#let me be a weightless being of pure consciousness

[ilikebeesandflowers]

If we’re in a simulation, why do we gotta have periods?

#perimenopause #period cramps #ovarian cysts #pcos #back pain #probably endometriosis #you name it #i got it #no but seriously #sims use the toilet and do woohoo #but tbh I don’t want to do that either #let me be a weightless being of pure consciousness #no messy body required

[starseternalnighttriumphant]

BAD INTENTIONS: CHAPTER ELEVEN

RATING: M for mature; NOT suitable for readers under 18 years old. Read at your own risk.

WARNINGS: May include material that may be triggering. Possible graphic depictions of violence, sex, trauma; strong language use.

Author’s Note: .........hehe

PS: some of these tags didn’t work so if you changed your URL and see your old one on here, please let me know so I can update it.

There was so much going on, yet at the same time nothing was happening.

One moment it was dark and silent and the next there was shouting and blinding lights. One moment there was weightlessness and the next the pain was so unbearable that consciousness was impossible.

“Miss Galathynius, can you hear me?”

Light seared her vision and her lips moved but no sound came out.

“Can you feel this?” A squeeze of her hand. She blindly squeezed back.

“Good, good. You’re doing great, Aelin.”

She couldn’t see, couldn’t focus, everything was so overwhelming. Her head pounded, her chest hurt, and the fucking noise. It made her ears ring.

She must’ve made a sound because the light disappeared and her eyesight went blurry as she tried to focus her vision. She heard the erratic beeping of machines, and when a shadowy figure appeared in her periphery, the beeping escalated.

“It’s okay, I’m Dr. Towers,” came a voice from where the figure was slowly, so slowly, coming into focus. “You’re in the hospital, Aelin. Can you speak to me?”

A cracked “What?” escaped her lips and then she hissed as the deep breath she took caused pain to erupt in her chest.

She blinked what must’ve been a thousand times before she finally saw a woman standing by her bedside that had to be no more than five years older than herself. She had a young, pretty face and wild bronze curls. Her eyes were kind and sincere.

“What… what’s going on?” Aelin rasped, trying to move her head but finding she was unable to do so. She had a cervical collar on. She clawed at it, her breathing suddenly erratic and Dr. Towers murmured soothing tones, helping her out of it. Once her breathing went back to normal, the doctor spoke.

“You and your father were in an accident,” Dr. Towers explained. “I don’t know how you two managed to walk away as intact as you are. You likely have a concussion and you have some bruised ribs from the airbag, but you’re in one piece, and so is your dad.”

The stark memories of headlights shining through the windshield, the sharp yell of her father, and the brutal impact of being hit flooded through her mind and that incessant beeping became faster again. She realized it must be her heart rate monitor.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Towers soothed, holding Aelin’s hand. “You both are okay, and you’ll be able to walk out of here tomorrow. We want to keep you overnight for observation, but I think you and Captain Galathynius will be just fine.”

“Where is he?” Aelin demanded weakly, already trying to sit up. She had to see him, had to see for herself that he was all right.

Dr. Towers pushed her back onto the bed gently, reaching for a device to move the bed into an upright position. She then pointed to Aelin’s left and Aelin had to move awkwardly to see her father in the bed next to hers, his eyes on her, tears running down his face.

“Dad,” she gasped out, eyes stinging as hot tears began to fall.

“Fireheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” she cut him off. “No, Dad, I’m sorry.”

Before he could respond, there was a commotion at the entrance to the hospital room.

“Sir you can’t be in here!”

Aelin turned to see Rowan coming through the door, his face alight with pure fury. She let out a choked noise as she took him in and his own crumbled, and she saw the worry and fear he’d been holding just for her.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, his voice hard as he came up to her and gently took her face in his hands. He looked over her, making sure nothing seemed broken, making sure there was no blood, no obvious wounds.

“I’m okay. Bruised ribs, maybe a concussion,” she whispered to him, drinking in his sharp features. Something in her chest loosened as she took him in, and she instantly felt better as his thumbs traced over her cheeks.

“When I heard…” Rowan’s lips thinned into a frown. “I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what condition you were in, and I kept thinking if you died—”

Aelin shushed him, reaching up to touch his face gently. “I’m okay.”

His frown stayed and he pulled back only to look at Dr. Towers and the small gaggle of nurses. “Can we have some privacy?”

The doctor looked to Aelin for confirmation and she nodded. In seconds, the room was empty, the door closed. Rowan came around to the other side of her bed and sat down facing her father.

“Captain Galathynius, the person driving the car that hit yours tonight was someone from Cairn DeRosa’s gang.”

Aelin started, frowning at her boyfriend. He gave her a guilty look before turning back to Rhoe.

“I know you have every right to hate me, Captain, but I want to be frank and say that you need me to help keep your daughter safe. Cairn has a personal vendetta against my gang and he won’t stop until he’s ruined my life.” Rowan took a deep breath. “I take full responsibility for what happened tonight, because he did this in response to me calling the cops to raid his warehouse. And I’m afraid he won’t stop there.”

Rhoe sat up gently, wincing and grabbing his side. “I can protect my own daughter.”

“Not in this state you can’t.” Rowan’s voice was matter-of-fact as he waved a hand at her father’s appearance. “Even your force can’t, because they aren’t willing to do anything it takes to keep your daughter safe. With all due respect Captain, there are lines you won’t cross. Lines your officers won’t cross.” His face darkened. “I will cross those lines if it means no harm comes to Aelin.”

She wanted to clap her hand over his mouth to stop any more damning words from slipping out of his lips, but it seemed he was done, staring expectantly at her father. Biting her lip, her eyes flashed to Rhoe to see him already looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read. It almost looked as if some moral dilemma was tearing him up on the inside; emotions swirled in his eyes too quickly for her to follow.

It seemed like an eternity passed before he sighed and nodded. Aelin’s mouth dropped open. Was he really going to agree—

“Fine,” Rhoe bit out. Then slowly, “I won’t arrest you. And you can keep seeing my daughter”— Aelin started at that— “if, and only if, you help me take down Cairn DeRosa. And after that, I want you to swear that you are done with this gang shit. Not just you, but your whole gang. You help me arrest those motherfuckers, and then you all walk away from this life. I want my daughter happy, and she seems to be happy with you, but more than that I want her safe. So you’re done after this or I’ll make sure you never see her again.”

“Deal,” Rowan said simply, and Aelin gaped at him.

“Rowan—” she started but he shook his head, turning to her and placing a hand on her cheek.

“If that’s what I have to do to keep you for the rest of my life, then that’s the best decision I could ever make,” he murmured to her.

He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss, a kiss full of promise, and then told her father that he would be back to pick Aelin up tomorrow. Surprisingly, Rhoe just nodded. When Rowan left, she turned to her dad with a glare.

“Dad—”

“I don’t like it, Fireheart. But what I care about most in the world is keeping you safe,” Rhoe explained, wincing as he shifted. “Don’t fight this.”

Jaw clenched, she settled into bed and pushed a button to recline the bed. Staring at the speckled ceiling, she decided she liked it better when her father and boyfriend were enemies. Her two worlds were colliding, and she didn’t know where it left her. Having her father and her boyfriend on the same side would keep her safe for now, but she had no way of knowing if Rowan intended to keep his promise of leaving his role of gang leader behind. She didn’t even know if that was a life someone could just let go of. She didn’t know what it would mean for him if he did let it go.

Turning her head to face the heart rate monitor, she let the steady beeping lull her to sleep.

—

Rowan had returned to the hospital in the morning to take her home. Her father still had to stay for one more day of observation since the majority of the impact had been on the driver’s side. He didn’t look happy as Rowan had helped her out of bed, but he seemed resigned that this was their new reality.

Aelin was quiet as Rowan drove her to her apartment. So much was swirling around in her head, and she didn’t even know how to begin to sort through it all. She knew her life would be threatened once Cairn knew about her, but to make an attempt on her life…

Goosebumps erupted along her skin. She wasn’t safe, despite Rowan’s promises. And that fact alone was enough to send her spiraling.

He helped her out of the car, holding her gently as he supported most of her weight up the steps to the house. Lysandra was there, throwing the door open, her face etched with concern. Her eyes shifted over Rowan, freezing a little, but she said nothing as she reached for Aelin and folded her into her arms, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

“Are you okay?” she murmured into Aelin’s ear, pulling her into the house with Rowan trailing behind them.

“Yes,” she sighed. “And I’m only bruised, not an invalid. I can walk by myself.”

Lysandra just scoffed and held onto her as she helped Aelin up the stairs. She looked behind her to see Rowan give her an amused smirk, and she rolled her eyes at him as Lysandra led her into her room. Aelin pulled away from her friend and sat on her bed slowly, frowning at the discomfort in her chest.

“Lys, can you give me and Rowan a moment?” she asked, eyes connecting with the green eyes of her boyfriend.

She could tell that was the last thing Lysandra wanted to do but the brunette muttered something about making lunch and left, letting the door close behind her. Aelin broke eye contact, slowly leaning down to undo the laces of her shoes. She hissed in pain as her ribs rebelled at the movement and then Rowan was kneeling in front of her, pulling off her shoes.

“I’m fine,” she growled, trying to push his hands away.

Faster than she could follow, he grabbed her wrists in one hand and her jaw in another, glaring at her. “You’re hurt. Stop being stubborn.”

“I told you,” she blurted out suddenly, her voice hard. “I told you he would try to retaliate.”

Rowan’s features immediately smoothed out, something he did when he was trying to control whatever emotion he was feeling. “I know. Gods, I know. I didn’t think he would try to…” he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s my fault this happened, I know. I should’ve known he would hit me where it hurts.”

Anger suddenly burning through her blood, she pushed him away and stood despite her ribs aching in protest. She needed to pace, to do something but sit there and stew.

“Aelin.”

She held up a hand, trying to think through the sudden rage that had overtaken her. She knew being with Rowan wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t realized how much she had given up to be with him. Her perfect life turned upside down; she was breaking the law now, she was with a criminal, she’d just had a near death experience for the Gods’ sakes. Suddenly everything was crashing around her and she didn’t know what to do.

“I need you to be honest with me,” she said, turning to face him. “Did you mean it when you promised my dad you would stop doing the gang stuff?”

He looked wildly puzzled. “Of course I did. I may be a gang leader, but I’m a man of my word.”

“Rowan,” she whispered, suddenly shaking. “You have to promise me. You have to…” she shook her head, swallowing hard. “I can’t be with you if this is how I’m going to live my life. I can’t live in fear that death might be around the corner. You have to promise me that you’ll walk away from this—”

His hands were on her face and he was shushing her, soothing her, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Aelin, you mean more to me than anything,” he murmured, thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I meant it when I said I would do anything to protect you. Whether that means I have to kill Cairn” — a shiver ran through her— “or walk away from this gang life, I will do it.” It was his turn to swallow hard. “When I heard you’d been in an accident…”

He pulled her close, every line and angle and curve of their bodies fitting together. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. If you’d asked me before I met you if I would walk away from this life for a woman, if I would change my life for a woman, I would’ve laughed in your face. But I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the minute you had the audacity to ask me to kiss you.” He huffed a laugh, his breath warming her lips. “I love you, and I would lay my life down for you if that’s what it took.” She started to shake her head but he held her still, those eyes of his blazing into hers. “You are everything to me. I would follow you to whatever end, golden girl.”

The weight of what he was saying crashed into her, threatening to drown her. He would turn his back on the life he knew for her. She didn’t even know if she deserved him. She traced his features, running her fingers over his jaw, his nose, his lips, taking him in, burning the image of him into her mind.

“Okay,” she finally whispered. Then a small smile turned up her lips. “Let’s make Cairn pay.”

Rowan’s answering grin was full of dark promise.

-

@highqueenofelfhame @legallyhermione @city-of-fae @schmlip-scribble @westofmoon @werewolffprince @empire-of-wildfire @anabelkay @tangledraysofsunshine @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @singme-t0sleep @rowaelinforeverworld @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @micaela-84 @wesupremeginger @littlehoneyybee @vi0let-femmes @emdythewriter @slytherin-25 @acer6437 @l0sts0uls1128 @breezyfreezey @willsrune @marshall1199 @wo-control @izou1204 @franticlittlegeek @mariamuses @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ @someonemagical​ @aelinwhitethorn40 @viajandosinalas​ @lorcanswife​ @flowersinvegas​ @lovemollywho​ @rhysismydaddy​ @mybbyfeyre​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @tswaney17​ @whodoyoulovereally @exersize-me-i-dare-u​ @kindofawalkingpoem​ @bookloveaffair​ @hermajestyanna​ @happybookmuffin​ @celeanagalathynius​ @wifeofchrishemsworth​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @dean-winchesters-impala-1967​ @savethetreefish​ @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​ @acotar-tog-ships​ @chemicha @thehuntressofmoon @bamchickawowow​ @aelin-is-my-life @superspiritfestival​ @the-fandom-ness​ @musicdreamer003​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @mockingjayusa @ducksmurf135​ @rhyswhitethorn​ @maastrash​ @louiseleblancdiggory​ @starborn-faerie-queen​ @silentquartz​ @perseusannabeth​ @aflickeringsoul​ @heirofthrnightcourt004​ 

#rowaelin #bad intentions #bad intentions 11

[whythinktoomuch]

~PART ONE~

Lena’s eyes won’t open. 

Or they can’t. 

Or maybe they’re just refusing to, despite her giving what feels like her very best to get them to just try. It doesn’t work.

But Lena is trying. She’s been trying.

The fuzzy voices—both indistinct and distant—demand that she keep trying. Sometimes the voices are sharp and clipped. Other times, just pleading.

But Lena’s trying—she really is.

She tries to tell them, inform the voices of her earnest efforts, but even just the thought of doing so sends a blinding shock from her collarbones to the tips of her ears. 

A broken moan rattles her entire skull. It doesn’t sound like her, but it must be.

Who else could be in her head like that?

—

Lena’s eyes flutter, but don’t quite open.

Everything is too loud.

Everything hurts.

The pain is so loud that she can’t breathe.

The voices don’t make sense this time around.

—

Everything is dull when Lena opens her eyes. There’s a translucent grey film coating the world—muffling the sounds, the surroundings, and all the sensations.

But, oh, everything still hurts, of course.

“Lena? Can you hear me?”

Lena slams her eyes shut at the blinding white hitting her vision. Yes, yes, I can hear you, she longs to shout back. 

But the moment Lena tries, the entire lower half of her face erupts in a pain so acute and overwhelming that no amount of grey could possibly dilute it. 

A half-choked sound gurgles in the back of her throat. Gasping is impossible.

“Hey, hey, don’t try to speak, okay?”

Well… stop asking me so many damn questions then, Lena thinks, and for one slightly hysterical moment she could almost laugh.

—

It feels like she’s floating. Her entire body weightless as it bobs in and out of awareness, her mind only resurfacing to consider each passing thought before they fizzle out again.  

Lena doesn’t realize that her eyes are open until she’s already been staring at a blank wall for ten long minutes.

She blinks, and notices the rush of panic and excitement flooding her ears, her head, her entire body and existence.

Lena grimaces. She tries to shield herself from the cacophony of emotion with raised hands. But her arms don’t cooperate. Nor does her mouth.

“Lena, you’re awake, thank god, oh thank, god…” The voice comes closer. Lena recognizes it as the pleading voice from earlier. She recognizes it as Kara as well. “Alex is on her way, don’t worry. God. Hey, how are you feeling? Do you—Can I get you something?”

The dulled ache in Lena’s jaw lights up. It’s readily sharp and blinding and pure agony.

“Oh, no.”

Lena’s vision blurs as the surge of white heat throbs all over. She whimpers in her throat. Tries to roll her hands into fists, grit her teeth against the pain. It all just makes it worse.

“No, no, no…”

A brush of warmth breaks through the din, fingertips pressing into Lena’s cheek, mere inches above where it hurts the most.

“Don’t try to talk. It’s okay. Your jaw’s… Just, don’t talk, okay?”

What?

Lena groans as she tries to voice her question, but Kara gently shushes her and strokes her hair. Then Kara’s saying things like, “You’re okay. Shh, it’s okay. I’m so glad you’re awake, Lena. And I’m so, so, so glad that you’re with me right now.”

Lena shuts her eyes in a slow, deliberate blink. To let Kara know that she’s heard her, that she agrees with her even.

She wants to touch Kara, to return the comfort somehow. Her right arm is pinned against her chest, all heavy and stiff, completely useless. But her left hand is amenable. It inches up, trembling with effort.

Kara just watches, seemingly awed, as the hand unfurls before her. Lena has to make a clumsy fist a couple of times before she gets her point across, and Kara reaches for her hand.

Lena barely has the strength to maintain a real grasp, but the gentle pressure of Kara’s hand wrapped around hers is everything she’s been needing for who knows how long now. Since her eyes opened. Since forever maybe. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” Kara’s sniffling, but her smile is bright. “You are okay. We knew you would be.”

Replying with words seems to be out of the question. Nodding, near impossible. So, Lena just blinks again. Then again. Then closes her eyes and waits.

—

“Lena,” a firm voice cuts in, and Lena’s eyes creak open again. Kara’s not holding her hand anymore. Instead, Alex is standing over her, with her fingers pressed into Lena’s palms. “Can you squeeze my fingers for me?”

With a grunt, Lena closes her left hand into a half-fist.

“Good, good. Now the right.”

Lena groans, shutting her eyes, willing herself to slip out of consciousness again.

“I know, I know,” Alex says, insistent. “Just don’t move your arm, okay? Only your fingers. Come on, squeeze. As hard as you can.”

Lena does it. It takes effort, but doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would.

“Good.” Alex pulls out a pen and holds it up to Lena’s eyeline. “Now can you follow this for me?” And Lena probably could, but she really doesn’t want to right now. 

“Alex…” Kara calls out hesitantly. “Come on, she’s tired.”

“This is important, Kara.”

“I know. But she needs her rest.”

Alex sighs and shakes her head. “Don’t make me kick you out of the room.”

There’s an audible creak of wood, as Kara’s grip tightens on the back of a chair. Alarmed, Kara immediately snatches her hands away, crossing her arms tightly against her chest instead. She lets Alex conduct the rest of her checkup in silence.

Lena tries to offer Kara a comforting smile. It hurts her entire face.

—

“I’m giving you another dose of painkillers, so you can get some sleep,” Alex says, adjusting some thing or another by Lena’s bed. “We can pick this up again tomorrow, okay?”

Lena lets out a grunt, eyes squinting. It didn’t seem fair, what with Alex getting to ask all her questions and Lena being denied the chance to make even one simple inquiry.

“Kara’s right. You need your rest.”

But, surely, there’d be plenty of time to rest after Lena’s gotten some answers, no? Lena tries to reason as much with another pointed grunt. Then a pleasant wave of relief hits her system, snuffing out all the louder thoughts in her head, and Lena’s unfortunately, then fortunately, and oh so very inevitably relaxing.

Kara’s back again. 

She’s holding Lena’s hand, whispering things that aren’t quite registering anymore, and Lena finds that she’s now perfectly fine with waiting another day.

No rush.

(next part here)

#disregard the 'a month ago' thing hehe #heads up; this one's gonna end up being quite the Doozy™ #angst on angst on angst ok? #my words. #made up fic title

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 6

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 6.0k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, sex with ulterior motives, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, oral sex (male and female receiving), throat fucking, spanking, clothed sex, unprotected sex, ripping clothes, degradation, throat holding (not to the degree of choking), licking, cum play, it’s nasty it’s just nASTY

I hope you don’t all hate me after this ahahahahahaha love you guys <3

☕💕 If you enjoy this work, please consider supporting me and my writing on KoFi ^^ ☕💕

-------

We must build a brighter future for PhysComs.    They are people, just like you and me, and they are severely undervalued in our society. We employ them, we rely on them, and yet, they are ignored at best, and abused at worst, with punishment and persecution waiting should they dare to speak out about the horrific injustices through which they suffer.    We cannot live in this double standard. I refuse to accept it, and I urge you to open your hearts and imagine what it would feel like to be needed but shamed. To be relied upon, but to never receive recognition for your efforts. They are people, just like us. They live among us, yet they are treated like ghosts.    As of now, Physical Companions are employed by most entertainment companies, but are given no benefits and no job security. They have only the protection of their own agencies and any underground communication they might have between each other.    These people should be respected. They should not be forced to live in the shadows.    It’s time that we acknowledge and thank these tireless workers, and provide them with some support in return for all of the support that they provide this industry.

You read over the words again and again until they become a continuous stream of overlapping thoughts, filling you with utter confusion.

What the fuck does this mean?

You look away from your ComGear and pull up the document on Namjoon’s computer again. “Jungkook!” You call out to him, your heart hammering, and the door opens enough for him to poke his head through, his eyes widened expectantly.

“Yeah?”

You hastily gesture for him to come in, your eyes glued to the screen. “Come read this. Out loud.”

He seems confused, but comes up beside you and looks over the document, murmuring as he reads. “We must build a brighter future for PhysComs…"

As he confirms by reading back to you what you’ve seen with your own eyes, your confusion heightens to a fever pitch, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Is this… an essay? About PhysComs?

“Wow,” Jungkook says softly, his eyes scanning the words in fascination. But when he turns to look at you, you can see that it isn’t fascination at all. His eyes contain something that stirs worry in your gut. “I, uh… I didn’t realize things were so bad for you.”

Pity.

No. No, this is bad. This can’t be happening.

Your brief feeling of ease at finally getting some answers vanishes in an instant as your mind becomes a whirlwind, spiraling down, down, down… You can see, clear as day, what will happen if Namjoon shows this essay to the other boys.

You’ll become someone they pity.

Pity is bad, pity isn’t hot, pity isn’t sexy, pity isn’t fuckable, pity means they’ll feel bad when you do your job, pity means they’ll use other sluts to lessen your burden, pity means they give you more fucking vacation time, pity means they’ll never look at you the same way again, pity means-

You don’t realize you’re short of breath until you’re gasping, hyperventilating, your knuckles white against the dark armrests of the chair.

Jungkook is beside you. He’s saying something but all you can hear is a high pitched whine and the thunder of your own pulse as it crashes in your ears, reminding you with every thump of your beating heart that you’re a failure.

You’ve failed.

You stand up, probably a little too fast, as your vision grows dark in the corners. Jungkook immediately goes to help you when you stumble, but you fend him off.

"I'm fine." You put a hand to your head, trying to force it to stop throbbing. "I don't need your help."

He seems hesitant to reply.

“Where is Namjoon? I-I need to-” Your voice trails off as stars swim in your vision. “Fuck…”

The room becomes blurry, and you feel weightless as you sink to the floor, the distant echo of Jungkook’s frantic voice fading into nothingness.

-------

“Some clients may become… misguided.” Madame paces in front of the class, checking everyone’s form and breathing as they lay on their backs at their stations, legs propped and parted as fucking machines train you all for stamina.

This is a relaxing class, despite the nature of it. After a while, you barely even notice the dildo sliding in and out of you, the whir of the machines becomes background noise. It’s a good chance to focus and meditate.

“They may come to hold… pity for you.” Madame bites on the word as she lowers her ever present riding crop, gently coaxing one girl’s legs further apart.

“They’ll think, aww, the poor little sluts are forced to be used. They’re being objectified. They don’t get a say.” You can barely see Madame’s arm from your position as she drags the riding crop along the girl’s thigh, and the girl shivers in pleasure.

“Pity is useless, girls. This is your job. You don’t pity the mailman for having to be out in the weather. Safety is key, and rules are in place for a reason. That’s why people never hire just one Physical Companion.”

The class snickers at this. The idea is preposterous. PhysComs are always hired in sets, proportional to the amount of clients they’ll be serving.

“You are never forced to serve your client. You are independent contractors. Anything you do for them, you do willingly. This is why we train. To broaden our capabilities, and make ourselves-” Here, she adjusts the setting on one girl’s machine. The dildo moves faster, causing the girl to let out a breathy moan.  “-as flexible as possible for our perspective clients.”

You inhale steadily as Madame examines you, her eye keen enough to pick up every detail of your posture, every twitch of your muscles. She clicks a setting on your machine and you feel the dildo expand slightly in girth, stretching you out further.

You smile and sigh at the stretch, proud to beat your previous record for time needed to move up a size. Madame’s expression gives away no approval, but you can tell from the twitch in her lip that she finds you to be a promising pupil.

She moves on, examining the next girl in line. “Our job is to assure them. To remind our clients why we are here. When we are with our clients, we are purely sexual beings.”

The girl beside you has her hands clapped to her mouth, trying desperately to conceal her noises. You can see her legs quivering and feel a twist of pride at being one of the few people eligible for an orgasm suppressant. Until you get your Opticon implanted, it’s an excellent advantage for stamina training.

Madame returns to her post at the front of the class, her sharp gaze sweeping over each of you as she continues her lecture. “If you are pitied by your client, then you have failed to make them see you as useful. Useless toys are thrown away.”

-------

Regaining consciousness is like being pulled up from the depths.

You vaguely register the softness of a bed beneath you. You blearily open your eyes, and see someone sitting at your side, their face swimming in your vision.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung pets your cheek, his large hands warm against your clammy skin, his voice is gentle. “Are you with me?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, suppressing a groan as you shove yourself onto your elbows.

“Woah, woah,” He stops you, guiding you to lay back down. “Easy there. How are you feeling?”

You feel like shit, honestly. Your head is still pounding and there’s a ringing in your ears, though the dizziness has faded significantly.

“I’m fine,” you croak, surprised at how weak your voice sounds. You wish you had the strength to shove him off, but your hands are braced uselessly on his arms.

A quick glance at your surroundings tells you that you’re back in your bedroom. How did you get here? The memories of what you discovered begin to come back to you, and with them, your sense of urgency returns. You try to push him off again. “N-need to see Namjoon...”

Taehyung shakes his head with an air of duty. “Namjoon isn’t home yet, but he said to keep you company and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.” He rearranges your arms and tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, then reaches for something on the night table and gently coaxes a straw to your lips. “Here, have some water.”

You reluctantly take a sip. You hadn't realized your throat was so dry.

He seems satisfied, and gives a nod before setting the drink down.

"What happened?” You ask with a looming sense of dread.

“You fainted,” he replies somberly.

You squint at him. “Yeah, I meant after that.”

His face brightens in understanding. “Oh! Well, Jungkook said he tried to call Namjoon as soon as you collapsed, but he didn't answer right away so he had to leave a voicemail. Then he brought you back here to your room instead. Carried you the whole way.”

There’s amusement in his eyes, though you can’t imagine what he finds funny about the situation. “It was perfect timing, so I said I’d look after you until you woke up.” He smiles warmly. “And now you’re awake.”

“What do you mean perfect timing?”

His smile falters for a moment. “Because... I just got home from shopping. See?” He says brightly, gesturing to some shopping bags sitting by your door with big name brands on them.

You also notice that your door handle is broken clean off.

“What… happened to my door?” You gape at the sight.

“Oh, I guess it must have been locked when Jungkook brought you home.” Taehyung chuckles. “I don’t think an elephant could have stopped him. You had him really worried.”

Something inside you feels warm at the notion that Jungkook would care so much.

And that warmth is immediately doused by frigid guilt.

Fuck, what are you thinking?

You’ve let them get too close, you’ve let them see your struggles, you’ve let them see you as a human being, as someone to worry about, instead of a mindless toy. Namjoon has written an entire persuasive essay about the supposed plight through which he believes you’re suffering.

You’ve become too relaxed around them. Fuck, you’re sitting here letting Taehyung fuss over you, when you should be offering him your body, sucking him dry, and letting him fuck your brains out.

That document puts things back into perspective. Letting this… tentative emotional connection that you've started with them go any further could be career ruining. Not just for you, but for the rest of their PhysComs. The dozens of Secondaries they employ could be at risk for losing their jobs too, if your clients suddenly feel guilty for using your services.

And then what? The members’ sexual drives will get out of hand. They won’t be regulated, they might stick their dick into a lucky fan and end up with a pregnancy scandal to cover up, or they’ll become tired, sluggish, and distracted due to unregulated sexual maintenance, which could affect their performance.

You are a necessary piece of their daily routine, their health, their jobs.

Vacation be damned, you are not about to let Namjoon’s blind optimism put himself, the other boys, or your own career at risk. It's for his own good.

You should have deleted the damn document when you had the chance. But it would have been too late anyway. Once they see you in that light, once they start pitying you, then that flicker of doubt will linger in their minds no matter how much you try to extinguish it.

You need to remind them of your place.

Jungkook and Namjoon are lost causes, they’ve both been exposed to the document’s propaganda. But there's still that mysterious vote they’ll be having by the end of the week, presumably about your future. That means you still have a chance. If you can convince a majority of them to view you once more as a purely sexual being…

You try to clear your head, mustering your strength to serve, but before you can ask Taehyung how he wants to use your body, he speaks.

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving.”

Your whole body tenses. You don’t like where this is going. He’s starting to sound an awful lot like Namjoon.

Taehyung seems to sense your discomfort, because he leans closer and bestows a fleeting kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s time for you to receive.” His eyes are warm as he stares down at you, and he holds a glimmer of something secretive in his smile, like he just told a private joke.

Your confusion grows. “Taehyung… what are you talking about?”

“He’ll be here any minute,” he says by way of an answer, and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Just relax, jagiya. You deserve this.”

“What do you-?”

But before you can question what he means and why he’s acting so strangely, your door swings open, and Min Yoongi enters.

“Here to take over,” he says, his mouth and nose still covered by the same black mask from earlier.

