#my wish is that life lights your path with the brightest sunlight

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Hiccup by Valley

Summary: After encountering a road block in your relationship, what path will you take to wind up your broken heart with Iwaizumi?

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Genre/Warning: angst, cursing

Word count: 6k

A/N: i promise myself i was going to write some bokuto fluff but this song keeps bringing me back to iwa😣 also pls listen to this song<3

2 YEARS AGO

"Tooru."

You call out to him, knees to the floor clutching tightly on your shirt, droplets to the wooden surface. Oikawa harshly closes his eyes, unable to let his eyes rest on your weakened state. He takes a deep breath when he hears your mournful sob. He hears how you took in rough gasps of air so he drops the box from his hands as he rushes to you, his knee scraping from sliding to the floor as he takes you in his chest as you sobbed even more. Oikawa allowing his own tears to fall on your clothes.

He consistently caresses your hair, as your sniffles and cries of pain covered the eary atmosphere of your apartment.

"Tooru." You call out again, he closes his eyes as he leans his head on yours. He dreaded every second that passed knowing he shouldn't be the one to comfort you, but he knew your savior wasn't going to rescue you this time.

"Do you think he'll miss me?"

"I know he will, darling." He assures you, and you wipe your eyes gasping for air once again before speaking again. He lets his hand slide down to your back, patting it every now and then.

"But there's someone better huh?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and you take this silence as an answer you'd never forget. Your lips tug upwards, grinning at how it stung when it came from Oikawa. To Tooru, no one could replace you. He couldn't envision someone to love his brother the way you did and no amount of pain can top how much you cherished each other but he couldn't answer because he was unsure of the motives of the past ace.

"Thank you for staying." You whisper and he pulled you closer as he sighs, glancing at the apartment that appeared in their late night video calls. The same room where he saw the brightest smile that was painted on Iwaizumi, the eyes that carried passion whenever you'd pop up. Visiting the apartment for the first time, he didn't expect how- lifeless it felt.

"Always."

PRESENT

You stretched as you rolled over to the side, used to the ghost of him. You shouldn't be used to it, he should be there to occupy it everyday but every morning you were just greeted by the chilliness he brought you.

The sun sneakily shined upon your eyes as you immediately turn away, expecting the memories to strike your heart like it does whenever the sun flaunted its rays.

"You're mesmerizing." He whispers, his pointer finger inched its way down to your cheek, smiling to himself. You hummed in response, shuffling in the sheets as his heart pounders at the sight of your shoulder peeking through the thin material, with the sunlight decorating your skin with its beauty.

You opened your eyes only to be surprised by how bright the sun was making you close them immediately, giggling to yourself. Who knew his heart could melt even more? Once you've slowly opened your eyes again, you gaze at your Hajime placing a hand on his cheek. With his hand on your chin, he slowly lifts it so your lips meet with his as you smile, running your hand from his cheek to his hair, while closing your eyes at the

He pulls away as butterflies swarmed inside him, pushing back the string of hair that landed in your eyes.

"I love you."

"Forever?"

"And ever after."

You curse at the usual memory that would pass you every morning. It annoyed you how there wasn't a day where you weren't starting the morning this pissed off. Realistically speaking, you adored how your memories would bring life to your body once in a while but when love appears, pain tags along- making it hard to enjoy the only things that could take away the emptiness.

Without him, you could never bring yourself to close the curtains. A habit you've devastatingly brought upon yourself.

Whenever the sun rose and it's light surrounded your room, it was the closest embrace you could ever have from him.

You let your fingers graze over the longing sensation on your lips. Incapable of forgetting how every kiss from his plush lips made you high. Intoxicated with his devotion to you. Each having it's own unique way of bringing you stories from the way it synced with yours.

Do you ever think about coming back to kiss my mouth? You ask yourself, sadly letting go of your lips before stepping into the bathroom.

I miss the taste of you and it's always been you. Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he feels the tingle of coldness from his lips. Like you, he adored the way his mornings were blessings but his room looked like a grave for his emotions.

Curtains closed, not allowing to let the sun peak through since the light in his world wasn't there to bring back the life in his soulless apartment.

He steps out of bed entering his bathroom, brushing his teeth as he rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"S-shush! Baby- baby stop talking!" He says chuckling before placing the toothbrush in your mouth. You two were superbly drunk and it seems like even if Iwaizumi was drunk to the gods, he was still the responsible one in the relationship. You were already about to pass out but his loud laughter kept you awake.

"But Hajime- let me sleep already, you're so noisy bub." You pout but he chuckles again. You turn behind you try and sit on top of the counter but you slid off when you jumped. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a grin as he places his hand on your waist before effortlessly lifting you and placing you on the bathroom sink.

You continue to brush your teeth as he watches how your eyes would droop every second. You spit out the toothpaste before taking in some water and spitting it out as well. You wiped your mouth before bringing your arms outward. "Am I okay now babe? Hajime- honey I wanna sleep." You beg as he rolls his eyes taking you in his arms, like a bride.

"And what about you mister? Did you brush your teeth?" You teased, taking in the aroma of alcohol he had. He bit his lips trying not to laugh but he shakes his head, answering your question. You let out a gasp of betrayal as you hopped out of his arms grabbing the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it, but you hear his cackle making you laugh as well, addicted to how it made you join him in an instant.

"Princess, at least put it on the actual brush. Not the other end you dumbie." He states making you look down on your failure of an attempt. You let out an "Oh." and this brought tears to both of your eyes from laughing endlessly.

He gazes at his reflection through the mirror as he takes a deep breath. It felt like if he'd utter a word, his voice would already crack at the resurfaced moment. He scolds himself for having minimal change in a span of two years. He told himself that he shouldn't wallow in the grief but he endured it for days.

There wasn't a clear way for him to move on, especially when you drained him from all functions of his mind. The only thing that interests him to be happy was that he held on to the probability of meeting you again. Even if the chances were slim to none, he'd take anything that there is left just to see you again.

Though it seems like, he'd have to suffer longer just for it to happen.

-

Maybe I'd understand the things that you'd do. You whisper as you take another gulp of alcohol. It was Saturday, your supposed late night sessions with Iwaizumi but instead you were solo for today, and maybe for the rest of the years. You bitterly chuckle to yourself as you didn't bother to answer Oikawas call. Your phone kept going off, receiving dozens of messages and missed calls from the setter. He deeply hated Saturdays, or at least your version of it.

Whether you chose to bottle down every beer you had, or scream and get smothered in mascara stains from crying, or even worse, both. Sometimes you'd even mistaken Oikawa for Iwaizumi, and Oikawa allows it knowing it's a way for you to cope. He hated how far away he was but he strictly told you that if you were ever to pursue yourself to go to the club, he'd drop everything and book a ticket to you immediate, of course this was enough for you to listen especially when you'd feel guilty for wasting his time.

Oikawa knew better than to ask for Iwaizumis help. He remained a bridge for the two of you, knowing he'd encounter to different sides. Iwaizumi had him pick up his belongings in your apartment, denying to step foot in your room. In which brought Oikawa to tears at sight of his best friends past lover in such a disaster of a state. So granting Iwaizumis wish, he stayed.

"Why can't you do it? It's your apartment." Oikawa argued making Iwaizumi grunt in pain as he secretly wipes away the tears in his eyes. He sighs before facing the setter.

"She hates me, Oikawa." He says, staring directly at the boy. Oikawa scoffs but stares at the ground, hands to his side formed in a fist.

Is it that bad? He questions.

"Iwa- what happened?" He asks nervously but Iwaizumi only closes his eyes as he tries to get rid of the screams from the previous night.

"I'll tell you soon. When you see her, maybe you'll understand why I can't do this, why I can't face her. Just please do me one favor." The tone in his voice slowly lessens with the last sentence, making Oikawas heart ache for the two of you. Looking at Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa could see the way he was holding back, but from what? There was a certain change in his usual stare- he looked lost.

Oikawa sits on the couch as he lets his hand gesture for Iwaizumi to speak. He couldn't say anything else but he hoped that Iwaizumi would take his silence as an answer already. Oikawa would do anything for Iwa, and if he was your other half, and Oikawa will do the same to you.

"Save her."

"From what, Iwa?"

"From what I've done."

Oikawa was impatiently waiting for your response but it seems you've decided to push him aside again. Although he was home, the distance from him to you was troublesome so he insisted to call you instead.

He assumed that last year you've gotten better since you spent you Saturday sleeping instead of drinking, but it progressively got worse.

"I mean, one drink wouldn't hurt right?"

He was dumbfounded when one drink turned into hundreds. He knew it was difficult to continue especially when you and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives everytime. Whether you were extremely drunk, he knew that you two acted the complete same when you were sober. There wasn't a difference, meaning that's just how love worked between you two.

"Tooru- honey!" You shout as Iwaizumi pouts. It was your 4th anniversary and Oikawa decided to call to greet the lovely couple another successful year of your relationship.

"It's shittykawa to you, babe." Iwaizumi teases making Oikawa rolls his eyes. Through the camera, he sees you above Iwaizumi with arms wrapped around his neck without your chin resting on the boys head as he smiles, content to see that 4 years and love didn't change, not even a bit.

"Disgusting lovebirds, happy anniversary to you both!" Oikawa cheers as you giggle, blowing a kiss to him for greeting you two.

"Thank you Tooru-" your words were cut off by a gasp of realization as you shake Iwaizumi. Hajime takes in your excitement as he shakes his head at your actions.

"Hajime! There's no way you're not making Tooru as your best man- anyway! Tooru! This my official invitation for you to be his best man at our wedding!" Oikawa laughs as he raises his eyebrow to Iwaizumi who had a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I will be overly disappointed if I wasn't chosen. If Iwa-chan declines, I'll be your best man instead Y/N, or if you take my offer, I'll be the groom." He winks to you as you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. Iwaizumi flips off Oikawa and the setter only returns this by poking his tongue out to his best friend.

"So is that right, Iwa-chan? Will you finally bend the knee for the lovely lady?" With Oikawas question, you turn to Iwaizumi as if you were nervous. You bit your lip looking at your boyfriend before he pecks your lips catching you off guard as he looks at you with a smirk.

"I'd be a fool not to." He says making you squeal, as you immediately cover your face in your hands, embarassed by how red you got. Oikawa rolls his eyes, envious at the love you shared. Although, he is joyous that you've made Iwaizumi the happiest man he can be, even if you two weren't married yet, to Oikawa it looks like your relationship will only lead to the altar.

There wasn't a single doubt to that.

"Y/N! I thought you've forgotten how to pick up the phone again." He scolds you but his anger washes away when he sees you with red eyes and sniffling uncontrollably.

"Hajime." She calls out, as Oikawa sighs into his pillow realizing it's another night of him acting as Iwaizumi. He's already heard all the things you wanted to say to the missing boy and he accepted the fact that you'll never have the heart to say it to Iwaizumi himself.

"Why do I miss you, now that you're out of my life?" You cried. Oikawa only rests his chin on the palm of his hand as you continued to pour your sadness upon him. You swing the bottle in your hands before downing another wave of liquor.

"I wanna know what you're doing tonight." You whisper as you take your phone, clicking on Iwaizumis contact but before you could, Oikawa spoke, knowing your next intentions.

"No, not again Y/N." He says but you shake your head your finger threatening to press it already.

"Y/N listen to me, Iwa would have contacted you right now but this isn't the time!" He argued but you scoffed, angry tears brimming in your eyes.

"No! Then when will that time come then! I've been waiting for so fucking long already! It's never gonna happen 'cause he's forgotten me- Fuck!" You shouted, taking Oikawa by surprise as you collapse to the floor once again, Oikawa coming back to the sight of you he wanted to forget.

"Y/N- babe I'm sorry-"

"Enough, Oikawa. If you could've been honest that Hajime's found another, then-then maybe I-" your voice cracks as you stressfully runs your fingers through your hair, gripping it tight in your hands as you let out another doleful sob, breaking Toorus heart.

"I don't know what do anymore." You whispered, your heart shattering in to even more finer pieces. You couldn't even put into words how you've been in torment for years.

It finally dawned on you that you weren't headed to the altar, you were headed in a different path.

Without him.

"Y/N- listen- Iwaizumi-" you ended the call leaving Oikawa stunned as he drops the phone in his hands in frustration and in regret. He decided to visit Iwaizumi, knowing it'd be hard to ever communicate with you again, especially that you've been struck by a wrong thought.

And no one else could handle you the way Hajime would.

"Iwa-chan."

"Oikawa? What is it?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry."

-

Iwaizumi held his breath as Oikawa explained what happened. He couldn't wrap his head around the unintentional pain Oikawa has given you.

"Iwa, I'm so sorry." Tooru says, making Iwaizumi close his eyes visioning your features crushing at the idea of him having somebody by his side.

Hajimes eyes would never betray you. The only reflection that stayed in his eyes, was the future that was thrown away.

"Oikawa, hey it's okay, I understand." Iwaizumi says with a soft tone to assure Oikawa. Tooru would never intentionally hurt you, he was there to save you. Even if Iwaizumi didn't ask him to take care of you, Oikawa would do everything to bring a smile on your lips. As much love you have to Hajime, its the same amount you have to Oikawa.

"Leaving isn't bad because you're gonna come back with something even better and that's the best version of yourself."

It's your words that he counted on. He believed that he wasn't being selfish, or prideful. You made him believe that finding himself was enough to get him all the medals, the passion, and everything he wanted. So he'd want nothing more than to give thanks to you.

"Iwa."

Oikawa breaks the silence. Iwaizumi looks at him while biting down on his fingers, his heart beating too loudly at the thought of you.

"Why didn't you call her- not even giving her a proper goodbye." Tooru asks with masked anger in his tone. How could he help Hajime when he's blocking him from the truth?

"Iwaizumi. Answer me. For once." Oikawa begs, but once he's met with the silence, he's never been more eager to give in to anger.

"I just- I can't let it happen again, Oikawa. Not to her, not to us."

"Baby, what movie do you want to watch on Saturday? I've seen so many good ones lately." Iwaizumi turns to you with an exhausted expression. You were arranging the condiments in the cabinet, waiting for his response.

"Can't we- reschedule? I-I have something to go to-"

"You can't blow me off for the third time this week, Iwa." You spat, sick of the excuses. Has it really been three times? Iwaizumi questions as he leans on the couch, letting out a sigh. To which is a response you didn't expect to receive.

"I've been busy." He lied, he may not feel it, but there wasn't a single hesitation when he spoke. You memorize his schedules, his after meetings, the excused he's mentioned didn't even bother to make sense. It hurt how he was able to come up so easily, not even thinking about you'd be able to piece them all together.

"Or are you just tired, Iwaizumi?"

You asked rudely. He looks at you before rolling his eyes, covering your heart in bitterness at his pride.

"So what if I am?"

He talked back, hitting you with a bigger wave of emotions. You slammed the door of the cabinet, marching to him each step mixed with rage and pain.

"You're tired? Imagine what I've been feeling, Hajime!" You shout, volume picking up on your tone as this makes Iwaizumi stand up from the couch, not backing down at the power of your voice.

"Clingy? Needy? Pathetic? Tell me, does that sound any different to you?" He said it with so much disgust, strong enough to make you doubt everything you've fought for.

"So you don't give a fuck? Is that what you're so proud of, Iwaizumi? That you're so fucking insensitive?" He felt a tug on his heart when you called him that. It's been so long since he's heard you say it so- normal. As odd as it is, he couldn't hear his name the same again, especially when it came from you.

"Exactly! God I- Y/N. This is why-"

"WHAT IWAIZUMI!"

"This why I'm so fucking tired of you!" He shouted, not only did it create a barrier in your apartment, it brought up your past barrier that he broke down but now he's the cause of it to return.

"You're just- can you even make it on your own without me? It's like if I leave you'd- lose your shit! We need space!" He was fuming with confused anger as you feel your throat give out. You were shaking, your heart was too fast and unsteady, you weren't the same.

"But space is what you've been giving me! Coming home so late? Standing me up? You don't even fucking realize how many dates we missed!" He scoffs before running his fingers through his raven hair. Taking a step towards you, making you stand your ground as you tilt your head to meet with his empty eyes.

This isn't the man who could love you forever and ever after.

"So what! I've got so many things to do apart from dealing with your shit!" You stare back at him, weakened at how your heart couldn't handle it anymore.

You looked down, feeling the sting in your hands when your nails digged into the skin of your palm. He sits down on the couch, drained from the war full of shouting and the damage his heart was in.

Surprisingly, you sat beside him but there was such an intense distance between you.

He turns to you but chills ran up his spine when he sees how you look like you've agreed to everything he's said, making his eyes widen at the foreign feeling.

This is what he was scared of. Failing to find interest in the same routine, to find the energy to continue like he used to. Being worn out by how repetitive things were even when the love you both had was nowhere near boring.

In fact, it was exhilarating. You were both curious to try things together, that's what led you to even owning an apartment together, planning a future, even planning your marriage that was now a blur.

He trembled. Regret, anxiousness, exhaustion. He didn't expect himself to feel this way, especially to you, who he loved completely but felt a certain drift in his heart. He looks away from you as his eyes trail on the picture of you two. He couldn't hold it in his hands to look at how happy he looked, because he isn't the same anymore.

He's lost his way.

"D-did I..lack something?" She asks quietly. He gulps at her question. It was so heavy to him. How you asked him, questioning yourself in this relationship. With anxious hands, he wanted to reach out for you but his efforts were surpassed when he felt a wall between you and him.

"Am I worth.. to keep?"

Please, baby. He begs in his mind for you to stop. He couldn't register how he couldn't make himself speak. He was holding back too much, terrified that he was going to break you more and more with every word he'd toss to you.

"Then this is pointless isn't it?"

You both look at each other, both met with different expressions in your eyes. Iwaizumi could see how tired you were, how he knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same way before, since he gave up first. While you can see how there wasn't a single lie in his eyes, the downfall was upon you.

No matter the space you give him, there can never be a spark to bring him back.

He bit his lip, facing the truth. Even he knew there isn't any other way.

"I know what you're gonna say, Hajime."

"Princess.. I'm sorry"

"Just go." It was impossible for him to follow your orders when all he wishes is to stay but then again, he's run out of reasons to.

"You gave up, Iwa!" Oikawa shouts, standing up to the boy. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wonder on the floor because he said nothing but the truth.

"There isn't anything I can-"

He's heard enough. You've asked Oikawa many heartbreaking questions. They were all unanswerable, and it pained him he couldn't give you at least one. He was in pain as much as you were. He hated how stupid Iwaizumi was for leaving you and choosing to cower away. He hated how you blamed yourself and slashing your heart because of Iwaizumi.

The tension has set fire to Oikawa and with years of loyalty between the two, Oikawa throws a heavy punch to Iwaizumi, disgusted of his actions.

Iwaizumi, completely at shocked at Oikawas punch, steps back a few times before his blood dropped on his fingers. Oikawa walks straight to Iwaizumi capturing his collar and pulling the boy upwards, nothing but rage consuming the setter.

"Did you love her then? Don't tell me this bullshit that you can't go back to her. Do you even wanna know what she asks me?" Iwaizumi removes Oikawas hands from his shirt, crumpling it in the process. Oikawa lets out a sarcastic laugh as he looks at Hajime.

"Ah, so you know how much shit you put her through? Then maybe you are an asshole but god- Iwa she loves you so much. If that isn't a good enough reason for you to talk to her, then I'll find somebody else for her." Oikawa threatens as Iwaizumi lets out a sob, nothing but regret that he hurt two of the most important people on his life.

"But what if it happens again?"

Iwaizumi asks, it was the only thing that held him back for returning into your arms. He isn't stable enough to return when the fear lingers in his head. What if he falls out of love? What if he gets tired again? Then you'll never want his presence again. He couldn't master up the courage because he too was scared of it.

He will not go through dozens of years just to be apart from you. He's already lost his mind to see you and Oikawa face the tragedy that he left you with. He felt nauseated with himself. How can he promise you forever when it was out of his grasp?

"Why don't you find out?"

It was a simple sentence that left Oikawas lips yet it brought Hajime to tears. It would've been that easy. If he didn't stay with his demons, then maybe you were here to offset his heart. After 2 years, isn't it too late to realize that he's never really ran out of love? It strengthened, but he was so afraid of battling with you like you did, hating how he was the man who shattered your overall being.

"Thank you, Oikawa."

He whispers as Oikawa takes a seat beside him, smiling that he brought the boy to realize the amount of time he's wasted by being surrounded by doubt. Oikawa pats the boys shoulder, sighing in relief that Iwaizumi was back.

"Always."

-

You swore to avoid your phone the entire day. As much as you wanted to apologize to Oikawa for the outburst, you just wanted a day of silence since your thoughts never give you the chance. Not only did you promise to avoid technology, you decided to avoid people as well, promising to yourself you'd rather stay inside in order to avoid the envy you had for other couples.

So here you are, tucked in your jacket, wrapped in your blanket waking up from a 4 hour nap. You yawned before squinting when you open your phone. It's 8pm and your stomach was nowhere near happy. Slowly standing up, you make your way to the kitchen opening the fridge seeing absolutely no hope to make a meal. Sighing lazily, you decided it'd be best to just buy some food.

After getting ready, you step out of your apartment as you drive to the place where you usually order. You admired how the moon lit your way. Opening your windows you smile when the cold whiff of air instantly surrounded your car. You loved the way your hair flew in the wind while you listened to the song playing.

Once you've finished your bought dinner, you decided to take a turn in your path. Now that it was late at night, you couldn't resist to visit a place you've been missing.

You take in a deep breath as you leaned on the metal bar, loving the way the view still took your breath away. You were face to face with the nightlights and the busy town below you. Not only was it stunning but it was a place to recall some of your favorite moments with him now that you were out of your comfortless of an apartment.

"Sorry for being late, Oikawa was an ass." Iwaizumi excuses himself as he stood beside you leaning on the rod, smiling once he takes in the lights. He turns to you before removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, a sweet gesture that had you blushing every time.

You couldn't refuse knowing he would've scolded you. Instead, you stood closer to him before leaning your head on his arm. With his hand, he interlaced his fingers with yours, as your heart flutters. He takes in your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as you did the same with his hand making him twirl you in satisfaction. You giggle before landing on his chest as he leans down and places his warm hands to your cheeks as he leans in to take your lips with his.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating his kiss. He's given you hundreds of kisses before, how is this any different than the rest?

He pulls away, as your foreheads touch as you both painted a smile on your lips, feeling a slight tickle to it with how flustered you both were.

"I love you so much." He whispers, the first time he's ever let the three words slip from his mouth. Your hands make their way his hair, grabbing it lightly before nodding happily.

"I love you more, my Hajime."

Who knew that just by saying those three words, it was enough for you to believe in an ever after with him? Maybe you were wrong to fall for it even though he gave you a fragment of your so called forever.

You glanced beside you to see a vacant spot and you let out a disappointed sigh. You take in the sight of your fingers, missing the way it perfectly fit in his and how he held it with so much care, giving you an idea that he'd never let you go. Unfortunately he broke this bond but you still longed for his skin to be at contact with yours again.

You sat down placing your hand on the bench as you close your eyes leaning your back on it. You felt a shift of weight beside you, someone finally accompanying you in this lonely night but you've caught on the familiar scent of the stranger and you let the name slid off your tongue.

"Hajime."

He turns to you in shock that you knew it was him but you open your eyes, turning your head to be faced with the man you've been longing to see in two years. He looked the same, the same face who clouded your dreams. He was certainly your Hajime, the pretty boy you've adored since you were in high school.

Happy anniversary. You silently greet each other. How bittersweet, isn't it? What was meant to be your 6th year, turned into 2 years of avoiding each other.

And as you took in Iwaizumis appearance, he did the same with you. Loving the way your features clicked in his memory instantly. Was it even possible for you to be even more beautiful? To Iwaizumi, it was. He absolutely missed you, but why was his heart nervous?

What do I do? He asks himself. Small talk isn't what you deserved. God- you deserve so much more. Endless hours of talking, his embrace, his love, that's what you missed. He was willing to love you with everything he's got, now knowing he'll never run out of it because he isn't scared anymore.

"This isn't a dream is it?" You asked as you turn back to the sky counting the stars that was above you. He was glad you broke the silence, and he appreciated how there wasn't the same tension before. It felt so- serene and unique. Something he wishes it'd be a good sign for the both of you.

"I can't believe it either." He exclaims making you smile. You couldn't ask him how he's doing, not wanting to drag on a conversation you've waited years for to happen, you couldn't let it be bland and meaningless.

"We were something weren't we?" You asked with a soft smile. Iwaizumi chuckles beside you, as he sits closer to you. The cold air swirling around you two as well as the car noised filling in the comforting silence.

"God, I miss what that's like." Iwaizumi answers as you look at him. You looked down on the floor with tears appearing again, the same as Iwaizumi. You were both craving to hold each other but it didn't sit right to just rush into each other knowing there's so much to unpack.

Maybe it was a bit unexpected that you'd face him this way. Echoing through your ears was the conversation between you and Tooru about how the time never came. Now, you weren't even close to being prepared. You both imagined a proper conversation wherein you two would agree to meet up and talk things out. Yet subconsciously, you came to the same place at the same time not even knowing you'd meet. You lacked strength to bundle the words that you've always wanted to say to him and he felt the same way.

The last time you sat next to each other, that was when you parted. Now, back in the same position, it felt overwhelming. Seeing each other for the first time, both had you shocked and careful of your words. You wanted to scream how much you loved him, and he wanted to hold you in his arms to wash away the bleeding of your heart.

You loved how the universe made you two meet. It was quite painful that it had to be the place where you've shared so many memories with him. You didn't know if this was a blessing in disguise but you couldn't complain when the love of your life was here, beside you.

When he saw you, he felt like the sun shined above him like it did every morning. Where he had an angel to wake up next to, when he couldn't spot a single imperfection in your skin when the sun danced in your beauty.

And you've finally remembered the way his touch would bring you the assurance without words. His unexpected kisses, his sweet embrace, his smile that makes your heart run a marathon.

You're finally here. You both think, your hearts synced in how you've waited for this moment.

With your hand on the bench, he places his hand on top of yours, feeling like it was too fragile to hold but you didn't pull away. He takes in your features in the moonlight as his heart picks up the pace at the feeling that washes over him.

There isn't a barrier anymore.

Having the chance to hold your hand like this, he'll never take this for granted again. His everything, back in his touch, god how lucky he was. Remembering Oikawas words, one thing was clear to Iwaizumi, and that was the fact that he couldn't afford to have another hiccup in your relationship.

"We really fucked up this time." Iwaizumi comments making the both of you chuckle as he intertwines your hands with his, smiles on either your faces now that you've finally found the path to each other.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi #oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #oikawa x you #hinata x reader #nishinoya x reader #sugawara x y/n #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu sugawara #hinata shouyou #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader

[lupinlongbottom]

Jacaranda

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) was pissed. Not just at the world, but at her close friend, Draco Malfoy. Why on earth did she still trust him? Hang out with him? Even after everything nasty and vile he’s done to her other friends? (Y/N) wasn’t so sure.

Prompt: Would you do a Draco Malfoy imagine of him and the Slytherin!reader being friends despite her good friendship with the Golden Trio and Draco finds the reader near tears (all the years he’s known her, he’s never seen her cry and doesn’t like to cry in public) after detention with Umbridge and when she sees Draco she cries because she associates him with safety and their feelings come out? - Anon

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: A few swears, nothing major my dudes

A/N: This is my first time writing for Draco! Wowie! Hope he’s not too OOC? I’m just so used to writing for the Weasley’s that it was hard to switch it up. Either way, I’m pleased. 

Part 2

__

(Y/N) (L/N) was just like every other Hogwarts student. She was occasionally late to class, enjoyed watching Quidditch with her friends, basked in the spring sunlight in the courtyard and rarely found her life to be exhaustingly hectic. Behind her cool demeanor and Slytherin robes, which many found frightening, she was kind, listened intently to others and found the brightest spark in every soul. Her house didn’t define her, which many found hard to believe, resulting in very few and honest friends. The ones that managed to look past it, were worth the fight.

“I don’t understand why you had to go and join that ridiculous squad, Draco,” (Y/N) said, biting into her bland toast. Needed more jam. “That badge is ghastly to look at.”

“Fits with the rest of the ensemble, does it not, (L/N)?” Draco said, flashing the silver ‘I’ in (Y/N)’s direction. “You’re just jealous that Umbridge didn’t choose you. Don’t worry, I can put in a good word for you, considering you’re one of my closest friends.”

“I didn’t apply,” (Y/N) said cooly, spooning more of the berry jam onto her toast. “If I was truly one of your closest friends, you’d know how I feel about that witch of a woman anyway,” she took another bite. Much better.

“That ‘witch of a woman’ is our Headmistress,” Draco scoffed, gulping from his goblet quickly. “She’s doing right by this school, something that should’ve happened a long time ago, I reckon. It pains me to see how you’re blinded by those bumbling Gryffindor grunts, that Potter is filling your head with nonsense.”

“You’re on a power trip, Dray,” (Y/N) sang, finishing her breakfast in two more bites. “If you will excuse me, I have a class to attend,” she turned around, facing Draco once more. “And no, Potter isn’t filling my head with nonsense, I’m just bright enough to look past the muck the Ministry is shoving down our throats.”

“Are you saying I’m thick?” Draco retorted, gaining the attention of the Slytherin girl, who had begun walking away.

“Of course not,” (Y/N) said, smirking. “I’ve known you since we were in nappies, Malfoy. You’re not thick in the slightest, you’re actually quite the intellectual,” she spun around again, this time marching towards the exit. “I just wish you’d be bright enough to turn on the light from time to time.”

“(Y/N),” Draco said, flying up from his seat, trying to match the pace of the girl across the table. “Join the squad,” he panted, having practically ran to the exit of the Great Hall to catch up. “Please,” he reached for her hand.

“Draco,” (Y/N) said, pulling her hand away from his, as if it were a red hot iron. “If I recall, you’re little gang of goons were the ones that threw all of my friends into a massive detention—”

“They were in an illegal organization, (Y/N)! They planned to take down the Ministry—”

“Yeah? Why didn’t I get a detention, then? I was just as much apart of their organization,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms, her posture stiff. “Or did you meddle in that, too?”

“Of course I ‘meddled’,” Draco scoffed. “Do you really think I was going to let one of my oldest friends get caught in the crossfire? Umbridge gave you a second chance to prove yourself, which, by the way, is entirely thanks to yours truly.”

“Bite me,” (Y/N) seethed. “If it weren’t for the fact I was a pure-blooded Slytherin—”

“Traits you should be honored to have, mind you—”

“For Godric’s sake, Draco, can’t I just be mad at you for once in my life!?” (Y/N) said, her tone rising. A few straggling students’ eyes wandered to the two at the foot of the hall. “All my life has been following you, Draco. Listening to you, Draco. Whenever we played as children, we did what you wanted to do. I listened, I played along. I care for you, Draco, I do,” (Y/N) said, her eyes growing softer. “But you have to understand that I’m not the same girl you grew up with. I have different interests, different friends—”  

“You’re still my friend, (Y/N),” Draco said, cutting (Y/N) off. “Yeah, I put up with your timely bullshit, only because I know when the cards all fall, your real allegiances stand with your kind. Our kind. You’ll come crawling back to me eventually.”

“We’ll see about that,” (Y/N) clicked, turning her heels sharply and exiting the hall, leaving the blonde boy at a loss for words. “Stupid Malfoy, stupid hair…” she mumbled, adjusting her grey jumper, the white shirt underneath was poking through the ends. (Y/N) hardly noticed the pink flurry of a woman she had just run into.

“Ms. (L/N),” Umbridge smiled sweetly, almost sickeningly.

“Headmistress,” (Y/N) said, bowing lightly. “I’m so sorry for bumping into you, I wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going—”

“Playing with your jumper, I presume?” Umbridge said, the smile not leaving her face.

“Sorry, Headmistress,” (Y/N) said, voice panicked. “My undershirt became untucked from my skirt during breakfast and I—”

“No need for explanation,” Umbridge held up her hand, halting the Slytherin’s words. “You’re in violation of Educational Degree Number Forty-Five, you’re out of proper uniform—”

“I was just fixing myself—”

“Contradicting your Headmistress?” Umbridge squeaked, eyeing (Y/N) down. “Normally the violation of Number Forty-Five results in a handful of house points taken away, but talking back? Consider your activities for this evening postponed. Detention, my office.” (Y/N) stood stunned as the Headmistress walked towards the Great Hall, presumably to get her breakfast.

__

“…that sounds completely unfair,” Hermione whispered above her book, eyes darting at (Y/N). The library was near silent, all students were busy preparing for their exams and classes, much like a normal afternoon.

“You’re telling me,” (Y/N) huffed, flipping the page of her textbook to lessen the suspicion of Madam Pince. “I’ve never had detention with Umbridge before.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Hermione hissed, a slight distain at that fact. “If you only knew the torture Harry’s been through—” Madame Pince eyes the girls down for a moment, watching as they quietly read the books in front of them. She grew disinterested and began shelving books once more. “Hasn’t he shown you?”

“Harry hasn’t exactly been my best mate since he thought I was the one who snitched on the D.A,” (Y/N) quipped, rightfully so. “He never really trusted me in Dumbledore’s Army anyway, always thought I was going to run and tell Malfoy everything about it.”

“Can you really blame him, (Y/N)?” Hermione asked, her expression exasperated. “You’re close friends with Malfoy, the person that hasn’t exactly been the kindest to Harry, or any of us for that matter.”

“You trusted me,” (Y/N) said, pointing her eyes sharply at Hermione. “Bloody hell, Ron trusted me. I feel like these last five years of friendship mean nothing to you lot—”

“We care about you, (Y/N),” Hermione hissed again. “But you need to understand that you’re fraternizing with the enemy. One of these days you’re going to need to step out of both ponds and pick a side.”

“Must there even need to be sides?” (Y/N) said, flipping her page angrily. “Draco has been my closest friend since I was young, he knows me better than I know me at times. I understand that he can be brash and rude, you know I surely don’t agree with the foul things he’s called you in the past, right?”

“Of course I do, I’m not daft, (Y/N),” Hermione sighed. “In years past, it’s been easy to ignore your friendship with Draco, he was just some dumb bully who called people names. Now it’s starting to get real, (Y/N), real scary at the way he’s acting.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I hate seeing him this way,” (Y/N) mumbled, thumbing the corner of her textbook, watching the pages flicker rapidly together in a pulsing wave. “He needs me, Hermione. He needs a real friend, to stop him from going down the path he is. I see the darkness welling inside, the need for power. I want to help him, Hermione, I do.”

“Are you willing to lose your real friends for it? For Malfoy?”

(Y/N) thought back to the boy she grew up with, the one that would laugh at her stupid jokes, egg her on to do stupid things. They would spend the summers under the flowering tree on the (L/N) estate, blue trumpet-shaped flowers falling onto their heads from time to time. She always adored how the color complimented his hair, made him appear softer than he was. It made Draco look nice, caring, unlike himself.

Without hesitation, (Y/N) answered.

“Yes, if that’s what it takes.”

__

The walk from the Slytherin common room to Umbridge’s office was a somber one, a death march almost. (Y/N) knew the only reason she had truly gotten a detention was for the matter of fairness, an oversight on Umbridge’s part. Perhaps she regretted not giving (Y/N) a slew of detentions like the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, or maybe she wanted to throw her down a peg, show her who was truly in charge. Regardless, the punishment was impending and forthcoming.

“Ms. (L/N), I’m so happy you could join me,” Umbridge sang, meeting (Y/N) at the foot of the stairs. “Please, if you will,” her hand beckoned to the top of the stairs, leading (Y/N) into the disgustingly pink vomit the Headmistress called an office. “You’ll be doing some lines for me, you can find all the materials you need on the desk I’ve set up for you.”

Upon the creaking desk, (Y/N) noted as she sat down, were a roll of parchment and a single quill. “No ink?”

“You won’t need any ink,” Umbridge smiled, nodding to the quill. “I’m sure you’ve heard of my quills from Mr. Potter, is that correct?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Harry and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms,” (Y/N) said, lifting the quill upward. “How am I to write?”

“Trust the quill, write as you normally would,” Umbridge said, tapping her spoon against the pale pink teacup on her desk. “I want you to write ‘I will obey authority’,” the woman motioned to the paper. “Try it out.”

(Y/N) tapped the quill to the parchment, almost as a test. No ink bled through. (Y/N) thought for a moment that perhaps the quill was much like those ‘fountain pens’ she had seen some muggle-born students use, the ink trapped inside the body of the pen. It didn’t seem to be the case. Hesitant, she began to sprawl the words onto the paper, red ink appearing in place of her scratching. A burning sensation itched the back of her other hand, almost like a cat scratch. (Y/N) thought nothing of it.

“How many times?”

“Fill the entire page, my dear, front to back,” Umbridge sang sweetly, taking another sip of her tea. “The quill will know if you’ve began to write larger to fill the extra gaps and erase the entirety of your work,” she smiled.

(Y/N) began to write again, the same size as the line before. Again, the burning sensation seared onto the back of her other hand, causing (Y/N) to finally look down. Almost an exact copy of her words were scratched into the flesh of her hand, flared as pink as the walls. Another glance at the ‘ink’ that had been flowing out of the quill and (Y/N) connected the dots instantly.

“This is barbaric,” (Y/N) mumbled, continuing to sprawl the lines. The witch sitting at the desk across from (Y/N) must’ve heard her, for she let out a small laugh. The student continued to write the lines, over and over, filling the space with what she could. She set the quill down for just a moment, to relieve the pain in her hand.

“No, no,” Umbridge clicked. “Continue.” Hesitantly, (Y/N) began again, the words cutting into her like a hot iron, branding the back of her hand with every pass of the quill.

__

Two hours had passed and (Y/N) began writing the last of her lines, successfully filling the page, front to back, like requested. (Y/N) pressed the last period onto the page with such vigor, the tip pierced the paper. She stood up, careful to hide her shaking and passed the parchment to Umbridge, who was currently on her seventh cup of tea.

“Good,” Umbridge said, scanning the paper. “I take it the message has sunk in?” She pointed her doe-like eyes up towards the student. (Y/N) nodded. “Shame you had to re-start a few times, but that’s the price you pay when things aren’t orderly, hm?”

“Of course, Headmistress.”

“Outstanding. Enjoy your evening, Ms. (L/N),” Umbridge waved towards the door, ushering (Y/N) to leave. “Oh, and do remember your place, dear. Many would kill to be in a position like yours,” the Headmistress giggled, the tone echoing through (Y/N)’s head like rock to a window.

“Good night,” (Y/N) bowed as she exited the room. For whatever reason, (Y/N) felt hot, like the heat from her hand radiated throughout her entire body. Was it a side effect to the barbaric quill? (Y/N) couldn’t be too sure, this feeling was one she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something was building, something dark, something that needed release. Walking back to her dorm, (Y/N) caught a look at the moon from the hall, finally feeling herself crack. Settling down on the windowsill, (Y/N) allowed her mind to wander, trying to focus her thoughts on something, anything, else rather than the pain coming from her hand. 

It was then that Draco saw her, sitting alone, staring at the moon. He had been patrolling for Umbridge that evening, hoping to break up any unsightly students participating in illegal activities. He hadn’t imagined running into (Y/N) this late into the night, surely her detention couldn’t have gone that long, right?

“(Y/N)…?” Draco asked quietly, approaching (Y/N) carefully. Had he ever done that before?

(Y/N) whipped her head around, finding none other than Draco Malfoy staring at her, a worried expression painted his features. “Draco,” (Y/N) sniffled, pressing the heel of her palm to her nose. “What’re you doing here? Trying to gain brownie points with the wicked witch?”

“Always,” Draco quipped, feeling a pang in his chest. Something didn’t feel right. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s past curfew.”

“What’re you going to do? Take away some house points? Snape would have your head,” (Y/N) said, voice like acid. “Go on, bet you don’t have the guts.”

“I’m not going to take any house points, I’m not an idiot,” Draco rolled his eyes, walking closer to the girl. “Are you alright?” Draco asked, his voice growing softer.

“Like you care,” (Y/N) quipped, watching her friend stand squarely in front of her, weight shifting to one hip. His eyes seemed gentle, somehow softened in the moonlight. “But no, obviously I’m not okay, Draco,” she flung her arms out, circling them lightly. “I wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if I was alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry—”

“And you never will,” (Y/N) said, hopping down from the ledge, pushing Draco away. “I don’t cry and I certainly won’t let you have the pleasure of seeing it.”

Draco grabbed ahold of her jumper sleeve, stopping her from taking another step. “Will you stop being so thick and just talk to me?” Her shoulder loosened, arm falling. “Please?”

“I had detention,” (Y/N) said, not turning around. “I’m sure you’ve heard from your lackeys. That’s why I’m out so late.”

“What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” (Y/N) shrugged, finally pulling her arm away, turning towards Draco. “She didn’t do anything to me. I deserved it.”

“Deserved what?” He asked, glancing down at (Y/N)’s hands, she was holding one tightly, as if she didn’t want Draco to see. “(Y/N), what did she have you do?”

It was in that moment that (Y/N) snapped. Something inside of her broke open like a thousand glass jars. Suddenly, (Y/N) felt hot tears stream down her face as she removed her hand from atop the other, the scratched flesh shining in the moonlight. Draco grabbed it quickly, running his thumb over the raised wound.

“‘I will obey authority’?” Draco asked, looking closer at the scratches. It looked to be in (Y/N)’s handwriting, he’d recognize it anywhere. The wound looked to be healing, hardly would leave much of a scar, thankfully. “She made you do this?

(Y/N) nodded quickly, rubbing the edges of her sleeve around the bottoms of her eyes, trying to soak the tears up quickly. “I’m pathetic,” (Y/N) croaked, laughing lightly. “Crying, in the middle of the corridor. Godric, I never cry in public—”

“You’re not pathetic,” Draco shook his head, releasing her hand. “I’ve never seen you cry before, even when you broke your arm that one summer,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Fell right out of the jacaranda tree, right on top of me.”

(Y/N) sniffled, fighting a giggle. “You told me I couldn’t climb to the top,” another sniffle. “I wanted to prove you wrong.”

“You did,” Draco nodded, sitting down on the windowsill, patting the empty space next to him. (Y/N) followed close behind. “Climbed to the top like a monkey. Never should’ve doubted you.”

“No,” (Y/N) smiled. “You should never doubt me,” she rolled her sleeve up, pointing at a scar on her elbow, roughly the length of a sickle. “Still have the proof of the cut from your stupid ring—”

“Hey, you know I never meant to cut you,” Draco said, his voice raising. “I stopped wearing that ring after you fell onto it—”

“Fell onto it? You scratched me!”

“I was trying to help,” Draco laughed, amused at (Y/N)’s serious face. “Your arm looked horrific, I tried to help you up.”

“You did stay with me until my mum noticed our screaming,” (Y/N) smiled, recalling the frantic horror on her mother’s face. “You were rather sweet.”

“I’m always sweet—”

“Bullshit,” (Y/N) laughed, finally feeling her sinuses clear, a breath of fresh air filling her lungs. “You? Draco Lucius Malfoy, are not always sweet,” she laughed again.

“I have my moments,” Draco hummed. “When necessary, of course.”

“Right, can’t let anyone see the hardened Malfoy actually care about someone else, can we?” (Y/N) said, pushing Draco slightly to the side. “Sorry, for crying, I mean. I don’t normally cry in front of other people. I don’t know what came over me, I bet I look like a real idiot—”

“No,” Draco said, much too quickly. “You don’t. A bit puffy, but not an idiot.”

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” (Y/N) laughed, tentatively resting her head on Draco’s shoulder. She felt him stiffen for a moment, but ultimately relaxing into the touch. “I don’t know what it is, but even though you infuriate the hell out of me,” her eyes flicked up towards the Slytherin. “It’s… calming to be around you, safe. Like the summers under the jacaranda tree.”

“Is it?” Draco hummed, snaking his arm around the girl, holding her close. (Y/N) nodded wordlessly on his shoulder, wriggling herself closer.  “I think I understand.”

“We didn’t have to worry about stupid cliques, stupid blood-purity, what others thought of us,” (Y/N) said, her fingers playing with the ends of her jumper, the tips occasionally touching her healing wound. “We were young, only had to worry about one another. I wish it could be the same as before.”

“It can be,” Draco said, truthfully. 

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head. “I don’t think it can quite be the same as before, considering…”

“Considering, what?”

(Y/N) looked up at Draco, her eyes meeting his own. “Considering I’m helplessly in love with you, Draco Malfoy.”

“W-what?” 

“Oh please,” (Y/N) scoffed, pulling away from Draco. “I’ve known it for a while, I reckon. I only really looked at how I felt today,” (Y/N) laughed. “You’ll hate it, but talking with Hermione helped me realize it. Seeing your face, after everything I had to endure tonight… it just sort of clicked, you know?”

“You’re right,” Draco scoffed. “I do hate that you’re bringing that filthy mud—” (Y/N) shot him a look, an icy cool glare. “I do hate that you’re bringing up that nasty Gryffindor,” Draco corrected, noting (Y/N)’s slight relaxation in her posture.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) smiled, quite pleased at his change of vocabulary. She really despised that slang, the filth of the word never sat right with (Y/N). “Everything just feels right when I’m with you. Like I’m always going to be safe, be okay, even when I know it won’t.”

“It’s about time you realized it,” Draco smiled, puffing his chest. “I’ve only been trying to get you to see that for five years now.”

“Wow, I confess my love for you and all you go and do is boast about yourself?” (Y/N) laughed. “Honestly, I should’ve seen this coming.”

“You really should’ve,” Draco said, hugging (Y/N) tighter into his side. “I’m just a bit upset, that’s all.”

“How so?”

“I was going to ask you out, proper,” Draco said, rubbing (Y/N)’s arm. “Be the first one to say it. But of course you went and ruined my great plan—”

“Did it involve loads of flowers?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, you still haven’t said it,” (Y/N) said, hopping off the window. “You have time to make it up to me.”

“(Y/N), that’s crazy, can’t I just say that I love—”

“Nope!” (Y/N) stuck fingers in her ears, humming loudly. “Can’t hear you, doesn’t count!”

Draco laughed, truly laughed, a feeling he only ever felt with (Y/N). Her words had rang true in his heart, surely. He had known about his fondness for his friend for a while, practically since first year. While he loathed her choice in friends, part of him envied the openness of her heart and mind. He would never say that out loud, of course.

“Fine,” Draco said, hopping off the window, standing in front of (Y/N). His hands moved to grab her wrists, gently pulling them away from her head, lacing his fingers with hers. “I won’t say it, then,” quickly, before (Y/N) could react, Draco’s lips were on hers, but only for a fraction of a second. A feather-light touch.

“W-what?” (Y/N) mumbled, stunned. The pink in her cheeks seeping up to her ears.

“What? Want me to kiss you proper?” Draco smirked, ignoring the dusting on his own cheeks, surely. “Guess you’ll have to wait.”

Draco Malfoy was indeed going to be the death of (Y/N) (L/N), but damn, was it going to be worth the fight. 

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @steve-thotgers , @greeneyedthief, @kitkatkl , @thelightsideoflife , @thataudreydork

if your name is crossed out, i could not tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out to me if that’s the case.

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with! PLEASE BE SPECIFIC ON WHAT TAG LIST YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED ON! 

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy imagines #it was weird writing for draco ngl #not sure how i feel about it but we'll see! #ah well it's getting posted anyway

[rune-writes]

I'll Come Visit

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 2: Promise

Word Count: 2344

Rating: G

Summary: All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises: promises of a date, to see the sky, and to come visit after he returns from Nibelheim.

Chapter 2 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises. The first was the promise of a date, the first time he met her when he dropped out of the sky and onto her flowerbed. The second was to show her the sky, because it wasn’t as scary as she thought, and he wanted her to see it. Then he bought her a ribbon and said they should make fun, little promises for when they next met.

“For example, when we meet, you always have to dress in pink.”

Aerith giggled and said that was silly, and it was, but it’d be fun. So she nodded and said okay and wondered what kind of pink dress she had that she could wear.

Then just before he left for Nibelheim, they went to the Sector 6 playground to sell flowers. Operation: Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money seemed to have a good start. The blooms were a big hit. One woman wished she could see them grow all around the slums.

“Yeah, that’s me and Aerith’s dream,” Zack said. “Not just the slums, either. We want to fill the whole of Midgar with flowers!”

Only a dream then, one he hoped would come true once he returned to Midgar, when he could finally take her to the city above and sell flowers under the sky together.

***

Zack sighed at the heavens above as he lay on his back. Thin wisps of cotton-soft clouds drifted past; though, did anyone really know whether clouds were cotton-soft? An age-old imagery that originated from how it looked from the ground, made by people who had too much time on their hands with too little thoughts in their minds.

Zack had too much time on his hands now. With Sephiroth having locked himself in the mansion’s library and still no lead on their investigation, there had been nothing to do but check on the reactor every day. Everything stayed the same. The monsters still slept in their pods, no more reactor malfunctioning, no more signs of Genesis—or any other intruders for that matter.

Cloud would grab any chance he could get to accompany Zack. Probably to escape the town and its people. Probably to be near their ebony-haired guide. He couldn’t blame the guy, and he had no intention to interfere, but sometimes, Zack would look at his stubborn younger friend and wish Cloud would let loose and show them who he really was. Not a SOLDIER, but still a proud member of Shinra’s infantrymen. They’d understand.

When the time came to return to town, he let the two kids go on ahead, saying he wanted to explore more of the mountain. Tifa offered to come with him, but Zack refused. It was still light out. If he’d gotten lost, his SOLDIER pride would be at stake.

Zack had expected a chuckle at the very least, but his guide only stared at him and said, “Okay.” Then she looked at the grunt and nodded her head down the mountain path. “Shall we, then?”

Grunt Cloud jerked, and for a fraction of a second, his wild, panicked eyes met Zack’s through his helmet visor. Zack waited until Tifa had turned and walked away before he slapped Cloud on the back and whispered, “You got this.”

“I got this.” A self-reassuring nod; Cloud gripped his rifle tighter before following Tifa down the mountain. They walked with a little distance between them, but never too far apart. Zack watched, a little grin playing across his lips.

He’d set off in another direction then: a greener, more life-abundant direction; a contrast to the barren, jagged mountain he’d left behind. He’d found the clearing shortly after, with trees on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It overlooked the Nibel plains and the small town below with the clear blue sky stretching far into the horizon.

Fragments of a cloud broke away into little dots, collecting in places that, somehow, reminded him of the yellow blossoms he’d find growing under the shades of a dilapidated church. Thoughts of the blossoms led to thoughts of the flower girl, and Zack couldn’t help but draw another long breath.

It’d been a week since he arrived in Nibelheim, longer still since he last saw Aerith. The closest interaction he'd gotten was the phone call mere days after reaching the mountain village. His PHS had rung when he’d been about to go to the mansion, and it had taken him by surprise when her voice came out of the receiver. But he’d been too busy then, so he’d told her that he’d call later.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” There had been a slight drop to her tone.

He'd pressed his lips together. “Okay, then I’ll come visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

Zack hadn't missed the momentary pause or the wistful sigh, hadn't forgotten her downcast eyes when he told her he would leave Midgar for a job. There had been nothing else he could say but: “I’ll see you, I promise.” He could almost see her smile as he hung up, hoping it had been enough until he returned to her side.

The drifting clouds offered a brief respite from the sun's harsh glare. Summer had long since gone and autumn was well on its way, but Zack still felt hot. Hot and restless and sweaty and wishing he was back under the cover of the church, where a ray of pleasant sunlight slanted in through the broken rooftop right onto her flowerbed. He’d doze on her lap, and Aerith would weave a flower crown to put around his head, and when he opened his eyes, he would see the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Zack reached for his PHS in his pocket. He had half a mind to go to his mails before he realized Aerith didn’t have a PHS. She’d borrowed Tseng’s when she called him before. Zack didn't want to call Tseng. The last time he did, the Turk had chuckled and said that he was at work, that he had one of his men watching her and that she was safe. He would, however, send her Zack’s regards the next time he saw her. Zack's mouth twitched at the memory.

What if he called her house? Elmyra probably wouldn't mind. The last time he met her, she had acted like he was already part of the family. It made him smile and miss her homemade stew, miss the warmth of the kitchen and the vibrant colors in her garden, miss that motherly touch.

But as good as the idea sounded, it was still daylight and Aerith was probably not home. He stared at the open mail draft on his PHS screen, then typed in Kunsel's name.

‘What are you doing?’

The reply came shortly after: ‘If you resorted to mail me in the middle of a mission, I can only imagine how bored you must be feeling right now. So let me tell you some good news, friend. I visited that church your Aerith frequented and I gotta say, she is such a lively fella. You have no idea all the little details she’d asked me of you.’

Zack jumped, glaring into his PHS screen as those last few words hammered their way into his head. He dialed Kunsel’s number. Kunsel immediately picked up.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

On the other side of the line, Kunsel cackled—a shoulder-shaking, back-bending, stomach-hurting cackle. “Gods, I can’t believe you fell for that one.”

Zack blinked, too mortified to catch up with the joke.

“I’m on a mission, if you remember—or maybe you don’t. Different from the one when you left for Nibelheim. With our Firsts out on a mission on the other side of the Planet, it seems the top brass has decided to have the rest of us—meaning us, Second-Class—take the lead on the remaining jobs. So I’ve been away, again. Far away from your lovely girl. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Another blink. Right.

“How’s the job anyway?”

A short pause, and maybe it was the easy-going tone of his voice that made Zack's tongue loosen up and tell Kunsel about the current state of his investigation, the current state of Sephiroth, the current state of his restlessness. Then at the end of it, Kunsel chuckled.

“Even in the middle of a mission, you still got time to worry about your girl.” Zack heard a scoff, soft and amused. “She’s fine. Aren’t the Turks watching her?”

“They are…” But even knowing that, there was a disquiet in his heart that he couldn’t quite figure where it was coming from.

“Well, if it’s any help at all, I promised to check up on her, didn’t I? Once I get back from my assignment, I’ll see how she is. Does that ease you?”

It did, even if only a little.

“So just focus on your assignment right now and make sure you get your ass back in Midgar. Quick.” Then he added, “You know I have a whole folder of you sneezing out snot, right?”

“Kuns—!”

The line was cut. The last thing Zack heard was his friend's laughter. It still echoed even when Zack had put his PHS down and stared at the screen, when he laid back on the sunny grass and covered his eyes with an arm. Maybe it was a bad idea to have Kunsel check on Aerith. Who knew what the guy would show her? All the embarrassing details of Zack's life! But Kunsel was the only person Zack could trust in SOLDIER right now…

Zack let out another quiet exhale. He lifted his arm. The clouds drifting past looked uncannily like the girl with the brightest smile.

***

He called a little after dusk. Zack was alone in his room; Sephiroth was still not back; Cloud and the other grunt stood watch somewhere. A few moments passed with only the dial tone filling his ears. And then:

“Hello?”

The smile came unbidden. Like a dam about to burst, his lips wavered at the intensity of the emotions overcoming him—overwhelming him.

“Aerith?”

“Zack?” Her surprise was almost palpable. He could imagine her wide-eyed stare as she stood beneath the warm lights of her home. “This is a surprise. You're not busy?”

“Aw, don’t you miss me?”

She giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. “Silly.”

They talked about everything and anything: what she was doing, how her days had been. "Same old, same old," she said. Tending to her flowers, running errands around the slum, then just as she’d headed for the church, the Leaf House kids had crowded around her and asked where Zack was.

Zack chuckled. “And what’d you tell them?”

“That Zack is on a very important job right now, but he’ll be back very soon and give everyone presents.” Her laugh made him smile, and he imagined her sitting next to the pots and vases, swaying her feet and twirling her hair. He closed his eyes, committing it to memory.

“Hey, Aerith.”

“Yeah?”

When he made that promise to visit, Zack had thought they would finish their mission soon and he'd be back by Aerith's side before she knew it. But it had been a week since then, and he was still stuck in a small mountain town with nothing to do but look for missing persons who refused to be found and wait on a stubborn comrade who refused to leave.

“Think I’d have to take a rain check on that promise. I don’t think I can come back soon.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Okay.” Then, because maybe she’d noticed the hesitancy in his voice: “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing wrong.” He was quick to answer, quick to ease her worry, even as his mind went to the mansion sitting on the town's outskirts, where Sephiroth was still perusing the many thick volumes stored in the basement. The last time Zack had checked on him, he'd been unaware of Zack’s presence. It’d been like talking to a statue, if statues could walk and talk. Ceaseless mutterings; unending strides; then at times, Sephiroth would stop and look up, and Zack would sigh and thought, finally! Because the meal the townspeople had prepared still lay untouched on the table, and all of Zack’s attempts to tell him to rest had flown over his head. But like a man possessed, Sephiroth had only walked past without truly seeing him, then discarded the book in favor of another.

“Zack?”

Zack blinked, then said again, “Nothing’s wrong.” It was less convincing. “Anyway,” he went on, brightening his voice. “Did you really tell the kids I’d bring them presents?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice too chirpy, as though she’d noticed his unease and opted to play along with his act. “Well, you have to give them something , after all their efforts to learn your combat moves. They’re really taking this Protection Squad business seriously, you know.” She giggled, and he chuckled too.

The kids had been hounding him every time he took the trip beneath the plate. What was supposed to be a quality time with Aerith always ended up as sword-fighting lessons with a bunch of children. Not that he minded them. The more time Zack spent with them, the more endearing they all seemed to him.

“Then I’d better get them something really good.” He wondered if the store next door sold souvenirs. He could ask Cloud for advice. Or Tifa. “But don’t tell them yet. It’ll be a surprise.”

He could feel her smile as she said, “Sure thing.” In the distance, he heard Elmyra’s call. Aerith had to hang up. “Do you think we can talk again tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll call you. Or you can call me too, if you want.”

“Really? Then maybe I’ll do that.”

Zack’s lips parted into the slightest grin. “I’ll be here.” Another promise. Her goodbye was the last thing he heard before Aerith ended the call.

~ END ~

#zerith #zerithweek #zerithweek2021 #aerith gainsborough #zack fair #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

[likesomekindofcheese]

A Night At The Opera (Part 2) (Revised)

Pairing: Brian May x fem! singer! reader

Word Count: 3,000

Content: Fluff, fluff, fluff!! Mentions of sex, Reader is shy and soft, Freddie being a wingman/third-wheel, swearing, not the world’s best grammar, and delicious slow burn and romantic tension.

Part two (possibly of three?? Four?? Ten?? Who knows! Continuing from part one, You and Brian meet when he goes to your university production of the opera Gianni Schicchi and you are both immediately...interested in one another. But Brian’s nervous about approaching you since he’s so in love, he’s gonna need Freddie’s help... 

Note, I am American as they come and I know a lot of people in the Queen fandom are British, so if any word choice or fact or anything in the fic seems inaccurate, let me know immediately. I hope you enjoy part two and any feedback is appreciated!!! Also Enjoy the moodboard (the first I’ve made in a WHILE) to go with it!

(Bri)

“Who is she, darling?”

“What?” Brian almost dropped the phone to the floor. He was tempted to slam it shut and end the conversation right there. But he stayed.

“Your date! Don’t lie to me. I know Mary would go, but she’s sick as a dog right now, poor dear.” he heard a slight puff on the other end of a cigarette being blown out.

Brian thought getting Freddie to go to the opera would be an easy task. So far, he was convinced nothing would be blown over.

“I…I don’t have a date, Freddie” Brian swallowed. If Fred knew that a girl was involved right from the get-go, then there was no turning back.

“She’s a performer. I know her. I spoke with her, a little. You’d like her, Fred.” Brian said. He heaved a sigh of relief.

“But Brian, rent is coming up…” he heard Fred sigh.

“Don’t worry! I’ll cover your ticket!” he insisted. There was a little pause on the line. He heard a little laugh from Fred.

“R-really! A free opera, well, then…then…oh, thank you Brian! We’ll leave as soon as we can I…I can even lend you some of my nicer suits!”

The thought of turning up in one of Fred’s bright, spangly jackets made Brian turn red. “Oh, no Fred! It’s not fucking Covet Garden, it’s just a…a university production! No need to be… be too much. I just want her to like me, not run away in fear.”

“Alright, I’ll go. Meet me at that flower shop an hour before rehearsal, too. So help me, tonight will end in the two of you exchanging numbers and having the shag of the decade…”

“Fred, you dickhead!” Brian yelled.

“Besides, I stole Mary from you, might as well return the favor! I’ll be over at your place in an hour” He heard the laugh before they exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

                (You)

 You awaken with the sunlight dripping out the window. You felt grateful for a morning to sleep in and not have to rush anywhere. The fullness of deep sleep after a week of deprivation washed over, bursting. You were expected nowhere. And there was nothing to be done. Except perform later tonight, but that was hours away.

You looked at the daises from last night in their clear blue jug, sitting right over your face on the desk next to your bed. The room seemed to smell cleaner and look brighter with them. It wasn’t equal to seeing and hearing the admiration of one’s friends and relatives from the work of a night, but it was still nice. It almost seemed like little faces smiling at you, whispering “yes, you can do this!”

It was almost as nice a smile as that smile Brian gave you. You feel as if lightning has hit your body when you think of him. If only you hadn’t been so awkward last night.

Your life now pursuing music at university prevented me from crossing paths with young, single men. There was a share of men who liked girls, but the opera department had many older men who were married with children. That is, married or taken. Taken by girls with tinier waists, girls who woke up earlier to sweep makeup on their clear, flawless skin, girls who worked out daily, girls with longer, impressive resumes, girls who rarely were in the ensemble of the show, girls who were outgoing, bold, and fearless, girls who got first place and could sing out high F’s and melisma’s filling a football stadium as easily as breathing. Girls nothing like you.

That’s probably the kind of girl Brian is seeing right now…

 (Bri)

Freddie opened the glass door inside the shop, releasing some of the cold air and chilling the room. He whipped out a batch of a dozen red roses.

“Get her these.” He stated, like a teacher ordering a student.

“No Fred! That’s too forward!” Brian stepped forth and put back the dozens of roses as if it was a loaded gun.

Besides, what if she had a boyfriend? That is, if she was into boys at all. Maybe a muscular, straight haired, clean nailed boyfriend would come over tonight and give her that exact bunch of roses. He walked over to the yellow carnations sitting a foot away on a short table.

“How about these? These are nice…” Brian said. The pot was so small, his hands covered it.

“What are you, her auntie!?” Fred spat.

 “I…I just want to make a good impression” Brian sighed. He set the pot down gently.

“C’mon Bri, you’re not talking to Montserrat fucking Caballe!”

“Who?”

“Never mind, Bri, you’re not normally this pathetic with girls!” Freddie hissed. He grabbed Brian’s arm, and walked him out to the afternoon sun outside.

“I’m not, it’s just…it’s just, she’s different. i don’t want to do something stupid because...I’m afraid I’ll...repulse her or something” Brian confessed.

 Freddie gleamed with mischief and he held back a wider smile. “There was one girl you knew for, what, three years, three years Bri…”

Brian backed up a little. “Fred, please…”

“And not once did you even speak to her! And guess what! By then she was taken! I thought you knew better! And you wrote a pretty song about it, but there’s only so much a pretty song’ll do” Fred scolded. He put a hand to his hips. “You’ve had plenty of girlfriends since then and you’re definitely not a monk when it comes to…

“Fred, shut it!” Brian begs. He looks around. No one walking by seems interested in the conversation.

 Brian looked down at the peonies in through the window of another flower shop across the street. “I…I know her name…and, we have talked, some. So, it’s not like I’ve been pining from afar like I was that time.”

“Good, now let’s take the next step then…”

              (You)

When at the end of the opera, you let yourself finally look out into the faces of the audience after you take your bow. And there is only once face in the crowd you know.

It’s Brian’s. He came back. Brian was back. And he was smiling and applauding. …And there was someone else with him. Another young man with shiny dark hair, high cheekbones, shiny dark eyes, and a wide mouth in a small, observant smile. He wore the brightest outfit in the whole theatre. It was a black, shiny jacket that still seemed to gleam despite the lights onstage and a white shirt with a bright floral pattern, the collar up, and a few buttons undone. In his softer jacket, pale shirt, and dark pants, Brian seemed to shrink next to him despite his height.

But he was here. He hadn’t forgotten.

The opera itself flew by and before you knew it, you were in the lobby. Brian and his friend walked up to you immediately. In Brian’s arms was a dozen light pink peonies. It was like dreaming. You felt dizzy seeing them. You were on another plane itself when he looked at you with his hazel eyes, gave you the gentlest of smiles, the happiest hello, and held up the flowers for you.

 “Oh, hello Brian!” You say. He blushes lightly and his smile widens once you use his name.

You take the flowers into your arms. They were the only flowers you received tonight. Though the other cast members had armfuls of carnations and roses that could fill a garden, none seemed as happy with theirs as you.

 “Oh, you didn’t have to! These are stunning! Thank you!” you say.

 “It’s your first big role, I thought you deserved them” Brian says. He looks over to the man beside him. “And this is Fred, my opera loving friend that I told you about.”

You look over at Fred, who smiles bashfully and nods. You exchange a handshake. “I’m Y/N. Are you the opera lover in that band Brian talked about?”

Fred stood up a little straighter. He said softly. “I…I actually don’t know that much about opera, but I listen to it. I like the songs. I’ve got a record of Caballe’s Babbino Caro and I listen to it a lot…You did it wonderfully” he added in a shy rush.

“I listened to it a couple times to take ideas on how she did it, she’s fantastic! You must have good taste then!” you say.

Fred smiles meekly and looks around “Are you in…are you busy, Y/N? We could go get a drink…”

Brian whipped his head around so fast it seemed his neck would break. “The pubs must be packed by now, how about a bite! You can have a drink when you get home, Fred! I know I’m always starving after a concert, Y/N here must be the same…”

“I’m famished, actually! And we can always go somewhere that serves drinks!” you answer, then you freeze.

How many stories on the news begin like this? How many times has your mother complained about “stupid girls” who wander off with strange men who lead them to the unspeakable? Didn’t they know better? Didn’t you know better?

 “Well, I just need…I want to go but…” I say. The sad look on Brian’s face almost breaks your heart. There doesn’t seem to be anything malicious inside his or even Freddie’s approach to you, yet…

 Fred loops around. “I’ll walk you there to the restaurant, we’ll all go! Who doesn’t love food!” he declares, almost swinging you out the door early.

 “There’s a Chinese place nearby, let’s go as soon as you’re ready. I have so many questions about…about the opera…” Brian says.

“Yes, let’s! Just let me change!” you agree, running out to the dressing room.

 You rush in there, remove your medieval dress, and put on your daily outfit plainer white shirt, jeans, a brown jacket, and black shoes. You wished you wore something nicer. You just didn’t see this coming.

Once Brian leads the way out into the dark, cool air, Freddie struts by your side. He offers his arm and you accept it.

“I saw that look on your face when Brian said that! Don’t be afraid, little lovie,” He whispers “I’m a taken man madly in love and you’re not quite my type. Plus, Brian here once cried after I stepped on a fucking spider, you couldn’t be in safer hands. And if some pervert tries anything, I’ll hook their nose.”

 You grin a little, enjoying the warmth of his arm in the cold air of London in Autumn. “Thank you very much. But…you’ve killed a spider, how dare you Fred!” you tease.

 Fred then releases a little chuckle and flashes the most extraordinary set of teeth you ever saw. It is large, wide, and glowing white amidst the darkness and gives the illusion of crookedness. Yet its joy is contagious, and you smile back.

 Freddie begins to walk a little faster, walking in a bit of a prance. His shiny black hair is bobbing up and down. With Brian’s long legs he seems to struggle a little to keep up. When you see Brian turn around to look at you and smiles your heart races a little bit. On instinct, you squeeze Fred’s arm a bit. Fred almost jumps from surprise.

You can feel that the jacket is quite big on him and his arm is nothing but bone.

 Once you three make it into the dim, orange glow of the restaurant, Brian takes each of your jackets and Fred slides next to you.

“I’ll look after those!” He plops them on the seat so that you and Brian are basically forced to sit across from each other and Fred right next to you.

“Thanks a lot, I haven’t been here in a while. I’m new to London and I’ve yet to try all the restaurants” you begin, glancing over the thin, yellow menu.

 “You’re new!? What brings you here?” Brian asks. He stands up a little taller, eyebrows wide in curiosity.

 You set aside the flowers on the table as if they were a part of the decoration. “Well, there aren’t a lot of opportunities where I’m from and I worked really hard to get into this university.”

“But your voice is stunning! They must’ve accepted you in a second!” Brian blurted. His pale face turned to the pink of the peonies.

“Th-th-thank you” you mutter.

“It’s gorgeous, little lovey, you’re the best female singer I’ve heard, and yes, I mean female since I can’t let myself off too much” Fred states. He opens a straw, showing off the black nail polish on his left hand.

“Oh! And you both paint your nails?” you exclaim, noticing the black and white hands. “They look lovely!”

Brian looks down, eyes glowing. He blinks a little and then says “We do it because it looks really good in concert.” 

“They look Better than mine!” You say. 

Brian almost retracts his hand with the white nail polish, but then relaxes and let’s you examine it. Then let’s Fred lend his hand for you to look at it as well. Under the yellow lights, the black is especially shiny.

Brian leans in to add “Oh, Fred’s our lead singer! I forgot to mention! He’s amazing!”

 Fred covers his teeth a little with his upper lip, his eyes barely touch the menu, and then looks up. “Brian’s got a nice voice too! Could lull a baby, that one!” he praises.

Brian grew pinker “oh, no, Fred, it’s just okay…”

“And he’s a bloody genius on the guitar! The crowd goes mad when he starts to play! And he’s the smartest man you’ll ever meet-he’s studied science, too!” Brian gives Fred a slight kick in the foot, noticing a very old and tired looking waiter walking by.

The waiter comes by and each one of you place your orders. Once the waiter walks off, Brian sighs and continues “uhm, astrophysics to be specific.”

“I studied some of that in a class, er, Astronomy, not Astrophysics, I was never that good at science to be brave enough to try something too advanced. And I took it to fill up a requirement. ” you add. He’s a scientist and you don’t want to look stupid in front of someone who chose to study this. Brian sits, fascinated and listening to every word you say.

“I was excited the very first day because it all seems so fascinating and large- you never realize how small we all are until you look at all the statistics and see how complex it is out there. But then by the second day, I realized he was a bad teacher. I could hardly remember anything, and the textbook was very dense. No one liked the class. I almost failed the class had I not put in a lot of effort and memorized a lot of facts written on cards” you recall.

“I could…I could teach you, Y/N. There’s all sorts of fun stuff to learn about space, not just the crap in Gen Ed courses. Do you have any questions?” Brian asks shyly.

You two continue talking. Indeed, he can talk about space in a simple way. A way that is engaging and accessible. When you notice Fred, you see him with a small smile. He watches and sips his water.

Fred remains quiet and nearly bends over the table. When his order arrives, you notice that it is just clear broth- the cheapest thing on the menu. As you take in forkfuls of chicken and rice, you notice that Freddie keeps glancing at it with shining eyes, yet they dart down when you notice him.

You see the waiter wiping off the residue of the table nearby.

“Uhm, excuse me!” you add.

The waiter perks his head. “May I have a plate of this dish to go, please?” you ask. He nods and darts to the kitchen.

“Fred, what about your band? Tell me more about it!” you say.

You finish half of your meal and slide the other half of the chicken and rice to Freddie. Offering him the clean spoon from the silverware to eat with. Freddie gives his relaxed, full smile and tells you quietly and happily about Queen, about Roger’s arguments and Deaky’s pranks, and how they met and how it started.

Once you pay your bills and you get your bag of the second order of food, you tell the two where you live.

“Can we walk you there?” Brian asks.

You feel another blush coming and you duck down to look at the table. “It’s not, uhm, too far.”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Y/N” Brian blurts.

“Sure, you can” you agree, and you can’t resist the big smile that comes on your face.

The three of you walk Wizard of Oz style, you in between and Freddie and Brian on your side. Your bag hits your side slightly as it stays across your arm. Brian offers to keep the peonies safe. Your boots all make click-click noises in rhythm as you head to your flat.

But as you get closer to the steps you look to your right and your stomach turns to ice. Fred (with a wink to Brian) has stopped a few steps before to fiddle with a cigarette and a lighter. Brian’s arm is the only one around yours. As Fred gets the small orange light out and lights his new smoke, he keeps a modest distance.

You look back at him. “Thank you both, and here, Fred, this is for you as a thanks.”

Before he can refuse, you give him the warm bag of food. Fred’s jaw drops a little, so he has to hold his cigarette. “Th…tha…thank you, darling” is all he manages to say.

“And Brian I…I don’t have any food I could hand you, but…” you mutter, but then as he hands you the peonies, you take one. “Here you go, you can have this as my thanks and…”

A sudden idea hits you.

“It would look nice in your hair” you add shyly.

“You can do that” Brian says.

You take one peony from your bunch. Brian leans down so that you can reach his head. You take one and tuck it into his mane. With its pastel pink bloom among the dark curls, it looks like it bloomed there.

“You…you could have our numbers if you’d like, we’ll let you know when Queen’s next gig is” Brian suggests, he pulls out a small notepad and a pencil. After you exchange numbers between you three, there is silence again.

“I had a wonderful time tonight. Better than I’ve had in a while. Good night” you wish them.

“G’night Y/N, our little opera goddess” Fred wishes, before swirling away with the food and smoke.

Brian hesitates a little, and then says “Good night, Y/N” before slowly turning, looking into your eyes, and smiling.

As you go inside, you watch them walk away from the window. They walk until the peony in Brian’s hair is just a tiny light speck.

Unknown to you, it is still in his hair the next morning when he wakes up. He takes it off, holds it with both hands and kisses it tenderly, whispering your name like an incantation.

#queen #queen fanfiction #brian may x reader #brain may #brian may x you #brian may x y/n #brian may imagine #brian may fluff #slow burn #freddie mercury

[emeraldtawny]

Dazai x MC: Weightless

So this was an abrupt thought last night that turned into a floofyish fic. Even tho the game isn’t out yet, I already know he’s my top boi and I will love him until the ends of the earth.

I’ve written for him before, but it’s all been angst (cause, well....Dazai nwiksdng). I might post the other piece if people wanna read it, but for now...cuteness time. ~w~

The gentle sunlight of the fading day kissing your skin. The irreplaceable warmth of a hand much larger and sturdier than your own twining its fingers through yours, the man attached to it looking at you as if you are the brightest star in the seeable universe - iridescent and incomparable in its radiance. The message Dazai sends to you through his squeezing of your hand is one you could never misinterpret and you trace your thumb over the joints of his own, writing back your reply onto his soft skin.

The path you walk down the riverside is lost from your sight, your senses too focused on his exploratory touches, his fingers tracing the contours of your hand, memorising each crease, each joint. You flinch at his soft fingertips and their touch so gentle it carves a path of electricity across your sensitive palm. Your initial reaction is to pull away, but he holds fast to your hand, squeezing it in his grasp and tugging your hand ethereally gently towards him, your eyes lost to the deep depths of gold, his hues hypnotising, drawing you into the abyss.

“You mustn’t draw away,” His calm voice - the personification of floating amidst the clouds in the pastel sky - caresses your ears and sends you into bliss, “Not until I’ve finished.”

His fingers begin to move anew, each trace of his fingertip as precise and as gentle as a simple pen, the strokes light and measured, each one etching his comforting warmth into your skin. The addition of his nails adding just the right amount of pressure - only enough to leave its presence, yet keeping your skin unmarked - truly feels as if he has made you his blank page, and every touch adds a new line to the story, slowly forming and breathing life into itself.

Dazai swipes his index finger up your palm line, the tingling, ticklish sensation too much and you squeak, pulling your hand away. The chuckle it elicits from him seems to draw the sun back from its hiding place behind the hills, as if shocked to be challenged by one as bright as it. Reaching for you again, you step back averting his beckoning hand, the bubbling sensation within you leaving you light as a feather. As you twirl around and turn your head back to meet his eyes, their saccharine teasing edge adding to your giddiness--

“Ah!”

The edge of the pathway was closer than you expected, your foot slipping from the cobblestone beneath, the weightlessness you felt before no longer a metaphor for your infatuation, the way your stomach drops as you fall is no figment of your imagination.

“___!”

The clarity of his voice is all you register before the rushing of water envelops your ears both in sound and in touch, your eyes squeezed shut as the freezing river chills you to the bone. You feel yourself sinking, the sounds of bubbles taking form and floating to the surface all that your ears can process.

That is until the disturbance of the water and its corresponding ripples rock your body like a cradle. A firm grip on your arm, the other around your waist. Together, they pull you up towards the air your body desperately craves. As soon as you breach the surface, your gasp echoes within your own head, its sound clearer in the near denseless air. Your short pants slow to even breaths and you let your eyes blink open, the droplets catching on your eyelashes wishing to slow you down.

Stripped down to just his kimono, his jacket nowhere in sight, he looks you over in contained worry. Drops of water leap to their destiny from the tips of his mauve hair, his moistened locks caressing his face tightly and you let your eyes follow each droplet that trails perfectly over his porcelain face.

You don’t notice his almost frantic eyes stilling from their frenzy of ensuring your safety, nor do you notice how they soften with realisation at the beautiful look of wonder and silent longing in your own eyes.

His hand holding your arm releases to instead move to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a rogue river droplet from your skin. You barely have time to blink before his lips ghost over yours, his warm exhales drying your skin and warming you through despite the river’s insistence to keep you cold. Softly and sweetly, he takes your bottom lip between his own, sucking it and letting the tip of his tongue tease it. You let your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, the soft splashing of water announcing its presence as you reach up to hold his face in your hands, letting your fingers trace the curves of his upper ears as he continues to suckle on your lip.

He pulls back from your lips, but the time that passes is but a fraction before he returns to you, the vigour of his assault on your lips impassioned in every meaning of the word. The soft hum you release is held captive by Dazai’s lips on yours, both of his arms now looped snugly around your waist, all distance between the two of you eliminated.

The world seems to tilt and then the sound of rushing water refills your ears. Your hands twitch in shock, your body shivering from the river’s all-encompassing chill around you and your eyes open, the denseness of the water complicating the usually simple task. Your lips are still pressed firmly against Dazai’s and his desire to release them seems non-existent. One of his hands moves against the water to slide up your back, his slender fingers following the curve of your spine with impressive accuracy. Your gasp encourages his lips to press into the kiss tighter, your only source of oxygen amidst the river surrounding you.

Once again you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the dizzying assault on your senses - Dazai’s sweetly frenzied lips caressing your own, the oxygen levels that are just enough to keep your brain functioning but still depriving enough to leave you craving each breath Dazai supplies you, the water’s freezing edge juxtaposed against the quickly swelling heat pooling within you. Such addicting sensations, ones you never knew could feel so good, fill your being and leave you floating, both in the water and in the sweet kisses you share.

#ikevam #ikevam fanfic #ikevam dazai #soft sad boi is soft #I'm also a slight arsehole with this story #it makes sense if you know about irl dazai #...oops

[keeblistories]

Sunlight

Just as the Sun calls to the Earth from the sky,

Enveloping this lonely rock in a warm embrace,

Giving rise to expansion upward with an inhale breath –

So, too, are there radiant stars that walk among men.

It seems as if our eyes are always covered in a haze

That leads to a senseless stumbling through life.

Still,

Every once in a while,

The sure path of a true star overlaps with the path of the senseless and lost.

Fog is burned away and darkness erased with their

Smile,

Their laugh,

Their very essence of being intertwined with the divine and mystic nature of the stars overhead.

While the lost still cast shadows in the presence of stars,

Their eyes are upturned so they cannot see the darkness that laps at their feet.

Why have we always been so keen as to know the stars?

We are a race of nose-to-the-ground workers who somehow still,

With the soft blanket of night,

Turn our chins up to catch a glimpse of the Heavens dotting through the haze.

For us, there is an unfamiliar warmth and security in the stars that outshine

The darkest depths of being.

So, then, these stars that walk among us

Are but an extension of the life we wished we lived enveloped in the embrace

Of billions of stars,

Burning too brightly to worry about what obstacles may hinder their brilliance.

You,

My Darling,

Are the brightest of stars that reflects hope in the eyes of the weak.

One cannot help but feel an allure to always gaze at you

And try to learn how you burn so bright.

When someday the time comes,

You will burst forth –

Supernova –

Brilliant, powerful, and a sight to behold.

You will never be forgotten

Even as the dark closes in once more.

Even dead star's light still reaches us for lifetimes after it is gone.

So too will your influence remain showering the poor and shuffling

With a guiding star of light everlasting.

You,

My dear,

Are a star

Filling each life you touch with sunlight

Until each soul is a tree with leaves dancing up towards the sun's rays

To return the sweetest of kisses that leaves behind a trail of blossoms.

You,

My friend,

Are the sunlight in my life.

#original #poem #poetry

[sagechan]

The last time Bokuto saw Hinata he was still a lil second year bird baby. He was toned yeah but still easily pickupable and squirmy like a squirrel. So, really, no one can blame him for not recognizing him in the gym five years later. He’s still short, reaching for 5’7 like his life depends on it. But his thighs look weighty and his shoulders and biceps are round and sturdy and before he sees him, round face splitting into a surprised BOKUTOSAN, he looks almost intimidating with his defined jaw

Great, now you’ve gone and done it, anon.

You finally gave me an excuse to write BokuHina.

It was his jaw that did it.

Bokuto stared at the fierce-eyed expression on Hinata’s face as he leapt into the air. The gym floor rocked like waves on the sea, the very wind beneath Hinata splitting around everyone in the immediate area as if they were buffeted by a rising storm. When he jumped, people all around the gym stopped to watch. When he jumped, the old coach gripped his seat a little tighter, as if the years were melting away from him, and he too would leap into dizzying flight. When he jumped, the sunlight from the window seemed to bend towards him, following his path through the air like a halo of fire. When Hinata jumped, he clenched his jaw in a determined grin, a deliriously happy smile that radiated across the net at the very opponents he was playing against. Sheer, unbridled joy coursed through him when he played. Absolute bliss.

It was a smile Bokuto remembered well. It was a smile he’d once worn on his face, in another time, in another place. It was the burden of the ace to get his team out of a pinch. But it was the pleasure of the ace to score point after point, spike harder, run faster, to cry “I’m here” and to really be there.

Hinata landed, and the world seemed to settle again with a sigh. His eyes were alight with the same determined glint Bokuto remembered staring across at him when Hinata had first used a feint against Fukurodani. His jaw was still set in that fierce, primal grin. His shoulders were bunched with excitement, his feet planted wide. From where Bokuto was standing, he could mostly see...

His back, Bokuto thought. His breath caught in his throat; his eyes widened. The back of an ace.

A shiver ran up Bokuto’s spine, a slight chill of premonition. Hinata was almost intimidating. Powerful, definitely. But his growth was...scary.

The coach called for the end of practice, the players shouted their thanks to him, the underclassmen started packing things away.

And Hinata turned. He saw Bokuto. Suddenly, the firm jaw was replaced by the soft, excitable, round face Bokuto remembered.

“BOKUTO-SAN!!!”

A squeak of sneakers, an excited yell, then Hinata was leaping through the air again, this time his legs splayed wide, his arms held out and ready to be embraced. Bokuto saw wings spread out behind Hinata, saw the smile on his face like sunlight, saw his favorite spunky spiker return to him again. He stepped forward, all apprehension melting away in the face of purifying light.

He caught Hinata in his arms, catching him under the thighs and hugging him close. Hinata laughed as they spun around, Bokuto twirling happily in place and nuzzling his face into Hinata’s stomach, Hinata wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s head and neck, holding tight, tight, tight.

“Hinata!” Bokuto roared, laughing with him. “I missed you so much, Shouyou!”

It had been five years since they’d last seen each other. They’d gone to separate universities, had struck out on different paths, but both kept volleyball in their lives. Now Hinata was in his last year at uni, and Bokuto’s visit back to Tokyo after going abroad was proving full of surprises. First he’d heard about his old friend, Tetsurou, getting married to that wily Kenma kid. Then he’d bumped into his old flame, Akaashi, and finally reached some peace after carrying that torch for so long.

And now here he was, seeing Hinata again, the bright spot in his trip. The brightest point in his trip so far.

He set Hinata down, but Hinata clung to him, wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s waist and beaming up at him. He called his teammates over to say hello, laughing at their unease. He was still considerably shorter than Bokuto, but Bokuto realized that there was a certain heft to Hinata now.

He’s...thicker, he thought, feeling guilty as he gripped Hinata’s broad shoulders, held on to his arms just a second longer. He’s definitely stronger.

Hinata’s teammates came over and bowed nervously to Bokuto, some of them coming forward to shake his hand. He hopped around them, excited to meet so many new faces, but he stayed near Hinata, and Hinata hovered close to his side, his fingers tangled in the bright green nylon jacket tied around Bokuto’s waist.

After meeting everyone, Bokuto caught Hinata’s eye. He jerked his head towards the door, wiggling his eyebrows. Hinata smiled, giggled. He glanced at his coach, then whispered something to one of his teammates. The younger boy nodded, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Then he ran towards the coach, yelling, “Coach Kuzo! Coach Kuzo! Your mother is at the window again!”

While the coach screamed and whirled around, covering his face and hurrying away from the window, Bokuto took the opportunity to grab Hinata by the hand and pull him to the gymnasium door. Laughing together, they burst out into the sunlight. Warm air kissed their faces. Pink and red buds from blossoming trees across the gravel path rode the breeze, dropping lightly into Hinata’s hair. Bokuto picked out one of the tiny buds, holding it up to Hinata’s mouth between his finger and thumb. Hinata smiled up at him, then closed his eyes and blew gently on his fingers, making a wish. The bud flew from Bokuto’s fingers. It swirled gently to the ground.

Hinata’s hand was still in his, and he drew him away from the gym, down the path, swinging their arms between them.

“How long are you here for, Bokuto-san?” Hinata said, skipping to keep up with Bokuto’s longer strides.

“Just a few weeks,” he said, unable to keep his eyes off the smile that radiated from Hinata’s face. “I’ve got a job outside the city, so I’ll be moving back to the suburbs soon. But I missed Tokyo. And I missed you!” He reached over and ruffled Hinata’s hair, making him squawk indignantly. But he still beamed happily, and Bokuto grinned back.

“Yeah, but you didn’t miss just me, right?” Hinata let go of Bokuto’s hand and skipped ahead of him, turning to walk backwards so he could face Bokuto.

“Well, no,” Bokuto said. “I missed a lot of people. I missed the city, its bustle and boom! I missed my family. And Kuroo! That lucky bastard, gettin’ married! I missed Tsukki and my old teammates. I missed...Akaashi.” His voice caught a bit, but he pressed on. “I missed a whole bunch of people who are important to me.” He stopped walking. He looked directly into Hinata’s eyes. “But I missed you a lot.”

Hinata stopped walking backwards, a couple paces away from him. He stretched his arms above his head, then rested his palms against the back of his neck, his elbows bent on either side of his head. He studied Bokuto intensely. Bokuto wasn’t sure Hinata knew how to do anything not intensely.

The sun was lower in the sky now. Afternoon slowly sank into the early twilight of evening. On the left of the path was a large black pine tree, its boughs spread wide and healthy and green. The red and gold light of the spring afternoon came through the pine needles like falling stardust. Standing in front of it, with that same determined clench in his jaw from the gym, Hinata looked like he was wreathed in a halo of light.

“Would you,” Bokuto found himself saying, “want to get something to eat? With me. Right now. At a restaurant. With me. Just the two of us. Food. Us.” He silently congratulated himself for staying smooth and not throwing up.

Hinata looked at him.

There had been a moment during that first summer when Fukurodani and Karasuno had trained together. There had been a day during that training camp when Bokuto and Hinata had met in the showers—Bokuto entering, Hinata leaving, dripping water from his lean body. Hinata had looked at him, his eyes glazed with a far-away expression, as if peering into some distant future.

“What do you see, when you look at me like that?” Bokuto had asked, wrapping his towel around his waist and stepping into the shower.

Hinata had closed his eyes. He had broken the spell, and there was steam and soap and water. “You,” Hinata said. “I see all of you.”

And now Hinata looked at him with that far-away gaze again. Maybe back then, he had seen this moment on the gravel path outside the gym, the silence stretching between them, the sunlight lapping at their bodies like waves on the shore. Maybe now, he saw another five years into the future. Bokuto wondered if he was in that vision. If, in another five years, they would still be in each other’s lives.

“Yes,” Hinata said. He took Bokuto’s hand. Their fingers curled together automatically, as if their bodies would do all the speaking for them. And Hinata smiled, a beam of sunlight touching the night-dark earth. “Us.”

Bokuto reached up and brushed his forefinger along that firm jaw, that still soft face. “Us,” he breathed.

Above, the clouds opened as curtains on a revolving stage, and daylight slipped into the maw of night, leaving two boys holding each other under the streetlamp’s light.

#bokuhina #bokuto koutarou #hinata shouyou #hq!! #haikyuu!! #sageart #hq fanfic #haikyuuwriters #i've never written bokuhina before and that's a crime #anon #answered

[darkworkcourier]

im 👀 at anything that combines johns neurosis over being good/bad and another character (dep? idk anyone else) with the endless well of patience and love required to break him of it, and i feel like you’d do him justice

oooooOOOOOOH i got u bb. i will try my best to nail it.

and since you sent this to my NSFW blog, i’m assuming you want this to be NSFW? if not, too late.

(also, i’m almost sorry for how long this got. almost.)

- - -

The Deputy is a thing to be cleansed. John knows this, the same way his family must know. Sin rests on their shoulders like a pet, content to just sit and be coddled, and the Deputy allows this to happen. They are not pure; they are tainted, and at this point, it doesn’t matter if John drowns them in the baptismal waters, if he claws word after word into their flesh, only to rip it from them, down to muscle and bone, down to the very atoms that construct them. 

He’s pondered this for weeks now, and after their escape from the bunker (and oh, how Deputy Hudson will be punished for that!), John keeps himself awake, his heart palpitating, his mind searching for how the situation could have gone so wrong. His is a righteous path. It is a path set by Joseph, who has been nothing but right since he found John. Joseph has laid out the divine future before his family, and aside from a few minor mishaps, it’s all gone to plan. So how, how could the Deputy have twisted everything so monumentally? How could they throw a wrench into perfect machinery?

Hell followed, Joseph had intoned. Hell is apt, because that is what the Deputy leaves behind.

If the Deputy is not stopped, is not cleansed, then the duty will fall to Jacob or Faith. Joseph will know that John failed. It’s Pride, John imagines his brother whispering to him, a knife like a precious relic in his hand. Pride goeth before the fall. And John, my dear brother, you have fallen quite a distance.

John imagines the burn on his skin, the electric circuitry of P-R-I-D-E; each letter forming a hot current of the agony of purification. He knows the sensation intimately, has held it close to his heart like a prayer. 

And God and Joseph as his witnesses, he will make the Deputy know that pain.

- - -

His chance comes one black night, when the moon turns its face away from earth and leaves only a cold shadow. Holland Valley is swallowed by this darkness, but John feels as though the brightest ray of sunlight is falling upon him. Providence, at last. 

The Deputy is his after a lengthy altercation. There was a great deal of shooting on a ridge overlooking some out of the way rest area. Sparks of gunpowder lit the air like fireflies, and the smell of burning saltpeter turned the air acrid. But John had breathed it in like holy incense, relishing in its sting. There had been a shout about a hundred yards up the ridge, and then one of his men had brought down the unconscious body of the Deputy. They were limp and lifeless over the man’s shoulder. When they were dropped down at John’s feet, it was an offering that any saint would have rejoiced over. 

Now he watches them with interest, this God-given gift. Here, in a boathouse, under sickly yellow light, they look the type of the martyr. Beaten, bruised, bloody. It’s all so beautiful. He wishes he could capture the image forever, but an icon is not meant to be worshiped. His fingers feel as if they are tipped in static for his need to touch, to mar them, to carve a saint out of the bones of a sinner the way he knows he can. 

When they wake, he wishes he could swallow the very breath they gasp out. 

He’s gotten wiser this time. Joseph would be proud (and God, does he hope he would), with how securely they’re bound to the chair. They’re bound in straps and cables, held in place by knots of an expert hand. Even if they were to try what they did in the bunker and escape while still in the chair, the only way they could fall is into the water, and then the cleansing waters will steal their life away. John wants to laugh at the poetic beauty of it all. The only thing he hasn’t bound is their mouth, because he wants to hear the sounds of their Atonement as he carves it into them, as he pulls their Confession from their very ribs, scream by scream. 

They peer up at him with bruised eyes, wide and frightened and wondering. 

“Oh, Deputy,” John says slowly, walking around their chair in order to see them at every angle. He smiles, watching their fingers twitch, the muscles in their arms jump. “You won’t get very far this time. I won’t even offer an apology for that, as our last meeting was so rudely interrupted by your selfishness.”

It had been selfish. To leave behind his gifts, their own chance at being cleansed! 

Although, to be fair, they had so readily volunteered. They had said Yes, even when the words trembled on their lips, and their eyes had locked on Hudson as if she were the only reason for the cause. No matter. Yes was the operative word.

He reaches out, brushing some of the hair away from the Deputy’s face. They stay still, eyes following his hand, only to flit back to his face. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “I won’t forget that you said Yes. You do remember that, don’t you?”

They stay silent, but their eyes tell them all he needs to know.

Yes.

Yes.

His smile grows. His hands brush over their hair the way a parent might comfort a child. Might, because John has only ever known hands that meant to harm. He will show the Deputy something different. He will show them the hands of one under the power of the Father who will not harm his Child, no matter how far they’ve fallen from the potential of grace.

“You still have a chance,” John murmurs to them. He leans in so he can smell them. They smell like gunpowder, sweat, and blood. He can smell Wrath, the burning scent of war and death, and it just confirms what he’s known all along. “You can atone here, in this place, and finally find the peace you’re searching for. That thing you hunt, that you pretend that you’ll find in the carcasses of those you’ve killed?” He laughs, reaching up and running a thumb along their cheekbone, smearing a rust-red streak of blood. “You call it peace, but you won’t find it out there.”

He stands up, lifting his thumb to his mouth to lick the blood away. It may be the Deputy’s, or it may be one of his own Followers. It doesn’t matter, especially in comparison to the wide-eyed stare the Deputy gives him, like they’re trying to decide if he’s the manifestation of a dream or not.

He turns away, walking toward a rusting yellow toolbox, full of fishing tackle and random bits of hardware. But the object of his pursuit is a red-handled fishing knife, the blade like a gentle swoop of metal, meant to slice away scales and open the bellies of cold, dead-eyed creatures. He takes it with a flourish, switching it from his right hand to his left and back again. When he turns around to face the Deputy, their eyes fall to the knife. 

“I’ll give you a moment to consider your Confession,” John says. He gives them a smile like he might have given when he was a lawyer. It’s an almost sickening expression, all charisma and calmness. I’m here to assuage your fears and anxieties, it says. I’m here to tell you that you will succeed, no matter the obstacles.

But the Deputy just keeps staring, rather like they’re judging him. 

“I don’t have to,” they say at last.

John almost falters. Almost. 

“Come again?” 

He sees a shift in their shoulders; a shrug bound in bungee cord and duct tape. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought a confession was something I had to choose to do,” the Deputy says, as casual as they can. It’s as if they’re discussing the point over dinner. “I know that by your estimation, I’ve sinned. But any church can tell me I’ve sinned and it won’t matter unless I come to them willingly with a confession prepared.”

John grips the handle of the knife tighter, but his smile stays fixed. “And haven’t you? You were on that ridge, after all. You’ve repeatedly come into my territory with your sins bared.”

Another shrug. “You could say that, but it wouldn’t be true,” they parry. John hates how calm they sound. His fingers itch to slice silence into their throat. If they sense danger radiating from him, they resolutely refuse to acknowledge it. “Confession wasn’t my intent. I mean, if Holland Valley is your… I don’t know, divine dominion, or whatever you’d call it? Hell, you can sin in a church if you want to. I could commit adultery, worship false idols, disobey my family, and it wouldn’t matter unless I came to you explicitly and said that I wanted to confess. Right?”

He doesn’t confirm their question. He doesn’t, because it’s wrong. They are a sinner and they’ve fallen into his hands, and it’s his ordained job to rid them of the cancerous thing inside of them, by whatever means necessary.

John grits his teeth, and his smile turns into something more predatory. He gets up close to them, the blade of the fishing knife hovering just over their chest. He can see the even beats of their heart through their shirt. “You will confess,” he promises. “I’ve told you that before, and I’ll say it again. Your sins are a black mark upon your soul, and you will say Yes a hundred times more until each sin is scoured from you.”

“Then that’s a threat, and not a confession. Kind of one-sided, John,” the Deputy replies. It seems as if John was holding a chainsaw to their neck, they would say the same thing. Then, their brows furrow in something that bares a close resemblance to pity. “Just because you were taught one kind of lesson doesn’t mean that the same lesson applies to everyone. Or that the lesson was right in the first place.”

He almost stabs them then and there.

Instead, he’s in their space, blade pressed up against their neck. He hisses in their face, watching their eyes dart about, trying to find one thing to focus on. The blade nicks them, and a tiny droplet of blood snakes down their neck until it soaks into the collar of their shirt. They don’t flinch. “I have given you time, and I have given you the very extent of my patience. Like it or not, you will confess. You will give me every last syllable of your sins, and you will mean it all down to the last word.”

The two of them are silent, save for their breathing. John’s is heavy and rushed through his lips, while the Deputy breaths slowly through their nose. Their scent is a tangible weight upon him, marking them, and John wants to–

Damnit. He wants to–

The sharp ping! of a bullet hitting corrugated steel brings him out of his trance, biting through the red haze of his anger. There are shouts on the other side of the boathouse’s walls, and John stands up straight, snarling in frustration. He picks up the radio from beside a workbench. “What is going on out there?”

The transmission is garbled at first; just unintelligible shouts through static. “It’s– Resistance forces– coming through the–” The radio cuts out there with another sharp tattoo of gunfire, some of it hitting the boathouse like hail. 

In fury, John rounds on the Deputy who doesn’t seem perturbed. They smile like a saint standing among the condemned. “Jess was up there on the ridge,” they explain. “No one caught her.”

Jess Black. The Huntress. He can imagine her going through the underbrush, as silent as a cat, following the capture party to the boathouse before radioing for backup.

John wants to rip the woman apart with his bare hands, or save her for whatever Jacob wishes to inflict.

Then, the Deputy laughs. They tap their feet against the cracked concrete floor and smile at him like they’ve shared a joke. “I’d start running, John,” they say. “Jess has got it out for you, and she’s probably going to have to wait in line behind the people she’s called.”

He looks between the door and the black water of the boathouse port, leading out to a dark forest and at least five hundred yards in a freezing current to anything resembling civilization. On the other side of the door is a dead contingent of his people, and what is probably a living wall of angry Resistance. John is proud of what he has and what he’s done, but he hasn’t come this far due in part to any idiocy. He knows when a situation has gone sour.

John swears, loudly.

He brandishes the knife at the Deputy one more time. “This isn’t over,” he hisses. “You know it isn’t.”

Pity again. He wants to cut the look from their face like the scales from a fish. He hates it.

“I know,” they say.

Something metallic buckles against the door, and John turns in time to see the hinges struggle against whatever’s impacted it. He grimaces and throws the knife aside before jumping into the water. The cold steals his breath, but he steels himself against it and kicks off the algae-coated stone below him. 

While he swims away, he can still hear the Deputy’s laughter in his head.

- - -

Joseph finds out about the failed Confession within the day. He doesn’t pay a visit to John, but his words from a phone call are enough to haunt John. They follow him into his restless sleep, and what he dreams he manages to have are full of the disappointed stare of his brother, the flash of anger hidden behind amber lenses.

“Your sin blinded you, brother,” these phantoms of Joseph whisper. In the dreams, cold hands cover John’s eyes and his mouth, keeping him from confessing in desperation. “You have allowed yourself to be consumed by that which you’ve sworn to atone for. I expected better, John.”

More voices fill the black void hidden in those hands. “Sin is born and festers in idleness,” says his mother. “Confess! You know what you’ve done!” says his father.

John feels the searing of sin into his flesh. Pride for expecting it to go well, that a meager company of people could contain the Deputy. Wrath for his unchecked anger. Sloth for failing to stop the Deputy and the Resistance. And Lust for–

He opens his eyes, met with the same cold darkness of his bedroom at the Ranch. His chest is heaving, sweat a cold sheen on his skin. The stinging of atonement is absent, merely a phantom pain. 

The yawning emptiness it leaves behind, however, is very real. 

John stares into the darkness, thinking, wondering not for the first time how everything could have gone so wrong. We’re righteous, he thinks. We’re doing the right thing. We’re doing what Joseph’s commanded.

But he thinks of the Deputy, and how things have been going so right for them as well. It makes him think of one of Joseph’s lessons, after he had seared PRIDE into John’s flesh the first time. Joseph had pressed his forehead against John’s, his breathing so calm and slow, his hands on John’s shoulders as blood stained his fingers.

John says now what Joseph said then, “God will not strike down the righteous and good. He will allow some sacrifice, but He will never take the lives of those whose cause is just.”

Some sacrifice. John thinks about the piles of bodies smoldering in mass burn pits and rotting in graves of dozens. Each and every Follower was given a similar lesson about their cause. Each believed that God and Joseph would protect them, because they were all meant to reach Eden’s Gate together.

But God has spared the Deputy and their people as well, and they’re the antithesis of Joseph’s mission.

The void’s edges are cracked like broken glass, and John strays away from it as much as he can.

He hardly notices his hand travelling downwards until he feels his own fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, reaching up to grasp his cock with his thumb sliding up over the head. Lust has been one sin that he can’t quite shake, and he feels it commingling with his Wrath, his Greed, his Sloth, his Pride. It takes the form of the Deputy, as beautiful as the image of the Devil is supposed to be. He sees them in his mind’s eye, as sinful and tainted as they can be, but with this halo of righteous light, this corona of goodness and mercy. Hell takes on the shades of Heaven, wears it like a mask, and kisses John’s skin with it.

His hand trembles on his cock, but he strokes himself regardless, eyes rolling back in his head.

He imagines the Deputy’s hand on him, their strokes slow and methodical. Their lips press with the weight of a shadow on his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. They whisper terrible, evil things into his ears. The unspeakable fills his head as they work him closer and closer to the precipice of something flawed and filthy; to the absolution of wickedness realized.

They are Legion personified, but instead of swine, they press the demons into John’s flesh. Their words are an incantation, an act of witchcraft, a forbidden thing that John cannot fight. Their tongue draws symbols of darkness on his skin while their fingers press a tight ring around his cock, a mimic of things to come. They kiss their way down his body, leaving trails of cold hellfire down his skin. Then, they consume him like the flames of the ungodly, their mouth forming a seal over his cock, swallowing him down like a libation.

He moans into the darkness, writhing and arching off the bed. 

John is an open receptacle for the devilry they give him. He is wide open and vulnerable; he is spread out before them, ready and waiting. “Yes,” he whispers to them, to this phantasm of corruption and death. “Fuck, yes.”

The Deputy licks him obscenely, sucks him off, uses their hands in some form of dark art to coax him closer and closer to that cliff. You would jump for me, they whisper, their voice low like the growl of a demon. His precum is a shine on their bottom lip, under fangs set in a wide grin.

He nods, desperate. “Yes, yes. Oh God, I’d–”

God’s name in vain. They laugh and take him into their mouth, into their throat, soft and warm muscles fluttering against his length. They hum and moan and it’s all hellish music in his ears. The song is played louder and louder through the circuitry of his veins and capillaries, deafening when it reaches his arteries and plunges like a blade into his heart.

He comes harder than he’s ever come in his life, his mind going white as he teeters over the edge. And the herd, numbering two or three thousand, plunged into the sea, he thinks, and hysterical laughter sparks like fire from flint in his chest. For a moment more, he thinks he sees the Deputy, crowned in starlight, smiling beatifically at him from the end of his bed. They are beautiful and clean and perfect, and they’re gone in a blink of an eye. John is left alone in the dark room, his spend rapidly cooling on his hand and his stomach, patches of it cold and wet on the fabric of his boxers.

He feels stunned and hollowed out. He feels all those holes he had spent years attempting to fill, all reopened and emptied of their useless weight of cargo. 

“God will not strike down the righteous and good,” he whispers again, clinging to each word. “He will not…”

The Deputy has never been struck down, but John has. 

Silence. There is only the soft hiss of the air conditioner and the faint rattle of the wind against the walls.

“Fuck,” he whispers to nothing at all.

- - -

A radio call comes the next afternoon, as John sits on the balcony of the hangar. The wind bends the tops of the pines in the distance, and he watches them with eyes still heavy and gritty with exhaustion. Sleep evaded him for the better part of the night, and when it managed to succeed, his dreams replaced Joseph with the Deputy, and became too complicated to rest through.

A soft electric chirp draws him out of his haze, and he barely musters the strength to give the go ahead to the other party. He half expects it to be Joseph, threatening arrival and inevitable chastisement. John has already gotten a bottle of hydrogen peroxide ready for what he knows must be coming.

“John?”

The voice of the Deputy is almost enough to make John drop the entire contraption. He fumbles with the speaker, adrenaline hitting him right where he needs it. However, the radio chirps again before he can reply.

“Hey, I don’t even know if you can hear me right now. I’m just kind of taking a chance here, but…” They trail off, hesitant. John wants to encourage them to speak, but doesn’t want to risk interrupting them. The memories of last night are too fresh. He wants to savor every word that comes from their body. “I think I’m… I’m ready to confess.”

Silence.

Chirp.

“I think both of us are ready to confess, Deputy” says John. His words jump out before he can reign them in. “Somewhere a little more secluded, though.”

He can almost picture them smiling, saintlike, lovely.

“Yeah,” they reply. “I’d like that. Confessions are meant to be private, after all.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #prompt fill #john seed/deputy #this was so fun to write holy shit #spoiler alert: THEY GON FUCK

[solastia]

Apollo | 1

Pairing: Taehyung x Hoseok (Vhope)

Word Count: 6,818

Genre & Warnings: SMUT. Well, it’s a strip club, so of course, there is smut. The BIG smut scene will be in chapter two, this one is fairly light. Private dancing with a small scene. There are only going to be two chapters of Apollo, so the next chapter is the last. Until the next God’s turn, that is. 

Kim Taehyung never thought he’d be one of those guys. The men that spend every weekend coming into a strip club, desperately showering a dancer with money in the hopes of buying their undivided attention. But that was before he saw him. Before Apollo.

Taehyung was being dragged to Pantheon, a private club for the elite boasting the best male dancers in the country; so good that only the names of the Gods are good enough for them. He was being forced to attend a bachelor party for a friend, and he wasn't overly enthusiastic about the idea. He worked with gorgeous naked models continually with his work as a photographer, so having someone shake their dick in his face wasn’t going to do much for him. He expected to feel nothing more than a healthy passing interest, maybe throw a few bills around to help some nice boy pay for his groceries, then go home and watch TV until he passed out.

His party was being escorted to one of the corded off rooms meant for reserved groups by a man in a blue velvet suit, his bare pale chest peeking out and his lined eyes zeroed in on Taehyung.

“I’m second in command here in the Pantheon, so feel free to come to me for anything you need or if you want to schedule some private time with a specific dancer. My name is Hermes, but you can call me Kihyun.” He smirked as he looked Taehyung up and down. “I don’t do shows anymore, but I’m happy to see you in private sometime.”

“The owner of the club is Hyunwoo...I’m sorry, Cronus. Honestly, I hate that name. Who would pick Cronus? It sounds like an old person’s disease, not to mention that the God was destroyed.” Taehyung snorted at Kihyun’s mini-rant. He had to admit the man was pretty, but he didn’t excite him. Not that this surprised Tae. Not much excited him these days beyond his dog and a decent anime.

“Hermes” waved to an attendant who swiftly came and took the tables drinks order. Taehyung settled for a Shirley Temple, fuck everyone’s judgemental looks. He had work in the morning and couldn’t afford to get messed up.

“A man that likes to keep his head straight. I dig it.” Hermes smiled at Taehyung before turning to address the rest of the party.

“You’re going to have two main performers tonight, Eros and Apollo, two of our most popular. They will each do a solo and then dance together. When they are done, their schedules will open up for private dances. If they have time in between private dancing, they may take the stage again, or I’ll bring in other dancers.” Hermes glances around the table to make sure everyone is still following, looking sharply at one of Taehyung’s friends that was zoning out.

Taehyung bumped him with his elbow, and the table snickered like they were in class. Hermes shook his head once the attention was back on him and went on.

“There are a few things to keep in mind. This is not your typical strip club. Our number one rule: The dancer’s health and happiness come first. Most of them make enough money that they don’t even need to be here, so they do it because they love to dance. You are not better than them. You will not speak down to them or demean them in any way. If that happens, I will throw you out. If you proposition them for sex, I will throw you out. If you take pictures or videos, I will throw you out. If you touch them without permission...?” Hermes looked at the group, raising his eyebrow in question.

“You’ll throw us out?” Taehyung’s friend answered with a giggle.

“First I’ll have Cronus punch you in the dick, then I’ll throw you out,” Hermes smirked as the table subtly began covering their laps.

“Also, please do not throw money at the dancers. Not only could they slip and fall with it being on the stage, but it’s also aesthetically displeasing. Plus, dirty money near your junk is itchy and unsanitary. There is a box in the middle of the table. Put the money that you wish to give them in there. If you want to give it to a specific dancer, there are envelopes provided. Otherwise, the boys like to divide it equally between them.”

“There sure are a lot of rules for a strip club.” One of the guys in the bachelor party blurted out, and Taehyung winces at his stupidity.

“I like rules. They get me hard.” Hermes deadpanned, sounding so serious that Taehyung could easily believe that it was true.

“Eros is up in five minutes. Enjoy the show!” Hermes winked at Taehyung before sauntering off, leaving the group to their entertainment.

Taehyung leaned back into the surprisingly comfortable plush seat and took a sip of his drink, pretending it was the alcohol that he was sure he’d need to get through the night.

The rooms lighting slowly started to fade until it was almost entirely dark except for the blue spotlight that was illuminating the stage. Taehyung watched as the dancer that he supposed was Eros appeared and captivated the crowd with a seductive R&B song. He had to admit that Eros was incredibly beautiful and his fingers twitched with the need to hold his camera. The dancer radiated sensuality. His boyish face and short stature were at odds with the skilled body rolls and the hard muscles that he took every opportunity to flash. He had plush lips that he was always licking and biting as he smirked at his fascinated audience.

He was as beautiful as an angel, but Taehyung had no more interest in him than to photograph him. Maybe make a new friend because he looked like a nice guy.

When the song ended, Eros graced his new fans with flirty winks and little waves as he giggled. Taehyung’s table was buried in an argument over who got to have a private dance with the boy first. Tae shook his head and sighed, digging into his wallet to throw a hundred dollar bill into the box. It wasn’t the dancer’s fault that Tae was bored with life.

Hermes made his way back to their room and sauntered over to the parties table.

“Enjoy the show, boys?” He asked, looking at the group with a smile, stopping to throw a wink at Taehyung.

“It was amazing. He’s very talented.” Taehyung answered honestly, hoping that Hermes would leave it at that and not comment on him being the only one at the table not covering his junk. There was nothing to hide.

“If anyone wants to buy a dance with him, or Apollo when he’s done, just come meet me at that table in the corner. No sense in sugarcoating it, they are costly. Lucky for you, we take credit cards. Five minutes until Apollo’s show, boys. Enjoy!” Hermes left the table again after making sure they’d all put in new drink orders, setting up in the back of the room at a large golden table. A few of the guys in Taehyung’s party quickly followed after him, anxious to get their turn at a private dance with Eros. Taehyung scoffed at their desperation.

What was the point? You spend shitloads of cash to have some guy grind all over you while he’s probably thinking about the latest episode of the drama he’s watching. He’ll spout off some rehearsed dialogue that is engineered to make you feel special and want to keep coming back. In reality, if you asked him what your name was the next day he’d have no clue.

No, that wasn’t Taehyung’s scene. He needed more. He needed to feel wanted and appreciated. He wanted to look into someone’s eyes and see that they craved him as much as he did them. He knew that he fell fast and hard, and it always hurt when he learned he didn’t mean as much to the other. That’s why he’d been single for so damn long. But you know what? He was fine. He had his great dog, his great job, great bank account. Life was great.

Taehyung signaled to the waitress and ordered an actual drink, vowing to himself to keep it under two. He just wanted to dull his mind so he’d stop thinking, not enough to bring out wild Taehyung and freak out his friends. He slowly sipped the expensive scotch that was brought to him, enjoying the burn as he observed everyone else in the room take their seats to get ready for the next show. The lights once again gradually dimmed and the stage was illuminated by a dark crimson spotlight.

A lean figure walked to the center stage, his steps an appealing mix of grace and swagger, where the shadow of his features was finally revealed when the bright light focused on him. Taehyung’s breath hitched when he finally saw the face of Apollo. Prominent cheekbones, a sharp nose, and a wide mouth pulled into the brightest smile had ever seen in his entire life. A smile that looked entirely out of place considering where they were and what he was doing. It was a smile that spoke of innocence, but the man’s swaying hips hinted that he was anything but that. Taehyung shivered as Apollo introduced himself, the tone of his voice somehow reminding Tae of rich caramel and smoky incense.

This was Apollo personified. He bathed the dark room in the sunlight of his smile, and the way he was in complete control of every muscle in his body as he danced was pure poetry. No other name would have done for him.

For the first time in the entire night, Taehyung found that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the stage. He leaned forward and glued his eyes to the dancer. The man was beautiful, and the combination of pure and sinful was so tempting. As the dancer slowly began to remove his shirt, Taehyung audibly groaned. His eyes followed the path down the man’s toned chest, envisioning just how he wanted to capture him with his camera.

He could fully picture how he wanted the first piece. Apollo would be lying bare on crimson velvet, like the curtains leading into this room and the color of the spotlight caressing his dancing form. Gold silk that complemented his equally golden skin covering his bottom half to give some modesty but still showing enough to tease the viewer. One toned leg pulled up to hint at a casual elegance. Body shining with sweat that he’d built up after Taehyung had fucked him senseless. He would be gazing up at Taehyung precisely like he was doing now. His smirk was aimed directly at Taehyung like he could hear the lewd imaginings of his mind out loud. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with promises. His tongue peeking out to sweep across his lip like he was taunting Taehyung.

He has never wanted anyone so much in his whole life.

Suddenly, it all made sense. He finally understood the desperation that clung like smoke in the air around him. He knew that he’d do anything to have this man smile at him, touch him, say his name. All Apollo had to do was name his price and Taehyung would build him an altar and worship him like the God he is.

The song came to a close, too quickly in Taehyung’s opinion, and he swore that Apollo aimed his last cheeky grin directly at Taehyung as if he was challenging him. The tiny part of Taehyung’s brain that was still working knew that the dancer was just trying to get him to pay for a private dance, which was where they made the bulk of their money. However, his racing heart and throbbing cock screamed it was worth it.

He waited until the Apollo was back behind the curtain before racing to the golden table to speak to Hermes, not even waiting for the lights to turn back on. He needed to get there before the rest of the herd of desperate men tried for their chance. He cleared his throat and tried to assume his professional persona, hoping that his voice wouldn’t crack or show any signs that he was just as desperate.

Hermes looked up from his phone when he heard Taehyung, flashing a knowing grin.

“Ah, so it’s Apollo that does it for you, huh? I had thought for sure you were going to see me for Eros. Unless you’re here for me, of course.” Hermes chuckles and opens his record book and slides the credit card reader closer to Taehyung.

“So, it’s $200 per half hour, $500 for the VIP room. The VIP room means no cameras, nice couches instead of a chair, and a complimentary bottle of Champagne. Even if there are no cameras in VIP, a bodyguard will be outside the door for his safety and yours. The regular room is still very nice, but nudity is not encouraged in them because I’m the one that reviews the tapes and I don’t want to see everyone’s dicks. The rules for both rooms are the same as the rest of the club. No touching unless he tells you that you can, no means no, don’t bother him for personal information, etc. So what will it be today? I’ll even throw in a discount since I know you’re a first timer, and you’re cute.” Hermes winked and sat back in his seat as he waited to Taehyung to make up his mind.

Taehyung inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment in preparation for what he was about to do. He felt both pathetic and excited.

He opened his eyes and pierced Hermes with what he hoped was a confident gaze. “I’ll give you $10,000 for one hour in VIP provided that he gets 90% of it and he gets to take the rest of the night off.”

Hermes shot forward and released a grunt of a laugh. “That’s a lot, you sure? I’ll have to call and ask if he’s okay with going home after,” he asked, holding up his phone and sliding into his contacts like he already knew the answer.

“Yes, I’m certain.” Taehyung quickly replied, watching Hermes make the call with the feelings of dread and anticipation mingling in the bottom of his stomach. He listens as Hermes greets Apollo and tells him the deal, agreeing at various points before he raises his eyebrow and glances at Taehyung.

“Yes, the gorgeous blonde with the Gucci tie. How did you know?” Hermes chuckled into the receiver, looking at Taehyung with amusement. “Sure thing, buddy. Tell Hades to take your spot for this party. ...Yeah, he’ll bitch at first, but he’ll do it anyway. Sending your date in.”

Hermes sets down the cellphone and reaches his hand out for Taehyung’s ID and Credit Card.

“Seems it’s your lucky day. Apollo not only agreed but sounded very excited. Not that being excited is anything new for him, but he had his eye on you during his dance, it seems.” Hermes marks down his info and runs the amount, standing up and putting the books away once everything is approved.

“Follow me, sweetheart.” Hermes orders as he strolls to the bar and asks for the “Special Champagne,” which turned out to be a bottle of Krug Vintage Brut 2000. A decent enough bottle, but he wasn’t planning on drinking much more than a few sips to calm his nerves. Any more than that and he was worried he’d get kicked out for begging to suck Apollo’s dick.

Hermes leads him up to a massive, intricately carved crimson door. It looked thick and soundproof, causing Taehyung to wonder what kind of place this actually was since everything he’d learned about the VIP rooms seems to encourage fucking. Everything, that was, except for the giant guarding the door. He had to be close to seven feet tall, if not over, and his mass seemed more muscle than anything else. His glasses were thick, and you would think they would make him look like a nerd; instead, Tae thought it looked like he was using them to peer into his soul and count his sins.Taehyung gulped and looked away to meet Hermes eyes as he handed Tae the bottle and glasses.

“This is Sejin. He didn’t bother with a God name because he’s not a dancer and says that he should be scary enough as himself. You didn’t hear it from me, but he’s a huge teddy bear. Until you mess with one of the boys, of course. Then he’s more of a Grizzly bear. He’ll knock when your hour is up. Enjoy your time.” Hermes turns the knob and pushes the door slightly open, making it easier for Taehyung to enter with his hands full. He winks and strolls away without another word. Taehyung sneaks one last look at Sejin, who is staring right back at him, before walking inside and shutting the door with his hip.

As Taehyung makes his way to the gold and crimson loveseat, his senses are engulfed in the scents of vanilla and citrus. He thought it was an intriguing mix that spoke of comfort and sensuality and he wondered if it was some air freshener or if the scent belonged to Apollo. It looked like he’d already been in here to set up his music. Taehyung placed the bottle and glasses on an end table and sat down to wait for the dancer, every nerve tingling. He flicked his lips with his tongue nervously, reminding himself to buy more chapstick. He glanced briefly at the door and wondered if he should make a run for it when a door he hadn’t noticed before opened in the side of the room.

“Hi, I’m Apollo.” He smiles sweetly as he strides over to stand in front of Taehyung with his hands propped on his hips, not phased in the least by Taehyung’s obvious gawking.

Taehyung quickly stands up and awkwardly bows as he introduces himself, not sure what the protocol is for greeting a stripper. It seems to please Apollo though, as his grin widens and he chuckles.

“So polite, that’s a refreshing change. So, Taehyung, what are we here for today? You have me for a whole hour, and I want to make sure you get your money worth.” Apollo asks as he sits next to a surprised Taehyung on the love seat.

Taehyung opens his mouth to answer but Apollo’s scent fills his nose, and he happily discovers that the vanilla and citrus he’d smelled earlier does come from the dancer, along with an undertone of fabric softener and a light musk from the sweat he must have worked up during his dance. Taehyung forgot he was supposed to answer a question as he fought the urge to bury his nose in the crook of the dancer’s neck.

Apollo giggled, pulling Taehyung from his trance to look back at the dancer’s face in awe. It was a cute sound, and Tae wanted to make him do it again.

“Taehyung, am I right that you’ve never done this before and you’re maybe a bit nervous?” Apollo asked, suddenly placing his elegant long-fingered hands on Tae’s right thigh and squeezing a bit like he was trying to comfort him.

“I guess I’m making it pretty obvious. I’m sorry.” Taehyung mumbled, looking past Apollo at the wall in shame. It was so easy for him to maintain a cool, unbothered attitude at work, so why was he struggling so much here?

“It’s okay. It’s cute. So we’ll just go with the basics for now, how about that? You just settle in and get comfy. Do you have any music preferences?” Apollo stood up and strolled over to go through his playlist.

“Uh, not really. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine. I like...uh, slow?”

“Slow is a good idea since we have a whole hour. R&B playlist it is.” Apollo hums to himself as he sets it up, his body starting to sway to the rhythm already. When he’s done, he goes to the end table where the Champagne is and pops it open, pouring a glass for Taehyung and placing it into his hands before pushing him lightly until his back hits the couch with the order to relax.

“There’s, uh, two glasses. You can have some. If you want, I mean.” Taehyung stutters before shoving his glass into his mouth to shut himself up.

Apollo mutters a barely audible so cute before he takes up Taehyung on his offer and pours himself a small amount. “I’m not a big fan of the taste of alcohol, but I like the bubbles.” He laughs and Taehyung coos internally.

“What is it that you do, Taehyung? I only ask because you spent a lot of money on me, but you’re so young looking. I want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of someone.”

“You’re not. I’m a photographer. I’m...well, there’s really no way to explain without sounding full of myself. I’m Vante.” Apollo nodded while he was deep in thought and Taehyung watched for signs of recognition.

Suddenly, an almost visible light bulb went off over Apollo’s head. “OH, Vante! I’ve seen your stuff. You do the black and white, vintage style idol shoots! Wow, that’s awesome!” Well, he does more than that, but he doesn’t go into it since the dancer smiles at Tae, but he doesn’t sense any of the usual mental calculating that usually happens once people find out who he is. He can always see when the dollar signs show up in people's eyes like in cartoons.

“Maybe I’ll have you shoot me sometime. I could probably afford it now, although I’d be paying you with your own money.” Apollo laughs, and Taehyung is charmed.

“I’d love to. You have no idea. You wouldn’t have to pay me a dime. I’ll do it for free.” Wow, Taehyung, thirsty much? Dial it down.

“We’ll talk about it if you come see me again.” The dancer promises.

Apollo sets down his empty glass and sways along with the music as he strolls over to stand in front of Taehyung. He flashes a cheeky grin before he reaches over and loosens Taehyung’s tie, then leans back and begins to dance.

Oh, okay. We’re doing this now. Taehyung lets his eyes travel slowly from Apollo’s raised arms, down to his closed eyes as he loses himself in the music, his swaying hips, all the way down to his feet that were sliding in soft moments to the beat.

Taehyung audibly sighed, losing himself in the moment and the beauty of the man before him. He threw back the rest of his champagne and set the glass down, placing his hands in his lap as he gave the dancer his full attention.

One song led into the next, and it became clear that Apollo’s goal was to lose one piece of clothing per song. He was now shirtless, and Taehyung tried to not make it so obvious that just the sight of the dancer’s bare golden chest made him rock hard. It was entirely unblemished, and his vline was prominent. He wanted to bite marks into those dancer hips and capture it on film. He looked away quickly, reaching over to pour himself some more champagne to keep himself occupied and will his boner down. He was sure the dancer had seen his share, but Taehyung figured the least he could do is be respectful.

“It’s alright to look, you know. That’s why we are here.” Apollo said, his voice low and filled with amusement. “Look at me, baby.” He ordered softly. Taehyung inhaled in shock, the word going straight to his dick, and shot his head up to meet Apollo's eyes, his own wide and searching.  

Apollo grinned saucily as he swayed closer. “I see I guessed right. Kim Taehyung just needs someone to take good care of him. I’m probably your hyung too, am I right?”

“I’m a 95,” Taehyung mumbled, rattled by the bare chest getting closer. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Mmm, I’m a 94, so I’m your hyung. It’s a hyung’s job to take good care of his dongsaeng. Do you want me to take good care of you, Taehyung?”

Taehyung grunted his answer, distracted by the presence of two strong thighs settling themselves on either side of his. That bare chest was pressed against his now and arms were sliding themselves up past his shoulders where the dancer threaded his fingers through the hair at Taehyung’s nape.

“You have to tell me, baby. Use your words. Do you want me to take good care of you?” Apollo asked again, his smooth lips hovering within reach.

Taehyung wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to, but at this point, he’d give Apollo his kidney if he wanted it. “Yes, Apollo hyung.”

The dancer tilted his head in thought before gracing Taehyung with another smile, this one with a slight vulnerable edge to it. “Actually, I think I’ll let you call me Hoseok. Unless you want to call me Daddy.” He giggles as Taehyung chokes on his spit. “Too soon?” He laughs again, this time loud and full-bodied.  

Taehyung suddenly realizes what he’d just been told. He looks up into the dancer’s eyes and smiles enthusiastically, his boxy smile happy as he registers that Apollo had just given him his real name.

“Hoseok. Thank you.” Hoseok’s eyes are glued to Taehyung’s mouth in fascination.

“Do that again.” He demanded, his gaze unwavering.

“What?”

“Smile for me, Taehyung.”

Taehyung did as he was told, smiling not being a chore since he was happy to please the dancer. Hoseok smiled back just as wide, his eyes tracing all of Taehyung’s face and continually flickering back to his smile.

“God, you are so cute. Why are you so cute? You’re making it really hard for me to behave myself.” Hoseok mumbled, one slim finger coming up to trace Taehyung’s mouth. Tae wondered if he’d get punched if he sucked on it.

“Something,” Hoseok punctuated that word with a roll of his hips to grind against Taehyung’s now very prominent bulge, “is telling me that you wouldn’t mind if I misbehaved, though. Would you, baby? I’ve never seen someone so in need of someone to take care of them.”

Taehyung bucked up into the dancer's hips, surprised to find the front of Hosek’s pants just as hard. “No, please. Please…” Taehyung grunted, not knowing what he was asking for or what the dancer would give him. He just knew that all the blood in his body was in his fucking cock right now and that if Hoseok so much as touched it, he would cum like a fountain.

“Can I…” Hoseok murmured, his face coming breath widths of Taehyung’s, “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?” Hoseok asked like he was afraid Taehyung would tell him to fuck off. Instead, Taehyung answered by smashing his lips into Hoseok’s.

Taehyung was in heaven. Hoseok’s lips were just as soft as they looked, and tasted slightly of vanilla chapstick. He moaned into the kiss, and the dancer answered with a small grunt of his own before his tongue came out to trace the seam of Taehyung’s lips. Tae opened his mouth to Hoseok, and the dancer’s tongue caressed its way inside. He still tasted faintly of champagne and a trace of mint, like he’d popped a breath freshener before he came in here.  

Hoseok pulled back, chuckling lightly at Taehyung’s whine of protest. He had that smile again. The one that was sweet but had a slight touch of vulnerability. Taehyung counted himself lucky to be able to spot a bit of regular human emotion in the dancer. It made him feel like maybe he wasn’t just imagining everything; that he really wasn’t the only one being affected here.

“I don’t usually take things so far with my customers. You...you are making me want to take things too far, baby. If...if you come back to see me soon, I probably won’t be able to stop. Do you understand?” Hoseok’s eyes searched Tae’s face, and his pleasure high cleared enough for him to finally grasp what Hoseok was hinting.

“Oh...OH.” Taehyung finally said in surprise, the hands that had somehow found themselves wrapped on Hoseok’s thighs tightening.

“Mmm, yes, oh. I don’t want to leave you hanging today though. Lean back and hyung will take care of you.” Hoseok murmured before he got off of Taehyung.

Taehyung wondered how going away was going to help him until he followed the path of Hoseok’s hands to the front of his pants. The dancer unzipped slowly as he smirked at Taehyung’s rapt expression, then kicked them off, leaving himself in tight briefs. Taehyung’s eyes followed as Hoseok made his way back over to him, his eyes blatantly staring at the outline of Hoseok’s cock trying to burst through its confines.

Hoseok crouched in front of Taehyung and reached over to flick at the button of Taehyung’s pants. “May I?” He asked, looking into Taehyung’s eyes with a reassuring gaze.

“Yes, please,” Taehyung answered quickly, lifting up as Hoseok popped the button open and slid the pants and boxers down until they were almost to his knees.

Without the pants constraining it, his extremely hard and extremely red cock slapped against his stomach. He watched Hoseok as the dancer looked at him, his tongue tracing his bottom lip as he inspected Taehyung. He quickly got back into his place straddling Taehyung’s lap, placing a quick kiss on the side of his neck before his hand trailed down to firmly grasp Taehyung.

Taehyung couldn’t help but stare. Hoseok’s beautiful hand was wrapped around his dick, the thumb caressing the head and smearing the precum around it. And there was a lot of it. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen himself have this much precum before.

“Is this still okay?” Hoseok whispered as his hand started to slowly pump Taehyung.

“God, yes. Anything is okay. Everything is okay. Please, for the love of God, don’t stop.” Taehyung grunted, his voice becoming deeper with each pass of Hoseok’s hand.

“I won’t stop. I’ll make you feel good. You are so wet for me, baby. Look at this. I don’t even need lube. You’re running all over my hand.” Hoseok’s spoke into Taehyung’s ear, his own voice deep and honey-rich as his hand slowly picked up speed. His words were proven right as Taehyung noted that all he could hear in the room were the sounds of their ragged breathing and the loud, wet squelching noise as Hoseok stroked Tae’s cock.

He felt so good. He was going to cum harder then he could remember, just from a fucking hand job. The only thing that would make this better is if…

“Can I touch you too? Please. Wanna...make you feel good too.” Hoseok slowed his hands, surprise showing on his face at Taehyung’s words.

“You’re so close though, sweetheart. I can take care of myself later.”

“No.” Taehyung fought the urge to stamp his foot and throw a tantrum. “Wanna do this with you. Cum with me, Hyung.” Taehyung decided to push his luck and reached forward to plant sloppy kisses along the column of Hoseok’s neck. The dancer grunted loudly at the contact, the front of his briefs twitching noticeably.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay. Okay, baby. Take me out.” He leaned back slightly, and Taehyung was quick to obey. He pulled the front of Hoseok’s briefs down, Hoseok’s cock twitching again once it was freed. It was smaller than Taehyung’s, but still thick and pretty and Taehyung really wanted it shoved down his throat.  

Hoseok used the hand that was still on Taehyung to gather up as much of the generous amount of precum that he could, and Tae watched fascinated as Hoseok slathered it on his own cock. Taehyung slapped Hoseok’s hand away when he was done, making him chuckle, and wrapped his own hand around him. He waited for Hoseok’s hand to return to him before sliding his hand up and down, matching Hoseok’s pace.

He didn’t bother to ask before giving into his urge to kiss Hoseok, pressing his lips firmly to the other in a desperate kiss. They stayed close like that, grunting and moaning into each other’s mouths as they found their rhythm.

Taehyung was trying so hard to hold off, to make it last as long as possible, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“I’m going to cum, Hyung.” He whined into Hoseok’s mouth, moving down to pepper his jaw with kisses. Hoseok let out a gravelly moan.

“I’m close too, baby. Take your hand off, Taehyung.” Hoseok ordered quietly, and though he was confused as to why they would stop, Taehyung did as he was told.

“Fuck, so obedient. Not even a whine. I could fucking deny you right now, and you would let me, wouldn’t you?” Hoseok naturally didn’t expect an answer as he was focused on his task. He quickly grabbed his and Taehyung’s cocks between his own two hands, slicking them both up and pumping as fast as he could.

Taehyung couldn’t think clearly anymore. His mind was just a continuous mantra of please, please, please. He didn’t realize he was saying it audibly as well.

With a deep groan, he finally came, bucking one last time into Hoseok’s fist. He observed from a haze of pleasure has Hoseok released a deep, ragged moan and his cum mingled with Tae’s as his hands slowed.

“Fuck. Shit. Baby, that was so good. Taehyung, do you feel nice?” Hosek asked breathily as he leaned forward and nuzzled Taehyung’s cheek, not seeming to care that sweat was dripping down their faces.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Still so polite you thank me for making you cum. Too cute.” Hoseok laughed and stood up with a grunt, walking over to a shelf on the side.

Taehyung didn’t know what to do now, the nervousness from before seeping back into him. He started to pull up his pants but froze when Hoseok snapped “leave it,” as he walked back to Taehyung.

“I can’t offer much for aftercare here, but the least I can do is not let you leave covered in cum and sweat.” Hoseok giggled as he wiped himself clean with one towel, and used another to clean Taehyung. He even helped pull up his pants and patted the front when he was done.

Taehyung watched Hoseok put his own clothes back on and took the chance to glance at his phone. He had three minutes left, he was surprised to find.

“Can I...can I get your schedule?” Taehyung asked softly.

Hoseok looked up from his task of buttoning his shirt, a full smile blooming.

“So you’re really going to come back?”

“Uh, yeah, if you want me. I mean, want me to.” Taehyung answered, a blush slowly building on his cheeks.

Too fucking cute, he heard Hoseok mumble.

“Yes, Taehyung. I want you to. I work every weekend. You can come by next weekend and Hyung will take excellent care of you.” Hoseok smiled into Tae’s neck, and he wrapped him in a hug.

“And maybe. Can we...talk more? I’d like to get to know you. Like, the real you. Maybe. If that doesn’t creep you out. Oh shit, I just broke a rule. Please don’t sick the giant on me.” Taehyung stood up, wiping his nervous hands on his jeans.

Hoseok laughed and tickled Taehyung’s chin. “It’s fine, Taehyung. I haven’t done anything with you I haven’t wanted to. I’d love to get to know you better, as well. As long as you don’t mind spending time with a stripper.”

“I don’t care about that. As long as what you do makes you happy. Your dancing is beautiful.” Taehyung explained, suddenly upset at the thought that Hoseok would think lowly of himself.

“Thanks, Taehyung. I think I hear Sejin knocking though, so we have to empty the room before we get thrown out. You’ll really come next weekend?” Hoseok’s eyes traced Taehyung’s face, almost as if he thought it would be the last time he’d see him.

“After a performance like that, you think I wouldn’t be here every day if I could? I’ll be here.” Taehyung giggled, letting Hoseok loop his arm through his and walk him to the door. Hoseok visibly hesitated for a moment before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss on Taehyung’s lips.

“See you next weekend, baby.” He whispered into Taehyung’s ear and opened the door, glancing towards Sejin.

“He’s on the gold list.” He told Sejin, who nodded and sent off a text.

“Gold list?” Taehyung asked, suddenly worried.

Hoseok smiled sweetly at him. “It’s a list of our preferred clients. You get the best of the best, and we cancel on the other suckers if you’re here when someone is booked.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that list.” Taehyung’s boxy smiled reappeared, and he waved goodbye to Sejin, suddenly unafraid of the man’s stares since he was too happy and relaxed thanks to Hoseok.

Hoseok grabbed Taehyung’s hand and squeezed it as he led him towards Hermes. Said man was back to scrolling on his phone and looked up only when they reached the table. He raised an eyebrow in amusement as his eyes traveled the pair, taking in the view of their still clasped hands, mussed hair and the matching dazed expressions.

“It appears everyone had a great time. I even hear that Kim Taehyung is now on the gold list. There are only a handful of people on there, so congratulations.” Hermes smirked and set down his phone.

“Um, thank you? And thank you for your help tonight. I had an...enjoyable evening.” Taehyung said, not really sure what he was supposed to do to...close business.

“Isn’t he so cute? He’s polite in a strip club.” Hoseok enthused grasping his arm tighter as he leaned his head onto Taehyung’s shoulder, cooing.

“I’m going to get my things and go home. Looks like I have a relaxed night at home ahead of me, thanks to you. I hope I see you again, but if I don’t, thank you for tonight. It was one of the best I’ve had in a long time.” Hoseok placed a quick kiss on Taehyung’s cheek and ran off. Tae put a hand on his cheek over the kiss, not realizing that Hermes was laughing at his whipped expression following Hoseok’s exit.

“I’m just going to assume that you’re coming next weekend and I’ll book the room with Apollo again. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you. Just don’t steal my dancer away.” Hermes joked, reaching out and shaking Taehyung’s hand before leading him to the exit.

“Thank you for coming to Pantheon. Cum again soon.” Hermes snickers to an unamused Taehyung.

Taehyung left the club in a daze, his mind playing over his night with Apollo.

He’d be back for sure, and he’d win the heart of a God.

#kkreationsnet #kwriterskollection #kpopwritingnet #btswriters #bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts kim taehyung #Taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts jung hoseok #Hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #vhope smut #vhope fic #Taehyung x Hoseok #au

[tinyastronaut-suggestion]

The Deer Kid

#story #short story #the Deer Kid #death #animal death #I'm sorry if this is bad lol I know it's not so space

[gigiree]

For @illustraice and her amazing Sun/Moon spirit au? THIS WAS SO RUSHED, BY I wanted to give you something in addition to the writing.

Thank you for all your amazing work. (PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO EINE KLEINE BY RACHIE. it really hurts with this au.)

— It’s entirely a lie that the gods whisper amongst themselves. Behind soft tones and intrepid smiles, he knows what they say about her. About him.

But his golden light conceals too much. He can’t see the truth behind the glaring brightness of his own being.

They say that she’s weak without him. That they’re two halves of a broken whole, and that the moon cannot shine without the sun.

They forget that she is the night sky and all it encompasses. They forget that she holds the stars in her small hands, that she grasps the distant galaxies with her glowing night.

He doesn’t get to see her much. But when he does, the old scars across his back and his chest and the ones that sear in his heart all ache.

Vague memories of bloodless war flit through his mind. Her blue eyes are ever closed in his presence. Her dark gown spilling over like ink around her form.

She is perfection. Everything he is not.

She is not his to have. Her silver heart belongs to a human she once met. —-

She reaches for a man she knows is no longer living. But her moon shines just for him…for Adrien.

It wanes when the remembrance of war hurts her. It waxes red and full when her anger writhes and pulls at the oceans.

She once was human. Once was on earth long enough to meet a boy with golden hair like wheat and eyes the color of sunlight through leaves. A boy who fought in a revolution with ideals as pure as newly born life wavering under the spring sun.

“Wait for me. Wait for me, my Lady. When it is over, we can see each other again.”

But he never came for her. She’d searched long and hard across the streets of Paris, her form slowly shifting as the constellations on her back faded.

Mortals had so often made wishes on her stars, but she lamented that she cannot do the same as her heart leaked open and her tears doused the corpses that littered the battleground.

It’s been centuries, and her heart still aches.

(As do the old scars that gleam like starlight across her ribs and back, the scars the curl around her legs like sea foam.)

So she waits with a smile that cuts across the dark like her crescent moon, watching the world turn while she waits for a soul to be reborn. Her eyes drift into a sleep, dreams dancing across her sight full of wishes she cannot grant. —-

It is the strangest thing, he thinks, to make wishes on a flower.

The Earth is such a beautiful balance…one who’s beauty brings with it a sharp regret that he can’t quite recall.

There’s peace in this field of sunflowers that rise like curious sentinels for their king. He feels safe in their shade, hidden from the glare of his own sun.

There’s a little lark that sits on his shoulder, head tilted inquisitively at him. He gives it a gentle smile, and turns back to the flower he holds.

(The local flower spirit…a tiny pink robed girl by the name of Rose…has kindly left him to his devices.)

But he holds not a sunflower, but a delicate dandelion in between his warm hands, and he heaves a breath.

“I want to see her.” He whispers.

He watches the seeds drift away on the sudden breeze. They spiral upwards into the sharply blue sky, a color that distinctly reminds him of the one he adores.

His wish is carried away on the breeze. He hopes the wind spirit cannot hear it. But then again, he wonders if he should have wished on the stars instead.

Maybe then she would have heard the sound of his golden heart reaching across the sky for her. —

They meet once more during an eclipse.

He thinks it oddly fitting that the darkest time of existence for him is when he can see her.

She thinks it oddly disquieting that the brightest time of existence for her is when they cross paths.

An eclipse. Solar or lunar, she can’t quite tell yet.

But those familiar tendrils of heat reach out for her. Her hands feel cold and there’s an old timeliness pain that lances through her as he calls her name.

Still, she curls into herself, a full moon who’s silvery light wanes in the face of the golden sun.

Her eyes remain closed, but somehow, her frigid fingers reach across the brief expanse, seeking a warmth they do not want.

“What are you afraid of, Night? Why do you curl away from me?” He calls out, slight irritation causing him to flare red and orange for a moment.

She lets the frost under her shadow creep into her tone…lets the elegance of snow and ice under stars color her answer.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want eternity with you. We may remain friends.”

He’s frustrated. And he can’t catch her glance, because still her eyes are closed against him and the tears well up in his own gaze.

“I understand.” He says quietly, and the rest of the eclipse is spent in silence.

But there’s a gentle smile in her goodbye and he just barely catches the tips of her fingers to press a burning kiss to them.

She opens her eyes the smallest bit, oddly gray in the light of the blue stars that color her gown.

And then they part. —- She hears the wish he made on her brightest star.

She can’t grant it. —– They think the night needs the day to shine. How wrong they are…it is the day that wholly depends on the night.

It is his golden heart that aches for her. It is his balance that is broken when she disappears and he remains.

Her night sky remains, but there’s a wailing loneliness that makes it seem so much dimmer.

His cries echo across the stars, and his tears become rain.

She hides on Earth, and while her heart aches still, she shifts her dark umbrella higher over her shoulders and lets the tears roll cruelly over it.

She cannot grant his wish when she’s working so hard to grant her own.

There’s someone she needs to find. —

#sun/moon spirit au #miraculous ladybug #adrienette

[marinawilbanks2-blog]

Appeal Basics

, if you look in a publication from birds this's amazing at just how many gorgeous birds there are actually. When I put oil on it, I enjoy the way my skin layer gleams. And now a times if his skin is actually healthy and balanced I don't care just what different colors he goes to all; given that none of that actually matters if the person internal beauty is fleeting. Additionally, Sun Lowland companies, by means of the Sunlight Valley Region Chamber of Trade, just recently came together to create Sun Lowland Beautiful, a project to improve the quality of life for the homeowners of Sunshine Valley, especially in the areas from ecological beautification as well as public health. There was actually, if you leave out the negative $19 million year-over-year effect in business, type of considering the growth as well as general in our services, the anticipated earnings grew 6.5%. For company, just what we perform is our experts bill prepared expenditures to anticipated income. There was actually almost a mile long, and off that promenade overlooking this rooms along with balconies, meeting rooms as well as ball rooms with patios, bistros, bars like Nickii's seashore as well as 2nd Cinque in St Tropez ph, that our team might take beach front lifestyle to Las Vegas and also close to all the active things that we could do with the resort as well as the conference spaces as well as the bars and also the retail on the promenade, our team could place water snowboard display in the afternoon and also we could in the evening, our experts can possess a great program like they contend Disney Land only larger and our company can easily possess rockets every evening and fire 5 inch shells that would cover the entire 40 acres as a sunshade as well as perform rockets every evening and also our company can bill admittance ahead in to Heaven Park which is just what this's heading to be gotten in touch with, I hope.

The single screen provides you your local time, the position from the sun, the rise and prepared opportunities of the sunlight and also moon (and the 5 brightest worlds), twilight start and end times, the present moon period, a show from day and night on a world chart, the current time and time (along with a leap year red flag), as well as the ability to continue or even backward eventually so as to find other planetal positionings and sun settings. I clarified that the Catholic insistence on the Virgin Birth tale (don't forget, 'pure' in between East suggests 'single lady' during the time from Jesus' birth) was actually a vital endorsement to the suggestion that Jesus was actually the Sun-Hero of the Piscean Grow Older - Virgo and also Pisces being actually polar revers - Virgo being the incredible reference to the Mom Moon and the Night-Cycle, Pisces, the fish, being actually the referral to RELIGIOUS WOMAN, the Messiah. The real expense and opportunity demanded to market our SolarWindow modern technology could vary substantially depending on, and many more factors, the results from our R&D efforts, the cost of developing, acquiring, or even licensing several enabling innovations, changes in the concentration and path of our R&D programs, technological as well as affordable developments, the price from filing, indicting, shielding as well as imposing cases with respect to licenses, the regulatory approval procedure and manufacturing, advertising and marketing as well as various other prices associated with commercialization from these modern technologies. Given how long that has actually been because investors in the United States as well as around the globe have experienced any kind of kind of market sell-off, the next time our experts perform find a pullback, this is actually heading to think considerably, so much more unpleasant. Traverse Metropolitan Area Whiskey Co., Traverse City, MI. This company has discharged a straight whiskey which seems sourced coming from somewhere else, perhaps off MGPI, as well as seems bottled by Ugly Pet dog Distillery in Chelsea, MI. They are actually planning to release North Coast Rye, which appears to be distilled in-house. Yellow Rose Distilling, Houston, TX. Located simply north from Houston, this whiskey creates Criminal Bourbon, created from an ONE HUNDRED% corn mash, a singular malt, Yellowish Flower Blended Whiskey and also Rye and Nashville Blended also prepare to produce a combined bourbon and Traditional Scotch under the label Quality Co.

She is thus powerful and i made a decision to discuss my story on the net that Princess or queen Hanna is effective and also actual spell caster that i will definitely always wish to live long in order to help his little ones during difficulty, if you are right here as well as you need your Ex-boyfriend back or your hubby relocated or your other half to another girl or even man, do certainly not cry anymore, connect with this highly effective spell caster right now.

Knowing this centre we understand the resource beautyform.info from all live, lighting and the personal charm of the everlasting Personal in each traits, the resource from all toughness, endurance, and the everlasting appeal and also godship of the infinite individuality of being.