” You could say that’s an understatement. There were only a handful of old covens left in the world, ancient powers that slept beneath the skin of their witches, only growing stronger and stronger through their lengthy history and connection to the earth. Dangerous.

He continues on with his inquiries, and you give him as much information as you can, pulling books from their resting places and cracking them wide for his eyes, pointing out little things of interest here and there while he stands in awe, time ticking away until the clock in the hall is chiming for ten pm, and he’s apologizing for keeping you so late as you click the door shut.

“You’re not keeping me.” You assure him. “I live in the flat upstairs. Short commute.” You laugh.

“Well, thank ye. That was a delight. Old books like that, the ones that most do not get to see are… special. I’m grateful to ye, for sharing the collection with me.” He makes your head spin, with how earnest he is, how easy and honest he confesses such things to you. It makes your knees feel weak, makes your throat feel dry.

“Of course. Um, anytime you wanna, you know. Come by and look, I’m here.” You stand by awkwardly, while Jet scowls at you from her perch in the window. Your heart sinks when you realize he’s going to leave now, the knowledge that he’ll step out on the street and possibly never been seen by you again twisting in your soul like a sour edged blade.

“I ah… was going to go for a late dinner, would ye like to join me?” You don’t even process it right away, just nod, numbly, like a robot in front of him. Dinner? With him? You, and him?

“Yeah!” you blurt and then try not to cringe at your over eagerness. “Yes. Yes, I’m hungry so… dinner would be great.”

“Know any good spots around?”

“Uh, yeah there’s a place down the street a few blocks that has a great curry. We could walk?”

“Sure.” He agrees, and then steps outside to wait for you while you lock everything up.

Jet complains the entire time, loudly, and you try to shush her multiple times.

“Oh, stop!” you scold over her meows. “It’s just dinner. He’s nice.” She watches you with keen eyes, green spheres that probably know far more than you, before slinking off to the stairs in the back, taking herself up to the flat. “Goodnight then!” You yell after her, to which she responds with a frustrated growl.

Familiars. You sigh and roll your eyes. So dramatic.

“I lost my parents too.” You tell him one night, a week later. He’s met you after closing, in a park where you like to walk sometimes, and the two of you slowly stroll along the walking path as you trade questions and answers about one another’s lives. It’s somewhat dark, sun already set, but the orange light of a giant jack o lantern that sits in the green space’s center glows robustly and bathes the twilight in autumn hues. “I uh, didn’t want to say anything, because it felt like, not the right time but, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” He says earnestly and you give him a tiny smile.

“Thanks, I was young. There’s not much I remember about it.” Mostly true. You really didn’t know much, even though you were there. You had the memories in pieces, the woods, the moon, the Fae that took your mother’s life. The spell that ended your father’s. All buried deep in your heart, untouched. Unvisited. You both lapse into silence, and you fight the awkwardness by posing a question, hoping to change the subject without being too obvious.

“How many siblings do you have?”

“I’ve got one sister, who I don’t get to see as often as I’d like. And then, my brothers, who aren’t mine by blood but by we’ve all been best friends for far too long now, living together, working together, traveling together. We’re… very bonded.”

“That’s sweet.” His head tips back with a laugh, before looking back to you.

“Sweet isn’t what I’d call them, but it’s something.”

“They’re like your family then?”

“Aye. Closest some of us ‘ll ever get.” There’s a pang of something in your heart at that, the idea that Johnny has both blood and love, people who have chosen him, who love him. You’ve never really had that, and the concept is practically foreign to you. “Look, there. It's you.” He points to a bush off to the left and you turn to him confused. “Little plant.” He explains, bemused, clearly pleased with himself and his terrible joke.

“Piss off.” You elbow him playfully, trying to push away, and he grabs you, pulling you into his side with a firm grip, half holding you to him in an embrace as he chuckles and rubs your shoulder affectionately.

“Sorry, little shrub.”

“What are ye doing for Samhain?” He asks the following day during his visit to the shop, a week before the dreaded night, and you gnaw on your lip.

“There’s a festival. We burn large pyres and dance in the moonlight.” You tease.

“Nude?” he smirks, and you laugh, nearly dropping the volume you’re shelving.

“No, gods no. Fully clothed, thank you.” You don’t mention the Divination, the ritual that is your own personal hell. “We drink, and dance, and those who have lost loved ones try to find their spirits. There’s also matchmaking, done by the elders. Which I painstakingly avoid.” He hands you another book, and you pop it into place. “Would you… would you like to come?” Why not? It’s not like anyone is going to tell you not to bring someone. Especially not when they need you so badly. He’s quiet, holding another book in his hand, staring down at the cover like he’s reading it. He’s silent for so long you start to worry, start to second guess yourself, start to think maybe, you read this wrong. Maybe, this isn’t what you thought it might be. Maybe he’s-

“I would be happy to.”

“Be watchful of the féth fíada.” The witch who stands beside a roiling cauldron warns, before pressing a mug into your waiting hands. “Something else is in these woods tonight.” You give your beverage to Johnny and then take the second mug from her, before leading him away, down the hill and closer to the fires.

“What’s the féth fíada?”

“It’s the mist. On Samhain, the veil is particularly thin between worlds, you know? Spirits are usually here with us, until the sun rises but…” You sip the cider, spice and warmth coating your tongue. “We, the coven, believe the Others come through at the same time, and use the mist to cloak themselves.” You gesture to the wispy white fog that rolls through the forest like smoke.

“The Others?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yes. That’s what we call them. The Fae.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Thought the Fae were a myth.” You laugh and turn to face him.

“I assure you, they’re very real.”

“Oh? Have ye encountered one then?” You shudder, like you’re cold, frightening memories pooling at the forefront of your mind until you shove them away.

“Once. When I was a child.” He frowns then, head cocked in consideration, faraway look in his eye as he casts his gaze over your shoulder. Like he’s looking for something. Like he’s seeing.

“Were ye hurt, Fern?” Hurt? No. Traumatized? The echo of your mother’s screams ring in between your ears.

“No.” Someone lights a new pyre a second after your denial, orange embers leaping into the night sky with grace, and it draws your attention enough to distract the both of you. “Come on.” You tug him towards where a group has gathered, bodies moving together in tandem with a chorus of strings that sing through the air. “Dance with me?” You ask him breathlessly, emboldened by the sniff of fire whiskey that sits in your cup and he smiles before draping an around your waist and pulling you close to his body.

“I’d like nothing more.”

Your feet are light, moving around one another with an elegance you didn’t know you possessed, effortlessly shifting with the rhythm and time of the music, fingers grazing along each other in tentative, desperately seeking touches.

“You’re beautiful, little witch.” He whispers against your ear, words soft and saccharine, floating on the warm air around you as you sway together in time to the music. His hand cups your jaw gently, tilting your chin upwards until you’re both looking at one another, his blue eyes alight with the reflection of the bonfire behind you, lovely and bright, burning down into your soul like a love spell. “I’d like to kiss ye, Fern.” He murmurs, voice strained and tinged with an accent you cannot place, and you blink while your heart rockets off at superspeed, sending blood buzzing with excited magic through your veins.

“Okay.” You murmur, and he smiles at you like you’re the most stunning creature he’s ever seen, before slowly lowering his lips to yours.

It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be. You’ve kissed some men in your life, some women, but nothing compares to this. There’s an explosion inside of you when his mouth meets yours, the gentle coaxing of the way he holds you melting you into a boneless heap while you breathe him in, his scent practically transporting you to another world, a mossy, emerald-green wood with lush plant life and giant ferns that blanket the forest floor. The feel of him, of whatever this is, mixed with your magic and the magic in the air is a powerful elixir, one that seems to make the world tilt where you stand, gravity disappearing and your body pressing into his as a result. The closer you get, the more you can feel something in him, something strong, something powerful, lurking in the shadow of this moment, waiting. Watching. He tastes like oak and dew dropped grass, earthy and rich and magical, everything wrapping up into one as you practically go limp in his arms when he parts your lips with his tongue and sweeps inside.

When he pulls away he’s still holding you steady, while you stare at him wordlessly, smile tugging at your lips. The world feels quiet, like everything has all but died down, like mostly everyone has left except for you, and him. A second stretches on for a minute, for an hour, and you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from his, your magic arcing wildly through the night sky, snapping and hissing with the overflow of your emotions. You never want this to end. You want this to last forever... you want him in more ways than you've ever known. You want-

"Fern! Fern!" Someone's calling you, over the noise of the night, and you reluctantly step back, realizing it’s your aunt’s voice carrying over the music and revelry.

“I… I have to…” You nod in her direction, where she stands beyond the pyre, at the seam of the forest, sealed mason jar of something in her hands.

“Of course.” He answers immediately, and takes your hand in his, folding his fingers between yours and petting his thumb over your knuckles. He brings them to his mouth, carding his lips over your skin with a gentle kiss, before giving your hand a squeeze and relaxing his grip. “I’ll see ye soon?”

“Y-yeah. Still want to do dinner, on Thursday?” Thursday should be fine, enough time to recover.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He vows, strong and certain. You hear your name again, but don’t release him, and it’s not until he’s asking you if you’re alright that you realize you’re clutching to him too tightly. Like he’s a lifeline. Like he could save you from this. His free hand moves into your line of sight, and then he strokes a finger across your cheek, eyes worried, face creased with concern. “Fern? What is it?”

“Nothing. I… I have to go. I’ll see you Thursday.” He opens his mouth to speak but you’re already pulling away, releasing him and bringing the cowl of your hood up over your hair, slipping into the crowd without another word.

You stumble around the dancing and celebrating until you break through and reach the tree line, your aunt and another standing in their ceremonial black robes. You swallow a gasp when you see the jar, it’s clear liquid a tell-tale sign of what’s to come.

Divination.

Your aunt’s lips purse when she sees you.

“Are you ready?” No. No, no. Please don’t make me. You take a deep breath to try to steady yourself, clear your mind and settle your magic. No. No, you’re not ready. The forest cracks and chants around you, cacophony of voices screaming and singing at the same time. No, you don’t want this. You don’t want to do this. This is not what you were meant for, you know it in your heart. You do not want to hurt; you were not meant for harm. “Fern.” Her tone snaps like a whip against your skin.

“Yes.”

You lay still for days, after. Unable to sleep, your eyes never close, your mind never settles, the adrenaline crystalizing in your bones as you drag yourself back and forth from your bathroom to bed, over and over.

You wash hands hundreds of times, but you still see the blood stains on your palms, under your nails, splattered up to your elbows.