Taehyung looks surprised, almost shocked. “Where’s Jimin? He was supposed to-”

“Asked me to come instead.” Yoongi lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Said something about not feeling right.”

You look between the two of them. Taehyung’s mouth flaps like a fish and Yoongi sighs, coming over to take his place. “Come on, you’ve been up here for hours.”

Hours? What time is it? You reach for your ComGear and find that it’s not in your utility belt.

“No, but Jimin is supposed to-” 

Oh, there it is. Plugged in, resting on your night table. Maybe Jungkook saw that the battery was low. That boy is way too considerate.

“Why don’t you go check on him, then?” Yoongi doesn’t give Taehyung any room for argument, staring him down. “I think he went to the practice room.” 

Why is it on the settings screen? Shouldn’t it still be in your emails from earlier…? Weird.

Taehyung reluctantly stands up and takes a few steps towards the door, shifting his weight with uncertainty. He looks to you, then back at Yoongi. “But she was about to ask me something.”

You put aside your ComGear, pushing away any prior thoughts to focus on your mission. “It’s okay, we’ll talk later,” you assure him with a nod, your mind whirring into action.

You have to remind five men of your place as their personal sex slave, if all goes well. The order in which you remind them of this is inconsequential. Plus it might be more effective to go for Taehyung later. He may be less eager to fuck you after nursing you back to health.

But Yoongi… you haven’t seen him since earlier in the day. Yoongi doesn't have feelings for you. Yoongi’s only ever known you as a slut, which makes him an easy target.

Taehyung doesn’t look happy about leaving, but he nods, retrieves his shopping bags from the floor, and gives both of you a final glance before shutting the door.

You wait just long enough to know Taehyung is out of earshot. Yoongi walks over to your vanity, takes off the jacket he’d been wearing and drapes it over the back of the chair, leaving himself in a plain black t-shirt and black sweatpants.

While he isn’t looking, you carefully sit up and shed your oversized hoodie, leaving you topless. Time to get back to business.

You take a deep breath and slip into your persona. It feels good to wear it again, you feel less dizzy, more focused. Ready to fuck.

“Did you miss me, Master Min?”

Yoongi freezes, his back to you. You suppress a laugh. You know you’ve caught him off-guard.

“I’m sorry?” He tugs down his face mask and turns around, only to see you in nothing but a pair of leggings, perched prettily on the edge of your bed. His eyes widen only marginally, but it’s a big reaction, coming from him. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head to the side and cover your breasts with your hands, groping and squeezing them together. “What do you think I’m doing, Master?” You bite your lower lip, keeping eye contact with him while you feel yourself, rolling a nipple between your fingers. “You always tell me to show off my pretty body.”

Yoongi looks off to the side, averting his eyes to your actions, but the tent forming in his pants tells you he didn’t look away soon enough. “Stop fucking around. You're suspended.” He says, echoing your words from earlier in the day.

You hum in agreement, a pout forming on your lips. “Mm, but I don’t want to be.” You let out a desperate, breathy sigh. “I want to be filled with your cock, Master. I need it.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob. His weight shifts. His lips press together. Every movement you analyze for signs of weakness. It’s like playing chess.

“I know you want me, Master,” you purr, sprawling back onto the bed. You bring one hand down to your core, massaging your mound through the stretchy material. “I’m yours for the taking. No one has to know.”

"Is that what you really want?" He asks with a distinct note of skepticism.

You bristle, but try to hide your irritation. Here they go again with their fucking consent.

“Yes, of course, Master.” You mold your face into submissive desire. “It's my dream to be a good little slut for you. Being stuffed with your thick cock, pounded into the mattress, and pumped full of your seed,” you whine, grinding against your hand for effect. It feels good, better than usual, and you come to find that you mean what you said. 

Sex actually sounds good right now, if you’re being honest. A good fucking might be just what you need to forget your worries, so it’s really a win-win.

You sense Yoongi’s hesitance, and you try to think of a way to convince him that you’re serious. The only off-the-clock sex you’ve had so far was with Hoseok, and that had been… far too intimate. But maybe some of the same principles could apply here. Hoseok had wanted you to want it. He’d asked you to use his name.

“Yoongi,” you breathe his name, dropping your character for just a moment. His eyes snap to yours. “I want you.”

He stares at you for a second. Two. Then he’s hovering over you, hands planted on either side of your shoulders.

“You want me?” His breath is warm and heavy, and you can see the way his pupils dilate when he looks at you.

Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected intensity. You nod, your lips slightly parted as he holds his body only inches away from you.

He seems at war with himself, his jaw working as his eyes roam down to your chest, then travel slowly back up, settling on your widened eyes, your pink bitten lips.

"Fuck it," he mutters, and surges down to crush his lips to yours.

It's unexpected. He's never shown any interest in kissing you, he's always preferred shoving his fingers in your mouth.

But you're grateful for that, because if he'd ever tried to kiss you before, you don't think you would've been able to keep your composure.

Yoongi is like fire. His lips are searing with passion, his tongue flickers and licks into your mouth. It's a stark contrast to his icy fingers as they brush against your ribs.

He's full of contradictions. His kiss is greedy but controlled. He grinds his thigh between your legs, causing you to moan, but his hands are feather light as they caress your breasts. He's fire and ice.

You feel yourself getting hotter by the minute, and all too soon, he breaks away from the kiss, leaving you gasping as he trails his mouth down your neck, biting a bruise there.

"Ah! Yoongi…" Your fingers twine through his hair of their own accord, and you're appalled at how easily you've given in to your desires. But it's all for the cause. You're saving careers.

He groans, his voice low and tempting as he kisses and licks your skin. "You really want me, princess?"

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. "Yes. Fuck, yes, please…"

"You want me to fuck that greedy cunt of yours? Fill you to the brim?"

His words light a fire in you, and you writhe beneath him. "I want it so much, Master. Please fuck me…"

He grabs your jaw. "You're my slut."

He says it more like a question than a statement. You nod as much as he'll allow.

He drags his thumb across your cheek and dips it into your mouth. "You're mine. I can use you however I want…"

You didn't think he'd be so easy to convince. Well, mission accomplished, you suppose. One down, four to go.

You suck greedily on his thumb in answer, widening your eyes to draw him in. He hums, pressing down on your tongue and making you gag around the digit.

"Good girl." His eyes are half lidded as he looks at you. Then something changes, a sharp glint appearing in his gaze as he removes his thumb and squeezes your jaw, forcing your mouth open.

He licks past your lips in a kiss of complete dominance. Despite his control, he's gentle, savoring your taste, praising you for it between breaths.

While your mouth is occupied, his other hand snakes down to cup your heat, palming you through your frustratingly thin leggings. His dexterous fingers find your clit faster than you would expect, and he circles the pads of his fingers there intently, nothing but the thin material separating him from your skin.

You buck into his hand, though you hope he doesn't keep you there for too long. You know the ache between your thighs will only get worse with no release.

"So fucking wet…" he mutters, pulling back from exploring your mouth to lick a possessive stripe up your cheek. "Tell me how much you want me, slut. Beg for it."

"Please!" You whine, falling into the familiar routine. "Please, Master, all I want is your cock inside me! I need it, I want it so badly…"

Yoongi exhales through his nose, and soon he's up and off of you. "All fours."

This is what you're used to. The familiarity of being told what to do, knowing what's going to happen next, it makes you relax. You get in the position he asks, wiggling your ass towards him.

But Yoongi needs no encouragement. He spanks you hard, rubbing his hands all over the smooth material covering your ass. "Fuck, so juicy…"

He's silent for a moment, and his hands still. You're about to say something to provoke him when there's the distinct noise of ripping fabric behind you. Your hips jerk towards him as he tears the seam of the leggings right down your core, exposing you.

"Yoongi!"

But he's already digging in, dragging his tongue along your folds and sucking at your dripping cunt. His hands grip your ass, spreading you apart for him, and you quiver, his tongue igniting sparks as it plunges within you.

You try not to let it get to you, but the lack of constant sex must have made you extra sensetive. Every thrust and flicker of his tongue has you breathless, squirming, needing more. It was never like this before, you have to pull yourself together. Keep control.

But Yoongi seems to like your enthusiasm. He hums, and the vibrations buzz at your clit, sending tingles straight up your spine. You let out a shriek of surprise as he sucks on the overly sensitive bud and you feel yourself throb.

Fuck, he's too good at this. How did he get so good at this? Your arms give out, and you fall onto the bed, your face buried in the duvet as Yoongi fucks you expertly with his tongue.

"S-stop…" you plead weakly, trying to avoid the inevitable disappointment that will soon follow if he keeps this up.

"What? I didn't hear you use your safeword, slut." He growls, landing a warning spank on your rear ashe rises onto the bed behind you. A shuffle of fabric as he pulls down his sweatpants. "You like this, don't you? You like being exposed. Being treated like a pornstar? Dirty girl."

You do. Fuck, you do. Especially when Min Yoongi happens to be the actor starring with you.

You feel him tap the head of his cock against your ass, slide the thick length along your center. "Look at how fucking wet you are already. So desperate... pathetic."

You feel a flash of heat at his assessment. Yoongi's always enjoyed a little degradation, but his choice of words hits a little too close to home in this particular scenario for you to fully embrace it.

You cover your embarrassment with a thicker cloud of pretend. "Of course I'm dripping, Master. I'm your fuck doll. I live to service your cock..."

"Damn right, you do." He shoves into you without warning, and you gasp for real. Fuck, you've been denied dick for less than twenty-four hours, and you're already off your game? Come on, shake it off. Get in the rhythm of it.

But Yoongi sets such a relentless pace, it's impossible for you to keep up. It's as if he's got something to prove. He fucks into you so hard it hurts. You moan and try to relax, try to cling to the familiarity, but you feel a weird pressure building in your chest. It makes it hard to breathe, hard to focus.

He takes your moans and gasps as a sign to go harder, and he leans over you, pressing his chest to your back. His hand slips around your neck, holding you in place while he growls against you, his nose digging into your cheek. "Gonna fuck the living shit outta you… yeah? That's what you want? Gonna make you see stars and beg for my cock, over and over until I say so."

You moan in gratitude. You're grateful he's so easy to convince. You're his slut, and he knows it. This is where you belong. You feel happy. Safe. You smile, closing your eyes as Min Yoongi fucks into you like a freight train, and you finally get a moment’s peace from the past day’s turmoil.

He suddenly grunts, lifting himself off of you. "This cock belongs in your filthy mouth." He pulls out of you and takes you firmly by the shoulder. You hastily follow his implications to sit up.

He grabs his cock at the base and guides it to your face, nudging your cheek and spreading the coated wetness across your skin. You get a glimpse of his length - rock hard, nearly purple, and leaking - before he stuffs it down your throat. You relax, humming and taking all of him and gagging obediently upon request, just like always.

"Such a good whore, yeah…  just like that," he moans, bracing his hand behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "This is how it should be, yeah?"

You hum around him in confirmation, glad that you're both on the same page.

"You're our slut. Nothing will ever fucking change that… " he starts rutting into your mouth, and you obediently let him fuck your throat.

He huffs, his voice dropping lower, “No use pretending you can be anything else.”

The change in his tone of voice is so stark, it gives you pause. You almost lose your concentration. He sounds almost... sad? Why would he be sad? Are you doing something wrong?

You redouble your efforts to please him.

"Look at you. So filthy." He praises you softly as you gurgle around him, drool starting to leak from your mouth. His roughness starts to return at the sight of you, and you beam with pride as he resumes his filthy dialogue. "This is what you want, isn't it? To choke on our dicks all day, huh? This what you signed up for?"

He pulls out to let you gasp in a breath, then shoves right back down. He does this a few more times, letting the blowjob get sloppy. You nod desperately between thrusts, assuring him of your devotion. You graze your hands over his clothed thighs, caressing him while he fucks your throat.

“Nothing else matters.” Yoongi huffs, and as his face swims back in forth in your vision, he looks resolute.

You surge forward to hold his length down your throat, swallowing around him, your nose touching his abdomen.

He groans, pulling your hair taut and holding you in place. "Yeah, that's it…. You were built for this, weren't you?"

He finally lets you come back for air, but no sooner do you take a messy gasp than he pushes you backwards onto the bed and crawls on top of you.

"Say it." He grabs you by the jaw again, and his voice is low and soft, his eyes like hot coals. "Tell me what you want."

You sputter and gasp, still reclaiming your breath, but obediently say what he wants to hear. "I want you, Yoongi. I want your cock..."

He let go of your face and hoists your legs up, bending you in half. "You're gonna get it, too," he mutters, grabbing your calves, keeping them up and out of the way as he shoves his thick cock into you again.

You moan compliantly, gasping and staring up at him. This is all going according to plan, you just have to hang on and not let your throbbing pussy distract you from the goal.

"You want to be a whore, huh?" He asks, maintaining a gravitational sort of eye contact as he slowly slides in and out of you, torturing you. "Cum for me. Cum around my cock."

You shiver and within a few moments, clench around him convincingly, letting your eyes roll back as you moan in delight.

"Cumming on command, within seconds... look at that." He braces your legs with one arm and starts rubbing your clit with his other hand as he picks up the pace. You feel a jolt as his thumb circles the little bundle of nerves, and you actually flinch.

"So sensitive." He growls, reading your mind. "What a needy cunt."

You can't form any words, the way he's kneading your clit has your head thrown back, your breath coming in gasps. It’s never felt like this.

Yoongi picks up on your arousal, and quickly gains speed, fucking you relentlessly, with little grunts of his own as he keeps you spread wide open for him, watching as your pussy takes his cock over and over again.

After endless minutes of stimulation, your core is swollen and aching, but still somehow desperate for more.

Yoongi's hips buck and stutter, and without warning, he leaves you painfully empty, clenching around nothing. His cock in his fist, he pumps himself to completion, letting his seed cover your puffy, aching pussy.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it…" he grunts, using his cock head to smear his release along your folds.

You start to relax, trying to overcome the disappointment your body feels at getting frustratingly uselessly stimulated.

But before you know it, Yoongi is lining himself up with your entrance again. "You thought we were done?" He chuckles darkly, using his cock to collect cum around your entrance, then he sheathes himself to the hilt with a low groan.

It feels so fucking good, you can't think straight. You cry out, your body desperate and screaming for more but knowing it's not enough, and it'll never be enough.

"Yeah, you want it deep inside you, don't you, you little cum slut?" He mutters, shoving his fingers into your mouth, and you're grateful that he's muffling your embarrassing noises.

"Gonna fuck you like the worthless little whore you are," he barks, ruthlessly slamming into you, and you moan with every thrust.

You would have said something if you still had an ounce of coherent thought in your brain, but the sensations are quickly taking over. Your whole body is wound up, desperate for something. His fingers reach down to rub hastily at your swollen clit and your vision blurs, your pulse pounds in your ears - are you going to faint again?

No.

You peak.

A scream catches in your throat, broken and gutterel as pleasure takes over your entire body, coursing through you in waves, lifting your body off the bed, convulsing, throbbing through you, inside and out.

It feels so good it hurts. You want to stay in this moment, extend it for as long as possible, but you know there's something wrong. Your mind is so addled, you're scared, terrified, before you even remember why.

You shouldn’t be capable of climax. Something’s wrong.

Yoongi keeps fucking you, grunting as you clench around his cock, but you're clawing at him, begging him to stop, tears leaking down your cheeks. Something’s wrong.

He realizes you aren't moaning anymore, but wailing. Sobbing. Something's wrong. He pulls out of you, shouting to be heard above your panic. He looks scared. Guilty.

Just then your door bursts open, and Jimin enters the room with a shout, quickly followed by Taehyung.

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

Taehyung’s mouth falls open, and he appears too alarmed to speak, apart from a very small, “Fuck.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What’s your fault?” Yoongi’s shouts at Jimin and Taehyung are drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears as your shoulders shake from dry sobs. Your eyes flash between the two younger members, their guilty expressions, and you remember your private conversation with Jimin just yesterday.

"There is a way to turn it off, in case of emergency side effects. But I can't just turn it off for fun. You have to understand that.” You rest your hand on his shoulder again, hoping he now comprehends the reason for your earlier outburst. “It's a part of my job."

"I understand. Sorry,” he says, giving you a small nod. He twists his mouth to the side, chewing over the revelations. "That must really suck. Not being able to cum."

He’s the only one you’ve ever told.

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-”

Your ComGear. The settings.

You're too shocked, too betrayed, too sore to get up on your own. You feel some of Yoongi’s release drip down your leg, and a robotic voice fills your mind, drilled into you from the hours of safety lectures you’d had to sit through during training.

… If at any point the user experiences orgasmic sensations before, during, or after sexual activities, then this may be a sign of malfunction in the Opticon Miracle Implant, rendering the user susceptible to sexually transmitted disease and/or pregnancy. Side effects of a malfunctioning Opticon Miracle Implant could become severe, or in some cases life-threatening, if left untreated. Please consult your local physician and refrain from any sexual activity until the Opticon Miracle Implant may be examined by a specialist.

They’re all shouting now, and you feel your throat constrict in horror at the implications of what just happened. The words get caught in your chest, bubbling up with your mounting fear, and finally fall from your lips in a raw cry for help.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #bts fic rec #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield Bingo- Soulmate/Ones

First entry for the game! I headcannon Bilbo to be about 14-15 in this in human terms. Remember, if I don’t get any asks, I will choose the next one for tomorrow! I hope you guys enjoy.

Title: The Souls of the Feet

Summary: Hobbits have soulmates and while Bilbo always tried to avoid finding his, it seems that his soulmate found him instead. 

Amongst the scholars and philosophers of Middle Earth, the oldest and, most likely, well worn debate stems from the location of a being’s soul. Depending on which race is being asked, the answer differs greatly. Take the men for example, hardy and hopeful, and they believe that the answer lies in the gut. After all, ‘gut instinct’ must arise from somewhere, and surely food must power both the body and the soul. 

However, if the question is posed to an elf, immortal and elegant, they would argue that the soul must rest in the chest along with the heart and the lungs. All necessary for sustaining life in this world. Loud scoffs would come from the dwarrows, secret and proud, who know that the forging of one's craft is the most soulful experience one can have, and that would be in the large hands Mahal gifted them with.

All are logical arguments and definitely merit consideration. Still, all wrong in the eyes of a hobbit. The poor, simplistic creatures believe the soul resides in their feet. As if their claim was not peculiar enough, they state it as an absolute certainty. The Big Folk just smile and indulge the hobbits with a pat on their head, and it’s this level of cynicism that keeps them from knowing the secret truth of the Shire.

Yavanna, in all her wisdom, granted hobbits the ability of knowing their soul mates. With the feet that touch the earth blessed by the Green Lady, to be touched on the foot ties a string of fate between those two souls. Always feeling, always knowing, exactly where to find their soulmate so long as their feet still walk the earth.

Because of this, the care and attention to their feet was almost sacred. To touch another’s foot with ill intention was seen as downright criminal in the Shire.

Now, accidents happen and it is by the will of Yavanna whether those people pursue a romantic relationship or just remain touched by fate. Bilbo Baggins, a young hobbit of twenty-six, was not about to take the chance. 

He kept mostly to himself and away from the other tweens. More interested in chasing imaginary elves and fairies in the woods as a child, he now took walking holidays across the whole of the Shire spending his free time reading his books and his maps from the treetops. He never saw a problem with his self-instilled isolation. His parents fretted, and his father especially questioned how he was to find his soulmate if he kept to himself? However, Bilbo figured his soulmate would find him when the time was right. 

It was on one such day that Bilbo was lazing in a low branch over the river. Turned facing the trunk, his head was cradled by the leaves and berries. His right foot bent up at the knee, while his left swung freely below. Lost in the inked words of heroes and magic, Bilbo was completely oblivious to his surroundings. So when something brushed against his hanging foot, he sat up nearly dropping his book.

“Excuse me.” A voice called up as the person reached up and grabbed Bilbo’s foot to gain his attention.

Bilbo released a loud shriek as he jumped to his feet backing away. His foot! Someone touched his foot! In such distress, he seemed to have completely forgotten that he was in a tree, and there was really no place for him to go but down. His stomach flew to his throat as he was completely weightless for a small moment. Then he was plunged into the Brandywine.

If there had ever been Stoor blood in his genealogy, it had died out long ago as Bilbo sunk like a rock beneath the current. His lungs and nose burned as he wildly kicked and flailed hoping in vain to reach the surface. His head broke through for only a moment, and he gulped in air while he could.

“HOLD ON!”

Bilbo barely heard the roaring voice before he was plunged back below. His chest ached with desperation, and he was so tempted just to open his mouth and be done with it. Then he collided with something solid. His limbs instinctively wrapped tight in the hope of salvation even as his eyes refused to open.

Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t sure how he got onto the banks. One moment, he was fighting against the rushing waters, and the next he was on his hands and knees. Spluttering, coughing, hacking as water and snot ran down his face. His limbs shook as the fear wore off enough for the exhaustion of his journey to seep in.

“Are you alright?”

There was a warm hand on his back that made Bilbo look up. Blue. He was drowning once more. Numbly words tumbled from his mouth.

“My foot.”

A soft frown touched the being’s face, and Bilbo was able to break away from his eyes long enough to take in the sharp nose, short dark beard, long soft locks to match, and the large hands that were common among Aule’s children. A dwarf? The dwarf looked down at his foot, and Bilbo was now consciously aware of the deep throb resonating through his sole. The dwarf reached down taking his foot in hand, and Bilbo released a gasp.

Sweet Yavanna, he didn’t know that one could feel waves of pure bliss in this way. It was as if the sun had been gone without him even knowing, and he finally was feeling its warmth for the first time. His body went limp, and he turned his head so he could get a good look at his soulmate. His soulmate. He wanted to be annoyed by his method of contact, but he was too mesmerized by the beautiful creature to care about the accidental touching.

He was large. From his broad shoulders to his mannish hands down to his sculpted chest that his wet tunic clung desperately. Wet tunic? Bilbo grinned brightly as he realized it was the dwarf that saved him from the river. His brave, handsome, kind soulmate. If Bilbo weren’t still technically a minor, he would propose right here on the spot.

“Did that hurt?” The dwarf questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Hurt?” Bilbo laughed. “It felt incredible. Here, let me.”

He sat up and reached over for the dwarf’s feet only to stop short at the sight of the dark squared monstrosities hiding his soulmate’s feet. His confusion must have been written on his face because the dwarf spoke up once more.

“You...want me to remove my boots?”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded, his brow still furrowed.

The dwarf hesitated, but under Bilbo’s putout expression, slowly complied with the request. Bilbo’s jaw dropped aghast to see another layer of wool underneath the dreaded leather beasts. His plight seemed to amuse the dark haired dwarf as he huffed a laugh before removing the woolen socks as well.

Bilbo laughed in incredulous delight. They were so dainty and smooth! He reached out towards one only to hesitate and look up for the dwarf’s permission. His blue eyes tore straight through him as if trying to discern his every possible intention before finally giving a small curious nod.

Bilbo’s touch was revenant, and his heart immediately ached. There was so much pain in his dwarf’s poor soul. The pain of loss brought tears to Bilbo’s eyes. However, there was also a fluttering of hope. It was beautiful and noble and built on limitless dreams of glory and a far off calling of home. Yes, Bilbo’s dwarf was a good one indeed. 

He began to rub the foot exactly as his mother told him in order to soothe the pain. Thorin tensed for a moment before letting go with a sigh. Bilbo smiled, happy to do this one small thing for his sweet soulmate. He didn’t know if it was normal to be this attached, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to rub until contentment settled into the dwarf’s bones.

“What did you do?” He asked softly when Bilbo finally, reluctantly released him.

“I merely dulled the pain and reminded your soul of better times.” Bilbo answered.

“I didn’t even know I had such aches; long has been my journey.”

“It was the least I could do. I mean...you did save my life.” Bilbo ducked his head shyly.

A large hand reached up and ruffled his curls.

“It was the least I could do, Little One. After all, it was my fault you fell in the first place.”

Bilbo was nearly vibrating with the attention until he caught the dwarf’s pet name.

“Little?! I am practically an adult.” He complained.

The dwarf snorted as he proceeded to cover his feet once more. Something else that caused Bilbo displeasure.

“My nephews would say much the same.”

“You have nephews?” Bilbo jumped eager to know more of his soulmate. “How old are they?”

“Let’s see...the younger one just turned...fifty-two, I believe. Which would make the eldest fifty-seven.”

Bilbo blinked owlishly at the dwarf wondering at the purpose behind this jest, but he did nothing to deny it as he laced his boots back up. As it settled around him, Bilbo came to the realization that the dwarf was being one hundred percent serious. Just how old was his soulmate?!

“And what about you? I would imagine on the frontside of fifty. Forty-seven? Forty-eight?”

“Twenty-six.” Bilbo murmured still reeling from the apparent longevity of dwarves.

The dark haired dwarf’s jaw dropped as his face paled. 

“Twenty...by Mahal! We need to get you back to your parents right away!” 

Bilbo’s face turned crimson as the implication that he was but a young faunt, but then the dwarf took his hand in his, and Bilbo stayed his tongue as he found he enjoyed the sensation. It was incredible to him that dwarves’ hands were so large when their feet were so cute and small. Exactly opposite of a hobbit. It was like Yavanna and Aule planned for them to compliment each other. Bilbo took advantage of the situation and laced their fingers together as he swung the limbs back and forth. The dwarf, Bilbo still had not learned his name, allowed him with an indulgent smile. Wait. Bilbo still did not know his name.

“What’s your name?” He asked immediately seeking the blue orbs for answers.

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain. How about you, Little One?”

Bilbo clearly was not about to lose that nickname anytime soon.

“Bilbo Baggins.” He responded.

“Bilbo.” Thorin repeated fondly.

Bilbo repressed the urge to shiver at how his name sounded in Thorin’s velvety voice. Trying to distract himself from his desire to press closer, Bilbo began to prattle on, telling Thorin all about his home and the Shire in general. He talked about his desires for adventure and his cosy smial. He talked for so long, wanting to share every detail of himself with Thorin that he wasn’t even aware they were home until he walked straight into the gate.

“I suppose this is where I leave you, Little One.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. Leave? Why would Thorin leave?

“I must return to my home now.” Thorin explained in amusement.

Bilbo ducked his head not realizing he had asked his questions aloud.

“Will you come back?” He begged already hating the distance between them.

“I may.” Thorin smirked.

Bilbo’s grin split his face as he leaned up and placed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Thorin watched completely bewildered.

“Good. Because I have chosen you.”

“Chosen me for what?”

“To be mine.” Bilbo answered honestly.

The dwarf looked confused but still managed to draw a small smile to his face.

“Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I’ll be waiting! Thorin, son of Thrain!” Bilbo declared waving enthusiastically to the dwarf as he departed down the hill.

Bilbo was able to feel every step he took further and further away from him. It was like a tug on the very soul of his feet. Uncomfortable and strained. It made Bilbo want to run down after the dwarf, and never let him go. However, he could wait. He would become of age soon enough, and then he would chase off into the wilderness after that dwarf. He just didn’t know the wait would be longer than he would ever know. Long enough for him to all but forget about the insistent tug that demanded his attention away from the Shire. However, Bilbo was quickly reminded when for the first time in twenty-five years, the tug eased in its pull indicating his dwarf was finally coming back for him. Now if only he could get this pesky wizard to leave him alone so he could prepare...

#bagginshield bingo #bagginshield #thilbo #ones/soulmates #get it...'soul of the foot' #:D #the nose kiss...literally one of my favorite parts

[mintchocohip]

Hi love, would it be alright if I requested an overstimulation oneshot with Joonie? Thanks a lot

➤ pairing: namjoon x reader | wordcount: 2.5k

➤ kink: light overstimulation, vocal!joonie

➤ notes: is namjoon a sub in this fic? possibly. first-time-together pwp and light fluff! 

“Don’t stop,” your gasp hiccups—you can sense that there’s one final pulse filling the hastily rummaged-for condom through Namjoon’s instant, amazed silence—“keep going. Don’t stop.” The man on top of you manages a long, slow, instinctual finishing thrust. “Don’t stop.”

The wait is excruciating.

You slit your eyes open to watch Namjoon’s stupid bliss fade. He’s a silhouette. Night dropped fast. Eyelids shake in the dim light; blue is curving around his face to suggest soft features. His brows lower. Namjoon closes his flushed, parted lips. He’s close enough to pull down into a kiss. You’re too hypnotized by the sparkle on his teeth and the impression that his cheeks must be rosy to try. 

Beams of pink and purple sunset colored your neighbor’s apartment doorway a few hard, fast minutes ago. Namjoon realized he was staring at your lips after conversation about his university linguistics courses petered into silence. He snapped his eyes up. You smiled. Namjoon swallowed nervously, but his breath was heavy with intrigue when he started to lean in before quickly glancing up to check your expression. It’s cute that he got so embarrassed when you showed him you want the same thing.  

Everything in this bedroom full of succulents and laden bookshelves is glowing with slivers of blue hour that have managed to filter in behind light-blocking curtains. It feels like a dream. You fix a tighter grasp onto the back of Namjoon’s neck and brush some of the damp hair off his slicked forehead.  

You aren’t impatient. The hand on the back of his neck is still gripped down firmly. Your legs are wrapped around his hips. You can wait for him to regain his composure.  

“Come on, baby,” you try not to exhale it through grit teeth when you wait, and wait, and nothing is happening—“come on. Keep going. Don’t stop. I'm close. Give me more.” 