Your power burns throughout you, magic heating the air with fervor and thrall, chanting voices culminating around you as you seek the vessels in his body and pull, drawing each drop through him and into yourself, ruby ichor spouting from his mouth like a furious volcano, blood dripping from his lips like the hallowed tears of the old gods. It’s everywhere, on your hands, your arms, your face, your neck, the earth. You imbue it with power, pushing your connections with the roots beneath the soil upwards, into the blood while the breeze sizzles and shatters, mist gathering around your ankles like shackles meant to drag you below.

You close your eyes thousands of times, but you still see the face of the man, still see his fear, still hear his pleas, his screams, his cries for mercy as you bleed him dry, scrying for the future with the litres of his blood.

The visions come quickly, splintering through your head with a sharpness that hurts, and you cry out amidst the pain, your mind being ripped into pieces as you scream. There are hands on you, arms cloaked in dark robes, holding you up, holding you steady while your magic vibrates through the ground and into your bones, filling your sight with the future. Clips of death, birth, tragedy echo behind your closed lids, the mineral scent of blood filling your nostrils until you think it will be burned there permanently.

Tears stream down your cheeks, cutting a path through the spray of red that paints your face.

Your cries join the reprise of the man who sits dying at your feet, the force of his life draining through your magic, bending and weaving with the power from the earth and your own blood until he’s nothing but a husk, a desecrated corpse that lays silently as you collapse in front of it.

The visions do not stop. They will not stop for days.

The elders extract the ones that pertain to them from your mind through their own spell, the process nearly as painful as the Divining itself. They hold you down to the ground to get what they want, pinning your shoulders with a bruising grip, cutting your skin to smear their fingers in your blood, holding your head still as you thrash. Their hands hurt. You will wear their marks for weeks.

Your aunt deposits you on your back doorstep in a heap as the sun rises.

No one calls. No one comes.

You lay alone in your bed, eyes peeled wide, seeing into endless futures, broken stories of other worlds, other beings, other places that you’ll never know. Places you’ll only ever read about in books Places that you’ll only see through this horrid act, or your restless dreams.

Your brain fractures into tiny little pieces. Your own understanding becomes non sensical.

You become lost between planes. Lost in your own mind. Lost to the Divination.

Jet never leaves your side. The shop stays shuttered, as it does every year after Samhain, no one coming or going, your lone employee enjoying her annual week after Halloween vacation.

Eventually your eyes close. You sleep fitfully. You dream of the visions, the screams, the sacrifice.

Finally, you regain enough strength to weave a weak spell that helps quiet your mind, and then you truly rest, for the first time in days. You rest, and you sleep until Thursday afternoon, when there’s a rapping against your door.

Johnny.

“Hey little sprout, what’s-“ the words die on his lips when you peek around the door, and the color drains from his face. “Fern.” He whispers.

“Hi.” You know how you appear. Strung out, most likely. Battered. Exhausted. Bruised. You try to fix the top of the knit shawl that you have draped over your shoulders, but it’s far too late. He’s already seen.

“What… what’s happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” You try to play it off but it’s pointless now.

“Who did this?” The demand is harsh, and rage simmers in his eyes, fury crackling along his skin and into the air between you. He looks… different, something primordial reflecting in his gaze, something ominous etched in the lines of his face. The question holds a promise of violence, of punishment, and being so close to him in this moment makes your head spin. It makes you feel like the very fabric of this world is tearing apart, ripping to pieces around you as he stands there, an otherworldly feeling swirling in the air between your two bodies. It suffocates you, pushes you into the dark depths of waters that feel all too familiar, like the leftover scars on your mind from the Divination are being ripped wide open and plunging you back between celestial planes.

“Johnny," You manage to choke out, voice rough and trembling. "it’s fine, I- I’m okay. It’s just… the aftermath. Of Samhain.” Your voice breaks, the tenor of your sadness something that’s out of your control, tears caught in your throat. He stares at you, bewildered, a hand raised midair before it falls to his side in a fist, and he turns away. “Johnny?” He doesn’t respond, and you watch the smooth skin of his jaw flex and harden. He stares into the distance, across the street, into the sky.

Looking anywhere but you.

It’s because he can’t stand to see you.

You look awful.

You look monstrous.

You are monstrous.

“No one should ever touch ye like this.” He bites out, his knuckles tensing against the door frame. His eyes are angry, and wild, burning a hole into your clavicle, where your skin sits exposed, healing from a gash. You shift, a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and then he snaps his gaze up to yours, face immediately softening, lips parting, expression rife with unease. With worry. “Are ye… are ye okay?”

“Yes. Just a bit tired.”

“If it’s too much, to have dinner-“

“No! N-no, no. I want… to see you. I want to. Just not sure if I feel up to going out?” He understands, nodding sympathetically, brow furrowed with thought.

“I could go get a takeaway?” Your stomach chooses to rumble at that exact moment, and a small smile plays on his lips.

“That would be wonderful.”

“Alright.” He steps just a little closer, close enough for you to get a deep inhale of him, that woodsy, mossy, magical scent, and swoops down to land a gentle kiss to your cheek before pulling your hand into his and bringing it to his lips, eyes slipping closed with a shuddering breath when he presses a kiss to your palm. “I’ll be right back. You'll be alright?”

“Yeah, 'm fine.”

He feeds you until you cannot eat anymore. He plies you with noodles of too many kinds, different cartons that overflow spread out on the coffee table, in front of where you sit curled up on the couch. You’re still exhausted, eyes straining to stay open, and eventually, you’re sinking lower and lower into the cushions, legs sprawled across his lap, his hand smoothing up and down your calf. It’s warm, and comforting, and you swear you can feel little zings of magic moving inside you, lulling you into a peaceful rest, cocooning you in hazy feelings of softness and safety.

Hours later, in the dark, lips press to your forehead. Your body curls against something warm, face flush against the steady thump of a heartbeat. Someone whispers in your ear.

“Sleep well, little witch.”

“Tell me about your magic.” He asks one night, a few days after you fell asleep on the couch, when you’re finally back to your normal self, spending most of your time getting caught up on everything you let slip during your post Samhain recovery period.

Having Johnny around has seemed to help, somehow. He’s been here, every day since, like he’s unwilling to let you out of his sight, showing up in the mornings before you open the shop with a coffee and sweet, a baked treat that two of you usually split as you go about tidying things around the front room. He hovers, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin often, grasping your hand in his, pressing his lips to your palm reverently throughout the day. You’re not sure how, or why, but it seems your magic and mind have taken to having him around, and you feel better, more well than you normally would during the Divination healing process, your head clear and wounds mostly mended.

“What about it?”

“There were many witches, warlocks, magical beings at the festival, but I didn’t feel anyone quite like ye.” A keen observation. You hem and haw, debating how much to truly tell him, debating how to make it sound… less insane.

“There aren’t any witches like me anymore, really.” You say quietly, casting a mournful look to where he sits on the wicker sofa, legs spread wide. You’re both sitting on your flat’s back porch, enjoying the crisp weather that has a chill to it, the coolness of air refreshing against your skin. “I’m a blood spinner.” He gives you a confused look.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like… a special kind of witch, in my coven. We aren’t exactly… the most orthodox of our kind.”

“What do ye mean?” Ah, fuck. You chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to break your oath, to betray the promises you made to protect the secrets that rule your existence.

But it’s Johnny.

And you trust him.

“My coven… we’re blood witches. We deal in blood, water, bone. Living things and… such. We can craft spells that affect other forms of life. It’s generally taboo, now. There aren’t any covens left alive that practice blood magic, except us.”

“And what is a blood spinner?” At the same time as he poses his question, he taps his thigh meaningfully, and you rise from the chair that you were sitting in to lower yourself into his lap, edge of your dress sliding down your thigh when he tucks his arm under your knees. His palm skates up and down the back of your leg, and goosebumps raise the hair on the back of your neck.

“Every few decades, a witch like me is born. They call us blood spinners, which is really just a made-up name for someone who’s… connected.”

“Connected?”

“We rely heavily on our connection to the earth, and most of my coven cannot pull on those connections without casting some sort of spell. I can do it… naturally.” You take a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “I feel connections to the earth, the elements, especially water, so intensely sometimes it feels like they’re a part of me. During our walk the other week? I could feel the trees, breathing. Could feel the grass growing. Could hear the rapid heartbeats of the ducks in the pond. All without using a single spell. Using my magic is not something I have to cast for, like most others. I can just… do it.”

“I’m still not following.” Of course he’s not. Because you sound insane.

“Right, sorry. Most witches perform magic by casting spells. It’s how they organize and harness their power, pushing the chaotic force of it into something that can contain it, regulate it, give it a purpose.”

“But not you.”

“No. If a witch in my coven wanted to, let’s say, cast a love spell, they’d need an incantation. They could do it, of course, because blood and bone are the primary targets of such a spell, but they’d still need one. They’d write it themselves or get it from someone else if they weren’t confident in their spell making. But I… could just do it. Could just manipulate the blood, enchant it with my own power. Straight from the source. No words. No chanting.”

“Just your power.”

“Yes.” You hesitate. Might as well, while you’re at it. “And, I can use blood to see the future.” He stiffens.

“Divination?” You nod, and he studies you before murmuring quietly, “I didn’t know mortal witches could practice Divination.” Mortal witches? What is that supposed to mean?

“They can’t. We’re not mortal.” His eyes narrow.

“What?”

“My coven has always used their gifts to prolong their lives. It is a blessing, and a curse.” He raises an eyebrow in surprise and you shake your head. “Not me, though. Not yet, anyway. I’m still my natural age.” You offer him a toothy grin, and while he nods thoughtfully, his brow furrows in contemplation.

“Well, aren't ye full of surprises, eh?” He hums, and then presses you closer, leaning forward until his mouth is waiting, just above yours.

“Kiss me.” You whisper, fingers clutched in his shirt, desperate for him, for his touch, for anything he could give you.

“Ye never have to ask.” He answers, and then seals his lips to yours, stealing your breath while his hand sinks into your hip, your body heating under his ministrations, your head dizzy with lust and affection for him. He shifts you in one movement, so you’re straddling him, and you can feel the outline of his cock in his jeans beneath you, can feel the heaviness that sits there. You sink down, just slightly, enough that your clothed cunt barely rubs over him, the contact sending little electric shocks through your body, and you whimper into his mouth. “Fern.” He murmurs, and you sneak your tongue past his teeth, lavishing him as much as you can, eager to soak up every piece he’s willing to give. He groans, and your hands drift to his waist, a thumb tucking beneath his skin and the button of his jeans, desperate to touch, to feel, to have him… when his fingers encircle your wrist and pull you away. “We canna’ dove. It’s late.” He says mournfully. Your heart sinks, soul cresting with sadness, and he strokes some strands of hair from your face gently.

Why doesn’t he want you? Were you reading things wrong? Have you done something?

He brings your palm to his lips, kissing you tenderly, and some of the bitterness leeches from your soul, your heart gentling it's disappointment, your dejection ebbing away on silken spun clouds.

“Right. Of course.”

He sighs, like he’s bearing the weight of the entire world, before knocking his forehead against yours gently.

“I’m sorry, sweet Fern. It’s not you, ah just… it’s late.”

“That’s alright, I understand.” You hoist yourself off his lap, and he scratches his head, more so in a way that seems to be a nervous tic than a necessary action, and you shrug. He stands, body held in stasis halfway to you, arm extended like he wants to touch you, grab you, but he’s holding back. You eye the porch door, and he frowns, something uneasy flickering across his gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” you blurt before he can say anything, and he tenses.

“Of course.” He rushes to assure you, and you give him a nod before turning away.

“Goodnight.” You call over your shoulder, before slipping inside your flat and flicking off the porch light.

“You’ve mentioned… you ‘ave books about mermaids?” His fork digs through the container of noodles, lifting a perfect mouthful to his lips after the question, and you nod with your own mouth full of pad see ew.

“Sort of. They’re not really… mermaids in the sense like, Ariel and such.” You’re sitting opposite him upstairs, in the kitchen of your flat, with a window open, cool breeze flowing through your curtains. Your mind wanders to the ancient Greek text that sits on one of the shelves, it’s writing penned by the old gods themselves, words magicked by you to be hidden from most eyes. “They’re different.”

“The Nereids.” He says plainly, and you blink in surprise. “The ones who lure mortals to their deaths?”

“You know of the Nereids?” He nods, scooping another bite into his mouth, swallowing before he continues.

“My mum used to tell me stories about them. Said they were hunters, used blood spells to trap their victims.” You sigh into your wine glass. His fingers snake across the table and then up your forearm, tracing featherlight touches on the inside of your wrist.

“They don’t use blood spells.”

“No?”

“No.” You scoff. “Their magic is much more complex than that. The blood songs are not spelled. They’re naturally occurring. The Nereids do not choose who sings to them.”

“So, it could be anyone.” He muses, and you shrug.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s pre-determined by something, somewhere. Some magical force but, the mortals… they’ve no idea. It’s not like they choose, to have their hearts ripped from their chest during sex.” Johnny startles on the stool, body shifting in a rapid movement, so quick your eyes almost don’t catch it. “You didn’t know?” It wouldn’t surprise you. Not much is known about the Nereids. You only hold this knowledge because your coven is well informed, due to the length of their lives, and because you possess one of the few texts left that references them in such detail. Both you and your coven hold the truth of what lurks in the sea close to your hearts. Another secret to keep, another truth never to be borne.

But the wine has made your tongue loose and well, you can’t help but give him everything he wants, anything he’s asked. His eyes flash, and he cradles your hand in his, stroking across your palm with his thumb.

Your words flow so easily, so uninhabited.

It feels so free, so right.

“No. Had no idea.” He watches you carefully, dancing candlelight spinning shadows along the walls and across his face. He looks handsome as usual, but something in the way he regards you now feels different. Dangerous. Thrilling. Your thighs press together almost subconsciously, low whirring of need humming inside your body, and your fingers tighten on the stem of you glass as you continue.

“Yeah, they need them… to live. It’s very… complex. The song creates a pull of sorts, I think.” You drain your glass before motioning to the wine bottle, tugging its contents into your glass with a little flick of magic. “It’s pretty sad. They fall in love with their victims for a night, and then harvest the organ and eat it before the sun comes up. It’s what sustains them. The love, the blood, the magic.” You gesture to the bottle and then to him, and he encourages you with a nod. “It all comes from the heart, you know?” You tap your own for reference, finger padding at the skin over your breastbone, over top where your heart beats just a little faster than normal.

“Aye, I guess it does.” He murmurs, fingertips light against your skin. His attention is focused on you, unwaveringly so, and you fidget under the scrutiny. He looks so… ethereal, in the dim candlelight, so otherworldly that you have to blink a few times to make sure you’re not seeing things.

You’re not.

He’s just really so, so beautiful.

It’s late when Johnny poses another question, clearing his throat over the low volume of a movie playing in the background. He lays behind you on the couch, the curve of your ass pressed into his hips, his arm slung over your belly, palm pressed to space above your navel. His breath fawns over your cheek, and he presses soft kisses to your temple in quick succession before you feel the vibration in his chest.

“I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“What if… it was someone you knew? The mortal, who had the Nereid’s song. Could you save them somehow?” It’s an interesting question, and you pause for a moment. His fingers stroke the back of your hand, before wrapping around your wrist and bringing your palm towards his mouth, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your skin before pulling you tighter into his embrace.

“I don’t know. I suppose you could, extract the song. You’d have to call it forth because it’s naturally occurring. You couldn’t just… cast a spell. You’d have to summon it, bind it to something, probably yourself, and then pull it from the mortal that way, but then you’d be dooming the Nereid to die. They need the heart, to live. I don’t think I could make that choice.” His hand skates along your ribs, under your t shirt, stroking up and down your skin slowly. Soothingly.

“I don’t think I could either.”

“That’s not what I meant!” You shriek with laughter, chest expanding as you rock backwards, leaning away from him and his devilish smile. His arm wraps firmly around your waist, keeping you close to him, fingers playing across your clavicle while you giggle.

“Aye but it’s what ye said.” He’s been taunting you relentlessly about last night, when you fell asleep on the couch and then proceeded to talk for a few hours, all while you were blissfully tucked away in a dream somewhere.

“Nooo Johnny.” You moan, mortified, and bury your face in his chest. You peek up at him, and your eyes betray you, even though it’s the last thing you want. You cannot hide it, the giddiness, the happiness you feel when you’re around him. It swamps you in glee, exuberance oozing from every one of your pores. Your power feels sweeter, feels lighter, feels more peaceful now than it ever has before.

You know it’s because of him.

You dread that it’s because of him.

Four days later, you’re cataloguing some new arrivals when the front door of the shop bangs open, smacking against the wall, nearly shaking the building, the sound alone bringing you to your feet in a panic.

Your aunt stands in the doorframe, body thrumming with spells just barely contained, anger flooding the space between the two of you.

“What have you done?” She screeches, eyes mad with rage, and you stare at her horror while Jet hides behind your legs.

“I don’t... what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” She jeers with an acidity that taints the air. “You’ve always been such a foolish child.”

“I don’t understand…”

That male you brought to Samhain wasn’t a mortal, you stupid girl. He was Fae.”

“Johnny? No, he’s… he’s not. He’s-“ He’s not. He couldn’t be. He wouldn’t lie to you.

“Have you not heard? What’s happened?” she spits. She's confused. She must be. This can't be right.

“Heard what?”

“A Nereid has been taken, to Faerie. By one of them.” You laugh nervously in her face, the absurdity of her statement unsettling.

“No, that’s not possible.” Why would a Nereid leave their home? How would they leave their home? They need human hearts to survive, after all. How would that even…

The room spins. Your Aunt continues to scream, going on and on about how stupid you are, how foolish and naïve, how you’re lucky you’re the blood spinner because otherwise, the coven would have already burnt you at the stake. Alive.

But you cannot focus on any of it.

All you can hear, all you can picture, is the horrid replays of those conversations with Johnny.

All you can think about, is how easily your lips spilled those secrets. How free it all felt. How right.

“You know of the Nereids?”

“I didn’t know mortal witches could practice Divination.”

“I suppose you could, extract the song…”

“They don’t use blood spells.”

“You’d have to summon it, bind it to something, probably yourself…”

“It all comes from the heart, you know?”

“Oh, gods.” You whisper, mouth dropping open in shock. Your aunt finally goes silent, the whole room falling quiet as the blood rushes in your ears.

“You’re dead to us. You’ll perform your duties for Divination, when necessary, but outside of that, you’re to be shunned. No one is to speak to you, of you, ever again.” She pauses, glaring at you with contempt. “The jury’s still out, on whether you’ll be tried and burned.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know… I didn’t do it intentionally.” You don’t even know why you’re trying to explain yourself, why you’re bothering. She won’t listen. No one will care. You broke your oath. You betrayed the thing you were supposed to protect. Your chest heaves, lungs fighting for air as the walls narrow in on where you stand.

All for some stupid attention. All because some guy, someone you thought was just a harmless mortal with a tinge of power, smiled at you and kissed you sweetly. Because he told you were beautiful, and held your hand, and went on walks with you in the park. Because he kissed you like you meant something, like you mattered.

Your aunt stops at the door, casting a parting remark over her shoulder as she leaves.

“Your poor mother, Fern. I hope her spirit never discovers what you’ve done.”

It doesn’t take long, to find him. You thread your power through the city, scrying your magic through every drop on blood on every street, every corner, ever floor of every building until you locate him, sitting at a two top table outside of a pub, a handsome male across from him. They’re speaking in hushed tones as you turn the corner, and you stop for a moment to take them in.

How could you not have seen this?

Those strange feelings, his scent, the shadow of something primordial in those eyes were all trying to tell you the same thing.

This male is not a man at all, but Fae.

You stomp down the rest of the block, urging mortals away, using your magic to push them, to send them scurrying in other directions, just as the one sitting opposite Johnny spots you, mouth dropping into an o of surprise before he’s speaking, lips moving rapidly.

Johnny swivels in his chair, but it’s too late. You’re already upon them.

Your rage, your shame overshadows your hurt, the fear that threatens to drown you, as you stand in front of him spitting mad, your magic swirling around you in violent hues of red and purple while he stares, dumbfounded.

“You tricked me, you Fae bastard.” He stands, hand outstretched in a cautionary gesture.

“Fern-“ He tries, but you steamroll him. He’s Fae. Don’t listen to a word he says.

“You used me!” You hiss, fist unclenching, raising in front of your body like a weapon.

“No, listen-“ The other one, like him, is standing off to his left, watching you warily while you yell, tears wet on your cheeks. He steps closer, coming to stand nearly behind Johnny’s shoulder before Johnny waves him off with a concerned look on his face.

“No! You listen! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your power throbs through you, biting and gnawing to get out, to strike him down and hurt him, hurt him as he’s hurt you, betray him as he’s betrayed you. Your feelings and thoughts and magic all swirl together, weaving and bending into a chaotic mass of pain and sorrow and anger, surging forward, and then your finger extends, pointing right at him.