Namjoon’s elbow dropped to the side when he started to gasp. You wanted to savor those beautiful noises. He was so quiet up until that precious moment. Despite your attempts to collect yourself enough to speak and tell him to stay inside convincing yourself that it was better to whisper “come for me, baby. Get loud for me—” was instantaneous as soon as you heard the faintest rasp of a moan. 

Luckily, Namjoon isn’t moving. The hand planted on the back of his neck stays firm. Your other hand strokes his temple. You’re curling a devious smile at him and hoping he sees it as his eyes start to open.

“Fuck,” you laugh when an attempt to pet his naked shoulder instantly slicks your hand down onto his bicep, “you sweat a lot.” You pull your knees in to give yourself a cloudy rush of weak-muscled thighs and warmth falling up your body—and to remind Namjoon you’re locked around him.

“Sorry.” Namjoon blinks hard and shakes his head like he just realized where he is. “Yeah. Sorry. If I. Uh. Dripped. On you.” It’s a mild summer night. The A/C in his room is equally tepid.

“I love the sweat. I really love it.”

“Oh.” Namjoon glances down to check out his shimmery chest. “Thanks.” Clarity is spreading over his features. Light shines over his eyes as he searches the darkness. 

“Don’t stop. I’m close.” 

“Don’t stop?”

“You heard me. I must’ve said it ten times, baby.” 

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow down and he swallows hard like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying.  

“Sorry. I didn’t hear. Okay. One second. Just need to. Um.”

“Want to stop?”

“No.” 

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt too much for you? Doing it like this? You can use your fingers instead.”

“Um. One second.”

Pressure shifts. A satisfied gasp drops your head back into the mattress.

“Fuck—” The world was already lifted, but as Namjoon lifts himself up and readjusts his position in an awkward shuffle of limbs it rises higher. “Good, baby. Don’t stop,” you claw the nape of his hair when you feel his—shockingly liquid; shockingly skilled—hips angle until thighs press fresh against your ass. “Don’t stop. When I say don’t stop,” short, ragged fingernails dig into the back of Namjoon’s neck as a tepid movement inside of you shivers down to your curling toes, “I mean don’t stop. You were fucking me hard before you came.” A growl in your voice is the side-effect of pleasure. And expectation. “You can fuck me hard after. Can’t you?”

A puff of air hits your cheek. It tickles. You want to laugh; you swallow down the urge. If Namjoon needed to exhale a sound of self-encouragement he has every right to.  

“Okay.” Namjoon nods. “Okay.” Springs creak. Namjoon’s breath is rhythmic again, the way it got right before he came—“Shit.” Skin slaps—you suck in a breath and slide your ankles together. 

“Thank you,” your senses are teetering back into the blurs of color you were tasting before Namjoon needed a moment, “good.” The last word is a faint whisper. “Perfect.”

Momentum builds slowly. A faintness in your muscles and a warmth under your skin was almost forgotten; despite the little gasp he just sucked in Namjoon is doing an amazing job of bringing it back for you. 

“Just like that. Just like that. Why is it so big,” you’re grateful he looked sweet and hot apologizing needlessly about his inability to remember where he put his condoms that it made you ache harder until he was ready and asking if his somewhat unwieldy length was in too deep, “good…” you talk nonsense until you lose the will to say something that isn’t fuck—“...you’re still hard, aren’t you? But, even if you weren’t... big enough to stay inside...”

Your eyes open. Namjoon's whole body just shook. Hard. 

Between your own shudder from your chest down to your cunt and a rush of your throaty moans in your ear that sound like a stranger it’s impossible to notice how hoarse and strained Namjoon’s breathing is. You knew you were close, but it feels like he barely had to try. 

“Is that you, or me?” You can’t let yourself question whether or not you just heard Namjoon whimper. Focusing on anything but shutting off your brain isn’t important right now. Still, your mouth gasps out freeforming thoughts before you can shoo them away. “Was that you, baby? A whimper... It sounded so pretty...”

The things you say when you’re about to come are always some stream-of-conscious praise festival. Namjoon must be appreciating it, because he’s finding a new angle and pushing harder.

“You’re really hot,” praise sounds vaguely like a threat now that you’re this close and frustrated by a tantalizing glimpse, “really hot. Fuck. Baby, really... Whenever I saw you. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like naked and tied... up... uh...” you’re glad you just got bowled over by a wave of breathtaking heat. Pleasure tugs your senses out of your body and leaves you with visions of sparks to keep you entertained until you can conceptualize how amazing that just felt.

Starry curtains flutter away slowly. Darkness behind your eyes reveals itself. An aftershock tries to double you over but all it can do while you’re flat on your back is freeze up midway through squeezing Namjoon down onto your body. Fluttering motionless, you hold him, and wait.   

“That was...” You realize your cunt is sharing some of your body’s resources again because you’re ungripping a handful of Namjoon’s back willingly. Your arms drop and you slide your legs out onto the cool sheets. “Good, baby.” You smile consciously. 

A piece of popcorn at the bottom of the bag just popped. Neon orange, and flaring. That’s what it feels like. Namjoon flies off your body and lands with a dry thwip onto the sheets somewhere to your left.

You listen to your laugh fading into a contented sigh. Muffled heat in your ears is clearing away to reveal layers. Namjoon is sucking in slow breaths. Birds have stopped talking outside. Opening your eyes to a black ceiling slashed with grey is a wave of confusion. The blue hour has faded into pure night. You roll your head and glance at the man on the bed next to you. It gives you a broad view of a bedroom that has abandoned shape and the lines of furniture and electronics into a deeper darkness. The headset Namjoon hung on the back of his chair earlier while rummaging through the desk is staring a pinpoint of green light at you.  

A part of the soothing darkness. That’s what you feel like. You were sitting up formless and weightless to crawl over Namjoon and give his shoulder a kiss. The journey pauses. An arm just slid out towards you. Fingertips are pressing against your forearm.

“I’m tired,” Namjoon states.

“Oh. Okay. Not in the mood for cuddles?”

“Cuddles?” Namjoon’s shadowed body turns towards where you’re half-laying, half-sitting on the sheets next to him.

Everything smells like sex. Sex, and linen sheets that’ve been broken in by a few months of hot, sweaty nights.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No. Uh... oh. Sorry. I thought maybe... you wanted to play with my cock or something."

“What,” you groan, “do you think I’m a succubus? We fucked. It was good. I really like you... I’m not going to ask for more than that, baby.” You add an addendum. “Unless you’re a naughty boy. Who needs to get punished.”

“Are... you being serious right now?”

“I...”

You stop.

It’s a bracing moment. You roll what you want to say around in your head. You don’t want Namjoon to get the wrong idea about how you feel. 

This man wandered into the apartment complex in the springtime and instantly lit up the dreary hallways with his pretty face. You were intrigued. Giving him pointers about how frequently the landlady pops in unannounced, the old lady on the second floor who’ll bake special brownies for friends who sit with her and talk about vintage cars, and where to find good dry cleaning in the area was all it took for him to cling to you. 

Sussing if Namjoon’s kinky is important to you. He gives you vibes, sometimes. Kinky vibes. You’re used to people checking out your thighs. Namjoon looks nervous when he glances at your legs. Not like he’s scared—more like he can’t let himself think too hard about what they could do to him. 

“I’m joking.” It’s the best you can manage. 

“You said... you like me?”

You blink hard. And, you give Namjoon a sudden, keen smile.

“Oh. I wasn’t joking about that. I like you a lot.”

Excitation begs you to move and keep yourself busy. You sit up and lean over Namjoon’s body to delicately stroke down the ring of the condom. Namjoon gasps as your fingers brush over the swollen tip of his cock on the downwards journey to free him.

“I really like you, too.”

“Now I want to punish you for making my heart flutter. But... damn.” Reflected light shimmers wet as you tie the condom off in the air above your tits. “You come a lot. Wow.” Before it gets tossed it into shadows welling around the bed you take a moment to squish the condom’s loaded tip between your fingers.

Namjoon sighs hard.

“Sorry,” you laugh.

“I might have come twice. It happens sometimes.”

“Impressive.”

“Nah. It’s just natural for me.”

“Do you think the Amazon rainforest isn’t impressive? Or Niagara falls? Those things are natural, but they’re still impressive.” 

Sliding your thumb over his hip bone, you gaze at Namjoon’s exhaustion while he pulls a hand up through his hair. Damp from his forehead streaks up the roots and into the mess of wisps. 

“It really is just a joke,” you sigh. “The punishment stuff... I kind of wanted to know if you’re into stuff like that, you know. See how you’d respond. Don’t take it seriously. I really do like you.”

“No. It’s fine.” The sweetness in his hushed voice muffles every word. You’ve never heard Namjoon speak this softly. Even if you’re straining to understand him, you aren’t complaining. “If… you’re bored.”

“Bored?”

“You can...”

“Use your words, Namjoon.”

You can’t see it clearly, but you have a feeling Namjoon is shooting a mild glare in your direction.

“What do I want to say,” Namjoon wonders aloud with an exhale of sarcasm. He pets the mattress with his fingertips and rolls his head to the side. Transitioning into sincerity gives his voice a shy twinge. “So. You. Like stuff like that? Making it hurt a little bit?” 

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”  

“Oh...” Namjoon swallows hard. Your eyes have adjusted to the light enough to see his dreamy expression break. “No. I forgot.”

“Let’s order takeout.”

“Oh.” Softness in Namjoon’s relaxing shoulders looks a little bit like disappointment. “Sure.”

“We’ll talk about this thing...” You were swimming circles around the urge. Getting sucked into it is a lovely feeling. It’s a weightless movement; he’s warm; not hot, not yet—you slide Namjoon into your hands and give the underhead of his cock a drag with your thumbnail. “...Later.”

The choke is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. 

Excitement and intrigue surge through your stomach and into your thighs and clear up the air around your head like Namjoon’s tiny, weak hitch of breath was bubbly refreshment. You did hear snippets of something lovely, earlier. Time was a flash. But, not all of your perceptions are fucking with you tonight.

Visions are swirling through your mind. For a moment, curiosities and desires leave you breathless. 

You only realize what you’re doing when Namjoon’s whole body pulls in. As he makes the movements of sitting up he laughs nervously and twitches a hand down his flat stomach. 

You follow the movement. You stare at where he’s attempting to touch your wrist. At some point, you started stroking Namjoon’s damp slit with your thumb. Out of boredom; out of nature.

“Takeout. Right.” Licking your lips quickly reminds you where you are. Forcibly spreading your fingers out to let go is a monumental effort to not get distracted into spending the whole night discovering what you need to do to pull beautiful moans out of this beautiful man. “Sorry.”    

“Don’t worry about me.” Namjoon is talking slightly too loud. He sits up, reaches for a pillow to wrap his elbow around awkwardly, and attempts a casual sigh. “I know how to say that it’s too much. Like, putting my hand down, I guess. I just want you to know that I like it."

“Good,” you whisper fondly. “Good to know.”

Moments shared with Namjoon always pass quickly. Catching up with each other in the apartment lobby between weekend errands is a breeze. Talking about music, the news, the stress of his school life, and your latest kickboxing match while flirting idly when you catch each other in the convenience store during late-night grocery runs is free from any stuffy ideas of obligation to small-talk with a neighbor. It just feels natural, and right. You’ve been wanting more for a while now. Maybe you were so eager to spend time with him a summer sunset passed instantaneously.

“I know a kebab place that’ll blow your mind. Let me order real quick.” You pet Namjoon’s ankle before sitting up to slide off the bed and fish your phone out of the crumpled ball of fabric that once resembled your sweatpants. “Veggies and meat, veggies and meat... Yeah, you seem good at... telling me when. Let’s talk about this more. It’s good to know, baby. Thanks for telling me,” you ramble mindlessly. “Good to know you can take it. So. Yeah. Until you say when... I won’t stop.”  

#ask #anonymous #sub!namjoon #domme!reader #namjoon x reader #mch #fic #namjoon solo

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Fractured Ice - Ch. 4/7

Xue Yang whisks a solipsistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right?

Xue Yang reaches around Lan Xichen’s head, ties the strip of white cloth over his eyes, and lies down beside him. There’s little room between them on the narrow straw mattresses, and the last thing Lan Xichen feels before he drifts off to sleep is the whisper of Xue Yang’s breath on his neck.

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M - Read on AO3! Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 5

Chapter 4 - turned all the mirrors around

It takes Lan Xichen three days to surreptitiously gather money for the trip. Upon his return from his mother’s house before Lan Qiren’s lectures, he’d noticed that the purse he kept in his rooms was gone, but it hadn’t mattered until now.

Uncle’s hidden hand, no doubt. Worried about what he’d do if he were able to escape the Cloud Recesses.

He meets Xue Yang before dawn at the gate of the Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen’s heart is beating fast. It’s thrilling, being out so late—early?, sneaking around, breaking a half-dozen rules without so much as a pang of guilt—

All right. Just one pang. Until he reminds himself that nothing matters, that if he can’t trust his own judgment, trust his own senses, then all that matters is how he feels .

Xue Yang tosses him a qiankun bag.

“Your clothes,” he says. “All right, then. Break the gate seal, and let’s get out of this miserable place before I choke to death on all the stuffiness.”

“You didn’t try to break the seal on your own, did you?”

Xue Yang shakes his head in an exaggerated display of pique. “I’m not stupid, Zewu-jun.”

Lan Xichen is examining the gate. “Did you touch it at all?”

“I leaned against it, if that’s what you mean. I was waiting for almost an hour.”

“Sit on the stairs, then!” Lan Xichen quickly draws a shining blue symbol in the air and sends it flying at the gate, but it’s too late. The talismans protecting Cloud Recesses have been upgraded since the Wen invasion, and the second a headband-less Xue Yang had touched the gate it had triggered an alarm.

“We might be able to make it—”

But it’s too late. A dozen white-robed cultivators have arrived, swords drawn, together with—

“Uncle,” Lan Xichen says, bowing deeply. So they had been watching him. Normally, Lan Qiren wouldn’t have been the one to respond to a routine perimeter alarm likely caused by one of Wangji’s wayward rabbits.

Lan Qiren gestures for the other cultivators to fall back. “Xichen, where are you going?”

Lan Xichen finds that Shuoyue is in his hand. He grips it tighter. “Just to Gusu, Uncle.”

“At this hour? Without telling me?”

“He’s the Clan Leader,” says Xue Yang. He’s twirling his hair, a gesture of pointed disrespect. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Lan Qiren looks confused at this sudden departure from courtesy from someone who had always treated him with almost cloying deference in the past.

Xue Yang puts his hands together and bows low, as if rethinking blowing his cover. “Begging Elder Lan’s pardon, of course.”

Lan Qiren turns to Lan Xichen as if Xue Yang isn’t worth his time. Xue Yang smirks slightly, but his jaw is slightly clenched. Then, almost immediately, his face smoothes itself into its usual expression of bland civility.

“Xichen, return to your chambers at once,” Lan Qiren orders. “This is unseemly. We will discuss it in the morning.”

Pressure is building in Lan Xichen’s chest.

“Xichen! Return to your room at once!”

A warmth. A blooming.

“Xichen!”

Energy is flowing through the air around him, crackling, buzzing, a thousand dots of heat and light all converging on Lan Xichen, sending a current of awful energy through him, an expulsion of pure light—

A glowing blue arc tears from his sword, striking Lan Qiren and the cultivators, sending them flying into the rocky steps, the trees, the stone path and stairs. The sound of bone breaking, of groans—

Xue Yang grabs Lan Xichen’s arm and flies off with him through the gate, setting down and landing a few times, finally settling down in the middle of the trees blanketing the mountainside, far off the path, where the rush of a small waterfall masks their voices.

The sound of breaking bone is still echoing in Lan Xichen’s ears.

“Put these on.” A white-and-gray robe is draped over his arm. “They might be a little small, but ordinary people don’t have private tailors, so it will help our story.”

Lan Xichen just stands there, staring blankly.

Xue Yang sighs and shoots him a keen look. “Worried about whether or not you killed anyone?”

“I—I—I need to go back and—check—”

“Don’t bother. I saw everything, and nobody died. Just some broken bones. Get changed.”

“White is too conspicuous,” he hears himself saying. He’s too numb—no, not numb—what is that feeling? Euphoric? Could you be both numb and euphoric?—to offer more than that.

“I thought you could travel as a priest. People help priests. I’ll be your cultivator companion. Protecting you, as it were.”

“Why white?”

Xue Yang purses his lip, then shrugs. “I thought you’d agree more readily to white…”

Lan Xichen reaches for the robes, but Xue Yang pulls away suddenly as if unwilling to let him touch them.

“You’re right. Here. I have backups.” Xue Yang hurriedly tucks the white robes away and unrolls a new set of clothes, exhibiting them to Lan Xichen as if he’s a silk merchant unrolling a bolt of expensive material for a prospective customer.

Peasant clothes.

Xue Yang watches him closely in the dusky pre-dawn light, drawing more amusement from Lan Xichen’s reaction to the clothes than Lan Xichen thinks he, Lan Xichen, has ever taken in anything in his own life.

“Don’t worry, Zewu-jun would look good in anything.” Xue Yang, who appears particularly giddy tonight, winks at him exaggeratedly, and Lan Xichen finds himself smiling despite himself at how utterly ridiculous, how utterly crazy, how absurdly out-of-control everything is.

He’d attacked his uncle, hurt the man who raised him, flung his own people into the mountain hard enough to shatter bone, and all he feels is weightless.

And sick. But mostly weightless.

Wangji attacked and badly wounded thirty-three clan elders, he reminds himself, and now he’s the Chief Cultivator.

Meaning: there is still a way back.

If I want to take it.

He reaches for the clothes.

Normally dressing is something he lingers over—used to, anyway—but there’s nothing to linger over here. A pair of grayish homespun trousers, an undyed tunic, and that’s it. It feels odd to have the shape of his legs showing, and he tugs almost self-consciously at the short hem of his tunic.

“Glad you appreciate them.” Xue Yang has already changed into his own peasant clothes. All-black, with a longer tunic and simple black strip of cloth binding his hair. He sits on a rock, munching on a bag of candied peanuts from his bottomless qiankun sleeve. “If you think it was easy to find peasant clothes to fit someone your height, think again.”

“Couldn’t we travel as merchants?”

“Where’s the fun in that? All right, then, my friend. Off with that murder weapon atop your head, and smooth your hair into a simple knot. Three bumps in front, a knot, the rest down like this—”

Lan Xichen stows his silver hairpiece in his qiankun pouch with the rest of his belongings. “Shall we start?”

“Two tendrils of hair down in front like mine, to better hide your face—It’s too bad we can’t shave a bit of bone off that chin of yours, but I’d never recognize you like this. Although—”

He reaches out, takes hold of the two elbow-length tendrils, and cuts them so they fall no farther than his throat.

“Better.” He raises an eyebrow at the silent Lan Xichen and sits back down with his peanuts. “Not going to say anything?”

“What good would it do? The hair is already cut.”

Another grin. “You’re passive. I like that in a man.”

Lan Xichen winces. “Please stop with those comments.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “It’s just a joke.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Look who’s standing up for himself! Well, let’s see how you do on this, then: headband off. Complete the transformation from butterfly into caterpillar.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Xue Yang tosses a nut in the air, catches it in his mouth. “I thought you Lan liked poetry and stuff. Headband. Off.”

“I—” Lan Xichen feels an odd tingly sensation in his hands, his lips. A sudden coldness runs up and down his legs. “I can’t.”

“I’ll do it, then.”

“No!” Lan Xichen steps back.

He knows Xue Yang is right. The Lan would be after them, and with the Lan Family headband on, he may as well be wearing an “I Am Zewu-jun” sign on his chest with an “If Found, Return To Cloud Recesses” sign on his back.

But—

“Much as I’d love to sit here and watch you wrestle with thirty-odd years of indoctrination, we don’t have all day.” Xue Yang tucks his bag of nuts away. “We need to shake a leg before the Lan gets their act together.”

With trembling hands Lan Xichen reaches behind his head.

And stops.

Xue Yang coughs.

Lan Xichen unties the headband. Cups it in his palm. The silver ornament is so cold against his skin it almost burns. The blue silk ribbon is fragile, almost translucent, where it never was before.

“Zewu-jun?”

Lan Xichen swallows hard, tucks it away in his pouch, and follows Xue Yang down the mountain.

* * * * *

By “Leave it to me,” Xue Yang had evidently meant “Watch me ferret out the dodgiest inns in any given town we’re in or rough it outside.”

Out of necessity, he claims, but that doesn’t explain why he’d already had the peasant clothes prepared as a so-called backup before Lan Xichen attacked Lan Qiren. Xue Yang thrives in these awful places, seems far more at home than he ever did in the refined Cloud Recesses.

“Less pretention,” he replies when Lan Xichen mentions it one day. “These people are angry at someone, they hit them. Something is funny, they laugh. No two-faced hypocrites talking out of both sides of their mouths.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t quite see that, but then again he keeps mostly to himself while Xue Yang enjoys getting into conversations with whomever happens to be around them at the time.

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard any gossip about a runaway clan leader who went berserk,” Xue Yang says one evening.

“You didn’t hear about my brother wounding thirty-three clan elders either, did you.” He knows he shouldn’t have said that, but it’s hard to filter himself after having decided the filter doesn’t matter anymore.

Delighted, Xue Yang looks up from where he’s spreading a blanket out over the grass, his bed for the night. “When did that happen?”

“Thirteen years ago.”

“Really? The ice king? Fuck, I might actually like him now.” Xue Yang produces Jiangzai in a shower of orange sparks, lays it out beside him on the blanket, Shuanghua nestled up under his arm. “I’ve been everywhere, and I never heard a word. What do the Lan do to stop them from gossiping, cut out their disciples’ tongues?”

“It’s called ethics, my friend.”

Xue Yang grins, stretching himself like a cat. “Says the man who just called me— me —a friend.”

Lan Xichen laughs. “My options are few.”

The inns, when they can find them, are smelly, the food barely palatable, but Lan Xichen enjoys the time between, the long stretches of travel through the countryside where he can just be Huan the Peasant. Prior to setting off, it had been a long, long time since he’d been anything other than well-fed and well-taken care of, numbed into a haze by luxury, and now he feels oddly awake.

The earth is firm beneath his feet as they walk. Stable. Sturdy. Cloud Recesses is a hazy blur, a fading dream. The world around him is real, the trees and birds and sunshine, the loud, smelly people, the leaky inn ceilings, the rocky mountain paths and drenching rains and cool breezes of approaching autumn.

He’s stopped dreaming of flying.

“What did you do during the Sunshot Campaign?” Xue Yang asks him as he stares down into a cup of what was certainly not Dragon Well tea, no matter what the innkeeper claimed. They’ve been on the road almost three weeks, and, as they don’t dare stop at any respectable tea house, this is still the closest he’s gotten to decent tea. “Did they cart luxury tents out into warzones for use by the gentry?”

“I don’t mind this. Truly—”

A crash. The busboy has dropped a tray. Lan Xichen turns away as the innkeeper turns on the busboy, backhanding him into a wall hard enough to leave a mark.

“You keep making faces at the tea.”

Lan Xichen had been wincing at the sight of the abuse, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that. Best not to dwell on the uglier side of life, especially now. He’s seen shocking things these past several weeks, things he didn’t realize existed in his territories, but best not think about that. Doubly so now that everything feels far too real. “Something about this particular inn reminds me of…the past.”

Not just this in. Every inn. The rooms A-Yao had rented during their time living together had been in sticky little inns just like all the sticky little inns they’ve stopped in.

Painful memories, for the last year. But now he lies awake at night intentionally recalling his time living with A-Yao in their cramped little garrets. And for the first time in sixteen years, he doesn’t veer away from the memory of the grief and uncertainty of that time, the unrelieved dread.

He stares up at the ceiling in bed that night. The room is small, barely enough room for the two straw-stuffed mattresses crammed inside. Xue Yang lies facing Lan Xichen, holding Shuanghua to his chest, his maskless, disarmingly young face pressed to the sheeny white hilt so tightly that the patterned grip has left marks on his cheek.

At least he’s not sitting up murmuring to the spirit-trapping pouch again, as he tends to do when he thinks Lan Xichen has fallen asleep first. Lan Xichen needs complete silence to sleep, and Xue Yang’s nocturnal mumblings have been a trial. As have been the times he’s woken up to find Xue Yang staring at him.

He doesn’t hold it against him. The rooms have been small. Not many other places to stare if not at the person lying directly across from you.

Jiangzai lies on the floor between them, its elegantly brutal blade gleaming dully in the faint light from the window. It’s set at an angle, resting against Xue Yang’s straw mattress, giving Lan Xichen a glimpse of his reflection in the highly-polished metal.

A stranger gazes back at him. By Xue Yang’s suggestion, he’s been growing a beard and moustache to hide his distinctive chin and jaw. They work surprisingly well, he thinks. His hair is still bound in an unadorned knot on top of his head, face framed by the foreign half-bangs that keep getting in his eyes.

He stares at himself for a long time.

He can get used to this. To being an entirely new person.

Except Qinghe is only days away, and with it everything he’d just escaped. The Jin’s social structure is the most elaborate of the four main clans, but it’s hedonistic and the Family is free to indulge itself as it wishes. But the Nie Clan—they’re rigid like the Lan, unyielding like the Lan, obstinate, uncompromising, and self-righteous.

The fact that someone like Nie Huaisang is in charge would make him dread it less, had it not been for the fact that Nie Huaisang had engineered A-Yao’s death in cold blood and then lied to his face about it.

“Do you think my uncle has cultivators waiting for us in Qinghe?” he asks Xue Yang in the morning.

It’s a thought that has never been far from his mind, but somehow avoiding Lan cultivators on the road had seemed more important.

Xue Yang looks up from where he’s fixing his hair. He’s unexpectedly fussy about his admittedly glorious hair, though he never does more than wind it into a simple knot, leaving the rest free. Lan Xichen would never offer to help him arrange it, of course, but he gets the idea that Xue Yang wouldn’t allow anyone to touch it anyway.

Xue Yang shrugs. “They wouldn’t dare grab you against your will, not in front of the Nie.”

"True. And I doubt he would trust Nie Huaisang with the truth of what happened. But still...”

Lan Xichen lingers by the front door as Xue Yang settles their bill with the innkeeper. Normally they’d have to pay up-front in a low-class place like this, but Xue Yang had been the one to handle the preliminaries, as usual, while Lan Xichen had gone up to the room, and he’d told Lan Xichen that he’d worked something out with the innkeeper.

He watches as Xue Yang yanks the innkeeper’s head down, cracking a cheekbone on a table, and pats the man’s face with his knife, slicing half his long droopy moustache off with the razor-sharp blade.

Oh. So that was what he meant by “worked it out.” Has he been doing this in every inn? Lan Xichen has plenty of money. Is this kind of thing fun for him?

Tremendously, going by the look on his face.

Lan Xichen steps outside. The busboy is sweeping the front stairs, his face a mass of bruises. Lan Xichen passes him a piece of silver.

“For you,” he says. “Not your master.”

“ Passive ,” Xue Yang had called him. Well, here he was, doing something.

It felt nice. Not just the act of charity. He’s done plenty of charity in the past. The doing.

“What good is that going to do?” Xue Yang asks as they walk down the street. “You should have just killed the innkeeper, if you wanted to help the boy and not just make yourself feel better.”

“Just…killed him?”

“Why not? You’re stronger than him.” He looks almost angry for some reason. “You’re as bad as he ever was.”

“He—”

“Not the innk—forget it.”

“Robbing the inkeeper was enough.”

“It’s not like he was a good person,” says Xue Yang, as if the delinquent cultivator even knew the definition of the term. “Aren’t the Lan preoccupied with justice and all that?”

“I agree that his treatment of the boy is wrong, but he broke no law.”

There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Xue Yang’s voice. “And laws are always right and breaking them is always wrong?”

“No, I’m not saying that, but without general rule of law, society would break down.”

“Because it’s been doing so well with rule of law.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t respond. He’d prefer not to think about how much he does, in fact, agree with the man beside him, despite knowing he shouldn’t.

Xue Yang’s lip curls, and he looks down at his left hand. It’s still bound with bandages, but they’re fitted around his palms, leaving all fingers but the little one exposed. Ready to grasp a sword hilt if needed. “He deserved disembowelment, if you ask me, but I figured we don’t need more people on our tail.”

Lan Xichen glances over his shoulder. They’ve spotted many Lan cultivators over the past several weeks, with a few narrow escapes before his beard came in. “So you didn’t kill him.” He feels a sense of relief. The world had been feeling too sharp and real since they’d left Gusu for that to be something to hand-wave away as he might have when everything was fogged and hazy and dreamlike.

“Of course I didn’t kill him.” Xue Yang gives a little cough, tapping his teeth with the tip of his knife. “Not even a little.”

“So—”

“Ah, here’s the gate. Any money for the exit toll?”

They keep their heads down as they pass through the gate. Two Lan cultivators are nearby, watching the crowd.

“If your people had more brains than a dumpling, they wouldn’t strut around in those white getups,” Xue Yang says. “You were right about white being conspicuous. They stick out like pigs in a henhouse.”

“ ‘Rule 819: Only the cowardly conceal themselves.’ Rule 820: Walk with candidness and sincerity. Rule 821: Do not carry concealed weapons.’ ”

Xue Yang laughs at that one. “Should I just whip out Jiangzai, then?”

Normally, Lan Xichen would laugh too—he’s been laughing more these past weeks—but he just shakes his head as if Xue Yang had actually meant it seriously. Qinghe’s mountains aren’t as lush as Cloud Recesses’, and the grim, rocky terrain is weighing on his already low spirits, and the gritty light of the overcast afternoon only makes things worse.