In the blink of an eye the air shifts and he drops his glamour, exposing the true strength of his power, the tips of his ears, the mighty weight of the magic he carries in his veins.

Your words die on your tongue.

His hand darts forward, strong fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you close, close enough that he can incline his head above your ear, voice razor sharp, lethal and cold when he whispers in an accent you've never heard before:

“Did ye just point at me, little witch?” You’re stunned for a moment, terror galloping through your heart before your sense of self-preservation kicks in and you wrench your arm away, stepping back as quickly as you can.

“Stay away from me.” You hiss. Johnny hasn’t reverted back to how you know him, with the soft angles and rounded ears, his glamoured state, you now realize, and staring him down is a feat in its own. It hurts, to look at him, and you know it’s intentional, you know it’s the way they operate. They aim to sow fear. To scare. Their blinding beauty is just another means to an end, just another tool for them to use.

Something shifts, and Johnny’s eyes move, the intensity of their gaze wavering as he regards you.

He looks… upset.

No. No he doesn’t. He’s not remorseful. He doesn’t care. He used you. He lied to you. He tricked you.

You step away slowly, afraid to show your back to him, and he takes a half lunge towards your retreating form but it’s too late, you’re too far away from him now, and when you finally turn to run, you hear his voice on the wind.

“Fern, wait!”

953 notes · View notes

artsyunderstudy · 5 months

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“‘Your magic reached out to me until we could, well,’ I swallow, sappy and foolish with my words, ‘we could reach each other. Bazzington did this for us.’ Alright, that’s a stretch, it’s just a plushie, but I can spin this softer than I would for anyone else but him. I’ve learned a little about being soft from the bloody thing. It means something to him. I want to be kind to it.”

Of Buttons & Beans by @stillmadaboutpetra

Carry on Countdown | Day Seventeen: Fluff

This year I decided I wanted to honor the incredibly talented fic writers of this fandom, so I chose one fic per prompt to do an illustration for. I didn’t double up on authors so that I could do this for as many people as possible. I realized while planning this that there are way too many fics and authors that I love, and even after having picked 30 of what I consider some of my very favorites, I could have easily kept going. Please check the fics out if you haven’t, they all come highly recommended.

@carryon-countdown

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bowtiepastabitch · 3 months

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Good Omens Fanfic Data: 2023

Top 5 Tags Per Month

Excludes basic a/c ship tags. Common tags coded by color. Interesting changes or patterns are in bold.

January: fluff, human au, humor, post-canon, established relationship

February: fluff, angst, human au, established relationship, hurt/comfort

March: fluff, human au, angst, post-canon, first kiss (honorable mention: pining)

April: fluff, human au, angst, hurt/comfort, first kiss (honorable mention: humor)

May: fluff, human au, blairamok's #IneffableMay, established relationship, hurt/comfort

June: fluff, human au, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst

July: fluff, angst, fix-it, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers

~~~~SEASON TWO~~~~

August: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, post s2, s2 spoilers (honorable mention: fix-it) (@neil-gaiman you know what you did)

September: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, ineffable idiots

October: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, post s2, crowley is a mess

November: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, post s2 (honorable mentions: angst with a happy ending, hurt crowley)

December: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, ineffable idiots, crowley is a mess (honorable mention: Christmas)

January 2024: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, human au (honorable mention: anal sex)

At time of posting there are still a couple hours left on the poll that I plan to use for additional GO fic data, so please go vote if you haven't already. Info about how the process for this is under the cut:)

Data was collected on February first, 2023, using Ao3's filtering system. Each month represents fics updated from the first through last days of the month. Please note that fics are filtered by when it was updated, not originally published, so longer running fics will be sorted under when they were finished or last added to. Unrated fics are not included in the graph, an oversight on my part whilst collecting data, but make up a very small portion of total fics and are often podfics or artwork.

Tags excluded in tag rankings are: "Aziraphale loves Crowley", "Crowley loves Aziraphale", and "Ineffable Husbands", which were consistently ranked among the top tags and I found unhelpful for determining patterns in fan engagement since they are, after all, simply facts. Honorable mentions are tags that ranked within the top 10 tags for the month which were unique to the month or contributed to an interesting trend.

Data collection is all done by me, so slight errors in copying down information are possible. Yes I made teen purple instead of yellow, I found it aesthetically pleasing. So sue me.

January of 2024 was included because I thought the additional data provided interesting information, especially the return of the human au tag (officially "alternate universe-human"), the higher ratio of explicit to nonexplicit fics, and the debut of "anal sex" in the top ten tags. It was a great month for the fandom.

Current other data projects include average word-counts by month and estimation of the total number of words written by members of the fandom. If there's any data or patterns you'd like to see, or questions you'd like answered, drop them in my ask box!

All of this is dedicated to the wonderful amazing writers in the fandom, including lovely mutuals whose work I totally recommend @voluptatiscausa @fellshish @phoen1xr0se @indigovigilance @ineffabildaddy (if I didn't tag you don't read into it, I've got a medically-concerningly bad memory and just popped through my recent reads on ao3.)

#top tags are also here if you expand it #good omens #gomens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #neil gaiman #good omens 2 #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable spouses #fandom meta #ao3

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pillowdrawz · 1 year

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Im spreading the word on tiktok

@skylerskyhigh im spreading The word for people to read the B.E.A.S.T fanfic XD

Author I never get to say this But Im honored That you took insparation from my drawing You did an amazing job writing Definitely better than me to write a fanfic.

Read B.E.A.S.T by Skylerskyhigh on Ao3 its awesome fic 👍def recommend it.

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concealedrecs · 1 year

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Fic: you're the trouble that I always find

Author: sundiscus

Fandom: Word of Honor

Pairing: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu

Rating: Mature

Length: 27296

Recommendation: This is a gorgeous and really intricate story, that really digs into what is so good about time loops (or in this case, dreamsharing that feels like time loops). I recently refound this fic, probably on the For You page on Twitter because I'm a monster and I love it. Gorgeous.

#wenzhou fic rec #wenzhou #wenzhou fic #word of honor fic #word of honor fic recommendation #word of honor #fic rec #fic recommendation

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sirenofthegreenbanks · 9 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021), 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers - priest Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu Characters: Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu Additional Tags: Word of Honor and Faraway Wanderers Crossover, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Bottom Wen Kexing, Wen Kexing's Childhood Trauma Series: Part 1 of a meeting of worlds Summary:

“Ah.” Wen Kexing frowns, thinking. “Maybe that's the key - if I do something that's so different to this world’s Wen Kexing, it might reject me in his place and switch us back. There's bound to already be an imbalance in the realms now, and if I amplify it, perhaps that would make it... snap back into place, so to speak.”

“Perhaps,” Zhou Zishu says. “It's worth a try. It's hard to imagine anything that Wen Kexing wouldn't do, though, he's not very scrupulous...”

“Unsurprising,” Wen Kexing says “What would be so out of character for this world's Wen Kexing that the realm would reject me?”

Zhou Zishu hums thoughtfully. He studies the rim of his cup, then says, “I suppose there's one thing I can think of.”

#fic rec #author's note:#AKA tyk zzs fucks shl wkx and they both have a great time.#can confirm 110/10 #its not necessary to read the second part but i highly recommend. they are companion pieces #word of honor #shan he ling #faraway wanderers #fan fiction

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f-t-e · 6 months

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I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

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Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things.

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely.

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good!

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible.

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

#spn #spn fanfic #destiel fic #fic recs #destiel day #deancas fic recs #supernatural #destiel #happy anniversary #don't forget you're here forever

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jeonstellate · 3 months

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forever by my side

mingyu still honors the love signified by his ring, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au — fluff(?), angst(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s by my side (ft. tiara andini).

๑彡 thank you sm for the overwhelming love for my future in your eyes! please accept this as a thank you gift :]

๑彡 this is connected to that fic, a prequel of sorts, but can also be read as a standalone. (i highly recommend reading that, too, though.)

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

He exudes confidence, regardless of what he does. It’s a natural part of his aura — something that he can never control at will.

It comes in handy for his line of work, which often requires him to socialize and impress others. Occasionally, though, it also needs him to give presentations in front of large crowds.

As his audience continues to stare at him, with a mix of glossed eyes and awestruck expressions, Mingyu begins to appreciate his inborn confidence a little bit more.

He’s an extrovert. He does well with crowds. He’s comfortable striking up conversations with complete strangers. He’s talkative and spontaneous and outgoing, amongst other things.

And with his confidence, Mingyu can command a room with ease.

Yet, still, it doesn’t necessarily mean he enjoys public speaking — especially if the crowd he’s addressing is full of college students who are currently everywhere, just not in the classroom.

He can hardly blame them. He has been in their shoes before. He knows what it feels like to listen to professors and guest lecturers drag on when he rather spend his time elsewhere.

"Well then, if you guys thought of more questions later," he began his wrap-up speech, "feel free to email me. Thank you—"

A flurry of moment on his right caught his attention, effectively halting his speech. However, the cause of it is gone by the second he turns.

The only evidence he has that he didn’t hallucinate the entire thing is the murmuring that suddenly engulfs the room. And the small folded piece of paper on his right that seems to appear out of the blue.

Mingyu reaches for the paper and looks around the room. He immediately notices the students’ renewed interest in him. Or perhaps — most likely — they are just interested in how he responses to the note.

He looks down as he opens the paper.

Mister, do you have a significant other?

He chuckles soundlessly. Not because of how off-topic it is from the presentation he just gave, but because it is apparently enough to bring you forth in his mind.

After all, you are his other half. Someone he met and fell in love with within the walls of your college campus. Someone he put great effort to deserve the heart of.

The only one he could see sharing a future with. The only one he went down on one knee for and waited for at the end of the aisle.

The only one he loves with his soul. The only one he respects and cherishes to an unfathomable extent.

Mingyu gives a shy smile to the sea of students before raising his hand, palm facing inward. He lets the gold band around his ring finger shine under the spotlights aimed at him.

Their collective disappointment is loud.

Mingyu finds their reaction amusing. He has watched countless people react to his marital status over the years. Those who appear dismayed, he notes, often try their best to hide it, albeit unsuccessfully. As a matter of fact, this is the first time anyone has ever showed disdain so openly — a whole group, too, no less.

He can’t stop the soundless chuckle that escaped. He has always been proud of his marriage. He boasts about it — and you — every chance that he gets. It’s something that always brings a smile to his face. Something that he never gets tired of.

Even after the divorce.

The end of your marriage had been a mutual decision. You both agreed that it was the best action to take, before anything escalated to something unbecoming. And, at the time, it was the best decision to take.

The end of your marriage didn’t signify the end of his love for you, though. That’s why, even years after the court made your divorce official, his wedding ring stayed on his finger.

Mingyu may have failed to keep you by his side, but he absolutely has no plans to rid himself of the only physical reminder of your marriage.

Mingyu may have lost his rights to claim you as his spouse; but at least in front of strangers, he can still pretend that the gold around his finger is more than a remembrance.

"How are you going to find a replacement for your wedding ring if you keep letting people think you’re still married?" Minghao wonders when he meets up with him after his presentation.

Ironically enough, his longtime friend personifies the reality that his façade only works with strangers. Those who don’t know what happened. Nor can read him like an open book. Nor notice the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Mingyu simply shrugs at that, "Bold of you to assume I want a replacement in the first place."

(After all, his wedding ring isn’t just a conversational piece. It’s also his lifeline . . . something he can’t bear to lose, especially when he already lost you.)

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu imagines #seventeen imagines #kim mingyu scenarios #mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #kim mingyu oneshots #mingyu oneshots #seventeen oneshots #ex-husband!au #post-break up!au #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen

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kingofbodyrolls · 8 months

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Namjoon fic recs 2023

Happy Joonie day! 💜🥳

In honor of Namjoon’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Namjoon fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I haven’t read that much of Namjoon, just recently gotten into it, so the list might be small, but it contains some of the best stuff out there 💎 I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂 A reblog on this post also helps, as it gets more exposure and seen by others, which in the end gives more love and exposure to the amazing writers on this list 🥰

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(💜) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂.

⭐The Interpretation of Dreams by @ppersonna // knj x f.reader // phd mentor!namjoon, university!au // 🥵🥰

📝 He’s the man of your dreams, the an you’ve spent over 6 years pining over. and he’s also your Ph.D. mentor and in charge of your very future.

🗨️ Looking for a smutty, slutty, funny and comforting fic? Well, look no further! 🌟 This really delivered 👏🏾 really, really good. The sexual tension between reader and Namjoon 💯 and then best friend Jimin, being the best chaotic slutty wingman EVER 🥵

⭐Deep End by @here2bbtstrash // knj x f.reader // established relationship, period!smut // 🥵🥰

📝 Your boyfriend suggests a new way to relieve your period cramps.

🗨️ Awww, this was so cute and sweet 🥺💖💯

⭐Baby Fever by @95rkives // knj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥰🥰🥰

📝 What was supposedly a peaceful morning stroll in the park, an unexpected encounter triggers namjoon’s intense desire for a baby, turning him into an adorable, baby fever-filled mess.

🗨️ Gosh this was cute - and wonderfully fluffy 😍

⭐All Night by @luaspersona // knj x f.reader // college!au, brother’s best friend!au, s2l // 🥵

📝 When your brother bails on you, you have to find another way to entertain yourself for the night and Kim Namjoon just so happens to be a great company.

🗨️ This was the most perfect, pure masterpiece of fucking gold writing 🤌🏾🥵 it is insanely filthy, so deliciously smutty!! Like I think my soul has left my body 🥵 the writing, story and the characters were brilliant ✨ this is hands down one of my new favorites and I WILL read this again soon, I promise you! Don’t sleep on this sweet bad boy Namjoon, okay 🥵 such an easy recommendation for me to make - do yourself a favor and read it if you haven’t (and if you have, then read it again!) ♥️💯

⭐Love Language by @rmnamjoons // knj x f.reader // soulmate!au // 🥵🥰