Lan Xichen shaves in the town nearest to the Unclean Realm after a frugal supper at an inn.

The inn is almost empty. He risks returning to the main room after Xue Yang, who sits drinking sweet white wine and staring at the table.

Xue Yang looks up. “Back to your old self, I see. I thought you were going to meditate?”

Lan Xichen shakes his head slightly. He hasn’t been able to shake himself of his habit of morning and evening meditations, vastly shortened as his sessions are. The one sense of structure in his newly untethered existence. It’s been a way to avoid negative thoughts, but now—

“We’re too close,” he says.

Xue Yang runs a finger around the rim of the wine jar. He’s not drunk, but there’s a melancholy air about him that Lan Xichen has never sensed before. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself…Have you given any thought about what you’re going to do if we fail?

“I…no.”

Xue Yang holds up his cup, examining the chipped ceramic in the dim candlelight, teeth slightly bared. “There’s always a chance. A chance your friend will remain trapped in that coffin. Spirit tormented for an eternity, forever remembering how he ended up in that coffin—”

Lan Xichen reaches for the wine jar.

The rest of the night is a blur. Suddenly Xue Yang is helping him up the stairs to their room, the smallest room yet. Two small straw mattresses with no space between them, filling up all available floor space.

Xue Yang lays him out flat on his bed and kneels facing him on his own mattress, something odd in his eyes. Reaches inside his tunic, pulls out a long strip of white cloth from the left side.

“Here,” he says. “Why don’t you put this on so you can sleep better? I know you’re sensitive to light, and it’s too bright in here, isn’t it?”

Normally Lan Xichen would suggest simply closing the window, shutting out the moonlight, but his alcohol-fogged brain doesn’t even consider it.

“And you can use these as a blanket,” Xue Yang adds, producing the gray-and-white robes he had shown him back in Gusu and spreading them out over Lan Xichen. His hands are trembling slightly. “They’re thin, but better than nothing. I know you still aren’t used to the chill.”

Lan Xichen blinks at him with bleary gratitude. “Thank you, my friend.”

Xue Yang reaches around Lan Xichen’s head, ties the strip of white cloth over his eyes, and lies down beside him. There’s little room between them on the narrow straw pallets, and the last thing Lan Xichen feels before he drifts off to sleep is the whisper of Xue Yang’s breath on his neck.

* * * *

Lan Xichen sleeps late the next morning, finally woken by the feel of something sliding off his face, around his head. He sits up. Xue Yang is holding a long strip of white material in his hand—one of his bandages?

He massages his aching temples. “What happened last night?”

Xue Yang’s eyes are red, as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. He smiles at Lan Xichen, but it’s not a happy smile. “You had a bit too much to drink, my friend. Now, let’s get moving. We want to reach the Unclean Realm before nightfall.”

Lan Xichen changes into his old clothes outside the town. Blue and white. Hair half-up. Back straight.

He avoids looking in the mirrored blades of their swords.

“Don’t forget the headband.”

Lan Xichen stares down at the strip of silk and silver in his palm. It’s heavier than he remembers.

Xue Yang idly tosses his knife in the air, catching it after its sixth rotation. “Hand cramp?”

Lan Xichen ties on the forehead ribbon.

* * * * *

Up Next: Nie Huaisang is (almost) utterly useless.

Or: The Nie chamberlain’s very bad, no-good day. Also some tomb robbing, if that floats your boat.

Chapter 5

#Lan Xichen + Xue Yang road trip! #Or: An innkeeper may or may not meet an untimely end depending on your interpretation of “Of course I didn’t kill him. Not even a little.” #Fractured Ice #Lan Xichen #Xue Yang #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #mdzs #the untamed #cw blood #cw violence #tw violence #tw blood #xuexiao #xiyao

[allyvampirelass29]

Blood and Electricity

A HEROES Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

Sylar Gray released his deep exhale, feeling Ally turn into him, her lips on his neck, her fingers caressing his bare chest, reaching into his long, black wool coat.

"Babe........" He murmured pleasurably into her silky soft hair, feeling it against his lips as he breathed in. The sensation of her, her body, her mind, her soul, connected with him on a higher level of consciousness, their electricity building, breaking the circuits of reality itself and he felt his own heart tremble and pause midbeat, as she kissed him hard, pressing her hand firmly into the center of his chest.

He felt his own breath catch in his chest as he took her air instead, his body overwhelmed by the intensity of this particularly erotic surge, purple lightning pulsing from the core of his being out into each of his extremities, and he could taste it, the sparks as their lips made contact, blue and purple lightning entwining, and it was like he was moving faster than light itself, uncontrollable pure energy.

He kissed her back hard, with a passion almost primal, it was like he was on fire, and the more he touched her skin, grasped at her clothes, the hotter he burned. She kissed him back with a breathless desperation, like she was drowning and he was her only air, like she would die if she stopped kissing him, and he felt the chills race the heat and ripple across his skin. Holy Hell and HOT DAMN. Nobody had EVER kissed him like that, that feverish need, that life-or-death-got-to-have-you-now KISS! Not even Elle. Not even when they were........

He couldn't think straight, hell he couldn't think at all, not with her taking his lips this forcefully, braver than she ever had before, so hot, using her power while they kissed like mad, making out, we're actually making out!!!!! His mind yelled out victorious, his dark eyebrow arching, as his once shy sweetheart, continued to take what she wanted, without pause or hesitation like even Elle had never dared. That's it, Baby, Make me yours.

He couldn't stop himself, he didn't even try, he was already raising a hand, while she grasped his glossy black strands, her fingers disappearing into them, relinquishing her tongue to his at last, and he focused his powers, scrunching up his eyes, until he felt his projected reach close around the zipper on her blue silk, black lace covered skirt, and he pinched his fingers together tight.

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't........ and yet it was already happening, like his fingers had gotten so far ahead of his mind, that they were no longer taking orders. He pulled hard, with swift precision, unzipping it, and was already smoothing the silk off her sinfully soft legs.

He expected her to protest, pull away, and he had already broken the kiss to twirl her around, bring her flush against his chest, so he didn't have to look guilty into that sweet, innocent face. They didn't do this........ He had never even tried to undress her. Well okay, maybe in his mind, but never with his hands, using his powers, and his hunger to keep going was dangerously insatiable, like he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted, needing her body more than he needed to breathe. He wasn't sure what he wanted more in that moment, for her to stop him, or by some miracle of strange aligning stars to NOT stop him. Let him do this....... no matter how wrong it was. Yeah...... okay he was DEFINITELY sure.

He kissed the back of her pale white neck hard, massaging her head, making a fist in her hair, pulling her head back, as he attempted to distract her, his other hand quickly finding its way to her soft, sensitive thigh. God, it was impossibly bare like it had never been, such delicate skin, feeling so much warmer than when he'd rested his hand on it, over her jeans, and he smirked to himself, feeling her tremble.

"Sylar........" Her voice was a blissful whisper, and he was intoxicated by the breathy, drawn out, sound, pulling out her blue silk bow edged with black lace, tossing it aside so he could mess up her hair more. That's it, Gorgeous. Say my name.

Sylar, stop, Sylar, wait, Sylar, what are you doing? All of these he'd expected, trying not to focus on the fact that she was right now, very much skirtless, and all of those he deserved. But nothing, nothing could have prepared him for what that sweet voice uttered next. Nothing.

"Sylar........ Yes........"

He practically growled with the INSANE pleasure of it, for once he was the one losing his mind, and his nostrils flared, turned so much the hell on already that his two favourite words in the entire English language, were like a catalyst, an invitation for the next hit of blinding electricity. He didn't just want to use his powers, he wanted to REALLY use his hands........

He ripped off his open coat, hurling it behind him, never taking his lips from her neck, and his long fingers curled around her side, his heart pumping with both blood and electricity, a deadly combination. He forced himself to slow down, savour this, this- mad, delusional, deliciously forbidden moment, slowly sliding up her black buttoned tank top, his whole body humming.

She didn't fight him....... How the hell was he getting this lucky!? She didn't squirm or try to get away, or show any sign of resistance to his salacious advances. He felt the hallelujah form inside, as he slowly tugged her shirt the rest of the way over her pretty curly head, his trembling fingers dropping it, coming to rest against her naked back, touching her skin like - like he wasn't even ready for. He bit his lip that was also trembling, trying to remember to breathe, brushing his fingers down the curve of her back until they touched the clasp of her..... her bra.

He could barely think that word to himself without it feeling dirty, he didn't deserve to be touching it right now, no man had ever-

He pressed his lips tenderly into her back, still holding the clasp, and her soft, aching murmur was more than he could handle. Sylar...... Yes. She'd said those words, and thus prevented any hope for control, for rational thought, and he loved and hated and hungered for what he was about to do next..........

His trigger finger was trembling violently as he raised it, his body burning white hot with incredulous ecstasy, slowly hooking his finger under, bringing it towards him, and he shook as he watched the first clasp come undone in a single heartbeat deafening.

I can't- I don't deserve her, not yet, so innocent, naked, and vulnerable........ Ooooh I need to shut up that's just- His chest hurt, as he felt it expand. That's just getting me hotter, making it harder....... to stop, I want it, I have to, oh BABY don't hate me!

Another pound of his heart, time cast into blurry trails before it stopped altogether, coming apart at the seams, and he could feel the last clasp, catching on his projected fingernail, as it sprung free. He pushed the straps down her shoulders, and sensed it fall off her body, his mind numb.

He grasped her shoulders, chuckling like a madman, and was already turning her around towards him, meaning to press his dove's white breast into his chest, when he felt this weightless, falling sensation, everything returned to darkness, and he bolted upright in bed, a sweaty, heavy breathing mess.

"Sylar! Sy, oh my God, are you alright?"

Ally's sweet hands grasping each of his forearms, and he stared back dumbly, noticing she was not at all naked, but very much clothed in a short pink nightdress. Oh damn it.

"You were moaning in your sleep!!! Babe, you're sweating like crazy!!!" He watched her delicate features flood with alarm, and she touched the sweat on his chest, making him shiver.

"Did you have a bad dream? It's okay, I'm here!"

He let her pull him into her arms, and he hugged her back tight, trying to stifle his seductive grin, and of course, failing miserably, both eyebrows arching.

"Oh no, Beautiful........ GOOD dream, Very....... very good dream.”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#heroes #sylar #sylar x oc #gabriel gray #godsend #beautiful nightmares

[pxndmonium]

Numinous — Bucky Barnes

Summary: "Numinous (adj): describing an experience which makes you fearful, yet fascinated. Awed yet attracted. The powerful personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired."

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, steady, joyous, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. Sometimes unwanted, unexpected. When it rains, when we love, life grows.

James is lost in himself, torned between the unknown, divided into two. When Corinne comes into his life, he feels right, weightless.

Yes, maybe love is like rain. And if love is like rain, James's love for her is a whole storm.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, mental illnesses, abuse.

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC.

Words: about 1K.

A/N: Finally I had the courage to post something I really love writing. I have pre-written chapters and I'll decide when to post the next one once I finish another, that way I'll always have chapters to post and motivation to keep writing. The thingy I used was downloaded on Google so if it belongs to you, just text me and I'll work it out. @sophieisinlove and @just-call-me-mr-snoopy-pants are always supporting me when it comes to writing so my full love for both of you, my babies. Also, love and feedbacks are always welcomed! Have fun 🍑✨

Chapter I

It was a very quiet night in Budapest streets. Until he passed in front of that alley.

Keep walking, the rude voice inside his head says. It has nothing to do with you.

Yet, there he is, still like a statue, heavy breathing and fists clenched while the cry goes on and on, the rustling of fabrics and fists meeting flesh, the woman's whimpers echoing painfully in his ears. He tries to move his feet foraward, to keep walking because it has nothing to do with him. But he stays, he's paralyzed.

The sounds come to a stop, there's only the deadly silence and a faint choir of cicadas.

You can't save everyone, another voice reasons, totally different from the first one, softer. But you can try.

And he does, marching back to said alley he tried so bad to ignore, he's not sneaky, he wants them to know he's coming. He wants them to fear his arrival, all heavy boots and stoic stance.

But there's no one other than the woman curled up in fetal position, trembling incessantly.

He approaches her, crawling to make himself look smaller. He then notices her beautiful beige coat all ruined by crimson, her skirt clustered up her waist and stockings with wholes all around, knees scrapped and bleeding just as bad as her nose and lips. Dark stains bloom all over her fragile frame and he hisses when she still tries to get on her feet, fails and falls back facing the concrete with an agonizing mewl.

His hand touch her shoulder first and, although strange and cold, she doesn't flinch, not anymore, she can barely breathe, internally surprised that what she expected to be the final punch that would blow her out actually came out very much delicate.

Registering the friendly grip, her eyelids flutter open and she stares dead into his bloody image, pupils blown wide thanks to the seringe with probably some drug that would keep her meek like a puppy.

"You need a doctor", he warns. To her, it sounds like he's under water, she could feel the thin line of red hot blood running down her ears and into her hairline.

"No... No hospitals...", she managed to mouth it silently. It ache too much, her jaw and throat, she felt like her teeth would just fall off her mouth if she tried to speak again.

Before she could process, the agonizing pain in her stomach remembered her of those men's words. They said you would come, they did, she thinks to herself. This was definately the soldat they were talking about while breaking trough her. Yes, they did said he was coming and although there was zero description of his features, she knew it was the man whose gentle hands were scooping her up now, tightly pressing her against his firm chest.

Everything twinged, burning muscles as she writted under him, trying to make him let her fall back to the ground. She couldn't scream at him to run away before they came back, she couldn't even stand alone. She didn't want them to hurt him like they did to her, her broken ribs were enough for the night. Her body was dying from exhaustion, she could feel the numbness beginning to take over her every cell, slowly, dreadfully seeping into her brain. She was tired, so tired of fighting with this man's warmth, so she gave in.

When her eyes darted open back to consciousness, she felt dizzy and heavy on that worned out matress. Her favorite trench-coat had been discarded to the floor next to the door, so had her pair of oxfords. The room was poor in decoration and furniture, lacking that hint of a homey place, walls with huge such stains of infiltration she could feel the humidity in her cheeks, but the thick blankets covering her lower half had a faint flowery scent and she caught herself smiling to it.

Steps could be heard outside the bedroom she was in, careful, almost as if the person on the other side was tiptoeing not to bother her slumber. She kicked the blankets over, the best way possible without yaking her own leg off, and drank in the sight of her ragged form. Besides looking, smeling and feeling disgusting, the person had ripped off the rest of the thin fabric that covered her sore legs, where once was only open wounds and dirt, now rested pure white, clean bandages. Purple bruises tinted over her muscles like galaxies but there was nothing sexy or poetic about them resting there, nor in her fractured collarbones or her tired members.

In her head lingered only fear and pain, flashes of the bad things those men did to her, the touches and the violent hunger, their vile laughter after abusing her and leaving her there to die in the street. She felt the same panic, the same terror that coursed trough her veins like lava when they pushed her into that alley by the hair — her hand rose from her lap and ventured on her scalp, where the ghosts of harsh male fingers had gripped, she quivered intensely —, their rough russian words spat at her with every single hit would haunt her for weeks.

Russian words... Her brain snapped again and she remembered clearly why she shouldn't be there, wherever she was, and that someone was in danger.

Rolling out of the bed, she crumbled over trying to reach the door with still so sheaky steps and knocked everything out of her way with loud thumps in the process. The gentle-handed as she so called him was there in no time, bursting the door open to find her supporting herself on the fragile shelves with little to no books, his wide eyes on her trying to walk after loosing so much blood are shocked and he gulps, rushing over. The plate of eggs long forgotten, crashed on the cheap carpet. She motions him to stop.

"You need to go", she forces out, voice coming out awfully hoarse. Her dramatic self hating how weak and not at all romantic it sounded.

"I can't."

"You must!" She then collapses on the floor, stitches she didn't knew that were under her shirt ripping over from the sudden movements and blood gushing out from it, running down her bare legs.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #oc #dark academia aesthetic #mutant oc #smut #sebastian stan

[sk-lumen]

The Stages of Living Authentically

Through all the times in my life where I struggled with long periods of anxiety, depression or just the sort of sadness where it’s like the world has been switched off in a wash of blue - I’ve practiced mindfulness, self awareness/study and writing in my diary or journal in order to better understand how to work through, accept and release, and ultimate heal from these states. The below has always been true for me and hopefully it will resonate with & help others as well.

Sadness = Your heart is signaling something is off. Not necessarily wrong; it is simply showing that you are undergoing an experience/lesson which is absent of that river of joy, absent of that authentic living. How do you choose to live your daily life, and how are you stifling down your authentic self?

Anxiety = If anxiety has come to stay and weaved a nest in your chest/stomach, it means you are decidedly off track from your soul path. A time has passed beyond those waves of sadness. The anxiety is a message: you’ve strayed far from home. It’s like having an internal compass that senses when you’re on/off track from your true path and feels immediate agitation when straying too far.

Depression = Coupled with sadness & anxiety, when you’ve let the grief of human living to numb your heart until it is cold and unfeeling; that is when all of life seems to lose its color, because you’ve completely closed yourself off from the source of feeling - your heart. The way to heal from this is just that - by healing, by consciously opening up, by letting yourself feel all the pain, let it float up and through you until it is released. Let it wrench through you if necessary, or however much you need to cry. Soon one day the world will slowly start catching colors again as if a light has been turned on. That’s what it feels like when healing, years after a heartbreak: the reasons for the greyness somehow slip your mind, the sunlight catches your eye, and your heart feels light and weightless. That’s healing. And that’s the way back to...

Pure joy = Being deeply attuned to your soul path; following your dreams; acting on the river of joy within you by creating all the things you feel pulled to do: painting, writing, photography, crafts, whatever your calling is. Being your authentic self. Living in an authentic way. Honoring your creative force, your magic, your light; following it wherever it may lead you, even if it means traveling to places you’ve never been, meeting new people, or having experiences you’d never dreamed you could have. It’s not about safety nets and the comfortable path; it’s about following that intuition, that spark of light and hope within telling you that “there’s something more than this. I have to do this, there is no other path. This is my path. This is what I want to do, and nothing can stop it from happening...“

#selfcare #selflove #healing #recovery #depression #anxiety #sadness #growth #how to heal #articles #writings #blog #authenticity #stages #living authentically

[softjeon]

Featherlight | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Namjoon x Angel!Jimin • Side-Pairing: Jungkook x Angel!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff / light angst | Angel!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 7,6k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of nightmares, anxiety

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Humans could hear their guardians, feel their voice inside of them like warm chocolate on a cold winter day. Usually it was enough for angels to whisper to their human, make them consider a different option or another approach. And then there were people who were effectively ignoring their inner voices and apparently Namjoon was just really adamant on not taking care of himself and getting himself into danger constantly.

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“He can’t be that bad,“ Jimin answered with a sigh as he watched Yoongi walk up and down the hallway in a nervous manner. Yoongi’s clothes were dirty and there was a hole ripped into his jeans and it certainly wasn’t a fashion statement, leaving Jimin wondering what had happened this time. He heard a few stories about Yoongi’s newest client that was giving him a really hard time. But to him they all just sounded funny and kind of cute. He didn’t really understand why Yoongi was making such a fuss about it. It was their job after all and sometimes it came with a risk. 

“He just keeps you on your toes. He’s human after all, be kind to him, Yoongi.” He chuckled softly and began to clean the feathers of his wings while talking, “Just breathe, restore your energies…and then try again tomorrow. Maybe you’re doing it completely wrong and you need to look at it from a different perspective, hm?”

“‘He can’t be that bad’, yeah that’s exactly what I thought at first as well. ‘He’s just having a difficult phase, he has a lot to deal with, hes unconcentrated because of his lack of sleep.’ That’s all bullshit!” Jimin gasped as the other cursed. He could see one of Yoongi’s feathers coming loose and tumbling to the ground. Swearing wasn’t good for angels. But Yoongi was so lost in his anger that he didn’t even notice, “He’s a mess! An unbelievably uncontrollable mess! I tried, okay! I tried a lot! I thought ‘well I have wings and he has just those lanky legs and flailing arms’ but god can he cause trouble with it! If he wasn’t so obviously pure then I would have sworn he has a piece of demon inside of him, like, it’s not possible to do that much damage to yourself and others without some mischief in you - but his consciousness is as clean as angel feathers. Not a tiny spot on it! I’m going crazy!”

“Yoongi! Don’t talk about him like this! It’s not his fault and it is your job to keep him safe after all!” Jimin reached out for his friend, soothing over his arms but Yoongi only swatted him away again. “But…you’re his guardian. He should listen to you…did you try to talk to him while he sleeps?” Jimin asked carefully and in the sweetest voice, knowing anything could make Yoongi even angrier now and he didn’t want to make him pull out his feathers in frustration.

“Does it look as if I’m not doing my job?!” Yoongi stopped short and motioned down to his ripped jeans and the ruffled tips of his wings where the feathers had been smashed. If he didn’t heal that fast, his left side would be also still littered with bruises but because of his healing powers there was nothing but smooth, creamy and flawless skin. “I talked to him like a million times and he either ignores me completely like I’m not even there - or he tries to pull me into some philosophical excursion about how strawberries can only truly have the color red and what it means for the world that white strawberries exist! I mean he’s amazingly smart when he’s awake and concentrated enough to properly think but with all the absent-mindedness and abstruse sleep talking I’m really, actually considering filing for a change.” His lips went thin when he pressed them together. One didn’t just ask for a transfer like that. It was a real act and also considered rude. He just didn’t know how else to do this without one of them getting seriously hurt in the end.

“A change?” Jimin gasped and raised his eyebrows. “But Yoongi! You can’t…just…do that. M-maybe he’s not too bad and it’s just a phase with him right now. You know how humans can be sometimes.” He came closer again, when Yoongi sat down at his office desk, wings hanging dreary down his back and face hiding in the palm of his hands. Jimin walked around the desk, sitting himself on the side of his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not giving up if we haven’t tried everything, yet. Maybe I can help? I have a new protectee who isn’t out very often, so I have some time to go over your guy’s file. What do you say? Maybe I’ll find a new way to get through to him…” 

“Yeah, sure, go over his file. Go over his whole life if you need to. There’s no trauma to heal that would make him stop hurting himself because he’s just mindless, nothing else. He concentrates on his thoughts and passions so much that his mortality is just a side note to him. Why don’t you just take him if you think so highly of him, try to do all you can think of and learn how fucking frustrating it is to see that nothing helps and you could instead just watch him kill himself with a toaster because in the end it will go like this anyway. And before you ask yes that was an actual thing. He was washing the dishes and almost knocked the toaster into the water. While it was plugged in.”

Jimin couldn’t count the many times he had gasped now, shocked at the way Yoongi was talking about his protectee. He would never dare to say such things. Jimin was about to scold the angel again, when Yoongi asked him to take over. “Yeah, sure. How should I handle two protectees at the same time then? I can’t do that.” Jimin rolled his eyes when another feather fell on the floor and picked it up again, pushing it into the jar by their desk where he stored all of Yoongi’s feathers. There were a few by now. It was his own little version of a ‘swear jar’. 

“If you would have been fast enough it wouldn’t have happened,” Jimin pursed his lips and leaned in closer to Yoongi, “And just because you’re lazy you can’t make me do two protectees.”

“That was a joke, Minnie. I would never let you within that man’s reach. He might have you hurt the very first hour.” He shook his head. “Really, you don’t wanna do that. Be happy about your calm new human and visit my grave please.” He sighed dramatically, knowing damn well that he couldn’t die that easily.

“Why not? Do you think I can’t handle it?” Jimin’s voice almost tumbled over and he got up from the table. “Do you still think I’m too soft for this job? I’ve been through the guardian training just like you and I am very much capable of handling a difficult human.” The younger angel huffed in anger, staring down Yoongi. “I’m not visiting your grave since you’re not able to die, you idiot of an angel…ah!” Jimin squealed when something pulled at his wings and he saw a tiny feather slowly descending to the ground. He pushed his hands dramatically over his mouth, before his eyes narrowed and focused on Yoongi again. Trying to calm himself, Jimin turned away from Yoongi, mumbling something under his breath. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jimin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he snapped around to his friend again. “Okay. One week. Not more! Just seven days…that’s it.” Jimin held out his hand to seal the deal. 

“Yeah, says the angels who’s squealing from losing a singly down feather...” He was careful to mumble it under his breath to not anger Jimin any further. But he was worried. No one could handle Namjoon. However he knew that Jimin wouldn’t let it go and if Yoongi would stay stubborn and not let Jimin catch a glimpse for himself the younger would pout forever. At least a few weeks (Angels had a different understanding of time of course). Also there was quite a big part inside of him who just wanted some peace and to sleep for a full night and to rest his wings and recharge his healing powers and just... not be on edge 24/7. And Jimin could always request them to change back. So, despite better knowledge he reached for Jimin’s hand - and took it, sealing the deal.

The younger angel bit his lip nervously, nodding to reassure himself that he hadn’t done something stupid right now. Because somehow it felt like he had done exactly that. 

“No one is telling Yooa? Or any other angel?” Jimin cocked an eyebrow but both of them knew better than to mess with their boss, the head of the guardian angel department. She looked sweet, like pure innocence personified – but she didn’t like it when you ignored the rules. Rules were there to protect them, to keep them safe. Letting go off Yoongi’s hand when they both agreed, Jimin opened his drawer and got out Jungkook’s file and then quickly switched it with the one the other was holding. Namjoon’s was looking way thinner than Jungkook’s and Jimin really wondered what it was about that human. Was it really just because of mindlessness? 

Well, he was about to find out…

“So…Jungkook he is really soft, you have to be ca-,” The angel stopped mid-sentence when there was a whiff of fresh air and Yoongi was gone. The other had barely looked at where Jungkook lived and had taken off, not even caring about the file. While some said, that getting to know your protectee without any prejudgments were good, Jimin thought at least a little knowledge wouldn’t have hurt for Yoongi not to run into trouble. 

“Great…,” Jimin shook his head, opening Namjoon’s file with a sigh and with a -poof and a little bit more sparkle- he was gone, too. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Yoongi landed with a soft sound in a little squat to cushion the weight. It always felt a little strange to come back to earth after being in heaven. Being weightless felt natural to him and even though he had no physical body being on earth still felt different. He was there with earth beneath his feat and gravity keeping him there. He could even feel the wind rustling through his feathers. Which was something he liked a lot. Generally he liked experiencing weather on earth (there was nothing like it up there in heaven). There was nothing sweeter than opening up your wings in a summer rain letting the droplets caress it and then create rainbow with the sunlight... 

Yoongi sighed, bringing his thoughts back on track. he was stalling a little, nervous that maybe Jimin’s sweet nature had painted Jungkook in nicer colors than he actually was. Though seriously, he absolutely couldn’t be worse than Namjoon. He straightened up - and then walked determinedly through the door.

There was a soft yawn coming from the other side of the room and then the door opened. The human ruffled through his curly hair, waddling towards his small kitchen, passed the coffee machine and got out a carton filled with delicious banana milk instead. With the biggest smile Yoongi had ever seen on an early morning, Jungkook took a sip from his beloved milk and giggled. 

Yoongi blinked. 

Then he rubbed his eyes. 

This was his protectee? At first he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t chosen the wrong house and had run into a fellow guardian angel but the boy didn’t see him. So he must be human. He didn’t look like it though. He had big eyes that were literally sparkling, curly hair that looked as soft as feathers and a smile that lit up the room like heavenly light. If this was actually Jungkook then Yoongi couldn’t believe how Jimin could let him out of his sight even for one second.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A guardian angel was always just guarding one human at a time – their protectee. Not every human had someone assigned to him, only those who really needed someone to guide them and help them to stay safe. Guardian angels were invisible to the eye of humans. They could hear them, feel their voice inside of them like warm chocolate on a cold winter day. Usually it was enough to talk to a human to make him consider a different option or another approach to something but not everyone was reacting right away. Some needed a pull, then angels could reach out for the humans. They could make them feel their touch. And then there were people who were effectively ignoring their inner voices or the soft push. 

Every human had their own individual reasons why and apparently Namjoon was just really adamant on not taking care of himself and getting himself into danger constantly.

Jimin had closed the file again, letting it disappear with a snap of his finger when he stood in what seemed like Namjoon’s living room now. Jimin was about to take a step forward, when he slipped on something. He screamed, flailing his arms as he tried to save his fall but still rather ungracefully landed on his butt. Jimin shook his head and blinked his eyes to get rid of the stars that were dancing in front of his view. Now that Namjoon-guy already rubbed off on him, Jimin thought and he hadn’t even properly seen him, yet. The angel was about to get up, laughing to himself, searching for the human, when he was met with an impressionable pair of…

“Thighs,” Jimin gulped heavily, his eyes slowly wandering up his muscles legs until it met a torso and… “Oh my god,” The angel let his eyes linger on Namjoon’s naked chest for a little too long. There was water dripping down from Namjoon’s wet hair onto Jimin’s face. Quickly, he scrambled away and up on his feet, pressing himself against the wall – only hoping that Namjoon hadn’t felt anything. But if it had been true what Yoongi said, Namjoon didn’t react…like ever.

Namjoon stopped as he saw the small bottle of hairspray rolling away and then bend over to pick it up. He was lucky he had seen it now, someone could have slipped on it if it was just lying there. And as he knew himself it would have probably be him. With a sigh he placed it aside. He should really be more careful. He knew that, obviously with all the bruises and marks he already had but after what had happened yesterday he had really sworn himself to be more careful. It could have ended real badly, he actually could have broken his neck and be dead! 