📝 Exactly one year before one meets their soulmate, their love’s first words spoken to them appear as a tattoo on their wrist. When Namjoon’s tattoo appears, however, it’s not of words, but of the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen.

🗨️ I know that most of this was just pure smut, but damn it was cute 😭🥺💖

⭐Stretch You Out by @chateautae // knj x jjk x f.reader // college!au, s2f2l, gym employee!namjoon, gym employee!jungkook // 🥵🥰

📝 You have a plan for your crappy, diabolical ex who’s set on ruining your life; making him jealous by snagging a raunchy photo with two hot employees at the gym. what you didn’t have a plan for? befriending the mischievous pair to aid in your revenge and ending up underneath not just one, but both of them.

🗨️ Holy fucking shit 🥵 🫣 this was so exceptionally good! So deliciously filthy, it really delivered on every freaking aspect 💯 incredible 👏🏾 perfection 👏🏾 💎

⭐The Making of: Love by @inkjam-moon // kmj x f.reader // actor!au, s2l (not really strangers, ‘cuz they know of each other) // 🥰🥵😂

📝 When the movie you’re in requires to to film a risque scene with a world renowned sex symbol, your virginity is suddenly all you can focus on.

🗨️ I think this is funny, so I’ll tag it with comedy! Jimin is in it (he is readers manager) and he is just doing his best job of being a supporting character 👏 It’s good!

⭐All Aboard! (the passion express) by @ve1vetyoongi // knj x f.reader // office worker!namjoon // 🥵

📝 There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could. Kim Namjoon. The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker. Which is exactly why you never expected to find your self on your knees for him on the train home.

🗨️ Holy fuck, fuck, fuck this was so incredibly filthy (in the best way possible) 🥵 the tension between reader and Namjoon was perfect, the build up was so satisfying 🌟 what’s not to like ✨😍

⭐The Wedding Arrangement by @sugaurora // knj x f.reader // ‘enemies’ to friends to lovers, wedding!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 Unfortunately, he’s just gotten engaged to someone who isn’t you. Even more unfortunately, he expects you to help plan the wedding alongside Kim Namjoon, his other best friend and, based on your first meeting, just another judgmental jerk. Putting aside your distaste for the sake of your friend’s happiness, you both set about giving Seokjin the wedding of his dreams. Following a rough and satisfying affair at the caterer’s, you strike an unusual deal: you and Namjoon will be enemies with benefits until the wedding is over. And after six months of wedding planning, you both just might learn that weddings aren’t usually the end, but a brand new beginning.

🗨️ This was so amazing 🥹 the characters had so much depth and ugh! It was just so, so good. It was a pleasure reading their love unfolding 🥰 Aish, I’m soft! It’s filled with plenty of soft, slight heartbreaking angst at times, but oh so fluffy and smutty too! It was perfect 👌🏾 💯 please don’t sleep on this one, okay? 🥹

⭐Inside my Mind by @jimlingss // knj x f.reader // high school!au // 🥰🥵😂

📝 You’re safe in the confines of your mind. Free to think whatever, free to fantasize to your heart’s content. And your imagination tends to quite a wild turn when you’re dying from sheer boredom. But when some GUY IN YOUR CLASS CAN FUCKING READ MINDS - YOU’RE NOT SAFE ANYMORE! WHAT THE FUCKSKDKASDFGHJKL—

Borahae and happy birthday Joonie 💜 🥳 🎂

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oracleofstars · 1 month

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✦ 3VOLS : ISSUE 1, RAFAYEL

Featuring @maimochies, a well known Love & Deepspace author, as the spotlight creator!

IM NEW, WHATS "3VOLS" THE MAGAZINE?

This will serve as a "mini masterlist" where we compile links of works from different creators based on the character. And yes, its not limited to fanfiction. This is open to artists, graphic design/gfx creators & editors. (Basically, if you've created any kind of creative media related to the character)

MAIMOCHIES. WHO IS SHE?

mai is a rafayel enjoyer and a love & deepspace author! she has been writing in her corner of the internet with the pretty rafayel themed blog. have you seen her around? well, we have interviewed her recently with 4 simple questions. let's get to know mai better!

what got you into making love&deepspace content? are there any creators who inspired you to do so?

mai : funny enough ages ago when the first demo trailer came out for love and deepspace I didn't even know about it!! I happened to stumble upon a short clip of zayne and saved the video on a whim because he was attractive >·< then, as fate would have it, the game's official trailer popped up on my fyp and I got hooked, downloaded the game and haven't looked back since <333 l&ds is still new to the tumblr scene but I absolutely adore my mutuals' takes and fics on the boys!!

as a rafayel fan—what is your favorite headcannon of him? this can be your own or others

mai : hmmm… I think my favorite headcanon about rafayel is that he secretly cares a lot more than he lets on. lingers outside your apartment to make sure you've gotten home safe, always sending you a goodnight and good morning text, oh so conveniently shows up with a warm ready made meal when he knows you're having a particularly hard day, he cares deeply but he's scared of showing it.

if you could describe your favorite character with 5 words, what would it be?

mai : a gift from the stars

how is your time in oracle of stars so far?

so much fun!! it's such an honor to be part of such a loving and positive community. while I'm not as active as I would like to be I can see the effort that goes into the network and the server, from the graphics to the events. it's such a special place for l&ds creators to come together and uplift each other

RECOMMENDATIONS FROM THE DEEPSPACE NETWORK

welcome to the rafayel masterlist, find something that piques your interest here! show some love to our creators as well <3

l&ds boys crushing on you - @ maimochies

affectionate headcanons - @ maimochies

how the l&ds boys kiss - @ maimochies

sing with me? - @ sevvynth

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞. - @ jqnehr

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - @ jqnehr

birthday celebration - @ lovexdeepspace

l&ds boys + their nicknames for you - @ lovexdeepspace

JEALOUSY , JEALOUSY! - @ rafyne

MESSAGES I CANT SEND : DEAR RAFAYEL

recently we had a 3VOLS related event entitled DEAR RAFAYEL, where we send out a prompt every 7 days and you have the choice to use whichever one you wanted.

POST MASTERLIST

dear rafayel ( prompt day 1 ) - @ rafyne

dear rafayel ( prompt day 3 ) - @ sweetheartsaku

WHAT ELSE IS HAPPENING?

its april 5, that means our applications are open until april 10. come join us in the discord & the network. this first issue is finally done, thank you for all the support you've given the oracle. we'll see you again next time!

#🌠 - notification #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace fanart #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x reader fluff #love and deepspace xavier #rafayel #rafayel fluff #xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x reader fluff

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artsyunderstudy · 5 months

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“Baz hesitates. ‘Got any big plans once you’re back?’ It's so silly, him asking us this, but I know why he's doing it. We all want to believe we'll splash down safely. We all want to believe we have more life to live. And we all want our last words, if this is what they are, to be about something good, not just more technical jargon. [...] I know what the first thing I want to do is, if we make it through this alive. And if he’s right there, on the direct line… ‘I think I'm gonna get married.’

Farewell, Aquarius by @tea-brigade

Carry on Countdown | Day Nineteen: Sci-Fi

@carryon-countdown

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz fanart #carry on countdown #COC 2023 #carry on trilogy #simon snow series #simon snow trilogy #artsyart #co/ws/awtwb #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell #reread this today and this part fucking ruined me #it’s so good and so well written and just gorgeous

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itsbeeble · 7 months

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Down? Astronomically.

Summary: Sangyeon doesn't like sweets. That doesn't stop him from visiting you and your bakery every single thing and leaving with the one thing he hates.

Genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

Pairing: idol!Sangyeon x bakery owner!afab!reader

Fic Warnings: Sickeningly sweet (bah dum tsss) fluff, strangers to simps to lovers, mild mild angst, mentions of food, Sangyeon's cringey as hell actually (like he's down BAD down bad)

WC: ~6.4k (oops)

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

SMUT WARNINGS BELOW THE CUT

Smut Warnings: y/n definitely has an oral fixation, soft dom!Sangyeon, pussy drunk!Sangyeon, y/n drunk!Sangyeon (he’s down astronomically bad your honor), he’s like obsessed with everything about her, public sex (they fuckin in the bakery 💪 but it’s closed and the lights are (mostly) off lmfao), standing by big dick!Sangyeon until the day I die, hair pulling, tummy bulge bc why not, lowkey size kink hdjgfsj, uhhhh p in v sex (protected. yall better wrap that shit); i think that's it but lmk if i missed anything.

A/N: 5 months and 6.4k words later and this sangyeon rec is done. anon i'm so sorry for the wait i'm so horrible. Also thank you to pookie (Fawn) for beta reading half of this but she had to bail and I told yall 3:30 so.... yuh. Also this is the first time I've written smut since Doll so please don't be harsh on me i'm sorry if it's bad

Sangyeon doesn’t exactly know when he started coming to your bakery. He doesn’t even like sweets, so why does he keep showing up in the dead of night and leaving with several boxes filled with sweets and a piece of cake stuffed into his mouth?

You.

Gorgeous, kind, brilliant, sweet, you. Coincidence? He thinks not.

At first, he’d started going because Eric had recommended the coffee. And then he met you, stumbling out of the kitchen with a smear of pink frosting on your cheek, a dye-stained apron, and strands of hair slipping out of your tight bun and clinging to your forehead. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but seeing you in that near-disastrous state, yelling at the poor cashier? God, maybe he should start believing.

Down bad, Sunwoo had called him a while ago when Sangyeon had dragged him along on his nightly coffee trip. Down horrendous, actually. Sangyeon had forced him to carry all four boxes of treats you’d sent home with him, ignoring how the younger member of the group had whined about how sore his arms were going to be. No, he didn’t pay any attention as he sent the boy along. All of his attention was on you, watching you wipe down the counter and talk about how busy your day had been.

In the end, he’d only left because Jacob kept calling, begging him to come back to the company to get the boys back in order.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite regular!” You’re beaming at him when he walks in the door, your hand placed on the shoulder of Hyejin, a younger and newer employee. You shooed her away, ignoring her questioning of who this mysterious man with a hat and mask on was. When the door to the kitchen shuts and you’re sure she isn’t coming back out, you circle the counter to stand in front of Sangyeon. “I’m assuming you want your normal order?”

Sangyeon ignores the buzzing in his body when you call him your favorite.

Sangyeon quirks an eyebrow, and though his face is hidden for the most part, you can see his hat shift with the tensing of the muscles in his forehead.

“You have my order memorized?” His tone is teasing, and you feel your cheeks warm.

“Well, I mean- you just- you’re here every day, and- and I just-” you stumble over your words, a low laugh from the man in front of you causing your cheeks to go from pink to red in an instant.

“I’m kidding,” Sangyeon promises, nudging your side with his elbow while he moves to the register. “I think I would be offended if you didn’t know my order by now.” You hum, a delicate and angelic sound that has Sangyeon feeling fuzzy. He forces the feeling away, tapping his card on the screen in front of him. It lags for a moment, and you awkwardly tap the screen to get it to move faster. Sangyeon smiles, watching you repeatedly try to tuck nonexistent hairs behind your ear.

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the counter and peering up at you. You don’t meet his eyes.

“Do I make you nervous, Y/N?” You shake your head, and he clicks his tongue. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insist, now slapping the screen, “this stupid thing is just- it’s just slow and I feel bad about taking up your time. I know you’re really busy-”

Sangyeon cuts you off again. “I’m never too busy for you, cupcake.” You freeze, and the machine dings. Sangyeon’s eyes squeeze shut. Why the fuck would you say that? What moron says that?

“I-” you pause, drumming your fingers on the counter. “Your order will be out in a few minutes. Hyejin will bring everything to you.”

He inhales, ready to apologize, but you’re gone by the time he can form words. The swinging kitchen door is his only indicator of where you’ve gone, and he mentally kicks himself.

Across the counter, Hyejin clears her throat.

“Iced latte for…Yeonnie?” Her voice lifts at the end, almost disturbed at the name on the cup. Sangyeon walks over, hesitantly grabbing the drink. “I’ll be right out with your boxes.”

“Not necessary,” he shakes his head. “I don’t need them-”

“Too bad,” the young girl purses her lips. “Y/N won’t let me leave until they’re gone so…”

“Oh…”

“Plus, I’m pretty sure she makes so much extra because you love her baked goods.” Hyejin stares him down, and he shuffles his feet.

“Yep…that’s…that’s true,” an awkward laugh, “the one who really loves baked goods…”

Sunwoo was right. He’s down astronomically bad.

“You’re such a fucking loser, you know that right?” Hyejin scrubs a baking tin furiously, grumbling about how these stupid drops of batter are gonna be the death of her. “Running away and giggling like someone my age because he called you cupcake.” You glare at her. She continues to scrub at the pan. “Do you even know anything about him?”

“Who even asked you?” His birthday is November 4th. I remember because he knew his friends were planning a surprise party for him.

“Nobody. I’m just the unfortunate soul who has to sit here and witness your gag-worthy flirting with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome.” You throw down your rag.

“I’m not flirting with him! He’s a paying customer!”

“Mhm. A paying customer who you wanna fuck sooooo bad.” She smirks at you, and whether mocking or not you know she’s right. Would you ever admit that to her face? Absolutely not.

“You know what-” You pick up your rag and jab a finger in her direction. “If you keep this shit up I’m cutting your hours down.”

“Do that and I’m telling Yeonnie that you want him inside of you. Call it a taste tester or whatever.”

“You know what,” your face is burning up again and your grip on the rag tightens. “Get out.”

“Nope.” Hyejin sets down her sponge and smiles at you. “I’m not leaving until I’m scheduled to leave. Unless we finish early, that is. So you better make a plan to jump this guy’s bones before I help him instead.”

Your rag hits the ground, a groan rises from your throat. And yet…you can’t help the smile that pulls across your lips. You can’t help the warm feeling in your chest that blooms with every thought of this masked customer who only ever goes by Yeonnie, even if you don’t know what he looks like under that mask and hat of his.

“You called her what?” Kevin reels back, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. Sangyeon cringes.

“Yeah…”

“Why would you say that? That’s like…textbook ‘do not call a woman this unless she’s your wife!’”

“You think I don’t know that?” Sangyeon flings himself back on the studio floor, a loud thump echoing around him. The other boys had left a few minutes ago, and, oddly enough, Kevin was the only one he trusted enough to tell this to. “God, I’m such a moron.”

“No,” Kevin coos. Sangyeon frowns, rolling his head on the ground to look at him. “You’re just a dumbass who-” Sangyeon flings his foot out reaching to kick Kevin. “Whoa, hey, let me finish!”

“You’re just gonna make fun of me!” Sangyeon whines.

Kevin purses his lips.

“For a 26-year-old man, you sure are childish.”

“Are you gonna help me fix this or not, Kevin?”

Kevin hums.

“Operation Sangyeon-does-get-bitches is a go!”

“Call it that again and I’m getting you kicked out of the group.”

“So,” Hyejin leans against the counter while you mix up the batter for a cake. “Has Yeonnie come in yet?”

You purse your lips, carefully pouring part of the dry ingredients into the stand mixer.

“He doesn’t come in until later usually.”

“You must be so disappointed.” You don’t respond.

Truthfully, it is disappointing. Sure, you know he’ll be coming in later on. You know that he’s likely going to be your last customer and for that, you’re relieved. However, the wait has you picking at the skin around your nails. Anxiety builds inside of you. Cupcake is what he had called you. Just a small amount of affection, and for that you had shut down. What if running away had sent the wrong message? What if he thought you hated him and were just being nice? “You shouldn’t stress so much,” Hyejin stops the stand mixer, taking the empty bowl of dry ingredients from your hand. “You’ll overmix the batter and then the cake will be gross.”

“A professional, are we?” A lighthearted smile passes over your lips. Hyejin shrugs.

“I’m here to learn, aren’t I? I’m not gonna get through culinary school by working at a gas station.”

“That’s true.”

“Anyway,” she huffs and grabs a tray of macarons, “just remember the plan and he’ll fall right back in love with you. Guaranteed.”

“How do you know?” You pour the cake batter into a few baking tins, ensuring that all are evenly layered.

“Have you seen how he looks at you?” She scoffs. “That man clearly couldn’t care less about the sweets you give him. He’s here for you and the coffee. Not the cakes or the cookies or the brownies. He’s here for you. No one comes in that often for some baked goods.”

Have you seen the way he looks at you? Yes. You had. Just briefly, though, when his hat had lifted enough for the light to pass over his eyes. The corners were crinkled, clearly smiling under the mask. You’d thought he looked so pretty, even if you couldn’t truly see his face.

You knew him as Yeonnie. That’s the name he had requested the first few times he came into the bakery. He didn’t give you a full name, and you joked that what he gave you sounded like something you’d name your dog. He’d laughed, and when he did it had been like the air was punched out of you. It was such a beautiful sound, and somewhere deep in your mind, you had vowed to make him laugh every time you saw him.

Then he was showing up every day, asking about what didn’t sell very much that day. Every day he would buy them all. And every day, you cracked a joke that had you hearing that gorgeous laugh of his.

Never, however, had he called you anything but your name. Maybe you cared a bit too much about what he thought of you. Maybe you cared a little bit too much about the smudges of frosting on your face, the sweat-slicked strands of hair that clung to your hair after being in the kitchen all morning and afternoon, preparing for the next day’s pastries.

Never had you hidden from a man you loved, even if he didn’t quite know it yet.

“So,” Sangyeon leans against the counter, watching you get his drink ready. “Anything exciting happen today?” His hands are shaking, but he hides it by drumming his fingers against the counter. You’d been quieter than usual, ducking your head whenever he looked at you.

Now he was worried that he made you uncomfortable.

“Not really,” you shrug, cupping your hand around the rim of the go-cup to prevent too much splashing as you add a bit more ice. “It was kinda busy, but it was bearable.”

“That’s good,” Sangyeon nods, tugging his mask further up his face. He peers around you, squinting as he searches for Hyejin through the window on the kitchen door. “Where’s Hyejin today?” You shrug.

“I sent her home early. We slowed down a lot about an hour ago and I had already gotten a lot of things done so I told her to head home.”

“So you’re here alone?” Sangyeon frowns. “That can’t be safe.”

“I mean…” you run your tongue over your lips, “I dunno. I do it all the time.”

“You shouldn’t.” Sangyeon frowns, “This is a big city, what if something happened to you?”

“You saying you’re worried about me, Yeonnie?” You lean toward him, your lips twitching up.

“Sangyeon.” He blurts his name out before he can stop it. You blink, your eyebrows knitting together.

“What?”

“My…my name.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s Sangyeon. Not Yeonnie.”

You nod, frowning.

“Why didn’t you just tell me your name in the first place?” He inhales, shaking his head.

“It isn’t that simple, cupcake.”

“Why not?” You drum your fingers on the marble countertop. “It seems pretty simple to me. I ask for the name of the order, and you say ‘Sangyeon.’ Easy peasy.”

Sangyeon can’t help but laugh. He can’t help the disbelief at how calm you are. Sure, the reveal of his actual name isn’t that big of a deal. Maybe you thought he was just uncomfortable around people. A bit socially awkward.

The smile returns to your lips.

“Can I ask something?” He nods, leaning on the counter to look you in the eye. The hat casts a shadow over his face, but you can see that little crinkle that you’d been longing to see up close since the first day you met him. “Why do you wear this…” you wave your hand at him. “This little get-up?”

He falls quiet, and for a moment you think you’ve made him uncomfortable.

“I…I’m sorry, Sangyeon. I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t apologize.” He cuts you off, and your mouth shuts. “I just…I didn’t want your opinion of me to…to change. If you saw my face, that is.”

“If I saw your face,” you echo. “What, are you famous or something? Oooh, are you an idol?”

Boom, right on the money.

You can see the emotions in his eyes. The fear, the shock, the confusion, the nerves. You can see his hands clenching around his coffee. A pit forms in your stomach, growing larger and larger as he shuffles back. Toward the door.

Away from you.

“Sangyeon…” you speak slowly when you circle the counter. “Are you…”

“I have to go,” he spits out. “I’m s- I just…I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m just-” his breathing is shaking, and he back into the wall. Sangyeon stumbles, whipping around and shoving through the door before you can say another word.

And after all that…you couldn’t even give him the cake you’d planned on giving him for his birthday.

Sangyeon is pacing. His footsteps are quiet, muffled by the carpet beneath his feet. His hair is in disarray from hours of tugging at the strands.

Kevin is sitting on his leader’s bed, eyes drooping and his head resting on one of his hands.

“Dude,” Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You do know that she probably thinks she messed up somehow, right?”

“God, I just keep making things worse.” Sangyeon groans loudly, kicking away one of the shirts lying on the floor.

“I love that I get to sit back and watch you ruin your love life before it begins.” Kevin stretches his arms above his head, his eyes squeezing shut and a yawn fighting to leave his mouth.

“Gee, thanks Kev.” Sangyeon scowls, throwing his body face-down onto the mattress. Kevin shifts to the side, patting the older man’s shoulder.

“I’m just speaking the truth. You shouldn’t have reacted like you did. What happened to being in love with her? Did you really think she would expose you for being an idol?”

A tough question. Sangyeon would like to say that the answer to that question is yes. He would love to trust you with his whole being, with every fiber in his body, but he’s been burned before. He’s been burned, and he doesn’t want it to happen again.

“I just…I got scared, I think.” Sangyeon’s hands fold under his cheek, his voice slightly muffled. “I just got so scared because I care about her so much, but what if…what if she isn’t…” his voice trails off.

“She isn’t like Nabi.” Kevin frowns. “Is that what you were worried about? That she was like Nabi?”

“I…I think so.”

Another pregnant pause between the two of them.

“Here’s what you’re going to do. And this time you are going to listen to me and you are going to follow every bit of my instructions no matter what happens. You are going to do this tomorrow. You aren’t going to let this simmer. You are going to go there tomorrow night, you’re going to apologize, you’re going to confess, and you’re gonna have amazing sex, badabing badaboom, we get our free pastries.”

“There’s no way you’re just helping me because you want free baked goods.” Sangyeon clicks his tongue, rolling onto his back. Kevin scoffs.

“Who do you think I am, Juyeon? No, I’m helping you because we need you to get laid and fucking relax.”

“Somehow that’s even worse.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been up our asses with this next comeback on the rise. Now are you gonna listen to me or are you gonna fuck up again and make us all miserable with your moping?”

Sangyeon bites his tongue, fighting back a retort. “I’ll listen.”

“What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon practically cowers under the weight of Hyejin’s gaze. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips drawn into a thin line. He’s abandoned the mask and the hat. The only thing shielding him now is the hood of his sweatshirt.

“I need to talk to Y/N.”

Hyejin snorts. “You think she wants to talk to you after what you did?”

Regret boils inside of him, and he digs the nail of his thumb into his pointer finger.

“Please, Hyejin. I just- I just need to talk to her.” He watches the college student think. Watches her consider her options.

“Wait here. I’ll go see if she wants to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Hyejin. God, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me,” she snaps. “I’m not doing this for you, so don’t thank me.”

You’re in the back, listening to the conversation just outside the door. Your hands tug at the edge of your apron, your eyebrows knitting together.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Hyejin is careful to speak only when the door has stopped swinging, her voice hushed and her hand resting on your arm. “I won’t force you to go out there, and I can stay longer if you don’t want to be alone.”

You smile, placing your hand over hers. For the shit you two give each other, she’s one of the few people you can rely on.

“It’s fine, Hyejin. You can go home.”

“You sure?”

No. “Positive.”

It’s dark in the bakery. The blinds have been drawn shut, the door locked and most of the lights turned off. Sangyeon stares at the box you place on the table in front of him. Your eyes are trained on the ground, your teeth digging into the plush flesh of your lip.

“What- what did you make tonight?” His voice cracks, and he grimaces while clearing his throat. What a great start, dumbass.

“A cake.” The statement is cold, and he gnaws on his lip. “For you.”

“For me?” He echoes, tugging it closer to his side of the table. You place your hand on top of the box, pulling it back toward you. He drops his hands back to his sides.

“Not right now. Not until you explain what the hell happened last night.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. You flinch, your body curling in on itself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Why did you run off?” Your voice is quieter than he’d ever heard it, and he has to strain to pick up the words you’ve said. “Why…why did you leave?”

“I don’t- I swear it isn’t your fault, cupcake.” Another flinch, and he snaps his mouth shut.

“Then why did you run?” You lift your eyes, and he can see the tears waiting to fall. He can see you fighting to keep them at bay, to keep calm.

“I…” Sangyeon sighs. “It’s a long story. One that…that I didn’t really want to have to tell you. Not yet, at least. Not like this.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Your voice shakes, and Sangyeon shakes his head, one of his hands reaching forward to touch your own. He hesitates, his hand partway across the table before he decides against touching you. “It’s okay if you don’t. I get it. Fans are…they’re crazy these days, I know.” You try to laugh, but you break off into sniffles.

“I trust you, Y/N,” Sangyeon protests. “I really trust you. I ran off because…because I didn’t want this to end like the last time I trusted someone.” He drags a hand down his face, laughing in disbelief. “My last relationship was rough. I thought I could trust her, and she…she betrayed me. So because of that, I was scared.”

“Of what?” You press. “Letting go of the past? Loving me?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, erupting from his seat and running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Y/N, I love you so much that it hurts. All I ever want to do is hold you, and kiss you, and- and-” he shakes his head, and you rise from your seat. “It drives me crazy because you make me so happy to see you excited to give me things that I don’t even like but I take anyway because I just love you so fucking much. And- and I’ve wanted to tell you everything for so long but I just- I couldn’t-”

His lips are soft, you think when you kiss him. They’re soft, although slightly chapped. He’s frozen in place, his hands hanging in mid-air on either side of your body. He remains like that and you pull back, afraid that you misinterpreted everything.