After staying too long in the shop again and overworking himself (they had gotten a new piece and he had wanted to clean it and have it presentable and sellable for the next day) he had slipped on the stairs and had fallen down a few steps. He had regained grip on the handle like a miracle so he hadn’t tumbled all the way down but it had been a close call. 

He could still feel it in his bones.

Jimin observed Namjoon closely and how the other placed the hairspray bottle somewhere, not even really caring where he was putting it. Now that he was looking more closely, Jimin could see the chaos all around. It wasn’t dirty or packed with stuff, but rather unorganized. Jimin took a look around, letting his fingertips soothe over a few papers that were strewn all over Namjoon’s kitchen table. There were bills, receipts and a lot of ordering lists thrown all over and Jimin had to fight the urge to start organizing it all into different folders. The dishes were piling high in Namjoon’s kitchen, just like his dirty clothes that the human was now trying to push into the washing machine. All of it at once. Jimin was about to turn to look at the rest of his apartment, when he saw the opened door of the bathroom cabinet right above Namjoon. His eyes widened. The bathroom was narrow and with the way Namjoon was squatting, he would definitely hit his head the moment he would stand up again. While Namjoon was still busy, Jimin leaned in. “Be careful when you get up, will you?”

Namjoon had already started moving when Jimin had whispered into his mind - though instead of stopping or reacting in a safe way he just looked up, almost poking himself in the eye. ‘Luckily’ he only banged his head on the cabinet door. Hard. Namjoon cursed, so colorfully that it made Jimin blush. In his anger Namjoon threw the door of the washing machine shut, with a little too much force so instead of snapping in and closing the door cleanly swang back to bump right against Namjoons shin.

Jimin couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. He had made it worse. Pouting, Jimin let Namjoon pass with an angry groan and followed him into the kitchen. Namjoon was getting out some frozen peas to put it on top of his head to cool the bruise that was about to form and Jimin felt awfully guilty. “I’m so sorry, Namjoon.” He whispered, “Maybe you should lay down and rest a little more, hm?” Jimin came a little closer, when the human leaned back with his eyes closed. Luckily for him, Namjoon had gotten dressed somewhere in between his observations and the incident but even now, when he looked at him this closely, Jimin couldn’t deny his handsomeness. Namjoon was truly beautiful, Jimin thought to himself and cocked his head aside admiring him a little more.

Namjoon got out some painkillers and caffeine, effectively nipping Jimin’s advice about laying down and resting in the bud. It was almost as if he heard the angel’s whispers in some way, as he was supposed to do - but instead of following them he acted on them in a completely different way that would have been healthy. Namjoon swallowed the pills and then got back to closing the machine properly and starting it. Then he sat down at the table to work with the mess that were his papers.

Observing Namjoon and his handsomeness for a while, Jimin quickly shook himself out of his stance, remembering his deal with Yoongi. He was supposed to show the angel that Namjoon wasn’t a hopeless case. That Yoongi just hadn’t found the right approach and Jimin was able to handle this all on his own. He nodded affirmatively to himself, busy with his own thoughts, when he noticed Namjoon rushing off to get his jacket and keys and then ran back into the kitchen to make himself a coffee-to-go. Apparently the human was late for work now (Jimin always forgot human time was going by faster) and he had tried to stuff all of the important papers in his bag. The angel’s expression turned into a frown when he saw the carelessness and how the papers were sticking out. But wasn’t he owning a shop? Jimin remembered something that he had read in his file, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. But five minutes couldn’t hurt either way, especially if it was his shop.

“If you keep being so hasty you will spill hot coffee all over your hand, Nam-,” Jimin froze dead in his tracks when the human did exactly that and jumped back, almost knocking over the cup if it wasn’t for Jimin who reached for it last minute to keep it in place. “Really?” Jimin shook his head and face-palmed himself. But there wasn’t much time to dwell on it, when Namjoon was effectively cleaning it up and ran out the door – almost forgetting his keys in the process.

The angel was following Namjoon quietly, biting his lip in thought as he observed every motion of his body closely. He was bumping into quite a few people on his way to work, apologizing in a respectful manner each time. So, he wasn’t doing it because he didn’t care but because he was literally not paying attention to his surroundings. Jimin counted the tenth yawn in a matter of fifteen minutes and really began to worry for this human. Namjoon needed more than a guardian angel, maybe a life-coach, or a professional organizer. Jimin made a mental list of things Namjoon needed to improve on, wondering if he could somehow get the human to call an agency who could assign him a personal assistant. Maybe if he left notes? Or google searches for agencies? Maybe Namjoon just needed a little push in the right direction? Skipping happily, Jimin couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he had a plan now, something that he could do to make Namjoon’s life a little easier. Maybe this was what he needed? If he didn’t listen to his inner voice, maybe he would listen to a few signs.

Jimin was about to catch up onto the human, when his eyes widened and he saw how Namjoon wasn’t paying attention - again! For the third time today and it was early in the morning! How was it possible for someone to be this unattentive? 

Jimin was behind Namjoon in a second, whispering, trying to get him to notice that he was straight up walking into a very busy street right now, coffee in one and phone in the other hand. But he didn’t hear him due to his music or  maybe he didn’t want to hear him either or his mind was too occupied only waving him off as if he was an annoying fly not his guardian angel. He tried to grab his shirt, pulling at it but Namjoon just walked a little faster. How could he be so blunt? Jimin was starting to panic, knowing now how Yoongi must feel everyday. This was exhausting! Jimin screamed internally, whipping around to try and find another human that he could use to make Namjoon stop. But there was no one. He was alone. There was a car honking loudly and Jimin just reacted on instinct. 

Namjoon had walked a little too quick because he was late to work and therefore his mind was already ahead, planning his day at work, mentally immersing himself in the projects he would work with. There was something uncomfortable lingering at the edge of his mind, something that was bothering him and trying to tell him that he was missing something, that something wasn’t quite right but he pushed it aside for later to deal with it then in favour of finishing his thoughts. He couldn’t, however, as there was suddenly someone grabbing ihm and pulling him backwards. Within a blink of his eye, Jimin had fully appeared out of nowhere and forcefully pulled Namjoon back by his jacket with the strength of a human, because apparently the other didn’t want to listen to his guardian and inner voice. Mid-pulling him back, Jimin was about to open his mouth and scold Namjoon angrily, the other turned, stumbling, throwing the coffee and wrapping his arm around Jimin as if he wanted to hold onto him. Jimin yelped, the angel’s eyes widened. Namjoon flinched, and because it felt like he was attacked he turned around ready to fight, accidentally spilling his coffee over the both of them and then losing balance from his quick turn. Instinctually he held onto the boy who had just grabbed him, making them both fall over themselves and into a heap onto the side of the street.

Jimin landed rather softly, only scraping his hands on the asphalt where he had tried to keep himself from falling. There was a car honking and rushing by fast and Jimin breathed out a heavy sigh. He felt a little dizzy from the fall, ignoring the coffee stain on his white shirt and shook his head to get rid of the stars that were dancing in front of his eyes. 

“For heaven’s sake, please watch where you are going ne-,” Jimin blinked his eyes open and gulped heavily, when he realized the position they were in. Lips only inches apart, eyes gazing deeply, and chests pressed onto one another. Namjoon’s arm was still wrapped tightly around his waist and Jimin could feel the human’s heartbeat right under his chest. His own was beating fast, with a few occasional jumps. This close he was even more handsome. 

“What.. just happened?” At second glance the boy didn’t seem the type to just randomly attack people so why had he grabbed him? “Did you…,” Could he have actually been so lost in his thoughts that he had overseen a car? Had that strange boy just saved his life? Namjoon tried to get up which was kind of difficult with the boy unmoving on top of him and then reached around to see if he could find his glasses hoping that the were still usable. He hated contacts as he had forgotten to take them out to sleep one too many times with uncomfortable consequences. 

“Did I save you? Yes. I tried to call ou-,” Jimin stopped, slowly sitting up when he saw Namjoon was searching for his glasses. “You weren’t really paying attention. I am sorry that I made you lose your balance.” The angel still awkwardly sat on Namjoon’s lap, examining the palm of his hands that already began to heal and quickly put them down, when his eyes met the human’s again while he put on his glasses. Why was this human so god damn handsome and yet such trouble?

“Thank you, that’s... that was nice I mean…” He tried to get up again, failing at the solid weight on his legs, “Excuse me, can you please get off me? I think it’s a little dangerous if we keep lying there at the side of the road. Someone might oversee us.” He felt horribly awkward and with a hot, awful rush of heat he realized that now he would definitely be way too late and there would probably customers be waiting in front of the store angry and annoyed and the doors still being closed and he would lose what little customers he had and…

“I.. I have to go!” Hurriedly he patted the dust from his clothes to get himself somewhat presentable.

“Mr. Kim!” A young boys voice shouted from across the street, looking left and right and then ran towards them. “Mr. Kim…Namjoon, are you alright? What happened?” Jungkook gave Jimin a soft smile and then froze for a second, furrowing his brows as he looked at the young man who was trying to get up from the ground as gracefully as he could despite the situation.

Great. Jimin bit his lip. What was his protectee doing here? Why did he know Namjoon? And if Jungkook was here then… The joyful laugh of someone he very well knew, made Jimin snap his head around to see Yoongi holding his stomach while pointing at him only a few feet away. Of course, the others couldn’t see him. Yoongi was still an angel, while he himself had quickly unveiled his human form to save Namjoon. He had never done this before. 

But this had been an emergency.

Narrowing his eyes, Jimin was about to put out his tongue at the angel, when Jungkook interrupted him again. “Do I know you?” Jungkook asked softly, reaching for Namjoon’s hand to help him up but at the same time never leaving Jimin’s gaze.

“Kind of new here, so no,” Jimin quickly shook his head and got up himself, wiping over his now dirty and not so white anymore shirt and pants. Jungkook nodded at that, looking at Namjoon full off worries. But before he could open his mouth, Jimin spoke, “You should maybe check in the hospital to see if you haven’t hurt your head. And please…be a bit more mindful.” The angel smiled at the human, “There’s not always someone around.”

Jungkook nodded at that, dusting off Namjoon some more and because the other wasn’t saying anything, Jungkook thanked Jimin with a bow. “No worries,” Jimin pulled at his clam shirt, “Thanks for the coffee, I guess.”

Namjoon finally really looked at the guy who had pulled him off the street and gasped audibly. He had been so busy searching for his glasses and calming Jungkook and then worrying about the shop and dusting off his clothes that he hadn’t really seen Jimin. Of course he had noticed that the other was wearing -formerly- white clothes all over as if he was on his way to a “midsommar festival”. Though what was shocking him most was the pure beauty of the younger. He was no stranger to beauty (he knew Jungkook after all) but he had never seen someone with so sincerely kind eyes and such a honest smile. His face looked soft as if someone had blurred all the sharp edges to make him look like some otherworldly, ethereal creature... if there hadn’t been the dirt on his pants and the massive, brownish ugly coffee stain all over his shirt. “Oh, oh , I’m... I’m so very sorry, I’m really... you could give it to me and I’ll clean it I promise, I’ll have it just as before by tonight and...”

Jimin had half-heartedly turned already, not being able to overhear Yoongi’s laugh coming from the sidelines of the scenery. He really wanted to shut him up, but every little anger was forgotten when Namjoon talked to him. “And…you want me to undress right now?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, chuckling at Namjoon’s sudden blush that appeared on his cheeks. “It’s fine, Namjoon.” Jimin shook his head, “It’s just a coffee stain. You’re alive and that’s what matters to me.”

Jungkook still awkwardly stood at the sidelines. He could see the hesitation in Namjoon’s eyes and knowing the shop-owner, he was probably torn between running off to his café and making this right. Also, Namjoon was really awful at flirting on top of that. He had seen this happening a couple of times whenever he had visited the little antique shop. It was cringe-worthy and one couldn’t look away nor look too closely. But Jungkook loved the small café that Namjoon had build in his antique shop, small little bookshelves on each side and so many antiques that Jungkook loved to hear the stories about. “Mr. Kim, do you maybe want me to open the shop? I know where everything is.” He whispered and held out his hand for the key, “I can work the coffee machine. I helped you before, remember? There will only be the morning customers right now…so you can…” Jungkook nodded towards Jimin and whispered, “Thank him properly. He saved your life! This could have gone way worse.”

Namjoon would never give his shop over to just anyone because he cherished the little shop a lot, it was his everything. Though Jungkook wasn’t just anyone. He didn’t really knew the boy, not in a proper way at least where Jungkook had talked about himself. But they had talked about books and their love for music at seemingly random visits and Namjoon had seen Jungkook handle his treasures. It said a lot about a person how they touched the things he had for sale. There were those who just went for the glittery stuff, the things that looked expensive although Namjoon didn’t have a lot of those. There were those who didn’t really have eyes for them at all, just passing by (Namjoon always wondered what they were doing there in the first place and if they might have walked into the wrong shop or were just trying to pass the time in their lunch break) and then there were those who came in and saw, who took everything in, observing, admiring. It always had Namjoon smiling when he witnessed a customer carefully caressing the beautiful arch of an armrest or trail their fingertips along an ostrich feather of a headpiece he had just arranged. Jungkook was such a customer. And this was why despite better knowledge he gave his key to the boy that he didn’t even knew the last name of.

Jimin watched Jungkook walk away with furrowed brows and then turned back to Namjoon. He had only been Jungkook’s protectee for barely more than a few weeks and although he had found what the younger needed pretty quickly he never once had mentioned Namjoon or stumbled upon him, even if he followed Jungkook almost everywhere in his guardian form. Thinking about it...Jimin only realized now for how long he was already in his human form, something he had never been in before (except for in training). “This was an emergency right?” Jimin mumbled, when Yoongi came closer, eyeing him from the side, his heart racing fast in anxiety. There was a strict rule about using one’s human form. And Jimin had just broken it and the guilt was lying heavy on him, needing Yoongi’s reassurance. “Oh god, I’m going to hell.” He mumbled under his breath

“What?” Namjoon hadn’t gotten a word that Jimin had just said but his mumbling sounded suspiciously guilty. Namjoon thought hard what Jimin could feel guilty about and then his stomach filled with ice. The boy had just called him ‘Namjoon’. Even though he might have gotten it from Jungkook he had used it so casually as if they knew each other. And how had he been so quick as to rescue him at all? He must have been very close and paying lots of attention to him. Did that mean that Jimin was... a stalker?

“Hm?” Jimin looked up at Namjoon, when he saw the color fading from his face. It shut Yoongi up effectively as well, who just wanted to tell Jimin how dumb he was for thinking about even going to hell, because he wouldn’t survive down there a second, as he watched the scenery unfold once more. This was truly entertaining to watch.

Jimin reached out for the human carefully. “Are you okay?” He asked carefully, “You look kind of pale…are you sure you didn’t hit your head? You really need to pay more attention to the traffic, though. And maybe work on your balance skills.” He giggled, blinking up at the taller man, Jimin searched Namjoon’s eyes while a warm smile played on his lips to cheer him up. “I’m really sorry I startled you so bad, but I panicked when I saw the car coming closer and you just went ahead. I reacted out of instinct.”

“So you... don’t know me? You just helped a random stranger to not get killed in a car accident?” Jimin looked way too nice to be a psychopath. But didn’t they say that that’s exactly one would think before getting murdered by one? Namjoon swallowed hard.

Jimin’s expression turned confused and then chuckled, “Yeah? What else would that be?” His eyes widened when he realized what Namjoon must have been thinking. “You…oh my heaven, did you think? That I was stalking you or something?” Jimin couldn’t help but laugh, “As cute as you are but I wouldn’t even be sure what I would stalk you for? Anyways.” Jimin smiled at Namjoon, shaking his head, still not over his idea of being stalked. Where the heavens did he get that idea from? This human really was…different – that was for sure. “There are good people out there in the world, too you know.” Jimin winked at the human and turned around. 

Namjoon turned bright red when the boy saw right through him as if he had his thoughts spelled it out on his t-shirt. “N..no, that’s not…,” He tried to lie but as always he wasn’t very good at it. The boy turned to go and that was the last hint he had needed before getting the guts to call after him. “Wait! As I already spilled coffee on you do you want... some more coffee? As thanks? Not on you, I mean.. can I take you out for coffee to say thank you?” He cringed internally at that mess of a sentence.

Jimin halted in his steps and his heart sped up so fast that he felt dizzy for a second. Was Namjoon asking him out? His guardian angel? That he didn’t know was his guardian angel – at least for a week, because he was dumb enough to fall for Yoongi’s tricks. Jimin looked over his shoulder to Namjoon. “Me?” He pointed at himself, “Eh…I…yeah okay, sure.” Jimin nodded, blushing like crazy out of a sudden, completely ignoring his moral instincts.  

Namjoon could feel the younger’s shyness, gathering confidence that the other wasn’t out there with bad intentions. “It doesn’t need to be awkward and there’s no need for coffee either we could go for something to eat or some bubble tea if you like, your choice, just let me give you a little something in return for saving my ass.” He tried a little smile, actually enjoying the thought of taking the other out now that he had gotten out of his head and really looked at him and his well behaved manner. It would be nice to see him again under different circumstance that weren’t as dramatic like an almost-car-accident.

Cocking his head aside, Jimin giggled softly. “Or we can do all of that. For saving your ass I do deserve some more than a coffee right and I am not sure if I can smell coffee anymore.” He pulled at his shirt again that was awfully sticking to his chest. Before his angel instincts and morals could kick in and while ignoring all of the rules there were, Jimin agreed. His heart took a leap, his breath got stuck somewhere in his lungs and he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “Meet me here at eight then. Tomorrow?” Before he turned around, he added with a shy smile, “I’m Jimin, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure, that… that’ll work.” Before Namjoon could properly wrap his head around it Jimin had said yes, fixed them a date and then flirtatiously told him his name. As Jimin already knew his there was no point in telling him and Namjoon wasn’t sure if he should tell him anyways or if it would be stupid so he just stood there, smiling awkwardly giving Jimin a little wave while thinking that it was totally fitting that someone so soft looking had such a pretty name.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What was he doing? Had he just agreed to a coffee date with a human? To a human he was supposed to protect. It was like the moment their broke eye-contact and Namjoon turned around Jimin came back to his senses. He had acted completely selfish and ignored every rule there was. Yes, maybe he had supposed to keep Namjoon safe and in emergencies it was allowed to use their human form but…he should have been back in the realm already, back to his natural form. Not talk and flirt with his protectee. Or agree on dates. Jimin was just hoping Yoongi hadn’t been around to see the mess that conversation just was. What even had happened? Jimin raked a hand through his hair in a desperate manner and took a deep breath. It took him two steps before something made him stop. Slowly, his eyes wandered up the white jeans that was held up by grey suspenders and white shirt underneath. “You know I always loved those grey tones on you…” Jimin tried a smile, when he came face to face with Yoongi, but it fell soon after, “I can explain!”

“Stop flirting! You won’t be able to flirt your way out of it this time, Park Jimin! What in heaven’s name where you thinking? I get that you had to save him and thank you for not letting my protectee die by the way but why on earth did you do it like this?” Yoongi had found it funny when Jimin had materialized to save Namjoon and then had that awkward conversation with him because Yoongi had been convinced that Jimin would say goodbye quickly, then return to their realm to take a breather and then finally tell Yoongi that he had been right all along and Namjoon was unprotectable. He had not expected Jimin of all people to break the rules. Jimin was soft and sweet and took pride in following the rules nicely to make everything work perfectly as it was supposed to be. This wasn’t it. And the worst thing was: Jimin knew all this. And he had broken the rules nonetheless, on purpose. Yoongi felt like someone had shaken his world so everything had been tumbling around to rearrange in some totally confusion way.

“I…ehm…I just wanted to be nice?” Jimin answered, ignoring the woman who just passed him and looked at him as if he was crazy for talking to thin air. She couldn’t see Yoongi. “It’s all part of my plan, okay!”

Yoongi scoffed.

“Trying to be nice? Your.. your plan? Jimin, you do remember that I know you and that we are both angels and therefore you can’t lie to me because I literally feel when you’re trying to bullsh.. to dupe me and.. what is your plan then? Just for kicks, tell me your plan. What will you say when he asks you where you’re from? What you’re doing here? What your job is? If you to can see each other again. Do you want to break his heart? Or get yourself tangled in too many lies until it’s too late and you’ll have to face the consequences? This is not a game Jimin. This is someone’s life your toying with!”

“Since when are you the one scolding me?” Jimin pouted, averting his gaze to the ground as he just kept on walking. “I might have not thought about that, yet but I can come up with something that makes sense without lying. I just want to protect him, and I figured if he doesn’t listen to his inner voice…then he has to…to my human voice, you know?” Jimin was gesturing around with his hands, “Break his heart? It’s not like he asked me out on a date or something. He just wants to say thanks and although it is my job…it can be nice to get a thanks from time to time, right?”

Yoongi sighed unnerved. Apparently Jimin wasn’t going to let this go easily. So he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forwards, effectively an forcefully pulling him into the heavenly spheres where they could talk to each other properly without taking the stupid route of Jimin talking to air and Yoongi yelling soundlessly at him. Jimin gasped painfully, when he fell against Yoongi. Wings on full display again, his aura shining just as brightly as ever but Jimin wavered still. Every beat of his heart hurt, and the angel felt dizzy from the sudden change of realms that he wasn’t prepared for. “Ouuuw, that hurt.” Blinking his eyes, a couple of times, Jimin kept himself steady against Yoongi.

“You are not good at lying Jimin, you know that. Also why should he listen to you, he doesn’t know you it might even make him suspicious again if you try to manipulate his decisions.“ He yanked at a loose feather in Jimin’s wings that was about to fall out and then shook his head. “You know what I mean. He doesn't trust easily any more. Abusing his trust or making him feel like you played him or lied to him will break his heart if he loves you as a friend, a love or not at all wont matter there.”

“Since when…,” Jimin took another deep breath, “Do you care about sticking to rules so much, hm?” Jimin slowly stretched out his wings and looked at his friend, “I don’t want to break his heart, Yoongi, trust me. I just want him to get better. He’s got chaos all around and he needs someone to organize it so that he can take a breather. Namjoon never stops working and that’s why he’s never in the moment but always overthinking, overanalyzing and…” Jimin sighed, “I know you know all of this. I am sorry.” Tears dwelled in the corner of his eyes but Jimin ignored them. “You know I would never hurt a human. I’d rather hurt myself.”

“Don’t do this Minnie...” Yoongi’s voice turned soft and he loosened his hold around the youngers wrist to caress up his arm in a gentle gesture. “Don’t talk like that about yourself, as if you were worth less. You aren’t. And I’m not so adamant about the rules because I want you to be flawless - I’m just a little scared that you might have gotten yourself in on over your head. I don’t want anyone having to face uncomfortable consequences, and that applies to Namjoon as much as it does to you. You know I care about you.”

Jimin nodded, patting Yoongi’s chest softly, “It was just a tiny mistake.” The angel hugged Yoongi tightly, needing the physical reassurance right now and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I know you do and now please, go and watch over Jungkook. He always needs help at night.” When Yoongi still didn’t move, Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Oh come on. He’s just a protectee in the end. A client. A human. It’s not like I will risk my life for him.”

Yoongi hesitated for a second, contemplating if he would terribly regret it, if he let Jimin go his way now. However there was no way to see into the future and so he could only hope that it would turn out as it should be. 

Time would show if it had been the right decision - or not.

A/N: A new story is starting! Yay! What do you think so far? Was it a good idea of Jimin to change protectees? Or will he run into trouble ;) We will find out....... THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING OUR FICS SO MUCH ;; Cat and I are always so in awe. Thank you thank you thank you ♡♡♡♡

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[spooky-raccoon]

Years Later (Part 14, Finale)

The finale to Years Later, part 14!

Pennywise X Female Reader

Tag List: @rottenhearts-and-sharpteeth​ @clussysposts​ @originalclodmakergarden​ @yeetingful​ @hauntedpennywise​ @wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s​ @risettochan​ @angeli-fucking-cat​ @breeknighty​ @trig-loves-clowning-around​

         Days melted into weeks and weeks melted into months.  My belly grew and grew as the time passed which only made Pennywise more ecstatic.  The day he felt our baby kick he even did a back flip that was following by his clowny giggles.  Though now it was much harder to walk around though walking was a subjective term.  I waddled more than anything.  Pennywise would constantly be by my side as I went about my day, helping me with various tasks or just doing them himself.  He had been persistent that I dare not lift a finger after a certain stage and I had finally gotten to the point during the end of the third trimester.  Then my water broke.  I had been peacefully asleep and thought I needed to use the rest room just like nights before but instead I found that my water was broke.  Pennywise was awake right away as soon as I shook him just the slightest and all of a sudden in the blink of an eye we were in the cistern.

         It seemed that now and again when he had the chance he had gotten a little area together for me to comfortably give birth.  There were pillows and blankets that made everywhere rather cozy.  It would probably be more comfortable if it wasn’t for the wave after wave of contractions though.  My cries and wails echoed off the walls of the caverns as each one hit me.  Pennywise was circling around me with a never-ending stream of encouraging words.  At a certain point though he helped in the birth which sped up the process.  Finally, my cries died down and changed for the cries of our baby who Pennywise bundled up in a baby blanket he had close by.  He brought the bundle to me, a proud look in his eyes as he stared down at our child.  

       Our little one was pure white all over like him.  There were a few extra limbs that I would need to adjust for in their onesies but that would be just fine.  Several eyes dotted their face along with the usual set.  There was a wisp of black hair that was on the top of their head that moved like it was smoke.  They were more beautiful and lovely than I could have imagined.  Most of their eyes were already open and blinked out of unison as they stared up at me.  Then they grinned and I could feel everything inside me melt as I smiled back.

        Time passed and Pennywise had gotten the mess of the ordeal cleaned up or at least made the blankets vanish off somewhere.  He then curled around the baby and I, his eyes glowing ever so softly as he watched and listened to the baby make its first few noises. I don’t know how long we stayed there but shortly after the baby fell asleep so did I.  When I woke up all three of us were back in the house with the same blankets and pillows now amassed on our bed in a makeshift nest. Though, Pennywise was gone.  When I got up I could hear some shuffling coming down the hall in the nursery.  Quietly, I made my way to the room and saw Pennywise setting up a few more stuffed animals and clown dolls along some shelves we had set up across the crib.  For a moment I just watched him and at that moment, with a cooing baby in my arms, I felt the most at peace and the most knowing in my heart everything would be alright.

         A few days passed and something was starting to go wrong. Something was very wrong with my body as it tried to recover from the birth.  It felt as if my body was shutting down.  The baby was thriving and doing well.  Pennywise was prouder than ever for our child and his hunting had gone better than usual.  My health was rapidly deteriorating though I tried to think that if I focused on the baby and appearing healthy that maybe I would be.  Pennywise first noticed when I was feeding the baby when I was wobbly on my legs.  It looked as if my legs were shaking like one of our babies toy rattles.  I brushed off his worries and concerns as being tired, having stayed up with the baby the night before he believed it.  Though there was still a wary gaze as he watched me from that point on.  At least he was right there the day that I fainted in front of him.  Just as my eyes fluttered before my knees buckled Pennywise was there to catch me in his arms.

        “(Y/N)!  (Y/N)! What’s wrong?  Please wake up.”  His voice sounded distant and there was a panic I had never heard before from him. There were barely any noises coming from me and when I couldn’t respond that’s when he turned to Robert to make the call to 9-1-1.  “Please, be okay.  Please, be alright.”  I could barely just hear him muttering as we rode to the hospital.  At least until I blacked out completely.

        Consciousness faded in and out after that point sporadically.  At first I saw Robert sitting beside me in the chair with a baby seat with a blanket draped over it.  I could hear our sweet little baby cooing as if nothing was wrong in the world, as if something wasn’t wrong with their mother.  After that the doctors were around me, explaining to him that my condition was getting worse and that the likely hood that I wouldn’t make it through the rest of the week.  Everything in me was slowly failing and they were unsure why.  The last thing I remember in the hospital was Robert shouting at one of the doctors. Next time I awoke for some time I felt the coldness of almost smooth stone underneath me.  When I looked around I could see I was in the cavern, the sharp splashed like stone surrounding me along with some blankets.  As I looked up I could see the silverish light that came from the lights that shone high, high above me in the throat like ceiling.

        “Pennywise?”  My voice was raspy and sore from finally speaking in what felt like weeks.  I moved to sit up but I had to use one of the structures beside me so I could lean against it.  “Pennywise, I need to be in the hospital.”

        “No!”  His voice boomed from a rocky corridor.  “Those filthy humans would rather let you die!”  My head turned to see Pennywise coming out of the tunnel, clawed legs emerging one after the other.  He was so much larger, and he reminded me of a spider.  “Those pests saw no worth in doing their damndest to save one of their own. Filth.  Every single one of them!”  His words dripped with anger and annoyance as he got closer to me.  

        “Pennywise, please.  Just take me to a different one.”  I moved to get up even though my legs shook violently under me as if they were made of paper.

        “No!  I will take care of you!”  His eyes were starting to glow which was making me nervous.  It had been twenty-seven years since I had seen the same look on his face.  Though this time he was in control of himself.

        “Pennywise.  Please.” I grabbed onto anything I could as I moved away from him.  “We can find somewhere that can treat me.”  I was trying to get to him but his eyes only glowed brighter, the snarl on his face getting more intense.  I had to try to run.  I had to try.

       The adrenaline that ran through my body finally gave me a small amount of strength to get up and make an attempt to run.  At least for a short distance.  My heart was pounding harder than usual and it felt like the room was spinning so I got disoriented far too quickly.  Everything around me felt like it was slowing down.  Though no amount of running would have stopped Pennywise.  I could hear the sound of his many legs hit the ground as he closed the distance between us.  I could see one of his arms shoot out past me then curled around, hooking me around my middle.  My scream rang off the walls as he pulled me back to him.  I tried to pry his arm off me as hoisted me in the air up to his face, but it was no use.

       “I will fix you.  I will make you better.  Not those filthy humans.  You will be better, stronger.  But first.” He brought me closer to him and another one of his arms wrapped around me like a snake.  I continued to try to kick and cry out.  “You must heal.  Can’t change you like this.  I’d lose you. Never going to lose you.  Baby would lose you.  Can’t lose.  Can’t lose. Not after keeping you alive.  No, no, NO!”  His voice was becoming distorted just before he started to open his mouth wider, his eyes rolling back as his face peeled back.

       He was going to put me in the lights again.  I was going to be put back in them for God knows how long.  I kept trying to fight and look away, but my body was getting exhausted so fast.  Both my fight and flight response was fading as it was getting harder to even look away as the sounds of screams filled my ear.

        “Pennywise!  Please!” I’d miss so much if I went.  I’d miss our child growing up.  I’d miss Pennywise and I growing as a couple.  If he would just listen.  “Pennywise!”  I turned my head to maybe try to get him to hear me out, but it was too late.  Too late for words and for any begging I had thought of in the past few seconds.  His lights were out in full force and I felt my mind slip away into the darkness.  The screaming, oh god the screaming.  The sound of screams and crying and begging rang out inside my skull that sounded like it would never end.  And then I felt weightless.

       And here I was in the coldness of the cold void with its boundless screaming.  My body floating in the cavern high above where Pennywise knew my body would stay safe until it would be time.  And there as my body healed in his lights I suffered for years upon years later.

#pennywise: years later part 14 finale #pennywise: years later #pennywise fanfic #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x reader #pennywise x female reader #one fic done so many more to go

[aspiritualwarrior]

What follows is a long read, but it’s one that you won’t regret. I’m not usually one to post about NDE (Near Death Experience), however the following account gives remarkable insight into how awareness is beyond time and space. To my mind, it backs up my assertion that we are One Consciousness, with billions of perspectives.

In her book, Dying To Be Me (My Journey from Cancer to Near Death to True Healing), Anita Moorjani -  who was at the end stage of cancer, her organs had completely shut down, she weighed 80 pounds, and had lost all ability to move and eventually fell into a coma; she had tumours the size of lemons throughout her lymphatic system, from the base of her skull to below her abdomen; her brain was filled with fluid, as were her lungs; her skin developed lesions that were weeping with toxins; the doctors were sure she wouldn't make it through the night - gives the following account of her near-death experience: 

"In this near-death state, I was more acutely aware of all that was going on than I've ever been in a normal physical state. I wasn't using my five biological senses, yet I was keenly taking everything in, much more than if I'd been using my physical organs. It was as though another, completely different type of perception kicked in, and more than just perceive, I seemed to also encompass everything that was happening, as though I was slowly merging with it all.

I knew when people came in to see me, who they were and what they were doing. Although my physical eyes were closed, I seemed to be acutely aware of every minute detail that was taking place. The sharpness of my perception was more intense than if I'd been using my physical senses. I seemed to just know and understand everything - not only what was going on around me, but also what everyone was feeling, as though I were able to see and feel through each person.

I was extremely aware of every detail, but I couldn't physically feel anything - except a release and a level of freedom I'd never known before. I felt no emotional attachment to my lifeless body as it lay there on the hospital bed. It didn't feel as though it were mine. I felt free, liberated and magnificent. Every pain, ache, sadness, and sorrow was gone. I began to feel weightless and to become aware that I was able to be anywhere at any time... and this didn't seem unusual. It felt normal, as though this were the real way to perceive things.

I started to notice how I was continuing to expand to fill every space, until there was no separation between me and everything else. I encompassed - no, became - everything and everyone. I was fully aware of every word of the conversation that was taking place between my family and the doctors, although it was physically some distance away, outside my room. I saw the frightened expression on my husband's face and could feel his fear. It was as though, in that instant, I became him. Simultaneously I became aware that my brother was thousands of miles away on an airplane, coming to see me. I saw him and his worried look.Each time my emotions took over the situation and I felt myself being drawn into the drama of the physical realm, I discovered myself starting to expand again, and I felt a release from all attachment.

I continued to be fully aware of every detail of every procedure that was being administered to me, while to the outside world I appeared to be in a coma. I felt a sense of freedom and liberation that I'd never experienced in my physical life before. I can only describe this as the combination of joy mixed with a generous sprinkling of jubilation and happiness. A superb and glorious unconditional love surrounded me, wrapping me tight as I continued to let go. I didn't feel as though I'd physically gone somewhere else - it was more as though I'd awakened. 

Perhaps I'd finally been roused from a bad dream. My consciousness was finally realising its true magnificence and in doing so, it was expanding beyond my body and this physical world, until it encompassed not only this existence, but continued to expand into another realm that was beyond time and space, and at the same time included it. Love, joy, ecstasy and awe poured into me, through me, and engulfed me. I was swallowed up and enveloped in more love than I ever knew existed. I felt more free and alive than I ever had. As I described, I suddenly knew things that weren't physically possible, such as the conversations between medical staff and my family that were taking place far away from my hospital bed.

The overwhelming sensations were in a realm of their own, and words don't exist to describe them. The feeling of complete, pure, unconditional love was unlike anything I'd known before.

To my amazement, I became aware of the presence of my father, who'd died ten years earlier. There were no words, but I clearly understood. And then I recognised the essence of my best friend, Soni, who'd died three years prior. I felt what I can only describe as excitement as their presence enveloped me like a warm embrace, and I was comforted. I was also aware of other beings around me. I didn't recognise them, but I knew they loved me very much. It was tremendously comforting for me to reconnect with Soni's essence. I felt nothing but unconditional love, both from her and for her. And then, just as I experienced that, it was as though my essence merged with Soni's and I became her. I understood that she was here, there, and everywhere. She was able to be in all places at all times for all her loved ones.

Although I was no longer using my five physical senses, I had unlimited perception, as if a new sense had become available, one that was more heightened than any of our usual faculties. I had 360-degree peripheral vision with total awareness of my surroundings. And as amazing as it all sounds, it still felt almost normal. Being in a body now felt confining. Time felt different in that realm, too, and I felt all moments at once. My awareness in that expanded realm was indescribable, despite my best efforts to explain it. The clarity was amazing. And then I was overwhelmed by the realisation that God isn't a being, but a state of being... and I was now that state of being! 

In that state of clarity, I also realised that I'm not who I'd always thought I was: Here I am without my body, race, culture, religion, or beliefs... yet I continue to exist. I certainly don't feel reduced or smaller in any way. On the contrary, I haven't ever been this huge, this powerful, or this all-encompassing. I felt eternal, as if I'd always existed and always would without beginning or end. I was transformed in unimaginable clarity as I realised that this magnificent essence was really me. It was the truth of my being. The understanding was so clear: I was looking into a new paradigm of self, becoming the crystalline light of my own awareness. Nothing interfered with the flow, glory, and amazing beauty of what was taking place.

I realised that the entire universe is alive and infused with consciousness, encompassing all of life and nature. We're all facets of that Unity - we're all One. Even though I hadn't always been close to my father while I was growing up, all I could feel emanating from him now was glorious, unconditional, pure love. The cultural pressures he'd put on me during life had all dropped away, because they were all only part of physical existence. None of that matters after death; those values didn't carry through into the afterlife. It truly felt amazing, as though I'd finally come home! Our communication wasn't verbal, but a complete melding of mutual comprehension. It wasn't just that I understood my father - it was as though I became him.

Not to mention that the state of unconditional love was just so blissful, I couldn't bear the thought of returning. I wanted to stay where I was forever and ever. The unconditional love and acceptance was incredible, and I wanted to cross the threshold in order to continue to experience it for eternity. It was though I was enveloped in the oneness, the pure essence of every living being, without their pains, dramas, and egos. I understood that at the core, our essence is made of pure love. We are pure love - every single one of us.

As though to confirm my realisation, I became aware of both my father and Soni communicating to me: Now that you know the truth of who you really are, go back and live your life fearlessly!"

After her NDE, Anita’s condition improved so rapidly that she could be released from the hospital within weeks... without a trace of cancer in her body.

(Photo: Anita Moorjani, Wayne Dyer, Eckhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra)

#anita moorjani #near death experience #nde #consciousness #awareness #truth #oneness #life #death #pure awareness #self realisation #fearlessness #cancer #coma #illness

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #40 - Follow the Love

Your eyes do not deceive you!  After something like three months and one complete rewrite once I finally decided that the dark crap I was writing was not where I wanted to go, here is a new chapter. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Almost immediately, Kurt sensed that this venture into the Void would be different from his first.

 The last time he had been here, he had not been fully conscious of shifting out of the physical realm until he detected the first spark of Adam’s lifeline and threw himself towards it. He had felt an odd sensation then, like floating weightless in a dream, except that he had known he was still awake.

 This was more like walking into a strange room, only to have the door slam shut behind him and then the floor fall away beneath his feet. But like before, the connection with his coven kept him from getting lost in the darkness, giving him reassurance that he was indeed tethered to the real world and that there was a safety net ready to catch if he should lose his way.

 Trying to remember how it felt when he was levitating, he forced himself to take a deep breath, picturing his lungs filling and emptying, and almost immediately the initial sensation of panic ebbed away. He was fine, he was in control, and he could do this.

 He began to sense his physical body again, able to register the slight sting of the knot-work pendant digging into his palm where he was clenching his fingers tight against it, to sense his fellow witches surrounding and supporting him. He reached out his senses and found that he could identify Sam and the trio of Familiars that guarded them both. After a moment, he recognized that Elliott had reached out to rub a hand across his shoulders. He could not precisely feel the touch, he wasn’t even sure it was physically there given that his friend had been in cat form when he left, but he knew that at least emotionally it was real, and he took comfort from that.

 He could also feel Adam, away at the very edge of his consciousness, willing him the strength to go forward and not let the emptiness of the Void overtake him. Kurt concentrated on the web, giving each of the magical strings a little ‘pluck’ to signal that he was okay. Almost at once, he felt an answering vibration of relief and encouragement.

 Reassured that he had backup if anything went wrong, Kurt began to move forward through the darkness, and after a while he began to notice that it was not so much a lack of light that surrounded him as simply a deep gray nothingness, distracted by occasional flickers. A tiny flash of light here, a bit of color there, a blur of motion distracting him out of the corner of his mind’s eye.  

 He wondered what those were. Surely there couldn’t be a lot of people trapped in pockets of space/time, right? So then what was he sensing?

 A vague vibration of humor flashed through his mind, one that he identified as Sebastian. And then he understood. As he acclimated to this place, he was detecting the passage of other lives passing through the In-Between. Teleporters, Familiars, maybe even regular cats since he had been told they also had the power to use this space at will.

 It helped him clarify his mission. He would not be searching what amounted to an otherworldly subway system. He had to look for someone who might be trapped on an empty platform, waiting for a train that would never come.

 Well, that was a terribly depressing thought.

 Still, he knew that time moved differently here, so if Finn was indeed stuck in this place and waiting for him, he might not be as aware of the passage of time as Adam had been.

 Kurt had spoken at length with both his coven and his friend Troy about how assorted powers and castings worked. Kurt’s own power and his ease with magic had grown exponentially in the months since his first venture into the Void, and he knew now that doing Major Workings often resulted in time-slips as a result of so much raw power being pulled to a single location. So while Blaine was anything but a master spell-crafter, he would have been dumping a hell of a lot of energy – taken from god knew how many unwitting donors – into the Void when he shot his magical blast at Finn.  And if Finn had countered with some sort of instinctive defense, his developing Telekinesis could easily have sling-shot him somewhere he could escape, someplace he might feel safe.

 Of course, being flung completely out of his body would have fucked that plan up pretty royally, but the idea was sound.

 Tubbington had been confident that physical distance held no importance in this place, but cats tended to see the world differently from humans. To L.T., one simply entered the In-Between space at one point and came out wherever they wished to be. But for human Teleporters it was different. Adam’s father could jump thousands of miles in a blink, even if he was carrying several other people and going to a place he’d never been before. Santana was limited to familiar locations. Elliott, though a Familiar, was only strong enough to transport a single extra person, and he required a point of reference.

 Kurt was not a proper Teleporter at all.  He had enough that he could sense and navigate non-physical realms, but for him it was like driving along a dark highway with no maps or road-signs to guide him.

 “Finn?” he called, as he had been doing periodically since he started. He did not really expect a response, but he was unwilling to take the chance of not at least trying the obvious. “Finn, can you hear me? It’s Kurt. I’ve come to bring you home. Finn?”

 Nothing.

 He had to think about this differently.  Part of him had been expecting Finn’s soul to react to his touch the way Adam’s had, but Adam had already been an experienced witch when he was projected to this place. He had had a physical body and at least some awareness of Kurt in the real world.

 Finn would not have that advantage. He had not even known what was happening when his power began randomly manifesting, assuming the coven’s theory was accurate, and even if he had figured out his plight somehow, he certainly wouldn’t be aware that Kurt had the power to magically come to his rescue.

 When Kurt was learning to separate his Talents, Adam had told him to identify each piece individually, to recognize them one by one before trying to blend them together. So what if he could do that here?  If he could reach out and separate the threads of magic interwoven into the pendant he was holding, then maybe he could simply separate Finn’s thread and use it as a sort of divining rod to find the rest of him.

 It took a long time, but finally Kurt gasped. Had he detected a faint pulse?

 Touching the gossamer thread of Finn’s lifeline as gently as a raindrop rolling along spider-silk, he willed it to unwind further and take him where he needed to go.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Ohio.  

 Kurt was not surprised at all to recognize that he had suddenly jumped to somewhere in his home state. He couldn’t see the surrounding views, but he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Just as he knew that he was somehow picking up speed.

He found himself zipping through long empty spaces, some of them dark, some light, and the interruptions by those flashes of color and light were growing more frequent. He had at some point decided to concentrate on emotion rather than physically searching for his brother, and immediately felt a shift inside himself.

 So much power was coursing through him that it felt like being struck by a lightning bolt of pure sensation. He understood now what the combination of his recent Joining and the High Magic of Valentine’s Day had to offer. He was picking up pieces of other people’s feelings as he traveled, so many shots of love hitting him from every direction; platonic, sexual, friendship, family; not all of it happy or clearly expressed, but every bit of it full of pure undiluted emotion.

 It was dizzying and a little addictive.

 He reached out again to his coven, needing their steadying influence, and felt the Familiar trio guiding him back to his path, giving him a helping hand through the confusion.

 Think, Kurt.

 Using the overwhelming emotion as an amplifier, he concentrated on the essence of his lost brother, letting his own love take the lead. Emotional instinct was his best and truest gift as both a witch and a human being and he needed to let it guide him.

 There!  There it was again. That faint answer to his call. It was not so much words as just a feeling of “?”, “!”, and finally “…”

 Kurt grabbed on to that small reply and threw himself towards it. He gasped when he abruptly saw one of the sparks coming right at his face, raising his arms in instinctive defense, only to find himself then bumping into a very solid wooden door and landing on his ass on a very real wooden floor covered in rich Oriental carpeting.

 He was, to all sensory evidence, back in his physical body and occupying a corridor that he knew very well though he had not seen it for several years. Not sure what else to do, he got to his feet and knocked on the red-stained cherry wood door. The door obligingly swung inward and he found himself entering the common room where he used to like studying when he was a student at Dalton Academy. The small one with the fireplace and comfortable sofas where he and Blaine had sung their first duet one long ago Christmas.

 And he was not alone, though his companion this time was not his teenaged dream.

 “Finn!” he said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand, only to stop when the long body lounging on the sofa did not react with the same joy and surprise.

 Finn Hudson, dressed in slacks, a plain button up shirt, a sweater-vest, and loafers, all oddly devoid of any color but a dull muted gray, looked up at him with a familiar confused expression, as if he could not quite recall where he had seen this visitor before. “Hey,” he said.

 Not knowing what else to do, Kurt sat down on the sofa next to him. “Hi, Finn,” he said softly. “It’s really good to see you again.”

 “You too,” he said, smiling a little. “I don’t usually see you guys so clearly.”

 “What do you mean?”

 He shrugged one shoulder. “You know. Memories of the old days. You don’t usually come right in and talk to me. Maybe I’m finally losing it.”

 This time, Kurt obeyed his impulse and reached out to grasp his hand. “I’m not a memory. I’m really here and I’ve come to take you home.”

 Finn jumped, looking absolutely astounded by the contact. “You touched me!  Who are you?”

 Kurt felt his heart drop to somewhere in his shoes. In all the scenarios of finding Finn, he had never once considered that he would be so damaged by this experience that he would not remember his own brother. “Finn, it’s me. It’s Kurt.”

 His brow scrunched. “Kurt? Nah, Kurt is just a kid. You look older than me.”

 Puzzled by this response, Kurt sat forward, both giving and taking a closer look. Now that he mentioned it, Finn did look younger than the not-quite-20 year old who had been studying to be a teacher. He appeared to be around fifteen. The way he had looked when Kurt first developed his stupid crush on this boy back in their freshman year of high school. “I’m almost twenty-two now,” he said. “Same as you would be.”

 Finn considered this, playing with the buttons on his vest, which Kurt now recognized in spite of the lack of signature blue and red, as one of the alternates to the Dalton uniform blazer. But Finn had never gone to Dalton Academy. He had never even set foot inside the place, unless he had come here to confront Blaine on the day he . . . oh!

 “I thought . . . your body was found at your dorm at U of O,” he said, “not here.”

 His brow scrunched. “Body? Dude, what are you talking about? I’ve been here ever since I transferred.”

 Kurt decided to play along. He remembered that Adam had told him that he carried echoes of Blaine’s malice with him into the Void when he was torn away from his physical body. Maybe Finn had somehow carried memories belonging to his attacker, and confused them with the stories he knew of Kurt’s own time here. Also, Finn did not appear to realize that he had died. Rather than a formless phantom or wandering soul, his essence had simply transported to a place that gave him the appearance of a somewhat normal life.

 “Finn, what exactly do you do here? At Dalton Academy. You said ‘we’ don’t usually come in and talk. Who is that?”

 “I . . .” he paused, seeming unsure of the answer now. “I go here . . . don’t I? This room, and the choir room, and I see my mom, and Shue, and Rachel, and Puck, and Kurt sometimes. But they don’t come in, they just remind me of things we used to do together, and then they go away and I go back to hanging out in here. That’s okay, right?”

 Surprised by the anxious question, Kurt patted his arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. But it isn’t exactly real either. Because you never attended Dalton. I did, remember? When we were seventeen, I got chased out of McKinley by a death threat and I came here for a few months. Until you helped me figure out a way to confront the bad parts and regain my old life and all of our old friends. Because by then you and I had become brothers.”

 “Because Mom married Burt,” he said in a revelatory tone. “You threw them a wedding, and you and I danced together, and we were cool.”

 He grinned. God, how he had missed that simplistic way of viewing things. “Yeah, we were. You made up your mind to look after me and to be a real brother to me, and you did.”

 Sadness filled Finn’s brown eyes. “No I didn’t. I only cared about me, and once you were gone I stopped acting like a brother and just did stuff that mattered to me. Even when you came home again, I ignored how the other kids treated you.”

 “Only for a while,” Kurt said, then he sighed. No, he could not do that again. His instinctive habit of letting everyone off the hook and pretending that their actions had not hurt him was what had led to Blaine being able to get under his defenses so easily in the first place. He had to be honest with Finn now, for both their sakes. “It did hurt me, when you buried your head in the sand over and over, pretending like nothing mattered except what was happening in your life. You didn’t really consider me again until you came to New York. You remember the day we found out Blaine had cheated on me?”

 Was it his imagination, or was Finn growing more distinct? The colors of his uniform looked brighter than before, taking on hints of faded navy and burgundy instead of the nondescript gray. He also appeared slightly older, Kurt thought.

 “I remember,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I think that was when I accepted that he wasn’t as great as we’d all been telling ourselves. He broke your heart, and he didn’t even care. But you guys kept making up again, and I told myself it was like me and Rachel, except that wasn’t so great either by the end of things.”

 “He was using me. He never really cared at all, and I didn’t want to face that,” Kurt said bluntly, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. “Any more than you wanted to believe that you and Rachel weren’t good for each other.”

 He nodded. “Rachel loved me, and I loved her, but we never would have worked out in the long run. We had passion, but we never had much understanding. And you didn’t even get that much. You guys were all about him, right from the start. I didn’t understand how bad he treated you until you met someone new that you were honestly happy with. You sort of bloomed then, like a big flower of some kind. It’s sounds weird but you got beautiful then, like you were really you for the first time and really happy with your life. Only instead of being happy for you, everybody at home kept trying to drag you backward, and turn you back into the sad little weed you always were with Blaine. I never knew why they couldn’t see what I saw.”

 “They were under a spell,” Kurt told him. “A real one, with magic.”

 Finn scoffed, but then his brow furrowed again. “You aren’t kidding, are you?”

 Kurt smiled at him. “No, Finn, I’m not. Magic is real. I have it, from my mom.” He hesitated, then said, “And you have it from yours. Blaine has it too, although it’s a warped unpredictable kind of magic that he mostly uses for his own advancement. A lot of our old friends turned out to be witches, and mostly good ones, who’ve helped me to find my true self. And I found Adam again. He’s the guy who made me, as you put it, bloom. Blaine hurt him, trapped him here for a long time, and made me forget him.”

 They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then Finn said, “That’s super weird. Are you sure? You don’t look like you have powers, and I don’t have any, I don’t think. How did you find out about all this stuff?”

 “It’s a long story. I . . . do you mind if try something? It might save us a lot of time.”

 Kurt was not sure this would work, given that the bodies they both occupied at this moment were little more than an illusion, but at Finn’s eager nod, he placed his fingers at his brother’s temples and willed him to See an edited version of Kurt’s experiences over the past several months. It was similar to things he had done with Adam, Brittany, and Elliott, and he was counting on the love that had grown up between himself and Finn to make it work for them.

 Finn’s eyes were like saucers. “Whoa. That’s amazing. It’s awesome!”

 “That’s a pretty good description,” Kurt agreed with a grin, relieved to have Finn take this so well.

 “But . . . what you showed me. Blaine did that to Adam? And to you? And I found out but I still didn’t help? Or did I help? You said Blaine trapped him here. Does that mean he trapped me here? Am I not really where I think I am?”

 A little surprised that he had picked up the subtext so quickly, not a skill he recalled being one of Finn’s better ones, Kurt nodded. “I’m afraid so.  After you found out that Blaine was hurting me, trying to force me to marry him, you tried to stop him. Your powers were coming in, though none of us knew it at the time, and you must have come here to have it out with Blaine. I guess whatever you said to him must have freaked him out and he followed you back to your dorm, and you guys fought.”

 “And my powers showed up?” he guessed, face brightening at that idea. Kurt suspected he was imagining himself as some kind of magical ninja death fighter, like something out of those video games he had loved to play with Sam, Puck, and the other “bros” back in high school. Then his smile fell. “Wait, if Blaine is still okay and I’m trapped at Dalton, he must’ve out-magicked me.”

 Kurt nodded. “I think it was more like you started moving things with your will, he panicked and sledge-hammered you with magic, and you got knocked out of your body the same way Adam was, only whatever you did to defend yourself resulted in your memories getting tangled up. So you’re here, in a place familiar to me and Blaine, and he’s still walking around in his own body, doing who knows what kind of awful things to people.”

 By now, Finn’s coloring had returned to full brightness and he looked like the version of himself that Kurt had last seen in Ohio a few weeks before his death. His clothing had also transformed, after briefly being a proper Dalton uniform, into a pair of jeans and a blue checked shirt. Likely the clothing he had worn on his last day.

 “And I’m dead,” he said in a tone that was too resigned to be something he had never realized before, however subconsciously. “My body didn’t survive the magic blast, did it?”

 “No,” Kurt told him. “I’m afraid it didn’t. You’ve been here a long time now, and I’m sorry I didn’t know that, or have a way to reach you before today.”

 He looked startled at that. “Dude, it wasn’t your fault!  If I can’t be mad at myself for not standing up for you sooner with Blaine, then you can’t be mad at yourself for not jumping off a cliff to come look for me. I don’t even know how you did it this time.”

 “Oh, well, my friends that I showed you? My coven? They helped me get back into the Void, and we used the power of an especially powerful day, plus the ritual of my . . . did I tell you this was my wedding day?  Adam and I got Joined this morning, and we’re getting legally married in a few hours.”

 Finn beamed at him. “Seriously? That’s awesome, man. C’mere!”

 His long arms abruptly reached out and embraced Kurt, drawing him close and squeezing tight. And just like that, Kurt’s determination to get through this meeting without tears fell apart. He hugged his brother tight, unable to stop himself as he began sobbing into that blessedly familiar shoulder. “Oh, Finn, I missed you so much.”

 They held each other for a long time, neither one willing to let go, but finally Finn loosened his grip and said, “I missed you too, Kurt. Seriously, I’ve missed everybody but you’re one of the people I’ve missed most of all. Thanks for coming back for me.”

 “Once I learned you might really be here, lost in here the way Adam was, I,” he choked up too much to talk, sitting up and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He jumped then, realizing suddenly that while they still occupied the little couch together, the common room at Dalton had vanished from around them. They were back in the empty gray nothingness of the Void.

 Finn just looked around, unimpressed. “It does that sometimes. When I’m in the rooms at Dalton, I forget I’m here, and sometimes I forget other stuff too. Then I remember and I’m here again. It seems like I should go to McKinley, or my old room, or someplace else I spent a lot of time, but I never do. Sometimes when I’m thinking straight, I wonder if I’m in Purgatory, like they used to talk about in church. Like maybe I did something bad, but not bad enough for like devils and torture and stuff. I’d think that was happening now except that you’re way too real, and your story is way too weird to be something I imagined.”

 “You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kurt said, blowing his nose in a handy handkerchief that had appeared on the sofa next to him.

 “I guess you get used to it,” he said. “If it was always like this, knowing I was stuck here with nothing to look at, and nobody to hang out with, I’d be as bad as you showed me with Adam. But it isn’t, so I’m not. I’m okay, but if you have a way to get us out of here, that’d be even better.”

 “I do,” Kurt said firmly. “Now that we’re on the same page, it should be just a matter of both of us willing you back home with me. That’s what I did with Adam. Although, it feels like that was way faster. We didn’t have any time to talk about it. It just sort of happened. But I’ll reach out to the coven, and pull us back to the real world, and they’ll seal off the spell so nothing else can leak through behind us.”

  Finn nodded, pretending that he fully understood. “Sounds good. Only if I don’t have a body anymore, what are you going to do with me?”

 “Sam is willing to share his body,” Kurt explained. “Blaine damaged him pretty badly over the years of their friendship, by storing stolen power inside him. We need a steadying influence to help him heal from the magic poisoning he’s suffered, and we also need a physical body for you, so if you’re okay with it, the two of you will share.”

 Finn considered it. “I guess so. Sam was always a good friend, and if this will help us both then I’m willing to try it. Who’ll be in charge, though? Will my mind just take over his body, or will we be like split-personality guy, or what? What if one of us wants to do something, like get a job or go on a date, and the other one doesn’t? Who gets to decide?”

 “Uh . . . I guess that’s something we’ll just have to find out, or you and Sam can figure as you go,” Kurt said, a little dismayed that he had never considered that angle. “I’m not even sure this is a permanent solution. For now, it’s just the best we’ve got.”

 Finn gave a philosophical shrug. “Better than nothing.” Suddenly, he perked up. “Ooh, maybe I’ll be able to transport in and out at will, like in a comic book!  And then one day, somebody will build a super robot and I can transfer into that and have kick-ass powers! Speaking of powers, I wonder if I’ll have any in Sam’s body. I kind of like the idea of being able to move stuff at will.”

 Kurt couldn’t help it. He hugged Finn again, laughing this time. “I have no idea, but I think I’m looking forward to finding out. Shall we?”

 Finn hopped up, pulling Kurt with him, and the sofa vanished into the gray. “Let’s go.”

 Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Kurt kept both hands firmly locked on Finn’s forearms as he opened his link to the coven wider. Understanding, they began actively pulling him back home and Kurt sensed the cold emptiness fading away.

 Just before the end, he opened his eyes, sealing away one last memory of Finn’s face. No matter what happened next, he would never look into these beloved brown eyes again. Finn seemed to understand, for he flashed his brother a crooked smile and gave him a nod.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

 With an abrupt jerk, Kurt’s spirit rejoined his body. He reached out, momentarily dismayed to find his brother gone, until he remembered that of course there would be nothing to hang on to outside of the Void. And then he felt Sam respond to the gesture and grip his arms in much the same way Finn had done a moment before. They stared at one another as Monica and Santana stepped forward, L.T., Elliott and Sebastian taking a few steps back and giving the second warding circle room to change places with them and surround the two . . . possibly three . . . young men in the center.

 “Quick, give me your pendant,” Monica ordered, placing both hands around Kurt’s right one and closing her fingers around the chain dangling half-forgotten in his grip. She whispered an incantation over the metal and the enchanted pendant rose into the air, pointing like an arrow at a spot slightly above and to the left of Sam. “Got him. San, you’re up.”

 Santana lifted both hands and wove them in an intricate pattern over the spot the pendant had indicated. “Just hang tight, Frankenteen, and try not to move from wherever you are. This won’t hurt a bit.” The force-field that extended from her wide-spread fingertips encircled a large area and coalesced around something roughly six and a half feet tall. “Good boy. Think like you’re really standing there. Dani, make us a snowman.”

 Dani’s hands covered Santana’s, then helped her shape a rough outline of a person inside the force-field. It wavered and then slowly solidified until it really did look like a human being, if that person was formed entirely of ice. “Nice to finally meet you, Finn Hudson.”

 A little cry tore from Carole’s throat at the sight and it was only the tight grip that she had on June and Adam’s hands that kept her from launching at the newcomer. However transformed, her son had returned. But the Crawfords kept a firm grip. They understood her reaction all too well, but it was imperative that the final warding circle not be broken while so much magic was being performed inside of it. Not until Finn and Sam were truly connected.  

 Burt left his place at the breakfast bar and came to stand behind his wife, massaging her shoulders in a comforting way as he joined her anxious observation. “Don’t worry, honey. Everything will be okay if we just let them finish what they started.”

 Tears shone in her eyes as she nodded. “I know,” she said thickly. “I just . . .”

 “It’s okay, Carole,” Kurt said, not taking his eyes from the substitute form of his brother. “I think we’re almost there.”

 “Make us some room, Brit,” Dani said.

 Brittany, her face unusually serious as she worked, squinted her eyes at Sam and softly sang out a musical incantation, then she uncorked a vial of potion that Adam had made up for her and tossed it at Sam. “I Conjure the soul of one Samuel Jason Evans,” she called out, beads of sweat breaking out across her face as she struggled to do gently what Blaine Anderson had done to two of her friends by force, removing Sam’s spirit from his physical body. “Catch him, Kurt.”

 The words were so casually spoken that Kurt almost did not react in time, but he jumped forward and caught Sam beneath the armpits and pulled him into an embrace just as he began to fall. He held on tight and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that he was cradling a corpse, barely able to repress the urge to shiver at how still and cold the body felt in his arms.

 “Okay, Johnny,” she said, still remarkably unperturbed in spite of the perspiration now running in rivulets down her face and neck. “We’re ready.”

 Those with Sight could see the damaged soul she so carefully held, but even those without it could see what a struggle this was. Many of the observers in the room felt their respect for the member of Kurt’s coven they most habitually underestimated going up by degrees. What Brittany was doing clearly took both great power and very fine control.

 Johnny reached out one hand toward Sam’s floating spirit, and the other toward ice-Finn. Then he closed his eyes and began to chant. Slowly, Finn’s frozen features transformed into Sam’s, and then the indistinct form of Sam’s damaged self began to solidify until it took on the shape of Finn.

 Dani and Santana worked together to form a second ice-human within a force-field and Brittany fell back with a grateful gasp as she was able to let someone else take control.

 “Back to you, Mon,” Johnny said.

 Monica nodded and lifted the enchanted pendant, holding it aloft over a silver ring that Sam had been wearing when he arrived at the loft that morning. Kurt had not thought to ask about it, too distracted by other matters, but it occurred to him now that he had never seen his friend wear any kind of jewelry before. Studying it now as the ring began to glow in Monica’s outstretched hand, he realized that the Metallurgist must have created the item specifically for today’s event.

 Speaking a series of spidery, barely audible syllables, Monica lowered the pendant until it passed through the center of the ring, then slowly wound the chain around and around it. “Kurt, please complete the Working,” she directed as the two spirits each reached out toward the interwoven jewelry without anyone’s advice.

 He nodded and took a deep breath, hoping he had learned enough to pass this final test of the knowledge and power unique to a coven leader.

 “You got this, kid. And we got you,” Tubbington said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

 Kurt nodded to him, unable to keep from startling a little when he noticed that the golden-brown, blue, and green eyes of the three Familiars were all glowing like they had neon lights inside of them. He could almost reach out and touch the power radiating from the trio.

 “Kurt,” Adam called. He looked up, meeting the eyes of his true soul-mate. A feeling of deep joy, love, and utmost confidence passed to him from his beloved and Kurt’s thundering heartbeat steadied. “You can do this.”

 “Right,” he said, offering back a nod and a tentative smile. “Dani, Johnny, help me out here.”

They gently transferred the still body from Kurt’s arms into their own, holding it safe between them and freeing Kurt to reach out both hands and cup them around the enchanted jewelry. Monica pulled her own hand away and left Kurt’s covering the ephemeral hands of his brother and friend. Santana lightly pulled away her force-fields, trusting that the two disembodied souls were now safely connected to Kurt as he began to speak.

 “Mind and Heart. Body and Spirit. Thought and Flesh. Let these two lost souls be joined by the power of this coven, and the will of this Gathering.” Kurt took a step back, keeping the jewelry telekinetically afloat and connecting the two spirits, then he spread his arms wide as if embracing his friend and his brother and began to close the circle around them, whispering magical syllables as he wove three of his powers together, compressing, swapping, heating, until the ice was fully melted and the two individual beings were joined into a single form around the joint ring and necklace. The new spirit grew indistinct, slowly became a human looking form again, which at first looked mostly like Finn, and then more like Sam, and then became something like both for a moment before melting into a form of light.

 To Sight, he, or perhaps they, looked like a being made of pure Potential, bright and gleaming, the broken pieces of two damaged people healed through their own form of Joining. A brotherly bond of deepest love that spread out to include Kurt, his coven, and each and every person in the watching circle.

 Kurt placed a hand on the new being’s chest, and the other on Sam’s waiting body, relying on instinct as he concentrated all his remaining strength on Whisking (a name recently given to his transference power by Elliott) the spirit into the body. It obeyed the silent command as easily as if the body was putting on a new garment.

 The coven joined hands and as one they spoke. “So Shall it Be.”

 The entire loft shivered as if it had been struck by a distant earthquake, and all of the people in it winced and gasped as their ears were vibrated by a surge of power that seemed to suck all of the sound out with it, leaving nothing but a yawning echo for several seconds.  

 The cats’ eyes glowed even brighter, every hair on their bodies standing on end as they yowled a chorus of magic, slowly closing down the powerful ward they had created, allowing the gathered power to dissipate back into the cosmos, then double-checking that no trace of the Void had been left open behind the travelers. The howl rose for a moment, then became something more human, taking on a distinctly musical quality that slowly softened into a gentle purr.

 Around the loft, the pressure ebbed, normal sound returned, and this time it was Kurt who dropped to the floor like a lifeless puppet, completely unconscious.

 “Show’s over, folks!” Tubbington called out with entirely too much cheer for someone who had just presided over a Major Working. “You may resume your normally scheduled panic.”

 Babbling conversations broke out everywhere as people surged forward. It was a crush of confusion as some ran to Kurt, some to Sam/Finn, some to other coven members who all sat on the floor in exhausted heaps of depleted strength.

 Carole and Mercedes were the first to reach Sam/Finn and they looked him over with a mixture of hope, fear, and worry. The blond man blinked at them, confused as he tried to process his new reality. Finally, he looked at Carole. “Mom? What happened? When did you get so tall?”

 The distraught mother looked into his now blue eyes, searching, and then she laughed, crying at the same time and enfolded the young man in the tightest of hugs. “Finn. Oh my god. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I was so afraid to hope this could possibly work.”

 He hugged her back, a long rocking embrace that seemed to seek as well as give comfort, though it was obvious that he had lost a few steps somewhere between the Void and this new integrated existence. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m right here.”

 “Sam?” Mercedes asked tentatively, clearly not sure whether it was okay to interrupt the tender moment, but terribly worried about the man she had once been in love with. “Are you still in there too?”

 He looked at Mercedes, not releasing Finn’s mother, but smiling sweetly as he rested his cheek against Carole’s head. “I’m still here, babe,” he said, in a tone that was somehow both familiar and strange. “Feeling better too. I’m just taking a back seat to the big guy right now.”

 He blinked and then ‘Finn’ lit up as he recognized her. “Hey, Mercedes!  Long time no see!”

 Mercedes’ mouth dropped open, a bit taken aback as she also found that she could easily recognize her old friend in spite of the change in body. “Finn. My God, boy, if I didn’t already think Kurt Hummel was some kind of miracle worker before, I sure do now. C’mere.”

 As Carole reluctantly released him, Mercedes lunged forward for her own happy bear-hug, laughing and crying with overwhelming emotion.

 But the mention of his brother’s name had reoriented some of Finn’s confused thoughts. “Dude! Kurt! Is he okay? He saved me from that weird place. He saved both of us.”

 “He’s okay,” Burt said, reaching out from his spot on the floor where he was holding one of Kurt’s hands, while Adam cradled Kurt in his lap and cooed over him, while Kurt’s lethargically blinking eyes offered proof that he was awake but too tired to do anything but lie back and let himself be fussed over. The two smiled at one another as Finn reached out for his brother’s free hand and gave it a squeeze of gratitude. Burt clasped his own work-hardened hands over their joint ones and swallowed hard, not even trying to hide the tears in his eyes. “All of my boys are okay. And that includes you, Sam, and you, Adam.”

 “What about us?” asked Sebastian, newly formed into his human self and lounging wearily but smugly in Elliott’s arms. “Don’t we get any long-lost-son brownie points here? After all, Kurt couldn’t have done it without us.”

 Burt huffed, but Kurt let go a tired laugh. “He’s right, you know. I needed every one of you today, and you all came through with flying colors. Thank you, all of you.”

 Nods, smiles, a bow here and there, and Burt chuckled. “Aw, what the hell? When we first got married, Kurt’s mom and I used to joke that we wanted to have a dozen kids. This wasn’t quite what I pictured, but I expect I have enough room in my life for all of you. Just bring your own snacks, and call first if you’re gonna drop by the house.”

 Everyone laughed, agreeing that this would be fine by them. “Same goes for me,” Henry agreed jovially. “Though I never pictured myself raising a pack with Burt Hummel.”

 They laughed again, teasing the two older men who, over the last couple of months, had progressed from near enemies to sworn friends.

 “Speaking of food,” Kurt said, raising his voice above the din, “I could really use some brunch right now if I’m going to have any chance of making it to my own wedding today. Never mind the reception.”

 A new babble of excited conversations rose up as all of Kurt and Adam’s friends and family were reminded that there were joyous events still to come.

 “I’m on the job, Junior,” Tubbington said happily. “My poor little kittens probably couldn’t conjure a cup of coffee right now, so the two Dads and I will go pick up lunch for everybody.”

 “Or I could just Conjure you something,” Bethany offered. “I wasn’t involved in the main spell-casting so I’m still fresh as a daisy.”

 Tubbington flung an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry Adam, I just found a new favorite Crawford. So, Beth, how do you feel about Kung Pao Chicken?”

 As everyone else began conferring on a lunchtime wish-list, Carole, Burt, Henry, Adam, and Finn/Sam hung back. Picking Kurt up off the floor they moved back to the private bedroom alcove, setting the exhausted coven leader down to sit. Adam, having also been on the outskirts was feeling fine and he happily engaged in fussing over Kurt, kissing him and telling him again and again how brave and wonderful he was, while Finn/Sam was ironically bouncing with renewed energy.

 “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Henry said at last, looking at his new son in law with undisguised admiration. “And I’ve seen some spell-casting in my time. The way your coven worked together, each providing his or her piece of the puzzle, was some of the finest teamwork I’ve ever encountered. You should be very proud of what you’ve built here, son.”

 “I am,” Kurt said, looking around at his family and out at his friends, back to happily squabbling over little things now that the excitement was over. Johnny was ignoring everyone as he concentrated on moving all of the furniture back out of his bespelled bag and into its usual position around the room so that Tubbington could enlarge what looked like a collection of doll-house furniture back to its proper size. Others were complimenting each other on their part in the spell-casting and replaying their favorite parts for one another. “I really am.”

 “That really took a lot out of you, though, didn’t it?” Adam said, stroking Kurt’s brow as he rested his head on Adam’s shoulder.

 He nodded. “Yes, but I’ll be okay, and it was 100% worth it.” Kurt reached out and squeezed Sam/Finn’s hand. “I got my brother back. And my friend is going to be okay too. This new situation will take some getting used to, but I’m so glad you both trusted us enough to try it.”

 “Dude, before I forget to say it, thanks for what you did for me,” he replied. “I don’t think I even knew how bad off I was until right now. I feel a thousand percent better, and even though it’s weird to have someone else rattling around in my brain with me, it feels good too. And Kurt? That brother sentiment goes double for me. You and me are family now, okay?”

 Kurt smiled. “Okay. Thanks, Sam. I missed you too. And Finn?” He waited a second as the other man’s face made the minute change he was already beginning to associate with his brother. “You need to take it easy for a while. I don’t know what the future holds for you guys, but I want you both to have as good a second chance as you possibly can.”

 “You got it. We’re just gonna go home with Mom and Burt, and see how things go for a while.”

 “I already sleep in your old bedroom, so that’ll be easy,” Sam said. “And we already like the same movies, and music, and games, and stuff. That’s cool, right?”

 “Totally,” Finn said enthusiastically. “And dude, this totally means we can now play both drums and guitar!”

 “I never thought of that!”

 The rest of the group was watching with fascination as the blond carried on a happy conversation with himself. It was a little confusing, but also an incredibly joyful experience.

 “You’re gonna have to watch that in public,” Burt said, shaking his head. “Everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose.”

 “Burt,” Carole scolded gently. She could not stop staring at the young man in front of her, marveling at how much of her son she could see in this boy she had known and loved for years as Sam. 

 Kurt also watched in quiet contentment. He had realized just a moment ago that if he turned on his Sight, he could somehow see them both, overlapping but distinct. He was not sure if this was a side effect that would fade, or if he would always be able to see them, but it was an amazingly comforting thing and he knew that he would cherish this gift for as long as it lasted. His step-mother did not possess Sight, but Carole’s natural Empathy was clearly allowing her to feel the reality of her son’s presence in Sam and for now that appeared to be good enough.

 Elliott poked his head in, beaming like a ray of sunshine. “Food’s ready, everyone!  We’ve got about fifteen different dishes to choose from. Adam, your sister really knows her stuff.”

 “She does, and she has a slightly overdeveloped mothering instinct to go along with it, so I’m sure she provided enough for an army,” he agreed with a grin. “What do you say, family? Shall we go tuck in?”

 “In a second,” Kurt said.

 Finn/Sam, animatedly discussing with himself whether to change their name to “Fam” or “Sinn”, were already out the door, heading towards the food like a metal filing to a magnet. The parents moved a bit more slowly, but they kindly took the hint that the young couple needed a moment alone.

 “I’m sorry if I hurt you, or worried you, when I decided to move you out of the main circle for your own safety. Forgive me?”

 Adam kissed him without hesitation. “Of course I do. I understood, and though I can’t deny being worried for you, I also had confidence that you could do what you set out to do.”

 He nodded. “I could feel that, and it gave me more confidence just knowing I had yours. That place was so . . . strange. It was different this time than when I went for you, but just as unsettling. I know I’ve said it before, but you’re incredible for keeping your sanity intact for so long. Finn got stuck in a strange little imaginary Dalton Academy that kept resetting his memory, so he never had much time to get freaked out by where he was, but you didn’t even get that. You just had to power through by your own brave, stubborn will. By the way, how long was I in there?”

 “Not as long as it probably felt,” Adam replied, characteristically pushing aside the admiration in Kurt’s tone. “I would say . . . perhaps a half hour?”

 “Really?” Kurt was astonished. It had indeed seemed like he was wandering for many hours in the Void before he had even located Finn, and then at least an hour talking with him before venturing back. “Wow, time really does move strangely there.”

 Adam nodded. “It does, yes. And darling? Now that it’s over, you have my utmost gratitude for shielding me from the experience. I can see that you weathered it well, but I’m not sure I could have done so. Well, unless I also got a posh boarding school to wait in. Maybe one with a nice board and some excellent orange spice tea.”

 Kurt laughed. “I guess that’s your way of saying we should get out there before all the food’s gone?”

 “Wise as well as beautiful,” Adam said, pecking the tip of Kurt’s nose with his lips. “Are you up to it, or would you like me to bring you in a tray?”

 “Oh, no, I’m feeling a lot better, though I wouldn’t say no to a nap and some cuddling afterward. If we have enough time before we’re due at the courthouse.”

 Checking his watch, Adam smiled. “More than enough. Shall we?”

 “We shall.”

 Hand in hand, the couple walked out of their room and back into the throng of happily chattering loved ones.  This was, once again, the happiest day of their lives.

 THE END

#Witch!Kurt #Hummel Coven #Furt in the Void

[serenzippity]

Cold War

Words: 7,828 Member/Pairing: Monsta X, Jooheon/OC, Wonho/OC, Minhyuk/Hyungwon, Kihyun/I.M Genre: Alternative Universe, inspired by “All In” Warning(s): Violence, blood, language, drug-use (the flower from “All In”), implied smut, mention of the almost sexual assault in Chapter Two

Book One - Chapter Three

July 19th, 2018

The water was scalding hot against the open wounds and my raw skin. Three water rations later and I still didn’t feel clean, not wholly able to erase the images of blue smoke and intoxicated boys out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the fury etched across Hoseok’s face as he chased me like a feral animal. The scenes were superimposed with the tear-streaked cheeks of Mina as I pushed my sister further and further into a pit of isolation.

“You’re never allowed to see him again.”

“Jae-”

“No Mina! I forbid it! If he even tries to come around you again…”

I let the threat hang in the air between us. She looked defeated and broken, calling out to the maternal side of me. However, that part of me was shoved away by the angry, paranoid side that kept screaming at the X-Clan for dragging myself and my sister into their messed up web.

Drug use was strictly outlawed under the Jeong Ordinances, as was anything having to do with religion or worship. It looked like something that would get them all shot on sight and inquiries into their lives would put all of us on the line. It was confusing and hazy, and I still didn’t know what I saw but it nonetheless helped me build a resolve to keep Jooheon and his friends far away from myself and Mina.

Red rivers of blood and dirt washed down my skin and into the dingy drain, leaving me naked and shivering as the water slowly turned from hot to icy before shutting off completely. I stood in the stall long after the rations turned off, letting the cold night air dry the water off my skin and the erase the feeling of angry brown eyes. 

-x-

July 20th, 2018

I was tense and sore the next morning at the restaurant. After losing a day of work there was an immediate hit to Mina and I’s weekly rations. We both lost allotments of food and water, the latter of which was detrimental to me more than my sister because of my frivolous shower the night before. Nonetheless, I still served students, citizens, and military officials alike. Mina was avoiding me once more after I repaid her concern with anger the moment I arrived home. She didn’t show up for her shift, choosing to remain at the hospital and take on an extra few hours of training. 

The whole day went by in a blur, the rushes giving me a respite from the images of the ritual I had stumbled upon that plagued my thoughts. Every moment that wasn’t spent attending to something in the restaurant was clouded in a blue haze, making me desperate for meager distractions to keep my mind from wandering. The distractions kept me occupied until the sun disappeared below the horizon and the restaurant slowed down until I was the only soul left. The clinking of dishes within the automated cleaner and the soppy mop broke the silence as I worked to keep my paranoia at bay. 

Silence and work kept me going well into the night and I subliminally realized that it was more-so avoiding going home and facing the guilt that I knew would come after seeing Mina’s face. Little twangs of intermittent regret stabbed me in the heart, but like the world around me, I pushed those away. I did the same thing when I first assaulted Jooheon, and I will continue to do so until she realizes that I am only protective of her so she remains alive in this godforsaken place. 

I continued to clean the floor and think of Mina’s sad face, oblivious to the person that slipped into the room and took a seat at the bar. The only indicator that I wasn’t alone came in the form of a throat being loudly cleared, causing me to raise the mop defensively. 

“Are you going to kill me with that?” Jooheon asked from his perch, looking between me and the soaked mop with amusement in his dark eyes. I threw it down with a loud clatter and rushed to him. Grabbing the collars of his black sweater I dragged him from the stool and threw him into a nearby table, sending him and the rickety piece of furniture to the ground. Grabbing the knife that was stashed in my boot I fell on top of him, pressing my knees into his arms and the blade onto the flesh of his neck.

“I will give you one last warning,” I growled, my vision shifting from red to blue in anger as I glared at the younger boy. “Stay away from my sister and I. I don’t know what you and your little group are involved in, but you keep Mina the hell out of it.” Every word came out as a venomous hiss as I pressed the knife deeper. 

However, Jooheon didn’t look scared or angry at all, which sent a small bit of confusion through my mind. He looked stoic, almost uninterested as he gazed up at me. He didn’t seem to fear the metal pressed into his neck nor the pure hatred in my eyes. Jooheon was relaxed and somehow that made me even angrier.

“It was dangerous for you to leave last night.” It came out as a bored statement and I flicked the knife further, causing him to lightly wince. 

“I saw you in that shack,” Teeth bared I leaned into his face, almost like a feral wolf. “I saw what you and your friends were doing.”

“I know, that’s why Hoseok ran after you.” He gave me a little smirk as he said that and I snarled at his words. 

“Shame,” I hissed, pressing the knife harder and watching a small bead of blood drip down his neck. “He doesn’t know the northern woods as well as I do.”

Jooheon grimaced at the cold bite of the knife into a fresh wound. His breathing got deeper and he tried to pull away from the knife, only for me to push it further into his skin. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I’d like to,” I said removing the knife from his neck and raising it above my head. I was contemplating plunging it deep into his windpipe and watching as the blood spilled from his gaping throat. I was also contemplating stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and leaving his body in an alley for soldiers to find. The darkest and cruelest thoughts swam through my head as I held the knife aloft. Every single way I could take his life flashed behind my eyes and for a split moment, I convinced myself to go through with it. 

The knife felt weightless as I brought it down. In an instant, it flashed in Jooheon’s vision and he closed his eyes to brace himself for the impact that would end his life. A sharp thud and the sting on the edge of his ear made his eyes shoot open in shock. Rather than end him in one fell swing, I decided at the last second that I couldn’t do that to Mina. 

Despite my negative feelings towards the younger boy, I knew Mina loved him. I knew how she felt, and I knew how he felt. I saw the looks on their faces and the fear in their eyes when I interfered the first time. Mina would be utterly destroyed if I killed the younger man, and I couldn’t do that to her. I had some semblance of rationality left. 

The knife was embedded in the wood floor next to his head. A small cut was oozing blood from the edge of his ear and he looked up at me with fear for the first time. His face was reflected on the knife, and despite my reluctance to kill him, I smirked at his wide eyes. 

“If you ever, ever come near me or my sister again this knife won’t miss.” Every word was punctuated by a drop of blood from his ear onto the floor. His fear quickly faded away when I pulled the knife back and got off of his chest. Pushing myself up, I sheathed the blade back into my boot and walked back to the mop and bucket as if nothing happened. 

Everything was now up to him. I gave him the threat and if he heeded the warning, it was no longer my concern. The decision on if he wanted to live or die was solely in his hands.

Standing up, Jooheon gingerly touched his ear and neck to calculate the bleeding. He went back to his stoic stance, relaxing against the bar to stifle the bleeding as I continued to clean. Moments of silence stretched between us and from an outsiders view it no one would have known that I was seconds away from ending his life and letting him bleed out onto the floor. 

“You know,” he started as he held the sleeve of his shirt up to his ear, “If I had stayed away those soldiers would have had their way with you.”

I froze at that. 

His words sent a bolt of pain through me at the memory of dark nights, men reeking of vodka, and slurred advances that made my skin crawl. Visibly shuddering, I threw the mop back onto the ground and wheeled around to glare at him. I was more than ready to send my knife flying into his head, but before I could reach into my boot he was already walking towards the door. 

One hand landed on the handle before he turned around to look at me. He took in my tense shoulders and fierce eyes with an apathetic expression. “Come to the compound next Thursday. I want to show you what we are doing.” He opened the door and strode through the threshold with his head held high, far from a cowering man that had a knife to his throat moments before. “I know you're curious.” The words drifted through the open door before it shut on him and the dark night. 

I stared at the door with rage coursing through every vein. My hands were clenched so tight that my knuckles turned white and my nails pressed deep crescents into my palms. My lungs felt constricted and I couldn’t breathe normally. Everything in me was vibrating with fury and something else. 

The mop was long forgotten as was the cleaning that remained. There was blood and a noticeable notch in the floor. The table was still overturned and the chairs right along with it. Nothing registered in my mind except the cocktail of emotions racing through me. My feet moved before I could even consciously understand what I was doing. Responsibilities were overlooked as I ran out the door into the warm summer night. Jooheon was nowhere to be seen as my feet worked to chase him and the shadows of the night. 

I ran and ran all throughout the town, dodging people coming home from work as well as soldiers. Soon I found myself on the edge of the village, overlooking the forest through the dingy chain link fence. The trees were full of dark figures, beckoning me forwards into their clutches and out of this cursed place and the people who within a span of a week somehow managed to uproot my life. I felt like I was free falling off a cliff into events that were so far out of my control that I couldn’t breathe. Swimming with anger, I felt my control starting to slip through my fingers as the proverbial rope frayed above me. 

The fury within me was intermingled with fear. That fear stemmed from the realization that he was right. I was curious, and that terrified me more than anything.

Letting out a loud scream into the silent night I fell to my knees into the moist dirt out of painful frustration, cursing the X-Clan as the darkness swirled around me and I let go of the rope that held me up. I came crashing down into the black abyss, realizing that nothing was in my hands anymore. 

-x-

July 26th, 2018

Standing in the threshold of the tunnel used to be cathartic. If I really needed a moment away from my family or the bleak lives we lived I would come out and stare at the trees for as long as I could. As a child, my father would find me curled against the wall with a stick in my hand and little drawings scattered around in the dirt. As I got older it was my escape from school and the teachings that were so deeply propagated that it made me nauseous. My grandmother taught me that there was a world before all of this— before the Jeong Regime and the badlands full of monsters— and I’d often dream about what once was, with only the trees as my company. 

The threshold was also my escape when Mina and I were left alone and I was forced to become the family breadwinner or else end up on the streets. This was where I shed the imaginative young woman persona— idealistic and bright-eyed— to become the woman who was forced into a world behind the curtain. That was the last time I cried, clutching the wall with shaking hands as I realized who and what my parents, this world, and I truly were. 

Now the threshold held me back, silently begging me to turn around and go home rather than satisfy my dark curiosity. 

I spent a week waging an internal war on the decision I was now being forced to make. One part of me argued that if I turned around I would have nothing to lose. I could go through the tunnel, up the stairs, out of the restaurant, and simply walk home. It was dark, the blanket of twilight fresh on the ground, but not too late to where I would have another unfortunate run-in with a patrol. This part of me begged for my feet to carry me away from the inevitable trouble that lay beyond in the eastern parts of the woods. It begged and begged, trying to appeal to the rational part of me. 

But the other part of me… 

This side was much louder, more aggressive, and harder to ignore. It poked at my mind until I felt the throbbing ache throughout my whole body. It completely consumed my thoughts— robbing me of sleep and concentration— and in the end, it won out. 

Venturing out into the woods and ruins beyond the village, I tried to remember the way back to the X-Clan compound. Passing old factories and decrepit buildings, I pushed the brambles and shrubs away as I turned southeast into unknown lands. When everything became unfamiliar I knew I was good and lost, hoping and praying that I would stumble upon their compound out of sheer luck. 

Or in my case, sheer misfortune. 

Something malicious was watching over me, and within an hour of walking, I came across a clearing with large, rundown factories that pre-dated the Great War. It was here that I recognized the outside of the compound as it stood on the border. Nothing about it was particularly suspicious looking, but the hidden staircase on the side that Changkyun showed me stood out to my careful eyes. The staircase and the damned dirt path that piqued my interest in the first place told me that I was right where I didn’t want to be. 

I hesitated as the forest moved around me. A light breeze rustled the leaves, sending an ominous whisper throughout the silent night. Even the animals that made the trees their homes kept quiet as I stared at the large building with a sense of dread and painful curiosity.

‘It’s now or never,’ I told myself, praying for the courage to go back home and leave this place behind. 

Once again, something within me won out and I turned onto the footpath to make my way deeper into the trees. The broken branches and worn steps welcomed me eagerly, and before I could even form a thought that would send me flying home I found myself before the ominous rock wall and the thicket that had blue lights shimmering through the gaps in the leaves. 

Looking at the house beyond, I stood on the other side of the bushes that kept it hidden as I continued my inner war that would decide if I go further or not. A faint roar of laughter echoed from the house, and with my mentally weak state that was all it took for me to dig through the bush and emerge on the other side. The rotted door was pliable under my touch and it opened with little resistance and a familiar squeal that hushed the laughter and alerted those inside to my presence. 

I stood in the doorway as seven pairs of eyes took me in. Two looked at me with regard, two looked at me with unmasked anger, and the other three were a mix of fear and relief. 

“I thought you were a soldier,” Changkyun said from his seat, giving me a small smile that sent a trickle of warmth to my heart. 

I gave him a small one in return and took a step in, but before my foot could even touch the ground Hoseok stood up and fixed me with an angry glare. “What are you doing here?” he asked through bared teeth and fiery eyes.

My mind was a maelstrom of emotions, and I couldn’t form a coherent response to his probing. However, I didn’t have to say anything before Jooheon cut in with an authoritative tone. 

“I invited her here.”

This caused an uproar in all the boys save for Hyunwoo and Changkyun, the former of which was looking at me with calculating eyes. I caught his gaze and made my way closer until I was standing only a foot away from Hyungwon and Minhyuk. The younger boy was clutching the hand of Minhyuk with a vice grip, his eyes flitting all over me with fear due to the way I threatened him last time I was in his presence. 

I watched them all silently, not making a sound as the debate raged in the greenhouse.

“She isn’t supposed to know about any of this damnit!” Hoseok seethed, squaring up to Jooheon to try to intimidate the younger man. However, he was undeterred and looked at Hoseok with a threatening blackness in his eyes. 

“There’s nothing within our code that says she can’t be here!” he yelled back as he stood up to challenge Hoseok. 

“Like hell there isn’t Jooheon!” Kihyun hollered, leaning against his crutches as he slowly stood up as well. “She’s an outsider and not a member of this clan. Just because you want to fuck her sister doesn’t mean she can come here and-”

Jooheon moved his attention away from Hoseok and focused his threatening presence on Kihyun. Despite being crippled the boy didn’t back down and only held his gaze as they both began to throw around curses. Changkyun shot up from his seat and tried to act as a buffer between the two, but the mere mention of Mina had Jooheon going over the edge. Jooheon and Kihyun looked ready to tear into each other, but a deep voice stopped them before anything could escalate.  

“Enough,” growled Hyunwoo from his seat. He didn’t bother to get up, but the power radiating off of him was enough to silence all of them. He flexed threateningly and the circle stilled. “She’s here. She knows. Now sit down and shut up before I kick you both out of the damn circle.” 

That threat hung in the air and it was enough to snap Kihyun’s mouth shut. Minhyuk, Hyungwon, and Changkyun were looking at the eldest with wide eyes and slacked jaws. Hoseok, however, looked murderous as his angry eyes moved between Hyunwoo and I. He slowly took his seat with clenched fists and tight shoulders. I couldn’t help but give him a little smirk that only seemed to fuel his fire. There was something about him that I enjoyed provoking because he made it too easy. The rest of the boys moved to sit, save for Jooheon who stood at the head of the circle. 

“Jae,” Jooheon said, beckoning me to his side, “Come and sit here. You can drink first.”

I didn’t question what he meant, I only nodded and went to sit between him and Hoseok like a woman possessed. Robotic in my movements, I perched on the overturned crate with nowhere to go but further into their rabbit hole. It was too late to turn back and change course. 

I could feel the rage rolling off Hoseok as he sat next to me. I felt his dark eyes burning into the side of my face but I didn’t give him any attention. I kept focused on Jooheon as he began to crush the petals of the blue flowers into a paste and mix it with water. The silver bowl in his hands held steady as he worked. He began to chant in a foreign language, and soon the boys around me followed suit.

As he stirred the chanting grew louder, and it was then that I decided to take in my surroundings for the first time. The greenhouse held hundreds of stalks of the blue flower, all of which were radiating an eerie blue glow. The circle was in the middle of the structure where a small clearing had been made. Rudimentary seats and a table were made out of overturned boxes and crates, all bearing the logo of the weapons I sold to Jooheon. On the small table were various jars and cups that surrounded a burner that held a small flame. A few of the cups were empty, but others held bright liquids of various pinks, yellows, and blues. Dried petals mixed with fresh ones and little stems of the flower were placed on every sliver of the open surface. 

Jooheon kept stirring the paste into the water, creating a sparkling blue liquid that glowed brighter the more they droned. He began to pour small amounts of it into the various empty cups, totaling eight before he held the silver bowl out to me. “Drink,” he said softly and if I wasn’t sitting next to him I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the chanting. 

I raised my hands to grasp the sides of the silver bowl, trying to control the shaking as I lifted it from his hold. Gingerly raising it to my mouth, I took a small sip before looking back up at Jooheon questioningly. It tasted like spun sugar once the small drops touched my tongue and it seemed to coat the entirety of my mouth in a sweet residue. 

“More,” he whispered, sensing my silent confusion. Hesitantly I raised it back to my lips and took a deeper gulp, bringing a wave of the saccharine liquid in and swallowing slowly. It burned as it went down, but it was a pleasant feeling that heated me from the inside. 

Jooheon took the bowl and passed it on, starting with Hoseok and moving around the circle. All of the boys looked more relaxed and eager as they received the bowl. I wasn’t getting nasty or confused looks anymore, their attention was wholly focused on the blue substance being moved along. Once it made it to Hyungwon I began to feel an effect, and by the time Jooheon took the final gulp, I felt it in every nerve in my body. 

Jooheon took one of the individual eight cups and raised it high. The other’s obeyed his lead, and numbly I did the same. Holding the cup aloft felt almost exhausting, my arm shaking as I felt the flower flow through me. When the other’s brought it to their lips and gulped it down in one go, I made quick work of mine and took it like a shot of illegal alcohol. This one tasted worse, it wasn’t as sweet as the initial taste and had a stronger bite. However, the strange effect hit me harder and I reeled at the feeling. 

It made me feel warm. I felt like I was sitting in front of a fireplace basking in the warmth after spending an entire day in the snow. The tips of my fingers tingled and everything seemed sharper. The lines of the plant boxes looked clearer and the blue hues surrounding us were deeper. My eyesight was heightened as I stared at the lines of Changkyun’s face. Despite being on the opposite end of the circle I could see the faint scars on his cheeks and the individual pores on his nose. I could hear seven heartbeats and the timbres of their chanting as if they were inside my head. A small roach scuttled across the floor a couple of feet away and I could hear its legs scraping across the old wood floor. 

My senses were heightened, and when Jooheon raised his hand to dump a handful of dried leaves into the fire I felt like the faint pops and crackles were inside my eardrums. I watched the flames turn azure with a dark fascination, each ember a shade more beautiful than the last. 

A hazy blue smoke arose from the fire and stretched into every corner of the greenhouse. Jooheon began to wave a black feather into the swirling vapor and breathed deeply. The boys followed suit, and I acted blindly in a state of submission. Inhaling the fumes sent a rush of blood to my head that had me softly moaning when I exhaled. 

Drinking the flower made every nerve in my body sensitive, but inhaling it made me feel euphoric. Bliss was the only thing that came to mind as I continued to breathe in the smoke, relaxing into myself as the flower worked me over. I felt calm, but wild at the same time. It made me feel like I could run into the forest without a care in the world. There was no regime, no pain, no starvation. There was only me, the flower, and the seven wild heartbeats sounding in my ears like a rhythmic drum. 

The warmth inside of me melted into my skin, and every fiber wanted to be touched. I began to run the tips of my fingers over my bare forearms in a desperate attempt to get contact. Caressing myself, I leaned into the closest warm body and rested against them as a sigh escaped my slacked jaw. An arm snaked across my lap and gripped my outer thigh as the body leaned back into me. I stopped moving my hands across my own flesh, preferring to touch the skin resting across my lap and watch as goosebumps rose with every caress. 

I was so engrossed in the strong limb that I barely noticed various hands reach out and pick up the cups filled with colors. Shaking fingers reached in and scooped out the pigments before slathering them across exposed skin. Watching Kihyun paint white streaks over Changkyun’s face was enchanting. I couldn’t stop watching how the color flowed over his lightly tanned skin and contrasted with his blown out eyes. He looked youthful and beautiful as a sweet smile stretched his mouth, no doubt for the equally beautiful boy who was giving him all his attention. 

I could have looked at the tender moment for hours, but the arm on my lap shifted slightly to rest in-between my legs. The large, pale hand moved to grip the inside of my thigh in a way that sent heat pooling in my most sensitive region. It felt foreign, but I wanted more when the hand squeezed my flesh over my dirty leggings. My head was thrown back as I moaned into the smoky room without any semblance of embarrassment. 

I leaned forward as my heartbeat raced, my eyes following the strong limb up to the face of its owner. I met the black gaze of Hoseok and the moment our eyes met I was flooded with heat again. The effects of the flower made his skin glow and his blonde hair looked like spun silk. His pupils overtook the whites, giving him a demonic appearance that had me licking my lips out of want.

He stared at me as his free hand reached up to my neck. Coated in black paint, his fingers began to leave colored streaks over the junctures of my throat. When he reached the edge of my shirt his black fingers curled over the fabric and pulled it down my shoulder, exposing a large portion of my chest to the warm air. He reached to push the other shoulder down stretching the fabric so it rested over the tops of my breasts. With my collarbones and the entirety of my upper chest exposed, Hoseok dipped back into the paint and continued to leave black streaks across my skin. 

I stared at him as he watched his fingers move across my body. He dipped into other colors, and soon he painted me with varying hues. His eyes were locked on the shades on my collarbone, and the way he was honed in on his personal art had me leaning further into him. 

The trance was shattered when a second hand reached out and touched my exposed shoulder. Turning towards the stranger with fluttering eyes, I was met with the painted face of Jooheon. He said nothing, just took my hand and placed a small pot of white paint in it before turning back to tend the small fire. 

Hoseok’s hands remained on my chest and thighs as I held the white paint. Sticking my finger in, I swirled the liquid with fascination. I watched as it coated my forefinger and stuck to the sides of the jar. Small specks of other colors disturbed the pristine shade, and I was spellbound until I felt Hoseok squeeze my thigh again. My head snapped up to meet his gaze as a small whimper sang through the air between us. 

He was so close and invading. I could smell the sweat and musk on his body, and every line and crevice of his face was mine to drink in. He was admittedly very beautiful before the flower, but now he was a god in human form. Everything about him screamed danger, temptation, and lust. In my haze I couldn’t recall the malice that previously hung between us, it was long gone with all of my inhibitions. 

Reaching up, I pressed the pad of my finger onto the plush flesh of his bottom lip. Dragging it down I left a streak of white from the junction of his lips to the tip of his chin. Pulling further I traced down his neck and throat, coming to rest on the broad expanse of his powerful chest. The muscles rippled under my hand as I touched the heated flesh. 

Hoseok’s hands dragged me closer. The one on my thigh pulled me into him so our legs were pressed tightly together. The one that rested on my chest reached up to thread into the hair at the base of my skull. His fingers wound into my strands and pushed my head towards him, resting our foreheads together as we gazed into each other's eyes. 

“Tribus,” Jooheon whispered behind us. Throwing a large handful of dried petals into the fire, blue smoke exploded into the room and coated everything. I couldn’t see Hoseok anymore as the smog overtook him and the others around us. I only felt his hands release me as black clouded the corners of my eyes. I felt like I was falling, and when the darkness enclosed around me I landed on a soft surface with a heavy sigh and tired limbs. Seconds ticked by and slowly all noise disappeared. I could no longer hear seven thudding heartbeats. I could only hear the buzzing silence of my black cocoon.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, descending into a dreamless sleep. 

-x-

July 27th, 2018

When my eyes opened I thought it was still night. For a moment I thought that everything that happened in the greenhouse was my imagination. The flower, the paint, Hoseok— I thought it was all something I dreamt of. 

It wasn’t until I sat up and looked at my stained hands and chest that I realized it wasn’t something my mind conjured. I was sitting on a dingy mattress in the corner of a pitch black room. Despite the suffocating darkness, I could see everything with absolute clarity. The outlines of boxes filled with clothes and scattered pieces of machinery were perfectly visible despite being across the room.  

Like the night before, I could see a roach as is hurried along the far corner of the room and into a crack in the wall, clearly seeing the aforementioned break despite it only being an inch long. My vision was sharp and clear to the point where everything around me looked like it was edged like a knife. I felt like I could cut my hand open on the corner of the wall if I touched it. 

However, it was my hearing that got the better of me. The roaches legs sounded like nails tapping on a piece of wood next to my ear. If I even slightly moved on the mattress I could hear the creaking of individual springs, and if I chose to I could point out where under the fabric they were. 

What really got the best of me, however, was the moaning and groans of ecstasy that were coming from the other side of the farthest wall. They sounded like they were mere inches in front of my face. I felt like if I reached out I could touch the couple because of the sheer crescendo of their whines, despite the softness of the timbre. 

Moments passed and I inferred that the flower heightened all of my senses. Everything was amplified, and for some reason, I wasn’t frightened. Rather I felt relaxed and refreshed like I slept for days and woke up to a calm world. 

How many hours of sleep had I gotten? Two? Three? I wasn’t tired despite the light that was beginning to turn the black night into a dark blue. I could see the shifting sky through a gap in the boarded-up window which indicated that it wasn’t quite yet dawn. 

Standing up from the bed, I stretched up and down to test the looseness of my joints. I felt stronger and somehow more flexible. There wasn’t an ounce of tenseness in my body, and the slight spring in my step carried me towards the closed door of the room. Opening it, I found I was in one of the bedrooms I had previously snooped through that stood off of the second-level common area. The passionate moans were coming from the room to the immediate left of the one I was in, and it slightly disturbed me to realize that I could hear every gasp and shuffle of the entwined lovers. 

The common area wasn’t devoid of life, and as I made my way out I was greeted with three heartbeats. Two bodies lay together on the couch and, despite being quite a few feet away from them, I could easily make out the sharp lines of Kihyun and Changkyun’s faces. The latter had his head resting on the shoulder of the older boy as they both slept deeply. 

I couldn’t help but grin at the sight before looking at the third person in the room. Hyunwoo was sitting on an overturned crate as he tied his shoes to his feet. I could hear the slide of the laces and see the movements of his fingers as I walked closer. 

“Hey,” I said, making my presence known to him as I made my way over. 

Looking up he fixed me with a small smile. “Morning,” he said as he continued to lace up his boots. “Did you sleep well?”

“To be honest I don’t know,” I mused as I took a seat on a crate nearby. “How long was I out?”

“Probably five or six hours. You passed out at the final checkpoint.” He finished with his boots and turned. Leaning his elbows on his knees he looked at me with narrowed eyes. Like he was scrutinizing my face, his sight flitted all over my features making me slightly uncomfortable under his intense gaze. “How do you feel?” he questioned as he leaned closer. 

I hesitated for a moment. How did I feel? I felt strange, but also content in a way I haven’t felt in years. The last time I didn’t feel like I had weights on my shoulders was when I was 18 and fresh out of school. It was foreign to feel like I didn’t have the world pulling me down, but in some way, I missed the pressure. I also realized how clear his face was. Every pore, crevice, and niche was etched on him like marble. The tiny specks of hazel in his green eyes stood out and for a moment I swore I could see blue shining through his pupils. 

“Strange,” I whispered after a moment of contemplation. 

“That’s normal.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his quick and simple words. Another smile broke through his intense scrutiny, and he leaned back as if he was satisfied with what he saw. “I suppose you want to know exactly what we did. Jooheon did say you were extremely curious.” 

His smile got wider when my eyes narrowed and I fixed him with a dark glare. “Relax Jae,” he said with a light laugh, “I’m only joking.”

“For some reason, I’m not in the mood for jokes.” It came out as a dark hiss but Hyunwoo’s smile only grew. 

“You remind me a lot of Haeun. I think you’d like her.”

“Is that a compliment?” I inquired, slowly letting my darker mood dissipate. I took stock of Hyunwoo. Despite his harsh attitude the night before, there was no doubt in my mind that he was a leader and a well-respected one at that.

“Depends on if you know Haeun,” he specified with a smile that reached his eyes. I couldn’t help but return it. 

“I like her already.”

He chuckled and I saw the fondness that he held for his fiancee. “Anyway,” he moved, waving his hand to dismiss the topic of his love, “About last night…”

“About last night…” I pushed, asking him to continue with his explanation as I leaned forward and crossed my legs. There was a deep want in me that pushed to know exactly what happened the night before. It was unyielding and cried out in the silent air for an answer.

Hyunwoo looked deep in thought for a moment before he began to trace the events. “Last night we went through three checkpoints: Consumption, Control, and Convergence. The last one was too much for you and it knocked you out.”

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could say anything he raised his hands to silence the opening of my mouth. “Just let me explain, and then I’ll answer any and all of your questions if I can.” I nodded, more-so out of curiosity rather than compliance. He shot me another face-consuming smile before continuing. “The flower…” he said, hesitating for a moment to find the right words, “It does things to the body. You can see better, hear everything, and you feel so much stronger than everyone else. But it all comes at a price.”

“What's the price?” I asked before he could get anything else out.

“You don’t listen very well do you?” He said dryly. “We are still trying to figure that out.”

The ominous words hung in the air between us. A moment passed as I pondered what he meant by price, but he eventually continued on when he saw me dwelling on the subject. 

“The flower gives us these spectacular abilities. When we take it our wounds heal, every ache is gone, and we feel lighter in a sense. But we don’t take it for the effects, rather we take it for our cause.”

“Which is?” I pried, falling deeper into the conversation. 

“In case you haven’t already figured it out based on the sheer about of weapons we buy from you, we are rebels.” The last word would have normally sent a sharp sense of dread into my stomach. First my parents, and now these guys? But rather than feel any type of anger or regret I remained curious as if the flower had taken away my ability to feel any kind of negative emotion. “Our goal is to join with others and eventually take down the regime. We are still working out kinks in our plans as well as gathering information, but soon all of us will join the rebels in the badlands and fight for our freedom and the-”

“Hyunwoo,” I urged, dragging out his name to get him to stop talking for a moment, “I won’t report you guys for being rebels, but the less I know about that the better. If they come for me,” I paused, shuddering at the thought, “I want to remain ignorant to your overall plans.”

He nodded, taking my words in with a new light. There was a spark in his brown eyes, something that I would like to think was newfound respect for me. “Anyway,” he went on with that spark still evident, “We reach new planes of mental ascension with it. We get stronger, go higher, move faster with it. We train with weapons and expand our minds with it after the ritual.”

“The ritual,” he said with another bout of deep contemplation, “is the result of testing the effects of the flower over the span of two years. Jooheon and I were the first ones to try it and our experiments led us to what happened last night. The first checkpoint is ‘Consumption,’ or the initial drinking of the flowers essence. The second is ‘Control.’ This is where we inhale the vapors of the flower so our minds don’t wander into dark places.”

“Dark places?” I pushed.

“When you first consume the flower there is a heaviness to your mind. It amplifies that ten-fold until the essence is out of your system and all that is left are the after-effects. It’s painful and terrifying, which is why we inhale the smoke because it removes those burdens and lets us ride out the initial effects of the flower without pain.”

“So,” I mused, deeply trying to remember the feeling of the vapor coursing through my veins, “The flower in liquid form gives you these abilities, but the process is painful so you inhale the smoke to help carry you along?” 

“Exactly.”

“That sounds like a drug,” I teased. 

“I won’t tell the regime if you won’t,” Hyunwoo said with a laugh. “Anyway, the final checkpoint is called ‘Convergence’ and it’s where we essentially merge the effects of the essence and the smoke together to create one large ascension. This is where you passed out, but don’t worry,” he smirked when I grimaced at the thought of fainting, “the same thing happened to all of us the first time.”

“Ha ha,” I dryly retorted. I sat and thought about the night before with a much clearer mind. There was still that sense of shock coursing through me at the fact that I wasn’t scared. It was in a way exhilarating, and my body felt amazing so there was a definite upside. “How long do the effects last?” I asked after a moment of contemplation. 

“A week give or take. Since this was your first time it will probably last around nine to ten days.”

I let out a small hum at that, slowly running my finger over my bottom lip. “And you do this every week?”

“Pretty much.” He leaned back and rested his weight on his hands. We both looked casual, the fact that he was telling me about his rebel group and their drug-induced plans was not obvious in our body language. “I’m guessing this is a lot to take in?”

“Not really,” I answered honestly. “I don’t think I can physically feel any emotions right now except for contentment. I’m guessing it will probably hit me later?”

“Probably.”

We gave each other small smiles and lapsed into comfortable silence that was punctuated by the high pitched moans of the two lovers. Minhyuk and Hyungwon soon joined us in the common room with sheepish grins and the offer to use their rudimentary shower to clean the paint off my body. I made a point of asking about Jooheon and Hoseok’s whereabouts, but I was met with passing indifference and circles around the answer. They didn’t quite trust me yet, and I was okay with that.  

Eventually, the sun began to bring out the light blue of the sky and Hyunwoo and I left the compound to return to the village. He showed me the Clan’s way back through a decrepit part of the fence that was rarely ever patrolled, and I was thankful to have another way in and out of our bleak little town. 

Crawling through we separated to go to our respective houses and jobs, promising to talk more once I began to truly come to terms with the effects of last night. The trek home seemed to take less time than usual due to the enhanced speed in my step. Falling through the front door I noticed that there were a pair of foreign shoes that didn’t belong to Mina or I. They were ratty and far too big as they pushed up against the wall. 

The voice in my head told me to investigate, but once I heard two heartbeats coming from Mina’s room I easily put two and two together. My fingers were twitching to grab the handle of the knife in my boot. They wanted to close around the handle and drag the boy out by his hair. However, my mind was whispering calming words, telling me to let Mina and Jooheon sleep in peace. 

‘She’s your sister and he loves her,’ it said with sweetly blue-tinged words. The honeyed voice easily won the battle and I let them be in favor of my own bed and the idea of sleeping for a good hour or two before the lunch rush.

A/N: Here is the chapter that was 90% written with one hand. I really hope it’s okay cause lord knows this chapter gave me so much anxiety. Thank you to @prinzelee as always for beta-ing and @kihyunsbabe for helping me with the “flower trip” scene. Also I love Jae I’m in love with my own OC help

#monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x smut #monsta x au #mxwriters #monsta x angst #x-clan #monsta x all in #hyunwoo #shownu #wonho #hoseok #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #i.m #changkyun

[wisdomvillage-blog]

Courageous Transformation Starts Here

On our website, right under our name Wisdom Village, it says,

“A center for human connection, soulful learning and courageous transformation.”

The last two words have stuck with me lately.

“Courageous transformation.”

What does that look like?

Brene Brown, a vulnerability researcher, believes that courage and vulnerability go hand in hand, in fact that they are the same.

So when we ask you to courageously transform, we’re asking you to be vulnerable.

On transformation, comparative mythologist Joseph Campbell says, “The Hero’s Journey is about a transformation of consciousness through trials. You’re thinking in this way and now you have to think in that way. [...] The basic motif of the Hero’s Journey is a death and resurrection [...] in order to get out of a posture of psychological dependence into one of psychological self-responsibility.”

We believe that to go on this journey of transformation requires conjunct courage and vulnerability. In this light, I would like to share the story of one of my recent transformations.

It is not my intent in sharing this to evoke sympathy, but rather to vulnerably offer my story in hopes that someone may resonate with it, feel less alone, and see that since I’m writing this now, I must be alive.

Looking back to a year and a half ago, I see my adventure in Peru as one of the most transformational journeys of my life. When I left, I told my family that I needed to find out who I would be if I had been born on top of a mountain alone. This was true on a certain level, although a more vulnerable version of the truth came out once I arrived in Peru. The first night that I spent in the jungle before working with Ayahuasca I couldn't sleep so I walked out to the balcony and started an audio recording. This is a dictation of what I said that night. This was the scream of my soul telling me that something was wrong enough (and that I was at enough of a loss for what to do) for me to seek a potentially deadly medicine in hopes of somehow staying alive.

Dictation of audio: first night in Iquitos when the rain couldn’t put me to sleep

“I don't think I want this anymore; this..this being. This having to keep being. This having to maintain. This having to keep fighting off the pain: the pain I cause myself in the head and the pain I cause other people. I just want to give it back, but I don't think I want to die because that's going to hurt more people. I want to stop hurting people. I just want to be and be okay. But I don't know if that's possible..to be and be okay without being not okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry to myself. I'm sorry to others. I don't know how to do this. Is this all there is: this physical polarity, this nihilism, this nothing, this nothing means nothing, this everything means nothing, you can make it whatever you want? Because I can't make it what I want. I've tried to make it what I want. I just want to be happy and healthy. I just want to be okay but I can't be okay. I haven't been able to be okay. I haven't been able to not hurt others. I don't know how to do this. I’m sorry.

I think there must be a truth. I hope there is a truth: something to make it okay.

The Buddhists were onto something when they said life is suffering because god this is hell............. and I don't know if that truth is outside of me or inside of me or both. I don't know if I have to go somewhere or do something to find what's inside of me. Fuck. The key is in my hand and the door is in myself but I don't know how to unlock it. I don't know how to use this key to go through this door, and I don't want to die before I find it. I hope that it's actually there.. because if it's not there then I don't know what I'm going to do.

I just want it to stop. I just want to go to sleep. I want to go to sleep without hurting anyone. I’m sorry k****. I’m sorry m**. I’m sorry d**. I’m sorry j**. I’m sorry j*****. I’m sorry s*****. im sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I just want to give it back. I want to give this life back. I want to go to sleep. I just want it to stop... I want it to stop.

Everything that I’ve used to try to make it stop is a mirage and a mirror, a trick, a child's toy. the cigarettes and the alcohol and the weed and the sex and the falling in love and the wanting to fall in love and have the fucking honeymoon period. It's all just a fucking game. It's all just a trick. It's all cheap plastic to try to make it stop for a second. But it doesn't stop. It comes back.”

Again: It is not my intent in sharing this to evoke sympathy, but rather to vulnerably offer my story in hopes that someone may resonate with it and feel less alone.

The story continues with my time in Peru being only a chapter, but my dears, that chapter was fucking intense. I do not write to relish in the past, but to bring further illumination to the present me and in doing so I hope that a shaft of light may fall from my story onto yours.

Now with Perspective

I wrote a piece several months later as I was preparing to leave Peru titled “Why I Left (Why I Started this journey.)” It is important for me to say that I could not have written this piece without the perspective that time allowed, just as I could not have written the preceding piece without the raw vulnerability of the moment. The peace and clarity that is witnessed here is not what was felt during the journey. Imagine five months of space between what you just read and what you are about to read. In imagining this, have compassion for yourself where you are at and assurance in the possible clarity and perspective that lies on the other side.

Why I Left

“Sometimes you need a bath. You could take another shower but this time you know you need a bath. I realized I needed a bath when I was in the bath.

You know the feeling when you're floating in a tub and your body is pseudo-suspended? All the air bubbles have slipped out of your ears and the music is muffled and warm. You close your eyes and lose track of where your physical self ends and the water begins.

It was in a moment like this when I slowly lifted my arm out of the water (to change the song or something) and felt the strength of gravity. Without the water supporting it, my arm became iron in the air. I returned it to the bath and wished to remain there forever. I didn't want to get out because that meant returning to the world of weight and gravity. I remember crying as I realized that I had no "bath" in my life. It felt as if I was constantly living under the gravity of my mind/society/expectations/entropy/time and had no water in which to become weightless. I just wanted to rest and be okay.

I left in search of the bathtub: some sort of accessible peace.

I wanted penance and purgatory, ego death and loss of identity, a magic pill, a cure and more.

I desired many things, but what I needed was a bath.”

Why I left Part 2

“I sought baptism: one pill, one event, one moment to solve my problems and release me from form. I walked into the jungle expecting instant medicine. I thought I was holding a pure intention but she showed me that I expected the world. I wanted to blow the door open. I didn't want to seek the key diligently and open the door thankfully.

I drink the medicine. It is poison. It terrifies me. It shows me that I terrify me. I am trapped in my mind. I know it will only last for 4 hours but in this place 4 hours is longer than I will ever live. An hour is infinite lives; infinite lives unable to escape myself. I scream and vomit and watch my ego try to rationalize. My thoughts and fears are a neon banner streaming across my forehead too fast to read.

[I wasn't able to name the importance of this next bit for a long time. I had to digest it. It had to soak into my blood. I was scared and upset that the medicine didn't do what I wanted. Now I am glad.]

I wanted to dissolve my body and float alone in the dark eternal. She showed me how lonely the dark eternal is. She showed me why she split herself: to know herself, to love, to share, to not have to be alone. At 2 in the morning I am finally able to walk again. The small shade differences between the black trees are the most beautiful color I have ever seen. The sound of birds and crawling things is music enough to cry. I am so so so glad that I am not alone. I hold the first person I see. They hold me. We are one become two. We became two so that we could love ourself: so that we could hold each other.

Thank you for letting me not sleep alone forever. Thank you for not giving me what I wanted.”

I think it is apparent that many things changed in the time between these two perspectives. Instead of just telling you the beginning and the end of the chapter, I would like to show you the journey from “I just want it to stop,” to “thank you for not giving me what I wanted.”

This journey of self-transformation is difficult. It has to be difficult in order for it to be transformative. But it doesn’t have to be done alone. Joseph Campbell says, about the path of transformation, “We have not even to risk the adventure alone for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known. . . we have only to follow the thread of the hero path.”

That is what Wisdom Village is here for: to tell stories of how we got from A to B, and remind us that we are not alone in the journey.

Now I know that you cannot repeat my journey, event for event, interaction for interaction, just as I cannot tell you exactly what will happen on your journey, nor which sorts of aid you may need. We are not here to tell you to repeat our path nor to use the tools that worked for us.

Let these journeys serve to inspire you wherever you are at, be that in the middle of a journey, reflecting on one, or standing at the edge wondering if you will say yes.

Wisdom Village offers stories, communities, teachers, healers, guides, and everything that we have found has helped us on our journeys, in the hope without expectation that it may help ease the effort of finding what only you know you need to venture and quest through yourself to your self-responsible, blissful and whole self on the other side (which is already here, being only a matter of realization through experience.)

#spirituality spiritualjourney transformation herosjourney spiritualgrowth awareness consciousness newage shamanism ayahuasca