He doesn’t let you get very far, his arms wrapping around your midsection and yanking you back into him.

It’s so soft, the way he kisses you. Sangyeon doesn’t move too fast, cautious and hyperaware of everything around the two of you. His hands have untied the apron around your waist, tossing it somewhere amongst the tables and he’s placed you up on the counter. His hands are all over you: moving up and down your back, caressing your cheeks, squeezing at your hips, running over the tops of your thighs and through the strands of hair that he’s tugged out of the claw clip.

His tongue is in your mouth, but he’s not using any force. Sangyeon lets you take the reins, set the pace. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. He’s yours. He lets your tongue prod at his own, lets you suckle at the wet muscle to your content. Your body is shaking against his own, and a smile crosses over his lips.

Sangyeon pulls his mouth from yours, his smile widening when you whine and chase his lips. His hands are on your waist, holding you in place. “You’re shaking, cupcake.”

“Want you so bad, Yeonnie.” You reach for him again, your lips just grazing his before he pulls back.

“What do you want?” One of his hands drags along your leg, running higher, and higher, and-

“Want you to eat me out.”

Sangyeon’s eyes go wide. So maybe he’d just been teasing you, but he hadn’t expected his sweet little baker to be so bold.

Your hand pushes against his chest, and he stumbles backward a few steps. There’s a dazed look in his eyes as he watches you unbutton your blouse. The delicate fabric slides down your shoulders, and Sangyeon swears that he’s drooling over you. The shape of your breasts in the orange glow of the fairy lights, the steady rise and fall of your chest while you breathe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and your cheeks grow warm. He reaches for you, but hesitates and puts his hand down again. You watch as he drops to his knees, practically crawling to you, and you can feel your panties dampening from the action. There’s a warm feeling in your gut, one you haven’t felt in a long time. His hands are quick to undo the button of your jeans, and he watches you as he tugs the zipper down. You’re leaning back on the counter, eyes struggling to stay open and on him. One of your lips is tucked between your teeth, red and puffy from you chewing on it.

Sangyeon drags your jeans and panties down in on harsh tug, and he helps you lift your legs to step out of them. Your legs are soft, he notes to himself. He leans forward, his lips touching the soft skin gently. You flinch, and he pulls away.

“Why-” your voice trembles. “Why’d you stop?”

“You flinched,” he shrugs. “I will only do what you want me to, cupcake. The second you show discomfort, I stop until you tell me to continue or to leave. I’m yours. Whatever you want is what I want. But right now, I really want to drown in this sweet pussy of yours.” He doesn’t move though, his cheek resting against the inside of your knee and his eyes are lidded with lust. “I’m not doing anything until you say so, cupcake.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and a nod of your head has Sangyeon practically moaning as he pulls himself closer to your core.

“Fuck, cupcake, you’re dripping f’ me.” He coos, gauging your reactions as he prods at your entrance with the tips of his calloused fingers. You whine, trying to squeeze your legs shut, but his broad shoulders keep them open while he plays with your sopping pussy. His thumbs spread you open, and he watches you clench around nothing.

“Hurry up, Sangyeon,” he grins at the desperation in your voice.

“So needy,” he hums. You click your tongue and one of your hands laces in the soft strands of his hair. Your grip tightens, and he whines when you yank him closer to you.’

“Well,” you hide the way your voice shakes when you feel his breath right up against you. “I need a bit of a taste tester, you know? Need to know if she’s sweet enough- oh fuck-”

His mouth against you before you can finish your statement. His mouth is wide open, his tongue swiping along your folds, dipping inside of you and just grazing your clit, knowing full well that’s where you need him the most. Your hand is still in his hair, but your grip has gone slack. Your jaw hangs open, your head tipped back, and Sangyeon can feel him growing harder just at the taste of you in his mouth.

His eyes drift shut, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. His neck has tipped back at an awkward angle, one that he knows is going to hurt later, but right now? With your pussy dripping against his face and the pretty little moans and whines you release? Sangyeon couldn’t care less. He's enraptured by you. He's obsessed with your taste, and he knows that even if he doesn't like sweets, he'd make an exception just for you.

“Sangyeon,” you’re breathless, pitch raising as he sucks at your clit, laving over it with his tongue. “Sangyeon, please.”

“Please what, cupcake?” His voice is muffled, not even bothering to pull away from you, and the vibrations of his voice have your back arching. “What do you need?”

“Need you inside of me,” you whine. “Please, please I need you so bad. Been waiting for so long. Haven’t you been waiting for me?”

You’re a seductress, Sangyeon decides. A succubus. Sent here to torment him. To get him drunk on you, so much so that he’ll never want to leave. So much so that he’d sell his soul just to get a taste of your nectar one more time.

“Have to make you cum, cupcake,” he denies your pretty little begs. “Wanna make you cum, just once before I fuck you. Please? Please let me make you cum?” His eyes are glowing in the light of the bakery, and you let out a high-pitched whine. He doesn’t wait for your response this time. He drowns himself in your pussy, tongue reaching inside of you for as much of your arousal as he can get. He sucks harshly on your clit, teeth grazing it and drawing loud cries from your lips.

Your legs tremble. A knot is growing in the pit of your stomach. Your body jerks.

“Oh, fuck, Sangyeon-” Your cry trails off into a loud whine, your orgasm washing over you like a wildfire. Sangyeon drinks you up like he’s been in a desert for a week without water, moaning just as loud as you. Getting drunk on the feeling of your thighs shaking around his head, overstimulating you as you come down from your high.

He doesn’t pull away until you physically kick him away from you. His face is drenched in your juices, his eyes glazed with need, and you have a sneaking suspicion that if you asked, he would crawl over and drag another orgasm out of you in no time at all.

But you don’t ask. You need him inside of you so desperately that now you’re the one crawling to him. He’s still fully dressed as you perch your body over his, your core pressed right up against the bulge in his pants. His hands are tight on your hips, and he watches as you tug his sweatshirt up his body.

“Did you plan for this to happen?” You smirk when you find bare skin under the soft hoodie. Bare, golden, skin, with toned abs like no other. Fuck maybe you were gonna get drunk on him.

He grins at you. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What are you gonna do about it?” You click your tongue and slide off of him to sit on the counter. He sits up, eyebrows knit together as you swing your legs and smile at him.

“Planned or not,” you hum, “you should probably fuck me before I change my mind and eat that birthday cake on my own.” Sangyeon scoffs, but he’s pulling his pants down his legs and walking over to you without another word.

You, on the other hand, are taken completely aback. He’s big. Like…big in both length and girth. You wonder if you’d be able to wrap your hand around it, but you don’t get the time to think about it before Sangyeon is in front of you, tearing open a foil packet and rolling the condom onto his cock.

“Is it gonna fit, do you think?” You reach your hand forward, wrapping your hand around it. You were right.

Sangyeon hisses at the contact of your hand wrapping around his sensitive cock. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

You smile, your legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him closer to you. Your hand is still on him, guiding him to your entrance. You both hiss at the initial push into you. It stings, the stretch more than you’ve had in quite a while.

“Shit, you’re tight,” Sangyeon grips your thighs tightly, his fingers holding you so tightly that you swear there will be bruises after this. You whine, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

His arms slide up, holding you close to him as he continues to press inside of you. Sangyeon whispers words of comfort into your ear. He pauses whenever you whine in discomfort, hushing you as he continues to push into you. He bites his tongue every time your pussy clenches around him, muffling the groans that threaten to escape.

You, on the other hand, are moaning shamelessly despite the discomfort. You can feel him everywhere, touching every inch of you and just kissing that sweet spot inside of you. Every time he pushes further into you, once the sting passes, the pleasure is quick to replace it. It overpowers every other emotion inside of you. Your legs wrap tighter around him, forcing those last few inches into you until his hips are pressed tightly against your own and his breathing grows shaky again. You clench around him, and his body jerks.

“Little tease,” he practically growls. “Clenching around me like you want me to cum too fast.” You laugh, but it cuts into a moan when he pulls out a few inches and shoves himself back in. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, your fingers lacing into his hair and pulling lightly. "Feels so good, Yeonnie.”

“Weren’t you the one that said that was a dog's name?” He moves slowly against you, and at first, you don’t respond, your lips attached to his shoulder and sucking dark marks into the skin. “Cupcake, careful with the marks.” Sangyeon pinches the skin of your thigh and you whine.

“Stop complaining and just fuck me already,” you plead. Sangyeon smiles.

“Whatever you say, cupcake.” You can’t get another word out. Sangyeon pushes you onto your back, barely giving you time to adjust to how he feels in this new position before he’s thrusting harshly inside of you.

He’s harsh with his pace, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs, forcing out moans and cries and begs for him to go faster, harder, right there oh god right there Sangyeon. He lowers his mouth to your shoulder, giving you the same treatment he’d just scolded you for, listening to everything you say and every sound you make as he does. The sound of his hips slapping against yours is so loud and he can feel your arousal dripping down your pretty cunt and allowing him to go faster, to fuck you harder.

Then he sees it. It’s faint, but when he looks down at you he can see the outline of his cock pressing against your stomach. His pace stutters, and you whine when he slows down.

“Cupcake, look at you.” He coos, grabbing the hand that’s in his hair and bringing it down to your stomach. You raise your head, eyes fluttering when he thrusts again but you can feel the bulge against your stomach. You force your eyes to stay open the next time he thrusts into you, whining when you see it. “So fucking pretty, baby. So fucking pretty, and so small that my cock is pressing against your tummy, wanting to get out, hm?” You whine again, raising your hips to meet every thrust.

He’s getting close. He can feel it. Every thrust, every clench, every whine. It’s all drawing him closer and closer to the edge, and he knows you can feel his cock twitching inside of you. He knows that you’re getting close again, he can feel the way your walls are fluttering around him rather than persistently clenching.

“Are you close baby?” His hand comes up to rest next to your head, and you whine.

“So close, Yeonnie. Please I’m so close-” Your hips stutter against him, and the knot in your stomach goes tight.

Sangyeon swears he goes blind for a moment with how hard his eyes roll back. His body shakes against yours, his cum filling the condom to the brim. Your back arches, your chests brushing together and he wraps one hand around your back, pressing against your shoulder blades to hold you close to him while the two of you ride out your highs. Both of you are panting, your bodies slick with sweat, and you can only imagine what anyone walking outside is thinking-

“Oh my god, we just fucked in my bakery.” You sit upright, your head knocking against Sangyeon’s in the process. He snorts, rubbing where you just hit him.

“You’re realizing this now?” You smack his arm, and he laughs, pulling away from you. The two of you are quiet for a few minutes, quietly cleaning up and getting dressed. Well…Sangyeon gets dressed. You’re stuck on the counter, your legs proving to be useless now. Sangyeon smiles at this, grabbing your clothes for you and helping you tug your jeans on.

“We’re not fucking in here again.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“So what you’re saying is my car is next?” You punch his arm again, but he just laughs. “I’m kidding.”

“Are you though?”

“...”

“Lee Sangyeon!” He laughs again, taking you by the hand to keep you steady on your feet. The two of you stand there for a few minutes, in the middle of your bakery with the orange glow of the fairy lights.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask, letting him lead you back to the table you’d left the cake on.

“About what?” Sangyeon peers at you, his head tilted.

“About not liking sweets.” Your cheeks are warm. It’s a silly question, but it had bugged you. Sangyeon smiles, ducking his head.

“Yeah… I was really just here for the coffee.”

“Then…Why did you take what I gave you?” You pout. “If I had known you didn’t like that stuff, I would’ve given you something else!”

“Because I like how happy you sounded when I told you the recipes you were trying tasted fantastic.” He says simply. “I would hate if I said or did anything that made you upset.”

“But you…” you purse your lips. “Then why did you run away? I know that you said someone had…betrayed you before…but did you really think I would do that to you?”

Sangyeon sighs.

“I didn’t know. Obviously, I trusted you- I trust you. But…somewhere inside of me I just couldn’t help but be a bit too cautious. I couldn’t stop myself from being afraid that this would turn out just like that relationship did, you know?” You nod, drumming your fingers on the table. “Can I see the cake you made me now?”

“After all that, you wanna see the cake now?” You scoff and he grins at you, tugging the box toward him. “Whatever. It’s nothing special anyway.”

“Anything you make me is special.” He argues, flipping open the lid of the box. He gasps.

“Do you like it?” Sangyeon doesn’t respond. You get nervous. “Yeonnie?”

“Oh, you want me sooooo bad.”

TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn