#vampire dog? it better drink blood. vampire juice box? better have blood in it. vampire watermelon? it better drink fucking blood!

[caainhurst]

look, i'm not gonna argue about it on other people's posts, but if you show me a vampire and it doesn't specifically drink blood as a way of sustaining itself, then it isn't a vampire

#vampire dog? it better drink blood. vampire juice box? better have blood in it. vampire watermelon? it better drink fucking blood! #elliott.txt

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Coming Home - River and Luke

CW: inexperienced caretaker, vampirism, blood, implied past abuse, self-blame, police mention 

[Other thing]

River placed him on the couch as softly as possible, but could still see the shift in his breathing. They stood back, trying to give him some space and put their head back on straight.

They didn’t know what on earth they were supposed to do.

Every fiber of them screamed to called the police, but they just couldn’t. How were they supposed to explain what happened. They shook their head, trying to imagine that conversation.

“Yes officer, I was just buying my regular blood supply from a random man when I heard someone crying in the closet. So of course I broke the man’s wrist and kidnapped them. Oh yeah, and I’m a vampire.”

They sighed pushing back their dark coiled hair from their forehead. Yeah, that would go over great. The boy shivered, and they pulled themself back to the present. He needed help, but they didn’t know what to do.

In a moment blankness, they opened their laptop and frantically searched first aid steps. A few result popped up immediately, and they started to go through them.

1.       Recognize the emergency.   Does someone look like they’re in trouble?   If so, ask them, “Are you OK?”

River whined confusedly and looked back up to the figure on the couch. They opened their mouth, nothing but a little squeak coming out. He was barely conscious, bleeding, trembling and scared out of his mind. It looked like an emergency to them.

“Are you okay?” they asked, voice cracking with nerves. He didn’t respond. Their face flushed with embarrassment. Of course he couldn’t answer. They took a deep breath and looked at the next step.

2.       Call emergency services if necessary.

Their green eyes slid past that one. That needed to be the last resort.

3.       Assess the situation. How do they need help?

Slowly, River put down the laptop and ventured closer to the young man. He was pale, shallow breaths slowly puffing out of his chest. There were some cuts across his face, and even River could tell they weren’t clean. His hair was dirty and greasy, unkept around his head. His skin was dirty, too. River reached a hand out, then drew it back. He was still conscious, barely, and they didn’t want to scare him.

“I’m sorry. I, I have to touch you to see what I can do. I’m sorry – I’m sorry.”

They tried again, lifting up the ragged t-shirt he was wearing. He whimpered and tried to roll away, making River jump back.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He didn’t respond again, and even with the small peak River could tell he needed more help. There were ginormous bruises on the crooks of both elbows, more on his chest it seemed like. Slowly as they could, the started to lift the shirt again, and this time it seemed like he was too weak to fight them.

They tried to keep their emotions locked away, but they couldn’t help but sniff. He was covered in bruises and cuts, every single rib visible to their eyes. He was still breathing very shallowly, eyes fluttered closed.

River dropped the shirt and wandered back to their computer.

4.       Administer basic first aid if necessary

They nodded. They could do that. They had a first aid kit – somewhere.

“I’ll be right back,” they said, walking backwards out of the room. They bolted to the bathroom, tearing under the sink apart. They were sure their mom had given them one when they first moved it. It was kinda old, but at least it would still have band aids and gauze and stuff like that.

Finally getting their fingers on the old blue plastic box, they stood. They looked up, still a little confused to not see their own reflection. They were still new to this; to all of this. The accident had only been about a month or two ago, and even though they knew, it was still kinda hard to accept.

A thought hit them and they almost dropped the box. They had been ordering from Arthur since the accident. They were too scared to try and hunt, they never wanted to hurt someone else. But they had. They had hurt someone else; and now he was lying on their couch. River did this to him. Not with their own fists, but they had paid someone else to do it which was just as bad.

Tears dripped down their eyes as they made their way back to the living room. They had always cried at the drop of a hat, but this one was bad. It was a horrible guilt that soured their stomach and clamped around their heart. They wanted to help, they wanted to make things better but they just didn’t know what to do.

After reading the back of the cleaning wipes, they ripped the packet open and started to clean the small cuts on his face. He reacted a bit, flinching, but not pulling away from them. They went slowly, trying to talk to him as they went. They ended up talking about their neighbor’s new dog. It was very fluffy and friendly, and River hoped it would be a nice distraction for him.

They finished up on his face and applied the bandages – little pastel ones with stars – and moved onto his neck. The sight of the IV wound stirred something in them. They assumed it was disgust. They cleaned the site best they could, blinking tears down their face as they saw the fang marks, too. When they pulled the cloth away, it was dirtied and red.

They stopped, staring at it. It was light in their hand, as light as any single use wipe could be, yet they couldn’t pull their eyes away from it. They were staring at it, entranced by it.

It wasn’t disgust they felt; it was hunger.

River screamed and dropped it, falling backwards to crawl away. No, no nonono! They didn’t, they never, no! They hid behind the armchair, trying to calm their breathing. They hadn’t been around fresh blood since they were turned, opting to buy it. They didn’t know it was going to be this strong.

The young man whimpered, drawing their attention back to him. Right, him. Shakely, the left their defensive spot and crept back over. They ignored the wipe of the floor (it was easier now that it had touched the ground).

Feeling a bit silly but also rather ingenious, they used a pair of disposable earplugs to plug their nose before continuing. It helped dull the scent so they could patch him up. He didn’t seem like he was doing any better, just covered in band aids. River whimpered and went back to their laptop.

How to help with blood loss

They scanned the results, clicking through some of the links. Water? Iron? Vitamin C? River paused. Vitamin C, orange juice. They had orange juice! They stood grabbing a plastic cup from the kitchen and filling a few inches with orange juice.

They helped the young man sit up, cupping the back of his head to help in drink. He was still conscious enough, able to drink the liquid easily.

“Hey, there you go,” River tried, brushing back his hair again. He shivered, and looked up at them for the first time. He had dark brown eyes, scared and tired. They tried to smile, but they knew their guilt was written all over their face.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

He closed his eyes and took another breath, seemingly falling asleep.

River put the cup in the sink and stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to do now.

 ~

tag tag tag tag @unicornscotty @lave-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @dollophead-merlin @starnight-whump @thehopelessopus @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone @divia237 @whole-and-apart-and-between

#whump #vampire whump #inexperienced caretaker #blood tw #self blame tw #river #luke #he's not named yet but eh #i know it's not super whumpy it's just kinda some set up #but i already have some other peices in mind! #some with luke before and some with River! #police mention #damn i am slacking on tags i need to get on that

[alilbihh]

hocus pocus — 3

masterlist  previous part  next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 14k

There’s a caw by your window, a fluttering of feathers. A knock on the glass. You lift your head warily, eyes squinted, still stuck in a sort of dissociative post-morning state. One, two.. Eight. There are eight crows outside your window.

Crows are often seen as bad luck, omens of death - but people forget they could mean good news. Upcoming wealth. New beginnings.

You watch them for a long while, still under the comforting weight of your quilt, until there’s a sound and the flock flies away with a flourish.

There are eight crows by your window. A sign of a life altering experience soon to cross your path.

You close your eyes and burrow deeper into your pillow.

You think you fall in love the same way you fell into Petz. Accidentally and while making a fool of yourself.

Namjoon comes running over, phone in hand. He frowns. “Did you just trip and I didn’t see? Dammit. This is what happens when I volunteer to take cute pictures of puppies for Jin-hyung. Do it again.”

“I will not.” You say as you right yourself, walking inside the pet store properly this time. Namjoon steps inside behind you, cleaning his shoes over the carpet for more time than necessary.

The pet store is large and cozy and has puppies. It’s everything you expected but you’re still caught by surprise. Namjoon looks around in wonder, only really here under the pretense of wanting a fish but when you turn he’s cooing at a barking labrador, his hands and cheek pressed to the glass.

“Do you think Kimbap would mind if we got a dog?”

Your brows furrow, watching the labrador from beside Namjoon. The dog paws at the glass, and Namjoon boops at where its nose is.

“Kimbap is a cat.”

“He is.” Is all Namjoon says and that’s that.

You leave him to his fantasies as you walk around, not a worker in sight. No one in sight, really. By now you’d expected to be jumped by someone with a Petz logo on their shirt and convinced to buy an entire alpaca farm and multiple chew toys for a dog you don’t even have, but it’s completely void of people.

You pass by puppy cages and reptile tanks and find the fish, too, before you find a single person. You wonder if you came to the wrong pet store. Jimin said he volunteers here, but maybe it’s another Petz entirely. You suddenly hear a commotion somewhere in the back rooms, so you head there, hoping to find someone.

And you do find someone. His back is facing you and there’s no logo on his shirt but there are, like, three to four kittens clinging to his arms, so he’s either thinking of adopting all of them or you’re witnessing the beginning of an abduction.

The kittens are clutching at his arms and emitting tiny meows as he sets them into their little cat houses, muttering something to them but you can’t make out the soft words and you’re distantly aware you’re staring. Not just at the kitten’s heads poking out through the arms but at like- the actual arms. They’re tanned and muscular and have kittens on them. This is just devastating.

He looks up and straightens and it’s three seconds before he turns to you that you notice the antlers on his head and the boxy smile. Oh no.

The boy suddenly stands as straight as a board as his eyes meet yours. His hair is as blue as the ocean he loves so much. There’s a streak of kohl over his lashes that’s a bit smudged on one side, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

There’s only one kitten on his arm now, black fur tipped with brown and almost dozing off, all curled up and comfy. He raises its paw in a little wave. “Hi.”

You don’t know what to do. He doesn’t mention that he knows you, doesn’t even look too surprised, only smiles like this was inevitable. It makes you smile, too. “Hi.”

“Are you here to adopt?” He says- Taehyung says, your mind supplies even though you didn’t ask it to- tickling at the kitten’s tummy as he does, “A kitten, maybe?”

No you are not, you’re definitely not. "Um. Maybe,“ you answer, stepping in closer.

Taehyung stares at the kitten cradled in his chest for a little while longer before turning, gingerly placing it with the rest. He brushes a finger lightly over its head before stepping back and you’re now absolutely devastated.

The boy bites at his lower lip, considering you with narrowed eyes. "A reptile, maybe..” He mutters, more to himself than anything. “Come!”

He takes your hand, quick and excited but soft as he tangles his fingers between yours. Good god.

The deer hybrid leads you to the reptile tanks, pauses by one, tap tap taps at the glass and you both watch as one of its inhabitants comes padding out with surprising agility.

“That’s Guac! She’s a bearded dragon and is also very much pregnant. Me and Jiminie consider stealing her every day.”

You laugh, staring at the reptile’s beady eyes as she blinks, one eye then the other. “She’s pregnant?” Guac doesn’t look at all pregnant at first glance, but there’s a slight bump on her stomach that you have to squint to even notice.

“I was surprised too! She was alone in her enclosure and we still have no idea how the dude got in there to impregnate her. Kookie said something about horniness surpassing all boundaries, but, well. I have no comment on that.”

“He is a menace I am so sorry.” You say but you’re laughing and it makes him laugh, too. “You know Guk?”

Taehyung makes a soft sound as he opens the enclosure, like a hum and a yeah all rolled into one. You watch as he picks up Guac as he would the kittens, soft and gentle and fond. You think he’s like that with everything. You think you’re looking at him like that, too. “Kook visits every so often. He’s cute and funny and has a boopable nose and gave me a rock. Oh!” He startles, raises a hand over his mouth. “Not a rock. Sorry. Crystal,” he corrects.

He’s rocking the bearded dragon softly like he would a baby, bouncing it lightly in his arms. Guac doesn’t seem to mind. You’re fully endeared.

“Did Guk tell you that?” You tickle under Guac’s chin and it makes Taehyung giggle.

“Yeah,” he smiles, bordering on fond. Kisses Guac’s head before placing her back in the tank, watching as she scampers back to the little cave by the corner. Too fast for a pregnant lady, you think, but who are you to judge. “He talks about you a lot, you know,” He whispers, like you’re being let in on a secret. Turns to you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

You don’t know what to say to that and you don’t want to regret it if you do, so you only nod.

There’s a shout and Taehyung’s head jerks up, smiles something wide and giddy, spots Jimin before even you do. He dashes past you before he’s jumping half on Jimin, tugging him towards you, and then jumping half on you too for no reason except maybe that he can, pulls Jimin in for a soft kiss that goes long and flushes both their cheeks and leaves them both breathless and giggly and there it is-

a little pang.

You scratch at your chest, look around, spot Namjoon idling by the tanks where a school of fish whiz by. Namjoon’s a doctor. A sorta-doctor. An actual witch. A little bit of a seer, if he thinks hard. He knows cardiac arrest and medicine and sickness symptoms and the like. He’ll know you’re dying.

Or he’ll catch you staring, turn, and send suggestive eyebrow raises before scampering back towards the puppy section. Great. Amazing.

“You look happy,” Is all Yoongi says as you slam your stack of books onto the table, sitting opposite him with a huff. He looks soft today, an earring shining from the peak of one pointed ear.

He’s joking, he has to be. Your clothes are a wrinkly mess and your hair’s disheveled and you think you need, like, a mint. Maybe two. But he’s looking at you like he knows something that you don’t. So you don’t say anything, only blow a few raspberries in his direction.

You open a spell book, skimming through it with hasty eyes. The photographic memory potion would be really useful right now, its side effects maybe even more.

“Don’t you have finals soon?” Namjoon mutters beside you, and you look up with a start because you hadn’t even seen him get here.

When did he get here. “When did you get here?” You ask out loud.

“I was always here,” is all he says. You think you’re in a fever dream but you’re not too sure.

“Huh,” You breathe out, looking into the distance.

You look back down at your book. Phoenix feathers, lemon, dragon liver… Dirt? Graveyard dirt? Where are you supposed to get graveyard dirt?

“Namjoon. Joonie. Buddy ole pal.” Looking up at the man from beneath your lashes, you flutter them a bit for a better effect. The man, very much gay and very much in a committed relationship, doesn’t really look amused. “Do you wanna go to a graveyard with me?”

Yoongi looks up with a start, “Oh shit, who are we killing? Who are we burying?”

“What? No one, you absolute heathen. I need it for a potion. Witchipedia says so.”

“It’s not a reliable source,” Namjoon exclaims with a frown. “I gave up on it after it made me burn my frying pan.”

“How does one burn a frying pan,” You deadpan. The man shrugs.

It’s as you’re flipping through pages absentmindedly that your thoughts stray to your dinner not-date. Should you bring drinks? You should probably bring drinks. You wonder what kind of drinks they like.

“Should I bring drinks?” You mutter out loud. The duo’s heads turn towards you.

“For your dinner date?” Namjoon grins, and of course Yoongi told him. You glare at the faerie, and he smiles cheekily. Namjoon continues when you don’t bother correcting him, “You should buy wine. It’s a sexy drink.”

“Namjoon!” You exclaim, horrified. He giggles a bit sporadically. Yoongi just keeps smiling at you, just a bit too close to looking fond.

Faeries can sense auras better, even, than witches. Faeries can see it with only a glance, blues or reds or pinks hovering just over your form. Pinks can be admiration, confidence, love. Yellows can be envy, lust, cruelty. Wine red means only one thing; a red, ugly fury. It’s Yoongi’s least favorite color.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see an overwhelming amount of colors every day against your will, but Yoongi likes to joke that there’s at least a little color to his life.

Witches are different. Witches sense auras completely based on a whim, a hunch. Sometimes you walk past a complete stranger and are keenly aware of what they’re feeling - and sometimes when Jungkook laughs too hard you taste something akin to cherries, hidden just under your tongue.

Yoongi’s a bit like mangoes. Hoseok is a little bit of everything, a little bit of cinnamon here and a little bit of blueberries there. Jin is a bit like cookie dough and Namjoon is a lot like chamomile tea. Jimin -

Jimin is sweet. Something sweet you can’t quite describe. Like sweaters straight out the dryer and the first spring morning where there’s no frost, only dew. You wonder what Taehyung’s happiness would taste like, wonder if it’s just as sweet.

“Your aura’s pink.” Yoongi mutters with a knowing smile, lips curled just the slightest bit. You slam your book closed with more force than necessary, and he laughs heartily as all the blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No it’s not shut up.” You grab a random book you’d separated and hide underneath it, hoping your cheeks aren’t as pink as your aura.

It’s a while later that you find the solution, only after reading through multiple ingredient guides (including the advantages of using dirt), three books for safe potion usage and two potion textbooks. It’s nestled under a glossary for everyday ingredients, and the pages are printed in the obnoxiously indecipherable cursive that witches tend to use.

Namjoon is long gone, carrying with him a stack of books that go past his head and nearly tower over his form. Hoseok appeared seemingly out of thin air, sat between you and Yoongi and flip, flip, flipping through his book, not quite reading like he’s supposed to but it’s okay. He doesn’t read a lot, just tends to learn in that intuitive way of his.

Hoseok laughs heartily at something Yoongi says and hops excitedly in his seat, the pixie perched on his shoulder squealing and gripping onto his shirt sleeve helplessly. He turns, coos, plucks a petal from the posy of daisies in the vase on the center of the table, delicately offers it with pouted lips. The pixie playfully nips at his thumb before snatching the petal from between his offering fingers and taking a bite– tiny hands smaller, even, than the size of his thumbnail.

The merman laughs and you’re absolutely enamored. With what, you don’t know. Maybe with how easy it was for them despite their difference in size, despite their lack of communication. It continually amazes you how important words can be and how at times they’re not needed at all.

The liquor store is big and intimidating and has one too many wines.

“You looking for something specific?” the lady behind the counter asks. She has soft eyes and her hair’s tied in a bun.

“Uh, wine, I guess.” You stammer.

“Can’t pick?” She’s rearranging the bottles on display behind her as she speaks over her shoulder, the glasses clinking together almost melodically. “Any special occasion?”

“Um.” You pause. “No?”

She quirks a brow.

You feel all the blood rush to your cheeks as you elaborate, “It’s for my familiar’s friends, that I guess are also my friends now, and I wasn’t going to bring anything but my other friend said I should bring wine, and I don’t want to look like a complete scrub in front of them but I don’t know anything about wine so I guess I am. A complete scrub.”

The lady laughs and you guess that your moment of oversharing is the moment you blacklist the liquor store and everything it stands for.

“What about sparkling wine?” She offers. She continues at your confused blinks, “It has bubbles.”

“Um. Sure. I mean. I like bubbles.”

So you show her your ID and pay for your wine and she packs it neatly into a bag. “Good luck with your familiar’s friends,” she says with an almost knowing smile as she hands the wine over, and you just nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak at that.

It’s another day. The day. You blink slowly awake and when you look outside your window it’s still dark out and you think you can feel Jungkook somewhere nearby, probably lying restless in his room.

You blink. The crow outside your window blinks back. There are nine crows outside this time, sitting around and staring as if they’re waiting for you to notice them. Nine crows. Positive recognition.

You groan and squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see colors.

(Love. Nine crows could also mean love).

You look at the door number. Then back down at the address on your phone. Then back up at the door. Down again.

Jungkook groans from beside you, tail flicking in slight irritation behind him. Or maybe it’s nervousness. Maybe even excitement. “Can’t we go in already?” He groans, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nod and nod and nod but don’t do anything. Jungkook uncrosses his arms at that, sighs, pats your head fondly but you swat his hand away anyway. “Are you nervous?” He asks, his hands combing through your hair now and you let him. You nod. “Well we can’t stay out here forever, you know.”

“We can try.”

Your familiar shakes his head, “What’s the point of that?” You grunt but don’t shift your gaze from the door. “I’m gonna ring the doorbell now, okay?”

You wonder when the tables turned. When it was you that was nervously skirting around them, when Jungkook was the one confident enough to get close.

You nod because there’s no point in delaying it, anyway. No point in you getting nervous, either.

Jungkook rings the doorbell and you look down at your shoes when you hear approaching footsteps, like they were just by the door and waiting. Their doormat says "enter if you dare" and has a little skeleton on the bottom. You stifle a laugh.

The door swings open and Jimin’s head pops out first, smiles at you both, opens the door wider. “Hello, hello!”

Jungkook greets him first, only smiling before handing over the bag in his hand. While you (read: Namjoon) had the idea of bringing wine, Jungkook wanted to bring juice, so he did.

“We brought stuff!” He smiles, and you hand the bag of wine over as if on cue.

“Wine!” Jimin cheers, quickly followed by footsteps and “juice!” from Taehyung.

You slip off your shoes and hang your coat by the wall hook, stare at a mustard colored peacoat and wonder whose it is.

The floorboards creak as you pad farther inside and you like that, the creaking - it means the place is old and lived in and you like old and lived in places.

Then there’s this rush of vanilla and strawberries and warmth and then the shyest boldest most beautiful boy half in your arms tugging you in whispering

hello, hi, Y/n, c'mere, it’s nice to see you again! sorry for the mess, Y/n, wait how did that get on the ceiling Y/n, Y/n.

Smiles this smile so big it hurts, cracks something big across your heart.

You’re dragged into their kitchen and Jimin is there, Jungkook close by sipping on something warm in his cup. Jimin is watching him, smiling something small and giddy, playing with the long earrings dangling from Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook flushes.

You thought you were ready for this softness. Early this morning you’d drank a soothing potion mixed with some sugar– you even bathed in lavender and rose water and a bit of neroli, just to soothe some smaller nerves. Standing here, you think it didn’t do much of a difference. You’re feeling everything all at once.

“Rule number one is that you have to ask Tannie if you can sit on the couch. I don’t have a rule number two because I haven’t thought that far, but please regard rule number one with utmost respect.” Taehyung exclaims with exaggerated hand gestures just as the dog in question trots towards you, angry eyebrows sizing you up despite his size. You feel very much intimidated.

Everything is great. Yeontan sometimes lets you sit on the couch and Jimin and Jungkook are laughing and Taehyung is telling you of this strange dream he had and of this strange album he listened to and of this art museum he went to that was absolutely terrible. Jimin interjects to agree that it was, in fact, terrible, the kind of museum where everyone’s a snob and thinks that art has to look and be a certain way.

Then when Jimin and Jungkook disappear somewhere Taehyung appears beside you, asking if he can take you somewhere, tangling your fingers together just as gently, as if to say you can let go if you want, you can say no if you want. But you do want it, so you let him tug you into their hallway.

His and Jimin’s shared bedroom isn’t particularly big, but it’s soft and smells like them. Almost but not quite like sugar and strawberries and lavender. There’s a cactus on one of their nightstands by the corner, a little bow on its pot, sitting by an over-filled vase of sunflowers. There are dried flowers by window ledges and framed prints and hanging by their headboard.

You’re both sitting in a corner, sharing earbuds, flipping through a poetry book you’d recognized the second he picked it up. The one Jimin bought from you that must have been for Taehyung. You smile at the thought.

“They don’t know we’re here,” Taehyung says suddenly with a giggle, tapping his feet to the song in his earbuds a bit out of rhythm. He says it like you’re sharing a secret. You find yourself grinning.

Then Jimin comes stumbling in, Jungkook not far behind, both of them giggling and tripping over their feet as if drunk but they’re not, they’re just giddy and excited and maybe a little bit in love.

Jimin looks over at you two in the corner and you freeze. You freeze but you don’t know why, feel as if you’ve been caught but that’s not right, you and Taehyung weren’t doing anything, there’s no reason to feel as if you should apologize.

Yet you feel an apology on the tip of your tongue, even if Jimin and Jungkook’s faces are—aren't—

“There you two are,” Jimin says, nothing short of fond.

Jungkook behind him grins, pads over to plop his head on your lap. Jimin follows, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of both your and Taehyung’s heads before sitting in front of you three and you feel—

You feel warm. Loved. Safe. Sandwiched from both sides, Taehyung curling in closer, Jungkook’s hair tickling the exposed skin of your leg, Jimin taking a hold of your hands, teasingly pressing a few kisses to the back of it.

You play games after that and argue for over ten minutes on which movie to watch. There’s only the living room and it’s already a small space to start, so you all end up pressed together on the couch, but no one seems to mind. You get winks whenever you meet someone’s eye and everything is warm and makes you feel sleepy. You feel adored and cared for and think your worlds are colliding in the most wonderful of ways.

Except sometimes you feel as if you’re intruding, as if you shouldn’t be there at all. It’s hard to think otherwise, with them being in love and whatnot. But it’s unfair, unfair to think that you’re being left out when there’s nothing to be left out of, so you sit and try to convince yourself that these almost-feelings are thoughts of

wow, what a kind bunch of people I know, how lucky I am to have them in my life, what a great group of friends this is.

“Are you feeling okay?” Namjoon asks the second you walk inside his shop. You don’t remember walking here, don’t remember at all. “Because everything suddenly tastes icky and I literally just ate some of Jin-hyung’s lemon pie so you better get happy quick.”

The inside of the store still smells of sage and rosemary and butter cookies, and there are still objects lying around in places they shouldn’t. Namjoon picks up a copy of Alice in Wonderland that appeared on his desk this morning and tucks it away neatly between the shelves and shelves of other books. You wonder how he finds space for it.

There are no light switches anywhere, no bulbs hanging overhead. But there’s a fire crackling by the fireplace that never seems to go out, and there are lanterns floating just the tiniest bit, hovering just above the tables, burning with green alchemical fire and tinting everything a warm emerald color. The lanterns seem to stick a bit closer to whoever is nearby.

The interior is surprisingly lush, probably (definitely) courtesy of Jin. Carpets are layered one over another. There are heavy wooden tables and chairs, vines curling around their legs, their stems a vivid green. There is nowhere to sit that doesn’t seem to be crawling with plants.

You laugh and he smiles but there’s still a pinch of worry somewhere in his eyes, in the crease between his brows - just more on the edges now. “m'fine, Joon,” You say, then immediately want to swallow your words back in. You don’t want to give such an answer, not to Namjoon. "At least, I will be.“ you add.

The witch is about to interject just as Jin walks in, Kimbap striding behind him with his tail just as high as his head. "Joon-ah, the chimney smoke is blowing south.”

Namjoon nods, like there’s more to the phrase than just the direction the smoke is blowing. He stands up, and you have no choice but to follow. “I’ll deal with it later, hyung. Y/n-ah, do you wanna join us for pie?” And so you do.

You’re at a pleasant level of tired, the kind in which everything is just a bit funnier than usual, where walking feels like you’re wading through knee-deep water. Jin slices you some of his lemon pie in a piece that ends up breaking apart, and he releases a gut wrenching scream when some of it falls onto his jeans that has you and Namjoon laughing so hard you see colored spots.

“So what’s got you in such a mood?” Seokjin asks as he shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth that’s way bigger than necessary, the man barely even managing to chew it. He’s wearing shorts now.

“It’s her failing love life, hyung, keep with the program.” You flick Namjoon on the forehead at that and he laughs, quick and sharp. He tries to hide it but his smile keeps slipping.

“No it is not.”

“Lies, your shoulders are all scrunched up.” Jin points out through a mouthful of pie, and it’s then you notice your shoulders bunched up into an irritable shrug. You try to relax but it’s too late.

“Did they say something to you?”

“No!” You’re quick to say. “No. They didn’t say anything to me.”

Namjoon and Jin look at you, then look at each other. Squint. There’s a second of silence, and then a quiet, “Let’s curse them.”

“What!” You snap.

“Not a malicious curse! Just a tiny one.” Namjoon nods, proud of himself.

“May their phones run out of battery quicker.”

“May their socks always step into puddles.”

“May they forget a family member’s birthday.”

“Oh, that’s a little mean,” Namjoon frowns.

Jin looks sheepish. “Was it too mean?” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his chin, wings fluttering a bit. "May they burn their toast more often?“

A smile, and they high five. Namjoon sits up, his chair scraping backwards. "I need, like, five candles. And hyssop. Hyung, do we have hyssop?”

You watch these two adult men scramble around their own house with narrowed eyes. “Guys! I don’t want to curse anyone! They didn’t do anything, really!”

Namjoon turns, candle in hand as he sighs, places it back in its shelf. He walks back towards you, places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure? You can tell us, you know. We’re here to help.”

“I know.” Is all you say, and you do. You do know. They’re always trying to help, always are. “Thank you. I just need to sort my feelings through, I think.” Namjoon is frowning but nods, pinches your cheek, laughs at your squeal.

Jin walks in, dry bay leaf in hand. “So we don’t need this?”

“No.” You deadpan. His shoulders slump, and you laugh when he trudges back out the way he came.

Everything seems a bit off, a bit odd - like the universe shifted one centimeter to the right, everything off kilter.

Jimin picks you up after your afternoon classes that day, arms crossed and leaning against a wall like they do in all those books and movies and dramas. He’s wearing skinny jeans and fake glasses. It’s kinda unfair that people like him exist, people that can see without any visual aid whatsoever.

He smiles when you reach him, ruffles your hair, kisses your nose - the very tip of it, lips barely even grazing your skin.

“Hi, hello,” he says, grins, pinches your arm like it’ll distract you from his own embarrassment, laughs when it works.

The vampire takes your hand, tangles his fingers with yours, swings your intertwined hands softly.

“Taehyung’s making pasta,” Jimin says, pauses, “well, Taehyung's watching the pasta, actually,” he corrects with a chuckle.

“Am I invited to your pasta endeavors?”

“Do you want to be? You’re going to have to spend, like, hours with us.” His tone makes it sound like it’s the most terrible thing but his smile says otherwise. The breeze is teasing him, fluffing his hair like a baby chick.

“Oh no. Oh no, not hours.”

“Hours.” He says dramatically, giggles– really giggles, even though he’s vehemently opposed to the term whenever you bring it up.

Jimin is charming, haphazard all around the edges kind of charming. He smiles a lot, smiles at everyone, smiles like he has an infinite number of them to offer when you have, like, seven in a day at most. He smiles at the ice cream vendor and at the bulgogi vendor across from it. He smiles at the stray cats in alleyways and apologizes when he nearly bumps into a trashcan. Smiles at you, too.

“We’re home!” Jimin yells out when you both arrive, his fangs poking out through his smile and you know he must be talking to Taehyung but for a second it really feels like you’re home. Not because of their home, exactly, even with the streaks of paint on the ceiling and sprawled out video games on the floor and a bonsai on the windowsill that you just know is Taehyung’s, but just because of–

them.

And it all feels like so much.

You’re all watching Ponyo like Jungkook wanted to so much and him and Jimin are half asleep on the futon just below the couch, all curled into each other and warm and comfortable.

(You try to cover them with a blanket like they do in every romance ever known to man, but Jungkook immediately kicks it off with a might you’ve never seen before, and you blankly watch it flop to the floor. Taehyung muffles his laugh as much as he can manage).

Taehyung shifts closer to you somewhere between the credits rolling and Jungkook’s particularly loud snore, and something about his hesitation and the little smile almost makes you coo.

You don’t comment, simply crawl closer to Taehyung on the couch. He shifts so he’s closer and his antlers just barely graze over the armrest before he settles, nuzzling into the throw pillow. He smells like Jimin’s body wash and shampoo; citrus mixed with something boyish, something like honeysuckle and cedarwood, something that just might be Taehyung.

“Is this okay?” he mutters sheepishly, his hand grazing over yours as he shifts, shifts, shifts positions.

You swat at the couch a bit before finding the bare skin of his arm. His inner elbow, most likely. You tap twice, not willing to speak, not willing to break the sweet sweet cotton candy of this moment.

A moment of silence goes by. A quiet one. Quiet moments with Taehyung are nice, like there’s nothing needed to be said, no need to fill the silence. It’s quiet in a loud way, a thousand words to say and not a single one good enough to be put into words. But it’s nice, even though it shouldn’t need to be.

Taehyung suddenly turns, takes his phone from the nightstand, unplugs the charger from it before turning, settling, squinting at the screen’s brightness. You laugh, a breathless thing, and he smiles.

He type type types before pausing, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. You’re so close you can count the number of eyelashes he has, the number of freckles, the little mole by his nose and his bottom lip that would look unnecessary on anyone else but on him it’s just right.

He hands the phone over. Taehyung does this sometimes, tells you things through the phone despite how close you might be, says it helps him think his words through, helps him not say things he’ll regret.

There’s something on my mind, the phone says, short and simple, and for a second you think that this is it, he noticed your sticky feelings, they all did, you messed up. Either in many little ways and one big way or many big ways and one little way, you don’t know. He’s here to be mature about it, here to say

stop looking at my boyfriend like that please

and the worst part is that they have every right to.

Because you don’t have a right to think of Jimin’s boyfriend like this, you don’t have a right to think of Taehyung’s boyfriend like this, that you don’t have a right to think of Jungkook like this- sweet Jungkook in love with them both.

Your mouth is dry and tastes like salt as you curl up, type tell me? before handing the phone over. You just hope they don’t hate you. You wouldn’t be able to handle them hating you.

Sometimes you think there’s something wrong with you, to think like this, to think of all three of them like this. That maybe you’re doing this wrong, doing something wrong. You googled it once, just to see - and some of what you saw hurt, hurt a lot. A lot of people, a lot of what you saw said that you can’t love more than one person, that you can only fully give your heart to one person. But that’s not right, you don’t believe that one bit, don’t want to believe that, because there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just love, and there��s nothing wrong with love.

Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook are so gentle with their love for each other, all this patiently impatient love, their sweet tangle of fingers and gentle smiles. Jimin and Taehyung with their lingering kisses that shouldn’t linger because they’re fifteen minutes late for class. The two on either side of Jungkook on the couch, one messing with his hair and the other falling asleep on his shoulder and you love it. Love them together.

And you don’t know what to do with this not-jealousy, with this almost-jealousy, with this-

love.

You watch Taehyung’s fingers move as he types, pauses, deletes. You think it’s better this way. To end things before the sticky feelings clogging at your insides spreads until it hurts too much to hide.

He hands the phone over. You hope your fingers aren’t shaking. I think I’m sad is all it says. You feel relieved even though you know you shouldn’t.

do you wanna talk about it?

His hands clumsily brush against yours as he takes the phone from you.

could u talk out loud? if you don’t mind? i like ur voice.

“okay,” you whisper, feeling small and warm in all the right ways, and he laughs that ehehe laugh.

He motions for you to get closer. You comply, curling in closer to read over his arm as he writes. sry my spellign sucks, i’m bad even tho i need to know how 2 communicate

“You used both the number two and the word two in that one sentence,” you exclaim with a muffled laugh, mindful of the still sleeping Jimin and Jungkook, and you feel him smile before he even does, big and unreserved and then you feel it, the little pang in your chest, warmth warmth warmth spreading through your veins.

i think i like many someones, but i don’t know how to tell them!!!! this is then followed by a stream of emojis, only some of them resembling anger. You almost snort at the sight of a weirdly placed clown emoji and a little gray haired grandma.

There’s a moment of silence as you think of what to say that you won’t regret later. “I think you need to tell them,” you continue right as Taehyung starts typing a drawn out nooo, “They won’t treat you any differently, honey boy.”

Taehyung visibly recoils, shivers, takes a hold of your hand and types with his other, dont use logic ur mortal rules do not apply 2 me, he writes, only erases it when you’re done laughing, types again with shaky fingers, how do u know that?

You inhale a shaky breath. “Because if they really love you, romantically or not, they’ll want to see you healthy and happy regardless of whether they reciprocate your feelings.” You pause. "Which I’m sure they do.“ You attempt a knowing smile at him but he doesn’t get it, only stares blankly at the screen, thumb still tracing patterns on your skin.

im scared

You wriggle forward so that your brows are pressed together with his. He shivers. "You shouldn’t be. People that are meant to find each other will, remember? So people that are meant to stay with each other will, too.”

Silence. Taehyung stays still and for a moment you think you messed up, gave too much away, but then he leans down and presses his lips to your temple. Almost kissing you but not quite. “Thank you.” he murmurs against your skin, “Goodnight, baby doll.”

His head plops onto the throw pillow before he pauses, sits upright to lean dangerously close before nuzzling his head into your shoulder, hiding his face in the pillow quick. Scenting, you consider, then dismiss the thought.

You can’t see his face but there’s a faint taste of strawberries on your tongue. Ah, you think offhandedly. So that’s what his happiness tastes like.

You stay wound up in each other even as the heat is sweltering, and you wake up on a bed with Jimin pressed behind you and his legs tangled with yours and Jungkook somewhere between you and Taehyung, his cheek pressed to your collarbones and snores loud enough to reach the heavens and it all feels a little disorienting. Just a little bit too right.

You hope things with Jungkook will go well.

Even when you wake up before the sun, it’s warm.

Everything is warm, feels like lavender and rosemary and something soft all around. You think you can taste cherries and strawberries and something sweet, everything sweet.

And then you open your eyes and it all makes sense. Because that’s just how Jungkook and Jimin and Taehyung are, soft and sweet and floral until all the edges are safe enough to press against, all sugar spun words and sugar spun smiles. It makes you long for it, long for their sugar scrubbed lips against your skin.

But that’s not right, it’s not right to think that, so you steel yourself and peel open an eye and think that it’s best to get it over with quickly, like jumping into cold water. It hurts less that way, you learned.

“Guk,” You mutter first, softly, the man stirring only slightly beneath you. He turns and nestles his head deeper into your neck, his lips dragging a bit over the skin and you shudder because you can’t help it. “Kook,” you repeat but it’s even softer, your hands combing through his hair.

He hums a bit, and Taehyung shifts from behind him. The man opens his eyes in a sort of dissociative state but he still smiles, eyes meeting yours over Jungkook’s head, and you both share a knowing kind of smile, like you’re being let in on a secret. Jimin shifts from behind you, his touch cold in a way all vampires’ are, but oddly warm as his arms tighten around your middle, nose nuzzling the back of your neck.

You close your eyes and sleep a bit longer. You allow yourself just that. It’ll be the last time, you tell yourself, even though you’ve said that for way too long already.

When you wake again, it’s just you and Jungkook. Unsurprising, since Jungkook is the one that sleeps in the most, sleeps whenever he finds the chance. You look at the time, the clock blinking 10:36. You realize you’re not on the couch anymore, that someone must have moved you while you were sleeping. Heart aching at the thought that you must have been a bother.

You just lay there for a while in thought, reverting between looking at the ceiling and looking at Jungkook. The little constellation of freckles and blemishes on the apple of his cheeks. His cupid’s bow. The tangle of his eyelashes.

Laughter trickles through the closed door, bouncing around and fitting itself into all the corners and crevices, soft and warm and sweet. That’s the thing about them. You hear their voices, their laughter, and it burrows itself somewhere in your chest and makes itself at home and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out. You find trails of their laughter everywhere, find it when you open cabinets and it comes tumbling out, find trails of their smiles under cushions and fogging up all your mirrors.

You brush away Jungkook’s hair with your palm, lightly press your lips to his forehead in an almost-kiss. You think he shivers, but you were busy untangling your legs from his so you can’t be too sure.

When you close the door softly behind you and pad further into their apartment, you hear a noise of exasperation by the couch.

“The creature has risen,” Jimin remarks ominously.

“Amen.” Taehyung says, feigning surprise when you turn to look at him.

“You all suck,” you say and watch as they burst into a fit of giggles, your heart dangerously warm. “Sorry for staying over, I wasn’t planning to.”

“No, no, no,” Taehyung’s the first to reassure, gesturing for you to come closer. You comply, standing hesitantly by the back of the couch, and he turns to take your hands into his, his thumb drawing circles onto the back of it. You almost shiver. “S'okay, not your fault. And it’s nice having you here.”

You don’t comment. Try not to stare at his hands tangled in yours, try not to think of how warm he is. “Guk’s still sleeping,” you start, if only as a distraction, "I would wake him, but I don’t have the willpower.“

Jimin bursts from the couch, muttering an excited mantra of "I’ll do it!" as he does so. He almost passes you by but pauses, presses a kiss to your temple and a hand trailing softly down your arm and then— "Good morning, my little love.” before he disappears down the hallway. You try to steel your expression into something less soft and fond but when you turn Taehyung’s looking at you like he caught you in the act, his eyes and smile all giddy and warm. You look away quick, speed walking into the kitchen.

Their kitchen is a normal kitchen by all means, nothing overly exciting there. But when you turn there’s a teapot with a little cartoon bear and their oven mitts have polka dots on them and there are reminders glued to the fridge with little magnets that look like cats.

Dance practice at 2!, one says in cute cursive handwriting; Buy pickles at the grocery store!!! the other says covered in scrawls and doodles and too many exclamation points. You remember last night, remember the way Taehyung texts and just know it’s him, and feel hopelessly endeared.

The man in question suddenly trudges into the kitchen, and you try to purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling even as he pats your head and grabs a carton of juice from out the fridge. You catch a glimpse of several bags of blood in there and wonder what Jimin is up to with Jungkook. Jungkook’s sleepy noises and pursed lips and puffy eyes. Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, combing through the werewolf's hair and looking down at him with a smile. Good god.

Taehyung grabs your wrist and leads you toward a cabinet, grip hopelessly soft. He opens it, takes out a mug with a printing of a dolphin jumping out the water. There are too many colors and it kinda looks like a Picasso painting. “Jiminie bought it for me from the last time he visited his family back in Busan. It’s the ugliest mug we own and also my favorite.”

He places it on the counter, pours juice into it as you laugh. The hybrid reaches to grab another mug, hands you one with a smiling Cinderella on it. “Thank you,” you mutter, soft.

He lunges forward abruptly, and there’s a smack on the center of your forehead when his lips meet your skin. He pulls away just as quick, shuffling away with his mug, but it’s still warm where he kissed you.

God. You’re so far gone.

You steel yourself as you approach Taehyung. He’s sitting on the far end of the table, pouring cereal into a bowl. You laugh lightly, going to sit opposite him, but he pulls you by the sleeve of your shirt to sit beside him, so you comply with a laugh.

There’s silence as you sip on your drink and as he eats his cereal. Then suddenly you mutter, just for the heck of it, "What’s your favorite color?“

The boy looks up, blinks, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you called him honey boy in the first place. He’s so, so pretty. "Hm?” he hums at first, chewing slowly at his cereal. “It, uh. Starts with a b and ends with a loo.”

“Ah.” You nod, “I like purple, too.”

Taehyung laughs, quick and sharp, then covers his mouth with a hand because otherwise he’d spit cereal all over the counter. You grin in delight because how could you not?

“Not funny,” The hybrid mutters after the laughter stops. He tries to keep a poker face but his smile keeps slipping.

“You laughed, though.” You point out but he doesn’t say anything, moves the cereal box between you both so you don’t see his face. You laugh.

It’s quiet again after that. A nice quiet. Like the ones you experience with family members and friends, people you’ve known your whole life. You haven’t known Taehyung your whole life - haven’t known him for much time at all, actually. You’d like to, though. Like to know where he’s most ticklish, what makes his brows furrow, what makes him laugh so hard he’s in tears and has everything tasting like strawberries.

“Hey, Taehyung?” You speak up for the first time in a while, Yeontan’s tail tickling your legs from under the table. He hums for you to continue, so you do, “Is it Jimin that dances?”

Taehyung’s expression contorts into so much open admiration your heart kinda aches a bit. “Yeah,” he says a bit breathlessly, “He’s really good at it, too. So pretty.”

“Oh.” You nod, because it makes sense. He’s graceful and slim and his legs are a bit too muscular, but you thought that had something to do with him being a vampire. Protein and all that. “I can imagine,” you say because you really can.

Taehyung nod nod nods and it’s then that the wood creaks, and you turn to find Jimin standing nearby, like a hell-beast you summon using words of praise. Jungkook is standing behind him, and you look down and see their hands intertwined and Jungkook’s face a bit flushed.

“They’re cute,” you hear Taehyung mutter, and you nod because it’s true. They’re good for each other. And if the way Taehyung stands up and throws himself on top of both of them says anything, all of them erupting into giggles and everything tasting sweet - he’s good for them, too. They all are. So good.

“Noona!” You blink blink blink and look up and Jungkook must have materialized beside you or something because he definitely wasn’t there before. “Jimin-hyung is complaining that Tae-hyung only fed you juice so now he’s making food! Don’t worry, it’s not some lame cereal or anything.”

You nod and he nods back. Ruffles your hair. Doesn’t kiss the crown of your head like he does sometimes, on some mornings where he’s cold and soft and half-asleep.

Jungkook coaxes you out the chair and leads you to the stove where Jimin is making eggs. Taehyung is there, too, and your familiar suddenly lets go of your hand just to burst into a sprint and slap the hybrid’s butt, says something about him having a perky bum before Taehyung is chasing him around the table while Jimin is laughing and you’re laughing and it’s a mess.

It all kinda feels like true love.

You really want it to be.

You’re in an aquarium. You’re not usually in aquariums, not without company, not with the children chasing each other around and the occasional happy couple that walks by to stare at an octopus or something. The things people do for love.

“I wanna be a marine biologist,” Hoseok says, chewing on a shrimp cracker. He’s wearing swim trunks and a navy blue shirt with a little fish on his chest. The gills on his neck are swaying softly. "I get to see fish and maybe show them to little kids sometimes. Oh, and swim in the big tanks after hours.“

"You can do that?”

He turns to you, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “Nope.” He says, popping another cracker into his mouth.

“Do all mermaids like to swim?” You ask, turning to him expectantly. He offers you a cracker from his little packet and you politely decline.

“Not really,” he hums in thought. “Some just prefer the land, ya know? I’d like to think their soul will always be tied to the ocean, though.”

You hum. “Yeah. I like the way you put it.” Is all you say. When you turn to look at him, he’s smiling.

Hoseok lets you look over his shoulder as he shows you pictures of him with his tail, blushes a pink just as bright as his tail when you compliment him. He pauses at a picture of him with purple seashells over his chest like Ariel, bursts into laughter with you.

You appreciate it. Appreciate that he’s not asking why you’re really here, sulking at a school of trouts.

“Hoseok-ah,” you say, pause when he hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t push, just waits. His hair’s a bit wet, you notice. Smells a bit like chlorine and something soft. He’s shining with pixie dust and something else. “Um. At what point did you know you were in love with Yoongs?”

His whole body melts, human fondue. “It wasn't really a big revelation. At one point I just made a face at him and watched him laugh then thought ‘oh shit, do I love him' then I couldn’t unthink it, couldn’t undo it.” You watch as everything about him instantly melts with his smile. It was just the tiniest bit of tension, so small you couldn’t even notice it until it wasn’t there, that’s what melts away.

“Huh.” Is all you say, because there’s nothing you could say to that. “Then what made you tell him?”

“Red bull,” He says, laughs, “And tears, too. Can’t forget about those,” He looks at you and softens, looking impossibly honest. “And the thought that maybe I’d regret it if I kept it to myself.”

The mermaid turns and watches the same school of trouts pass by with you. Doesn’t say anything until you hear a gasp and he says all too loudly, “Holy shit that dude totally just winked at me.”

And you laugh, slapping lightly at his shoulder, “It’s a fish, they can’t even blink.”

“I swear that one just did.”

“They don’t even have eyelids!”

And maybe things are just a little more okay.

It’s another day. Another day that feels like an early morning but it really isn’t. A time of day in which the air is not yet cooled by autumn and the sun lines the side of your face lovingly.

Except the curtains are drawn and the air conditioner is at full blast, and Jungkook is napping on your bed when it’s five in the afternoon and his own bed is, like, down the hall.

“Guk,” you whisper, spot a blob of blankets that must be Jungkook and only a nose sticking out of it, as if he were under the covers until recently but had to get out for some air. You’re so fond. “Gukkie. Time to get up.”

You try to gently shake him awake but he only groans, trying to shuffle away from you on the bed. Breathing out a chuckle, you place the drink in your hand onto the bedside table before plopping yourself completely on top of him, hear it when he lets out a low oof.

He whispers a mantra of drawn out noo's under his breath before you see his head pop out, chin propped over the blankets as he watches you with his brows furrowed. You laugh in delight, catch it when he purses his lips to fight back a smile.

“What’s that smell?” The werewolf asks, voice low and groggy from sleep, his arms bursting from out of the covers to wrap themselves around your middle. You shuffle from on top of him until your cheek is laying on his chest, warm and comfortable, feel it whenever he draws in a breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Potion,” your voice is muffled from where your cheek is laying on his collarbone, but you know he hears you when you feel rather than see his face scrunch up in adorable disgust. You continue before he can voice his concerns, "But! It’s sweet. I put in some honey and a chocolate bar and some maple syrup. The syrup needed a little more persuasion to dissolve but a little flirting did the trick, I think.“

"Sounds like it tastes very sweet,” Jungkook says with a toothy grin, sitting up without letting go of you so you’re forced to sit up, too. You watch as he slowly moves to grab his drink, other arm resting on your hip, as if to stop you from moving, to keep you close. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “What’s it for? I don’t know what Tae-hyung told you, but I don’t have bowel problems, I swear.”

You laugh, tucking the comment away for another time. “Nothing like that, I think. It’s just warm.”

He hums, blowing ripples in his cup as steam wafts upwards and around. You watch-- feel – as he sips at his cup, as he shudders a bit when the warmth flows through his veins, as he presses the cup to his chest with half-lidded eyes, breathes out a little sigh.

You get up before you can stare any longer. You almost do, shuffling back and untangling your legs from his, but Jungkook startles and stops you with a hand lightly gripping your arm.

“Dinner- Guk, I gotta make dinner-” You say but it’s only to convince yourself, only to stop yourself from getting closer— but it hasn’t worked before and it isn’t working now.

Jungkook drags you back to bed, grip hopelessly gentle, as if to say you can go, you can leave if you want—but you don’t, you never do, so you let yourself be dragged; helpless for him, for this pretty boy in your bed.

His legs are around your waist and pulling you closer and you want this, you want this but you don’t want to want this, don’t know how to get closer without the words spilling—I like you I like you, like you so much, liked you for ages.

A chin is propped over your head, both his hands resting on your hips. The silence sticks, gentle with sleep and afternoon fog.

“Noona,” he murmurs, and you hadn’t realized when he started rocking you gently back and forth. “Noona, s'okay, right?”

You hum but it sounds distant, like you hadn’t said anything at all. It’s a pretty dream, you decide. It’s a pretty dream and you’ll sit here while Jungkook tells you pretty things.

His hands are trailing up and down your arms and you shudder, feel each individual line, and it’s skin that will never be the same now that it remembers what Jungkook’s touch feels like. It’s too much. Not enough.

(Jungkook had kissed you once before, back when you were both tipsy on secrets and laughter and a bottle of wine, alcohol no longer in any of your systems but you were both pretending it was. He'd leaned over, unthinking, when you’d laughed at something he said, had pressed both your lips together. You hadn’t reacted at first, were still for enough time to make him reconsider, make him recoil back, but then you were slipping your hands into his hair and tugging him back and he’d kissed you again, softly, soft enough to make you ache for it for weeks afterwards, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.

“Guk,” you’d started the next day, finding him hunched over the couch, “could we talk, maybe-” but he’d cut you off cheerily, much too cheerily, “it’s okay, noona, I get it, it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine—”)

“Shit,” Jungkook says, sounding pained, almost. You look up at him but he’s already looking. He’s close. So close. Not close enough. “This is okay, right?”

You nod, not sure what he’s asking about but sure that it’s okay. With Jungkook, it always is.

He makes a soft little sound, like a hum and a growl and a sigh all mixed into one. It burrows somewhere in your chest and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out.

You’re not sure when the dam breaks. Not sure who moves first. But at some point you both do, meeting in the middle, angle off, teeth clicking. You kinda want to break it off just to laugh, just to blink and make sure this is all real, but Jungkook’s hands move to cup both your cheeks and keep you in place and then

then you’re kissing.

He doesn’t taste salty with wine. He tastes of lip balm and something sugary sweet. Just like you remember. Just like you dream of, sometimes. You think of this and smile so hard your cheeks ache and feel him smile back. It should be an awkward kiss, if anything- practically all teeth- but it isn’t, it’s nice, gentle.

Jungkook pulls back to breathe, to mutter something that sounds like oh, god, before he’s swaying back, back to you, pulling you close, impossibly close. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again—eyes shy and determined, lips careful and caring.

You pull back and Jungkook growls, something raw and oddly feral, but when you look up at him, startled, he looks equally surprised. "I swear that wasn’t on purpose.“ He sounds a bit out of breath. His too long bangs brush against his eyelashes and there’s a little bit of stubble on his chin. You laugh and kiss him there, right on his chin, hear it when he makes a soft little thing that sounds like a sigh. You wonder how many more sounds you can get out of him, how many more sighs you can steal from his lips and eat like summer cherries.

He does taste like that, though, you think. He tastes like cherries. Like happiness.

Jungkook gets closer still, whispers a breath against your lips, this is okay, right? this is okay? and you feel it even without words, feel it in the gentle press of his lips to yours. Feel it even when it’s not gentle, when it’s something deeper and hungry, sweeter and messier and open. It’s embarrassing how easy you say yes each time, but he doesn’t comment. Only smiles. Swallows the embarrassing sounds you make.

There’s a gentle press of a tongue to the seam of your mouth, to your bottom lip, let me in, it says, let me in, if you want. And you do, you do want it, so you let him, feel as he melts and sighs and sinks into you deeper still. He’s so pretty. You say so, when you both part, watch as he blushes the same color as the cherries he tastes like.

You don’t realize when you’re being set down softly on a pillow, Jungkook hovering over you, pressing kisses from the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw down to your collarbones. So beautiful, he murmurs, suddenly shy, and it makes you both smile and you can’t come back from this. Can you come back from this?

Dark eyes meet yours when you look up, round as truffles. Jungkook smiles a toothy grin, something giddy in his eyes that widens when you smile back. Then he’s leaning down and kissing you so softly it melts you down to your bones. You can’t come back from this.

You want this. You want to kiss him until he’s trembling and his bangs are sticking to his forehead. You want to hold his hand when he’s sad and have your hand held when you’re sad and sometimes hold hands just because. You want to have baths, sexy ones sometimes, with candles.

But you also want early mornings. You want to wake up to the sound of keyboards and Jungkook ushering you out of bed, noona let me help, noona look at what I made, noona let’s go outside, noona, noona, noona.

You want Jimin and Taehyung. You want to make them smile, want them to make you smile, want to wake up to their smiles. You want to give them presents and watch their faces contort into gentle surprise. Want to hang ornaments on Taehyung’s antlers and watch him smile when they jingle.

You can’t come back from this.

"Wait,” you gasp, “wait, wait, wait.”

Jungkook sits up so fast he looks dizzy. “Noona?” His voice sounds small and panicked. He comes to when you sit up, too, shuffling away from you quick, “Oh god. Oh god, I—I’m sorry, I don't—Oh, oh god.”

He tries to get out of bed but you grab him quick, “Wait, don't—don’t go. Just give me a second,” you’re breathing too quick. You breathe more slow, the way Jimin taught you how; three seconds in and three seconds out. “Just… give me a second.”

Jungkook looks up then down then up again. “Okay.” He sits back. Not close like before. There’s still a bit of panic in his eyes, just more on the edges now.

He holds his hand out to you wordlessly, looking down at the sheets. You accept the offer, intertwining your hands softly.

“You don’t, like, owe me an explanation or anything,” he speaks quick, “we don't—have to do anything,” he grimaces, "obviously. We obviously don’t have to do anything. If you wanted to before but don’t want it anymore, that’s fine, that’s fine too—"

“Guk,” You interject softly. He’s breathing too quick, too. “I want to do those things with you—I do, I really do. Wanted to for some time,” he’s looking at you now, and you try not to flush but fail miserably. “I just—wanted to get some things straight, and thought, um. WWND, you know?”

Jungkook smiles, the curl of his lips slow. “…What Would Namjoon Do?”

“Exactly!” You huff. There’s more to be said but you’re both smiling, so maybe that’s something.

“Um,” The werewolf says as the silence drags on, ears drooped against his head, “I’m still confused maybe a little.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I just need to know of, like. Feelings that may or may not be happening.”

“Feelings.” He mutters softly. His thumb is rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Looks at you shyly. “I like you,” he says all too easily—looks relieved at saying it, too, like the words have been waiting a long time to get out. “Those are my feelings.”

His words spread to the pit of your stomach, heavy and sweet, like how honey seeps into tea. It’s so fast. Everything is happening so fast you can’t wrap your head around anything. “Me?” you breathe in and breathe out quick. “You like me?”

Jungkook nods and nods again, hair bobbing with the movement. He shuffles a bit closer, hesitates, shuffles further away.

“Hey, no,” you almost coo, pull him so he can get closer and he does. “I like you, too. Liked you for ages.”

“Yeah?” He smiles slow, something big and giddy, teeth and all, shuffles closer still, “Yeah?” He asks again, almost nonsensically, not sure what he’s trying to confirm.

You smile just as big. “Yeah.”

Then Jungkook melts, turns to mush, shoulders drooping, “Oh, thank god. I just went through, like, nine stages of grief over our friendship that I thought I’d just ruined by making out with you.”

“Five—” you manage through your laughter, “Five- There are only five stages, Guk-ah.”

“Oh my god,” He looks at you, unimpressed, “I had, like, extra ones. I was that distressed. I like you so much.”

There’s silence and you both settle, let today’s events sit and simmer for a bit. It still feels unreal. Jungkook’s hand is still in yours, tethering you back to earth, and you feel the calluses of his skin as he trails nonsensical patterns on your hand.

“But,” you stutter when the silence drags for too long, “But I thought you were in love with Jimin and Taehyung?” You sound too vulnerable, you think. Too small.

“I am. I am,” He breathes in too quick, too sharp, breathes it out shakily, “but before I fell for them, I fell for you. It was always you.”

You want to say something, want to interject; and you’re about to, lips parted and everything, "But—"

You startle at the high pitched squeal Jungkook suddenly emits. He’s staring at his hands now, uses his free one to tug at his hair. “The hyungs! We planned to all talk together—Shit, dammit. Argh.”

You blink. “What.”

“Um!” He turns towards you resolutely. He lets go of your hand, regrets it, reaches back for it. “There are words that need to be said but I can't say them. Yet. And—” He makes another noise of frustration. “I wanna do this right. Will you let me do this right?”

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re still half expecting to wake up, to realize this is all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

You let yourself daydream sometimes, tell yourself it will ease the hurt. It never does, never eases, but you let yourself do it anyway. It’s all three of them in your daydreams. All three of them in this pretty world you created, in this little house where all four of you could wake up surrounded by warmth and everything is safe and soft enough to press against.

So you don’t know what to do. Don’t know what there is to do right. But you agree because it’s Jungkook, and you trust Jungkook, and sometimes he knows more than he lets on. “Okay.” you murmur.

You stay wound up in each other like it never happened, speaking softly to each other, Jungkook occasionally wrestling you for the blankets. You don’t talk about anything specific, just tiny things; that’s when I knew, that’s when I realized, that’s when I hoped. Sometimes Jungkook holds your hand while he talks and sometimes he doesn’t but that’s okay, too. When he lets go it’s cold but a sort of gentle one, makes you think,

look, look at how warm you can be.

There are still things to talk about but it’s fine. You have tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and so forth. For now, you’ll stay here where everything tastes like sugar. Spun-sweet.

That day didn’t come.

It’s been tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and even the day after that. Three days of you and Jungkook toeing around each other, three days of seemingly eternal suffering, only three days and now you’re in another person’s home sipping on another person’s cup of juice.

“Hey!” Namjoon frowns even as you give the cup back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” You say, not apologetic in the slightest and he knows it, too.

There’s a month and a half left until Jin and Namjoon’s anniversary and they’ve both consequently used it as an excuse to bring everyone together. Again. Jin had said something about making use of our youth, even baked a cake and everything, and him and Hoseok are currently in the kitchen decorating it. Or, at least, they were.

“Jin-hyung, I think we failed a bit.”

“We? We? Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong! There is no we! What is this blasphemy! Where is your sense of propriety!” Seokjin shrieks while flailing one of those icing bags, and Hoseok ducks just in time to avoid getting nailed in the head by it, cackling loudly.

Yoongi intervenes, stepping between them, looks down at the cake and promptly bursts out laughing.

You follow and laugh lightly at what you see.

It’s a round vanilla cake and on top — written all too messily — are some almost indistinguishable handwriting written with some kind of blue paste. It says “happy anniversary na" then, as the space obviously wasn’t enough, the mjin is squeezed in at the side.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind and you all know Seokjin is only pretending to be annoyed, so you shuffle through the cabinets and hand Hoseok the single candle you’d found, watch as he sticks it in on the top. An act of redemption, on his part.

You all squeeze out of the kitchen after Yoongi as he carries the cake into the living room, sets it down onto the dining table. You feel oddly proud. Or maybe you’re just feeling what they’re feeling, simmering a bit in the pit of your stomach.

You all gather around on the couch where Jin pops a musical Hoseok had recommended into the TV. You somehow fall asleep somewhere between him dancing along with the characters and Namjoon belting out the lyrics and wake to a little bit of drool trickling down your chin and a bit onto someone’s shoulder.

You sit up with half-lidded eyes. Pat the person’s arm in sympathy for them, hear a deep chuckle in response and then — and then—

And then you look up and it’s Taehyung. Taehyung, whom you hadn’t even seen walk inside. Taehyung, who willingly sat next to you and let you sleep on his shoulder.

You drooled on him.

Drooled.

You stand up quick and panicked and try to mask it by wiping off your clothes and strolling into the kitchen like it never happened. You kinda either feel like questioning all your life decisions up to this point or letting out a long-winded shriek and you don’t know which to do first.

The latter option will be first, you think as Taehyung follows you into the kitchen.

"Um,” he mutters at first, clutching at the hem of his sweater. It’s beige and has a little chicken on the top right corner and is a pinch too short on him. You briefly wonder if it’s Jimin’s. “Hello.”

You blink and your tongue is suddenly ten times too big in your mouth. “Hi.”

“There’s icing on your shirt.” He grins.

You look down and there really is. You hadn’t even eaten cake, there was no way for it to get there. “There is.” you agree.

He hums. You hum back. Sometimes people associate your social failures with the fact that you’re a witch, and although you’re mildly offended, you mostly just like to roll with it.

The air’s a bit tense and you wish you could just go back to when talking was easy, when you’d ask where he got his belt and it would release the floodgates — that the belt was, in fact, a tie, of which he painted over to mimic the colors of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which he then said is how he wanted to paint his wall, paint the wine shelves he’d keep beside his bed for when he wants to classily watch anime. He has big dreams. Makes your heart hurt.

Today, Taehyung’s eyes are painted a brighter color than usual. Makes your heart hurt, too.

He has nice eyebrows. You say so out loud, and he laughs. “Thank you. You have nice eyebrows, too.”

What is this. What is happening. Why are you complimenting each other’s eyebrows. “Um,” you start, “what’s up?”

“Oh!” He says, as if he’d just now remembered. “I just wanted some, um.” He grabs a cup out the drawer, one that’s red and made of plastic, not cute like the ones he has at home, the ones he’s so fond of. “I just wanted some punch.”

Taehyung pours some grapefruit punch into his cup, pale-pink in color. “You should dye your hair that color,” you start, almost regret it when he turns to look at you, but he looks curious so you continue, “it’d look nice on you.”

His cheeks are that color, you think. Pale-pink. “Yeah.” He says and that’s that.

You two walk back and the credits are rolling and everyone’s spread around separately. Jimin’s here too, you notice, see him laughing in a corner with Hoseok. Convince yourself it’s not you he’s looking at when you pass him by.

You and Taehyung end up sat together on the couch, curling in close. This is nice, you think, startle when he turns to face you. “What’s nice?”

“Uh,” you panic and hurry to elaborate, “being close, I guess. With someone. S'nice.”

For a second you think he might laugh but he only turns, considering. His arm is around you, hanging loosely over your waist. You feel cocooned and safe despite yourself.

“Do you want that?” You face him but he isn’t looking at you, only looking ahead intently as if deep in thought. “Do you want someone to be close with?” His eyes are open and soft and somewhat unsure.

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. Taehyung turns, frowns. “Do I?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, and your smile droops at how hesitant he sounds.

“What do you mean?” you retort, brows furrowing.

Jimin pads over just then, as if sensing the slight commotion. You half expect him to ask what’s going on, half expect yourself not to know how to answer because what is going on?— but he doesn’t, doesn’t do that, only sits on your other side, places a hand on your knee.

“This, see, you do this,” you start, gesturing to Taehyung’s arm over your waist, to Jimin’s hand on your knee and his hand on your back, thumbnails dragging softly over your spine. “But it’s not real, I know it isn’t.”

Taehyung’s looking at you a bit too intently. Jimin is, too, his eyes glinting gold. You see the surprise cross both their faces.

“Who says it isn’t real?” Taehyung says with a frown.

“Y/n, love, we like you.” Jimin adds, voice hushed as if he’s telling a secret.

“..I know,” you start, brows furrowed in confusion. You know they like you, at least a little bit, otherwise they wouldn’t have invited you over to their home so many times. Then why are they looking at you like that? “I mean, I like you, too.”

“Baby, what Jiminie means is that we’ve been trying to court you for, like, two months.”

Your mouth is dry. You try to swallow once, twice, taste salt and feel your throat get icky.

“Should we settle this at home?” Jimin asks, more to Taehyung than to you but you answer anyway,

“No! No. I just—need some air.”

Outside is a bit cold and Namjoon’s windowsill has too many potted plants he most likely can’t care for and the sky is softly settling, clouds hanging gently overhead. You look up and Taehyung’s face is a bit blurry but his antlers are easy to spot. They make him look taller, softer. Sometimes when you’re talking his ears flicker towards you and that’s when you know he’s listening even without saying anything at all.

Right now, he’s shifting from foot to foot as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. But that’s not right, Taehyung’s not one to be uncomfortable in his own skin, so this gentle rocking of his makes you feel strange. Seasick, almost.

Everything seems sort of suspended, like the world is hanging by a drop of nectar, waiting.

“Let’s talk, my little love.”

You almost startle at the term. Jimin looks proud at having said it, too, pretty grin and all. You need to focus. “Okay.” You nod. Taehyung gestures for you to continue, so you do, “You said you were, um. You were courting me?”

Taehyung nods. “Yes.” He says with so much confidence your heart kinda ached a bit.

“So.. what does that mean?”

“It means we want to date you.” Jimin’s the one to say, a nervous but firm whisper.

The silence drags on like a lip being dragged through teeth, slow and deliberate. Your organs feel wobbly inside. They’re doing that thing where they communicate with their eyebrows. They all have impossibly expressive eyebrows.

You feel the immense need to sit down, so you do. You sink to your knees and they’re reaching out quick, ready to console, but freeze when you let out a long-winded shriek. “WHAT?" you sputter, ”WHY?“

"Why?” Jimin says, hums, considering. “Because we like you. Maybe not love yet. But we’d like to,” he crouches so you’re both face-to-face, smiles soft, “we’d like to love you. If you let us.”

“But—” you feel the need to say something, but don’t know what. “But Jungkook?”

“Baby,” Taehyung’s crouching now, too, almost taking a hold of your hand but stopping himself, “we talk about this, like, every wednesday.”

“What? It’s, like, a reunion sort of thing?” You sputter, mouth agape.

Jimin huffs out a small laugh, almost of disbelief, slapping lightly at Taehyung’s shoulder, “No, no, Taehyung-ssi here doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Taehyung tries to look serious, fails, and Jimin is smiling when he turns back to look at you. “We talk about it at least once a week, though.”

You still feel the need to say something but you feel like you’re running out of things to say. “But you’re all,” you run out of words then, gesture wildly at them from top to bottom.

Taehyung looks delighted. Jimin waits for you to elaborate, bites at his bottom lip when you don’t, asks tentatively, “…Yes?”

“You’re all— so pretty.” You mutter, exhausted. “And nice. And funny. And I’m just—” your arms drop to your sides.

“Little love,” Jimin’s the one to say, the one to get close, not afraid to get his clothes dirty as he shuffles towards you, “you’re also absolutely pretty, and nice, and funny, and beautiful.”

“I am?”

They grin. “You are.”

“Oh.”

The three want to date you. The three have wanted to date you for a while. The three are pretty and kind and make you feel seen, think you're pretty and kind, care enough to talk about it at least once a week and it all feels a bit unreal.

Your throat goes tight. You pick at your nail beds. Feel your blood pump the wrong way, its gentle waltz out seemingly of rhythm, one, two, three, one, two—what goes next?

“I–okay. Okay,” you stand up quick, rub some dirt off your knees, see Jimin point at them and giggle a bit. “Can we tell Jungkook? Do you wanna tell him now? I just. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

Jimin coos, takes a hold of your hand, kisses your temple after a second like he couldn’t help it. You think you hear Taehyung laugh from behind you.

They walk you home and you let them inside, their hands lingering on your back and on your shoulder, and Jungkook sputters when he sees you three, sitting up from the couch with a start. “Huh?” Is all he says.

“Hello!” Taehyung says with the biggest grin before getting straight to the point, "We confessed!“

"Y/n said yes!” Jimin adds, equally giddy.

“I’m a little drunk on punch!” You say, “But I still want to date you!”

Jungkook looks like a gaping fish for a second before there’s a twitch of his lips and then he’s smiling, slow and deliberate, pretty pretty pretty. He stands, pads over slowly and then quick, knocking the breath out of you, his arms tight. The rest join in and you’re all laughing and you’re all hugging and it feels like the beginning of something.

I want to be with you all,

then they’re all on you, soft and sweet, and

are you sure, and liked you for so long and are you super sure, don’t you need time to think, don’t you need more time to think, and smell so nice, you smell so nice, wait is that weird, and noona and little love and baby doll and—

they taste like love, like could-be love, and they feel like

y/n

home.

Jungkook’s planting tangerines in your backyard, spurred on by Jimin’s love for them. Taehyung’s there too, energetic and wild in a way only Taehyung can be, but gentle when he volunteers to fill up the watering can, patting and smoothing at the humid soil. He dyed his hair again. It’s the color of pink hyacinths now, the color of the punch he’d drank — pale-pink.

You’ve grown even more fond of your store. Or maybe you’ve grown more fond of what’s inside. Who’s inside. You like how it smells like licorice tea now, how Jimin always opens the windows to let the warm spring breeze inside, the vines and buds and flowers spilling inside like overeager children. You like the music that Taehyung plays on the speakers, jazz and Kehlani and the occasional Girl’s Generation. You like how your sheets always smell a bit like Jungkook.

Yoongi’s staring at you. He stares at a lot of people, but he’s been staring at you the most these days. You tear your gaze from the window, raising a brow at him as he occupies the entirety of the love seat in the corner that’s actually meant for two people. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“Ah.” Is all he says at first. You wait for some sort of sheepish smile, but it never comes. “Your aura. It's prettier these days.”

“Oh.” You blink. “What color is it?”

He turns, gaze shifting to the window you’d just been looking out of. You stare, too. Taehyung looks up just then, waves at you, a streak of dirt on his cheek. You smile lightly, wave back with the same amount of enthusiasm. When you look at Yoongi again, he’s already looking at you.

“You know when the sun is just about to set, and the sky is a mix of pinks and blues and oranges?” He smiles, a soft thing, and stands up. Touches lightly at an invisible barrier around you that’s not at all invisible to him. "That’s what it looks like. Like the gold of the sunset.“

a/n: here it is folks!! i didn’t like some of the scenes but i tried my best. some parts didn’t fit well here so i had to rearrange them a lot, and others i fit into the epilogue!! hope you enjoyed! spaced out is next i swear

#poly bts #poly bts x reader #hybrid au #vampire bts #werewolf bts #hybrid taehyung #vampire jimin #werewolf jungkook #bts x reader #bts #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #bts smut #witch bts #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff

[raindrenchedstories]

Contract negotiations

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts since chapter five of FH. So I finished it. Have Henry being a bastard. 

“I-i-i-” He backed into a wall. Leaving the man to take in his reaction. He’d found his way in his home again. Sitting on his counter top. One leg crossed over the other. A coy smile playing on his lips.

“You you you?” The man parroted in a soothing roll. A soft chuckle following. “Relax. Relax. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m never here to HURT you. Right pet?” He slid off the counter. Placing his blue jacket over the nearest available chair.

“You say that but...” Courage died where it rose. Knowing well what this night time postman wanted. Never should have taken that deal. It sounded so good at the time.

I can make those problems go away. If you like. All I need is a good meal every so often.

“What’s wrong? Frightened?” The intruder pressed his hands against the mans shoulders, steering him towards a chair. He sat him down carefully, sweeping to the other side and leaning his chin on his palm. “Do you want to cancel the deal?”

“N-NO! No... nothing like that.” The man fidgeted. No. There was nothing wrong with the deal. The unwanted attention was fading. His family stopped harassing him. He was even managing his drinking problem better. With this beings help. He had another vice. One that chased away the nightmares.

It was... the actual vice it’s self. What actually was up in trade. “I... I’m thankful for everything you do for me. Henry. It’s just... I don’t know if this is a fair deal.” He hid his face behind his hands, leaning on the table.

“Wh- Okay. How so? Am I asking too much?” Henry leaned in, blue eyes wide, open, and inviting as always. But no. He couldn’t stare into them. That would be a mistake. Never look a vampire in the eyes. Right?

“I don’t-” He gave a pleading glance to the other. Making the mistake of looking the vampire in the eyes. Just like that, he was pinned. Staring into those blue pools. Slowly, a red haze came over them, filling the spaces where there was once white, and blue.

Henry had him trapped now. Caught. He didn’t mind, really. Just a passing thought. “Okay, elaborate.”

He couldn’t shut up. All his worries and concerns boiled up and let go right there in a constant stream. “You made them forget me. Made the people leering look away with that charm. And then you come here. Every month or so. It’s not fair. I just give you more of something you already have. I know about your home. I know you keep food on hand. So why do you even need me?”

He was released. His mind eased out of his oncoming panic, and to a sort of calming afterglow. “I see. It’s not JUST about the blood you know? I’m in a position where I can’t just do something for nothing you know?” Henry leaned away folding his hands on the table.

“So, I’m willing to change the deal. But BOTH parties must be satisfied in the end. Yes?”

He fidgeted in his seat. Wanting nothing more than to drive the being far from his home. Far from himself. Henry on the other hand, wanted an answer. Something in trade. The man took a breath. Leaning his head back in his hands. “What do you want then?”

Henry quirked a brow. Leaning back in his seat and thinking for a moment. “Oh. I could think of many things. I could have you clean my home. Perhaps we could get you under my employ. Or...Perhaps you could offer someone else. In trade?”

“W-I can’t just throw another human being at you!” He shot up from his seat. Henry watched him with mock surprise. “That’s another- I’M another person. Don’t you get that?”

“Hm. I wonder if the chopped up cow you just devoured felt the same?” The Vampire rose. Drifting into the kitchen, he began filling the sink with water. “You really should do your dishes more often my boy.”

“What?”

“Your dishes. It’s a royal pain having nothing to eat from. Wouldn’t you agree?” He added soap to the water before turning the faucet to the second basin.

The man watched him for a while. Before slowly following him to the counter. Gathering up a towel. No way he was going to owe this monster another favour. “No. I meant your point about the cow.”

A small smile flickered over Henry’s features. “Ah. Yes. THAT. Well. Let me ask you this. When you really look at the source of your meat. You look for a healthy, happy animal. Right? You’d rather your meals have the best life possible before they’re slaughtered.”

“Yeah?”

“Hm. I notice you buy ‘cruelty free’ meat as well. So you really care about this. Yes?” They’d made it through three plates and two glasses before the man even noticed how close he was to the being. He shuffled a little further from Henry.

“Well. Yeah.”

“Right. That’s a luxury I don’t often get.” Henry passed him a frying pan. Taking note of the distance between them.

“Wha-”

“Your nervous. Yes? That translates to blood. Now. I could pamper every meal. I could dip them in luxury and delight. But then. Where would people like you end up? If I never stepped in. What would have happened to you?” He leaned on the counter. Eyeing the man.

He was silent. Standing over his dish rack. “My situation would have escalated.” He grumbled.

“Hm. Exactly. Now. I’m not the nicest person about it, I understand this. But I can’t always afford to be. There are...watchmen so to speak. People to keep the balance of things. No free favours from magical beings.” The vampire shrugged.

“So. You don’t want to put me through this?” The human perked up a small bit.

His reply was a shake of the head. And a gesture to sit at the table once more. “Yes and no.” His shoulders slumped. He slowly trudged back to the indicated seat and dropped hard onto it’s surface. Groaning.

Henry swept behind him. Leaning on the man’s shoulders. “Your case is special. Normally, I just take your harassers as payment. You demanded otherwise So~” He just felt the tingle of breath raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Luckily, Henry backed off. “But if you wish to change the agreement.” He sat himself back down in front of the man and gestured for him to speak.

The man felt his throat go dry. He had to think of something. Some more favourable situation. “I...Assume you don’t want monetary compensation?” He tried.

“Afraid not. I make good money already.” Another shrug.

“I was worried you’d say that.” He was running out of options really. “You said you had a position cleaning?”

“I was more or less joking.” Henry slumped in his seat with a sympathetic look.

The human ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Can we at LEAST negotiate a schedule for this? So you’re not dropping in unannounced. Leaving me anemic the next day?” He begged.

Henry’s eyes widened before he simply gave a nod. “That’s a fair request. But may I ask. Is that the ONLY problem you have with our arrangement?”

He gave it some thought. Shaking his head a moment after. “No. But it’s the one I know how to solve now.”

“Fair enough.” He folded his hands on the table leaning in to listen, “So when’s best for you?”

That night. If he were to be honest. He didn’t have work for two days. No one looking to spend time with him. Nothing to do.  He grimaced. Then there was another question that had hung in the air unanswered. “Do you actually see me as another person?”

Henry sat back, crossing his arms. “Short answer? Not really.” His heart dropped, along with his head  onto the table. Henry continued.

“You have to understand, I’m immortal. A human life is a fleeting fancy. Oh don’t get me wrong. I’ve not forgotten my roots. I’ll never go out of my way to bring misery to the undeserving. But to me, you’re about as much of a person as a cat, or a dog. Recognized as a friend. But not quite on the same level as you.” A cold hand pet his hair while the man absorbed this.

“I can’t afford to think of you on the same level. It would only bring heartbreak.” He glanced up slowly to a sympathetic smile.

With a groan of despair the human announced “Tonight’s fine. I’ll text you my days off at the end of the thirty days.”

Henry gave a short nod. Standing to pull the man onto his feet. “You’re still tense. Do you want me to put you under first?”

“No. I have to face the music some time.” He was tugged towards the sofa. Shirt removed from his person as Henry began the usual preparations. A juice box and cookies within reach. A soft blanket was folded behind the mans back.

Finally Henry emerged from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and a bowl of water. Like he lived there. “Where do you want it?”

“I guess the usual place works. You’re oddly caring for someone who sees me as a cow.” He allowed his head to be tilted. Feeling the warmth of the cloth clean away any sweat or dead skin from the area.

“Mh. If your cows could talk at you, wouldn’t you make concessions for their comfort?” The Vampire made a point to lay the heated fabric on the mans shoulder. Just letting it relax the muscle below the skin.

“I don’t think I’d actually eat anything from a talking creature.” The human retorted, holding the cloth in place while Henry prepared the last of it. His nerves causing a sick twist in his gut.

Henry pulled the cloth away. Taking a firm hold of the human before him. “Fair point. I don’t have a choice in the matter. Ready?” There was something cold about his handling. Though Henry was by all means caring in the general sense, he was all business when it came down to it.

It made this arrangement worse if the man were to be honest with himself. Couldn’t this mean something to the vampire? “Uh. I changed my mind. Can you put me under?” It would make it easier. He didn’t have to think when his brain was mush. Didn’t have to remember a damn thing if he didn’t want to.

There was an affirmative hum, before the man was made to look Henry in the eyes. Suddenly there was no worry, no pain, no cares, just an easy sense of calm. Henry nudged his head aside, there was a mild sting. Something moving numbly against his shoulder, and an odd pull started to drag him back to consciousness.

His head was foggy, and he was more than aware Henry was drinking still. One hand rested beside them. The other held the man steady. Talking would only get him a warning squeeze to his shoulder. So, in dull silence, the man waited it out.

It was odd. Having a someone as old as his grandfather sink his teeth into his neck. Though this interaction was starting to become normal. A slight pain, a moment or two of sitting patiently while this bastard was way too close for comfort. Then a full month away from him. Until he inevitably invaded the apartment all over again. The man regretted his lasting permissions to enter.

Finally Henry released him. His shoulder ached as he was held in place, and cleaned off. A salve was massaged into the wound. He knew it. It would itch for an hour then fade, along with the injuries. Henry made a point to place a heavy bandage on it.

Afterwards, he was manipulated into a comfortable position, one of his DvDs played quietly in the background. Henry was seated a respectful distance away. “You can go, you know. I’m not going to go jumping off any roofs.” The man sighed.

“No. But you can be childish at times. I’m simply staying around until the bite heals.”

“Prick.”

“Yup. Now shut up and drink your juice box.” Henry smirked.

#Vampire #m/m paranormal #Platonic

[ts3storylines]

TS3 Freedom’s call Gen. I: Chapter II

Heya you! Welcome to this tumblr of mine (or should I call it simblr?). If you haven’t read the chap no 1 here it is! By the way, how ya all doing? The weather is horrible here, north wind and rain ugh. But anyways, it’s 3:33 and here is another chap of this super sexy challenge!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Chapter II:

Cain haven’t slept at all. The thoughts of her new life have frightened her, have sent cold shivers down her spine. She couldn’t sleep nor eat. By the time the sun has shown its greyish rays she would be sitting in the same position on the same chair with the same dog called the same horrid name.

The hope from yesterday was long gone.

Bipolar disorder behaves that way doesn’t it?

The knock was very real. She stood up to open the old wooden door.

“Hello, Miss.” A vamp in an NWO officer suit.

She’s been informed about everyting that was to happen. Like Arthur Trin, like Genevieve Desttra, like all of ‘em, she will obbey. They said it’s only a matter of time.

They have tried.

And now they weren’t even sad. They thought themselves lucky.

“We lucky we alive!” was their idea. The idea that kept them going. “You don’t give up!”

The officer lifted a hand with a small scanner. “Could I?” What a strict face he had.

“What. Why.”

“I have to add you into partnership database. Just hold your hand this high.” She did and the machine beeped slightly. “That’s it. Thank you.”

The NWO has put a chip inside of her. Now that’s just awesome.

A quarter of an hour later they were standing in front of not so devastated house made of some kind of shiny gray stone. A green steam escaped the air condition boxes on the roof. There was a balcony with a yellow plant growing up from the concrete floor and a police car stood tall under it.

“Welcome home.” The officer said. He gave her a house key card and took one of the boxes from her hands. “Can I ask you a question?”

The dog barked.

“What do you want?” Cain frowned at the small being.

It barked and barked and then ran somewhere behind the house. The sound of water splashing echoed through the small street.

She followed the officer into the house. “Of course you can ask me a question. Or are we forbidden to do that now too?” The house was, well, nice. All black and gray and white. But unlike Abel’s it was full of furniture.

He put the box on a kitchen sink, then walked towards her. After a while of silent looks his voice vibrated near to her. “Can you remember your name?”

“Oh, have I not introduced myself.” She bit her nails. Nervousness and irony splashed her in the face. 

What the fuck is this world all about. A junkyard of supernaturals. No will, no self. Yes obedience, becouse if not, you’re dead. And that does not want anyone. “Cain.. Rodgers.” 

A land of drugged zombies. There must be something in the air or why would everyone resign that soon. A happy place.? Glad to be alive.?

But hell, she didn’t want to die yet.

Maybe sometimes.

But.

Not now.

“Thank you for the box officer.”

“You are welcome.”

As he walked past her to the door, she stopped him for the final time. “Sorry, but noone really told me what to do. Could you maybe-”

“Tommorow is your 1st work day, don’t be late. Till then I advice you not to leave the house.” His eyes traced a monitor hanging above the door. “Don’t say or do anything you’ll regret. The punishment is not worth it.” Then he left.

She looked around. The house was kind of beautiful. Cold, but heart-warming. It’s hard to describe the feeling. There was a man’s shirt thrown over the kitchen table. A voice from the radio babbled something about the new nature-cleaning program. Smooth cracking of fire, an open bottle of should-be-wine-but-no-alcohol-alowed and an opened newspaper on the counter. It felt like home.

Not hers of course. But someone lives here, it seems, for a long time now.

The only odd thing was that there was nothing inside the fridge. Strange but what the hell.

For a bitter second the memories of her family hit her under the ribs.

Another splash from outside. This one she could actually see. She glanced through the glass kitchen door onto the veranda. The dog was swimming breathlessly in what seemed like green-watered pool.

Never gonna swim in that, ever.

She checked every room. There was noone int the whole house. Maybe the guy has gone to work or something. And unfortunately walking up the stairs she found a nursery. She has been told that she is supposed to give a birth to a baby. But now it seems more real than yesterday in that shop.

Abel has been here for more then 6 months and is still in that cabin, still alone. Arthur has been here for several weeks before he was given a partner. The same goes for almost everybody whom she had spoken with yesterday.

It’s because she’s a Gin, isn’t it.

The experiments.

Cain went straight for the bathroom and after a five minute try of looking for pills she threw up.

Would they experiment on a baby?

It was past 5pm when Cain heard the door open. She was laying on the most comfortable mattress she has ever touched. Her nerves were having a party in her stomac.

There was no I’m home honey.

She carefuly walked down the stairs but stopped midway through.

There he was. Sitting on a silver bar chair next to a counter, reading newspapers, perhaps also listening to the radio guy, and drinking a canned juice. Still wearing the NWO officer outfit. Still a vamp.

You must be kidding.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

#sims 3 #sims 3 challenge #the sims 3 #ts3cc #ts3 gameplay #freedom's call challenge #cronor #vampire #gin #supernatural #spn #simblr #sims story #apocalypse #sims apocalypse

[themockingcrows]

Tapping With Blue Eyes: Ch. 2 - Unseen Gaze

Shoutout to @stribird for poking me into motion and asking me to get this world expanded  back during JohnDave week (and for making such cute art of the existing chapter at the same time). I’m sorry it took so long. <3

This chapter is SFW AO3 Mirror- [X]

Adjusting to being a tap wasn’t that hard. Really, the bonuses were pretty sweet. Great food, great sex, new boyfriend eager to make sure Dave felt spoiled rotten in exchange for sharing his blood solely with John. Few months in, however, Dave really wishes he’d spent less time making goo-goo eyes and more time brushing up on how many tangled webs the vampire was involved in, both family and otherwise.

This wasn’t what he envisioned at all.

    It was hard to think that just a few months ago, Dave had thought vampires were just in video games and creepy movie castles, or boxes of cereal that tasted like early diabetes mixed with Saturday morning cartoon marathons. They were all fictional, the hiss and scare, the flying bats, the unholy combination of Hot Topic and Party City's Halloween section. He'd always associated them with silly things, or with overly sweet candy corn.

    Now he associated them with fantastic food, warm hands holding him, loud club music and mind blowing sex among other things.

    Like being prone to fainting, for instance. That was definitely a new thing Dave associated with vampires, and he wondered why he never considered it before.

    “Dave, I told you we should have waited longer, now look at you!” John fussed, cold soda bottle bleeding perspiration into the collar of Dave's shirt from where he had it pressed against the back of his neck. It took effort not to drop his gaze lower to where the faintest edge of a fresh bruise was resting against his boyfriend's nape, and even more effort not to press his lips right where they'd been earlier that morning. Which was the literal cause of all this. “We should have waited till afternoon, or just. Waited till it was time to visit Dad and then gone, given you some more time.”

    After the first few weeks of sorting out their own balance and rhythm, Dave was an enthusiastic tap sorting out the schedule and figuring out how much he could comfortably give at any time, and John was accepting the burden that came with finally having a constant supply of blood on hand. It made him powerful, made him alert, made him more protective.. and it all had to be managed like he was just learning his powers for the first time as a child. His father had been right about never really stopping the learning, and about his newly appreciated appetite being a strain on him in unimaginable ways. The benefits outweighed the negatives but.. still.

    The biggest issue they were facing so far was that protective instinct. John had to work hard at it to keep from slipping and becoming overbearing, smothering his tap, and angering his boyfriend. It felt right, it felt good but it wasn't the right thing to do. Dave needed as much freedom and space as anyone else did, and together they were finding ways to cope with it. Part of the reason for John taking Dave to meet his father today was to also see about getting some more direct advice on what to do. Part of him was wondering if this was really as normal as he hoped, or if something in Dave was just incredibly potent. John was fairly sure he was able to lift fridges with one hand like his father without breaking a sweat now, and hoped to get some tips on how to keep that force strictly to the fridges and not at all towards accidentally hurting Dave.

    Why taps didn't get their own power up, he'd never know. ..Maybe they just got more delicious after becoming bonded with someone, and had the benefits of protection and food? Still felt unfair, but as far as humans went, it was probably well enough. Didn't need humans getting too deeply in the center of those unseen.

    “I'm fine, John, really,” Dave said with a grunt, eyes closing as he adjusted to the cold feeling on his skin. How fucking embarrassing. One moment they'd been walking along and heading down a few steps to the street, and the next his legs turned to jelly and the ground had rushed up to meet him. He could mentally trace each droplet of condensation as it traced beneath his shirt and out of view, as well as imagining the spreading cloud of water on the fabric. It was the most solid thing he could focus on while waiting for the ground to stop swaying beneath him. “I got dizzy. No big. I didn't crack my head open or anything, right?”

    John eyed him, not sure if he was honestly questioning or if he was making a joke.

    “..You didn't. But you did go down like a quarter ton of bricks,” he said. “We shouldn't have come out so early, last night was intense. Maybe we should have just stayed home. Do you want to go home?” John worried, keeping the bottle in place. Dave was subtly swaying, and it was keeping him on edge, ready to dip down and pick him up if it kept up.

    “Ease up, really, it's fine,” Dave repeated. He snorted softly when the anxious fussing didn't stop immediately, and reached up to grasp at the cold drink, wanting to pry it from John's hand so he would have to reset his focus and listen clearly. “Did too much too fast, I'll go slower now. Just like last time, right? I was fine last time too. Just did a bit too much too fast.”

    “You need to rest..”

    “I just did rest in fast forward. On the ground,” Dave said, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “No, but seriously, I feel a ton better already and if I go slow I'll be fine,” he promised, satisfied that the ground no longer was moving even with his eyes shut tight.

    John didn't look convinced. He busied his empty hands with pushing Dave's hair gently back out of his eyes and hooking it behind his ears and the stems of his shades, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. When Dave glanced up he could see the tip of a fang pressing a little too hard against the thin flesh, drawing up a bead of bright blood the longer it stayed there.

    He was trying. He was trying so hard it made Dave's chest ache. A few weeks ago, John would have just picked him up and toted him off towards home, or towards a hospital, ignored protests in the midst of his worry. That instinct to ensure Dave was alright, that Dave was well, that he hadn't damaged his boyfriend at all, was overwhelming. John's eyes were bright but visibly straining to sit still, muscles in his arms trying to twitch with the urge to do more.

    The grab and run didn't happen. Somehow, the vampire was keeping the instinct at bay. They'd feel proud about it later.

    “..Alright. Would you feel better if you helped make sure I'm fine?” Dave guessed, relaxing when he saw John nod enthusiastically, blue eyes wide and eager as a puppy. “Let's go get something to eat, then. That helps. The soda won't be much more than a crutch,” he said, remembering what he'd learned since his first few faints. Sugar and caffeine helped him, but never for long when he crashed from a feeding. Dave was fairly sure he'd need to give some serious thought to John's comment about keeping snacks and supplements on hand in the future, but at least for now he was piecing together what worked best on his own.

    “What do you feel like? Something solid, light? Snacks? Want some coffee? I could just take us back to your place and make something if we got ingredients, it'd be no proble-” John rambled till a finger pressed to his lips, shooshing his rambling. John blinked briefly, then sighed. “..I was doing it again, huh.”

    “A bit, yeah. C'mon, let's just go get something quick and light, we've got the whole morning left to burn. Maybe a sandwich or something from the convenience store, even.”

    “Not the hot dogs, or the burritos, or anything else on a roller though,” John said as he bent a bit further to scoop Dave upright and dust him off once he caught his weight on his own two feet. Dave curled his fingers into fists and fought hard to avoid wavering afterward, honest to god dizzy and not wanting a repeat of worry sounds filling his ears. There wasn't much budging him on the junk food stance, not when moments like these happened, but it was hardly an iron will to work against.

    “Aw, but John, how else will I get to experience the fiery burn of food poisoning when my hearty appetite takes me straight out of a flavor explosion as my godly immune system falters,” Dave crooned. “No, seriously, it'd be fine, I've eaten worse. You've seen this with your own two eyes.”

    “Yes and I really don't understand it still,” John sighed. “You basically have your own chef at your beck and call, and yet you keep veering to that stuff every chance you get. I'm not even sure it's really food.”

    Dave tugged at John's arm to get him to start moving, satisfied the sick feeling was already leaving his head the longer he moved. He cracked the soda open, dodged a spurt of foam that slipped over the edge of the plastic cap he slammed back into place a second too late, and slurped the sugary liquid from the side as it ran down over his fingertips. He let John take the lead this time, glad when the vampire only steered enough so they could dodge the street that would take them near a 7-11 and the greasy wonderland within. Instead, they wandered along to a cleaner, smaller family owned mart that promised fresh varieties of juices and light foods. It was a little more expensive, but it seemed like a the increase in quality was worth it.

    John was just glad they didn't sell gas out front, the petrol fumes usually indicating not-that-fresh food and nothing he'd want to taste personally later on if given the choice. Less fresh food made for some fairly gross tasting blood, and Dave himself wasn't some amazing alchemical property that made garbage taste any less like garbage coated in candy.

    “Ooh, they got a live juicer in here, it's not just all pre-bottled,” Dave said, sounding a bit impressed. He looked even more enthusiastic the second he noticed mango and pineapple among the stacked fruit options, and veered a hard right towards the counter when at least three varieties of ripe apples came into view.

    Hell yes.

    Hell to the fuck yes.

    “Hey, pick one for me too? I'm gonna check what else is here,” John said, heading back to check out the coolers and shelves.

    Aside from the usual snack foods, there seemed to be different options for local brands. Among the candy bars were some chunkier treats with labels from downtown, and chip bags bore marks from all around the state. The fresher foods were most appealing to him however, and he stared at the cooler to find something simple. ..A sandwich. That'd work, right? By the time he'd picked something out and made his way back to Dave, the blonde was juggling two tall, cold glasses of fresh juice and clutching a sticky bottle of soda beneath his armpit.

    “What'd you grab for me?” Dave asked, pausing his slurping to eyeing the wrapped package.

    “Nothing wild. Roast beef, cheese, veggies,” John shrugged. “What about you?”

    “Strawberry, mango, banana,” Dave said. “Not red so much as, like. Murky weird orange brown yellow-ish? But it should taste good. They didn't have cherries or I'd have tried making it even brighter.”

    “You're never gonna drop that red association with me, huh,” John said, rolling his eyes. A good choice, but he could now confirm that between Dave's color preferences and the vampire gags, red would be outweighing blue in his vicinity forevermore. John eyed Dave's hips as he wandered ahead to the cashier to set the cups down for now, following the curve of his ass till he had to look upward.

    Right. Subtle. Good going, John.

    “Nope, not at all,” Dave snorted, reaching into his pocket to fish out his wallet, paying for the juices. John paid for the sandwich and slipped it into Dave's hands as he snagged the sticky soda and his own juice, setting the former into a small bag to avoid touching it very much after getting his change.

    They made their way outside and around another block before finding a bench to settle on, John leaning back and slouching, while Dave crossed a leg over his opposite knee and unwrapped the sandwich, grinning at the contents.

    “Whoa, nice one. Maybe we'll have to go back there sometime, they seemed to have a lot of stuff,” Dave said. “Not too far out either. Could be a thing when we want a walk?”

    “Or when we're coming back from the bar, if they're open that late.”

    “I didn't see any gas pumps, I doubt it,” Dave said as he ripped into the bread in a large bite, chewing quietly for a moment before holding it up to John in offer with a coy grin. “Won't taste nearly as good as me, but here: want a bite?”

    Though John smirked at him, he got a bit of headway back by grasping the skinny wrist he loved to tease with his fangs, pulling his arm forward to bring the sandwich in range of his mouth to take a large bite as well. He hummed, surprised at the flavor, only to have Dave nod to the side and start to mention something about what he thinks might be some kind of secret sauce or dressing on this thing. John heard the first half of the chatter, but slowly stopped listening as he felt the first clench in his stomach.

    No.. No, not his stomach. His chest. Right over John's heart was the distinct sensation of something squeezing, stealing his breath away, pouring icy water down his spine till his skin twitched uncomfortably.

    Panic.

    Something was wrong. Very, very wrong and he couldn't place it. Where had he ever felt this before? John racked his brain, trying to think of something specific, and was coming up blank. He wasn't old enough or strong enough yet to sense things well as his dad, but fuck why was this bothering him so badly? There was a reason to be upset, a reason for this panic, and he couldn't imagine what it could be for certain. Lifting his head, John began to look around while Dave continued to talk, pausing once in a while when the need to breathe caught up to him or the allure of taking another bite grew too distracting.

    ..Nothing.

    He couldn't see a single thing out of place, and if only for that, everything became suspicious. Old woman jogging? Suspicious. Group of teenagers? They're teens, of course they're suspicious for one reason or another. Man with a baby carriage? Double suspicious, what if it was the baby that was feeling like a threat? John lowered his hand and grasped at Dave's shoulders, pulling him gently closer to hug tight.

    “So anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hit up the movies after all. There's some good shit pla- John? ..Dude. John. You alright? Look like you saw a ghost,” Dave said, letting himself be tugged close. He blinked a few times, then peered up over his shades, curiosity glinting. “...DID you? That a thing too? I mean, I didn't think you were real, is there other shit that's real? Is the tooth fairy gonna shank me with a toothbrush sharpened into a punji stick for not flossin' enough? Werewolves gonna come and treat me like a fire hydrant? Bigfoot actually a thing? Do we need to guard the snacks better from his hairy ass outdoors?”

    “Dave.”

    “What?”

    “Dave.”

    “What.”

    “I need you.. to be.. very quiet. Just for a second. Okay?” John said, still on high alert as the feeling intensified. Which direction? Where was it coming from? The longer he couldn't locate the source, the more he was alarmed at just how open the space they were sitting was, how exposed, and couldn't bother fighting his instincts any longer. Dropping his juice he stood up and dragged Dave with him, ignoring the sudden loud complaints about the splash of red juice getting all over (RUINING, JOHN, RUINING!) his shoes.

    Needed to run. Needed to run, find somewhere with a nice solid door, and needed to get ready to fight. ..Fuck, no, couldn't fight with his tap right there, too high a risk. Nor could he risk leading whatever was leering at them out of sight to either of their homes. Dave was starting to squirm and struggle in his arms, complaints growing louder as the remnants of the sandwich and Dave's juice fell and splashed all over his shirt this time, traces trailing down to John's arms like frigid ice. He'd deal with it later. Needed to run.

    Car. They could go to the car, and go to his dad's place early, they'd be safe there. It was fine if dangerous things knew where his father lived, they wouldn't cross a vampire as well established as his father, whatever it was. Fledglings and young, newly bonded vampires like himself were easy prey in the eyes of some beasts, but with backup they wouldn't be sitting ducks.

    His time so far with Dave had been like a daydream, everything sunny.. this wasn't how John wanted to introduce the risks he'd warned Dave about in the flesh.

    “John will you put me the fuck DOWN?! I'm drenched, this is gross as fuck, I'm gonna get ants on my dick at this rate. You want that? Insects suddenly having front door open access invited to my tasty dick? Because I sure as fuck don't want that,” Dave said, continuing to struggle, and continuing to be locked in place by an iron grip that he himself had managed to make even stronger over the last few weeks by feeding his boyfriend. The speed was increasing as well, whatever had John spooked was doing a fabulous job at making him push the limits of just how fast he could flee an area. Dave couldn't even make out the faces of the people they were sprinting past, and wondered vaguely if they looked like a blur to them.

    Fuck.

    “Man, seriously, put me the fuck DOWN, John, I will elbow your ass and you fuckin' know it. Wanna try me?” Dave warned, preparing to pull his arm back as a threat. “Come on, you've been doing great, just. Slow the fuck down and tell me what's happenin' at least!”

    “Watched. Bad. Can't go home, going to Dad,” John said hurriedly, zipping around another street corner. Dave could see sweat beading on John's brow, and could finally see the terror in his eyes. Was it real? Was this a false alarm? ..There was no real way to verify that himself, far as Dave knew, but it was worth questioning. He grunted when the running suddenly stopped as if John had reached a dime, considered its shiny surface, and brought every cell in his body to a screeching halt directly on top of FDR's smug looking head.

    They'd reached the car, and apparently it was indeed enough of an emergency in John's eyes that he didn't so much as put something down for Dave to sit on, instead choosing to deposit his sticky, juice soaked body directly onto his nice fabric seats. John waited till Dave's legs were in place before slamming the door shut and going to his own side, not even waiting for seat belts to get on before he was cranking the engine and hurriedly backing up, turning enough to veer out of the lot.

    While John was so busy looking forward, Dave was busy looking back. He wasn't sure what he was really looking for, but it seemed important to at least try. It would also be good to stop focusing on how close they were to a four car pileup or a roll over by not looking at just how close John was cutting everything with his erratic movements. What was suspicious or not to a vampire? Based on the foods John could eat safely, he figured there were no rogue threats of garlic bread or Italian food trucks in their future.

    It was only when John was done jockeying around to get to the ramp that would lead to the desired highway that Dave was fairly sure he'd caught sight of something as out of place as they were being on their own. Two figures on foot, fairly tall, one with dark hair and one with light were standing in the middle of the road a few cars back, faces turned towards the back of their car. A truck driver laid on his horn briefly, trying to force them to get out of the way, and right before Dave's eyes, they vanished.

    The figures did not step aside, or run, or jump. One moment they were there, green and orange eyes too bright in their faces, and the next they were not, blinking out of position and for all Dave knew, out of existence entirely. Had he been seeing things...? No. No, the horn had honked, someone else saw the people too.

    ..Were they even people, though?

    “Dave, buckle up. I'm sorry I didn't give you time before, but we should be fine on the highway, so might as well avoid even more chances for tickets,” John said. His voice was still tense, but there was an air of apology in his tone, of the usual playful fussing trying to come back. He plugged the metal clip into the buckle of his own seat belt and adjusted how the band rested on his chest and shoulder instead of letting it lurk up by his throat uncomfortably, then reached his sticky hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. Now that the coast was clear enough to be considered 'safe' again, John was left to deal with the side effects of his earlier panic, his bursts of using his still-being-adjusted-to power. His hand shook badly enough that if he were drinking something, Dave would have been reaching for a towel to mop up the wildly flying liquids, yet he was keeping an iron grip on the steering wheel and staying well within the speed limit.

    “Oh. ..Uh. Yeah. Yeah, you're right,” Dave said, breaking his eyes away to look down, plugging his own seat belt into place. The fabric of the seat was already turning a rainbow of colors beneath and beside him, and he could feel his toes squishing in his shoes. He hoped there was spare clothes at John's father's place, and that he wouldn't mind the first important meeting being cut awkwardly short so he could run off and shower. A quick hello sir, goodbye sir, may I get naked upstairs and have some of your clothes sir, no big deal.

    Awkward.

    “..Dad? Hey! I'm sorry it's pretty early compared to what we were planning for, but uh. Something.. something kind of came up, and I'm bringing Dave to the house. Will you be home, or do I need to just use the key?” John asked, trying to sound calm, cool and collected. Apparently it failed, because John winced a moment later. “No, we're fine. Promise, I just felt something was really off and kind of made a big mess while leaving. ..No. I don't know what, or who. Why? Someone in town I should know about?”

    Dave held his breath as he listened in, trying to make out words that were leaking out of the speaker and around the edge of John's ear. He'd heard the voice of James before, and had spoken loosely once or twice when John had the phone on speaker, so he knew the deep, steady tones to listen for. ..Wasn't clear enough though, and Dave sighed as he slouched further, debating putting his sticky shoes up on the dashboard. Why not, everything was already gross, why not just go whole hog while he was at it?

    John paled and went very quiet, mouth shut, lips thin with stress. He nodded, though obviously his father had no way of knowing it, and eventually seemed to remember that himself when he began to make soft 'uh huh' noises to show he was listening.

    “It's. ..You're sure it might be?” he asked, letting out a soft laugh. “You're not messing with me, right? Not a prank? Because if this is a prank, you're definitely ahead of me agai- Oh.”

    Not a prank, then.

    “..Right. I'll lock up once we get there,” John said, placing his phone so he could press it up with his shoulder as he changed lanes and adjusted his speed a bit. “No, I don't want to order in, not if they're potentially in town. Last thing I need to have happen it anyone creeping on your house. ..Nnn... I don't know, Dad, there's schedules to keep up and I'm pretty sure we both have shifts tomorrow.”

    “Day after,” Dave supplied, brows lifted at all the unanswered questions that, judging from the look on John's face, he wasn't that interested in discussing right now.

    “Okay, so, SOON-ish we have shifts, we can't go staying a long time, creeps in town or not. I'm pretty sure just coming to your house at all might make them back off. ..Dave? No, no, don't worry, Dave will be fine, you already know that,” John said, sounding self assured. It melted away and he sounded every bit as young as he looked when, in the next breath, he whined out a loud “Daaaaaaaad, really, I know! I'm already bringing Dave along, and we're both safe, that's a good first step. I did a good thing,” he insisted. “..Alright, alright, we'll talk later. You're right.”

    With a quiet, barely there 'love you, Dad', John hung up and dropped his phone into the empty cup holder. He sighed and slouched as well, eyes on the road but mind obviously miles away. It took a good five miles worth of silence before he jerked straighter and looked to Dave.

    “Ah! Fuck, do you want the radio on? I can put the radio on. What're you in the mood for? I don't have channels saved, but I thi-”

    “Oh, hey, was wondering when you'd notice me! My name is Mud, Mud Strider, pleased to meet you,” Dave said in a singsong voice, annoyed. Talking like he wasn't there, talking like he was a fucking child, talking over his fucking head: all things he couldn't stand and wouldn't take sitting down. The way John wilted again showed his frustration had hit home well enough. Putting the metaphorical claws away, Dave sighed. “..Alright, so. Mind telling me what the fuck literally all of this is about? Who's in town? Why'd you freak and murder my outfit back there, I don't know if I can save this, that shit stains.”

    “Look, I'm sorry, but you wouldn't understa-”

    “Don't fuckin' pull that YA fiction bullshit on me and act shocked when it doesn't work, John Egbert, I'm not a kid. Spill. All of it. I'm involved in this enough to apparently be at risk of whatever the fuck got you worked into a rich creamy lather back there, so you might as well give me the deets and get me on the same page as you.”

    “..Right,” John sighed. He'd looked close to arguing, stubborn to a fault, but Dave had a big point. Instinct needed to settle down, and he needed to use his head. Dave might be his tap, but he wasn't just food. Wasn't a resource with no sense of his own place in his surroundings. “There's a lot going on, potentially. Or at least a lot to explain. ..Can I ask for some patience till later, though? I can avoid getting arrested for driving like an idiot, you can shower and change, we can both have something to eat and then talk with my dad. He might be able to explain even better than me.”

    Dave blinked, and narrowed his eyes a bit, lips turning down.

    “Hey, no, I'm not stalling Dave,” John said, guessing the look. “I'm not trying to be vague. Dad was a bit vague too, I think because he knew I was driving and talking, but that just means he'll be more thorough when we're all settled down in one place. Bonus: it's safe there! So I'll be plenty relaxed too. ..Think you can handle that? Just a little longer? I've got questions for him too, but I want to know for sure what he already knows instead of just.. y'know. Guessing.”

    “You're totally stalling. Who are 'they',” Dave said. “The people who might be in town that you mentioned.”

    “I don't know if it's them or no-”

    “'Them'. I don't care if you know they're in town or not, man, just. Who is 'they' and 'them'. Gimme some adjectives, man, something to chew on till I can weasel stuff outta your dad. GOOD adjectives,” Dave clarified. “Gimme somethin' to run with!”

    “A bunch of assholes, potentially, that work?” John said, rolling his eyes.

    “Assholes. What, like. They human at least, orrrr....?”

    “No. No, they're not. I don't think they keep humans around for sure.”

    “...Are they like you?” Dave asked.

    “I wish. ..At least one of them is like me, if it's the one I think might be around. But not like me at all, because as I said: they're assholes,” John insisted.

    “Any of 'them' got a name? How many we talkin' here.”

    “Several different people. I'm not giving any names till I know for sure,” John insisted. “Last thing I need is to talk about Jake and have him sudden- ugh,” he said, stalling as he realized what he'd let slip. “Just. Alright look, there's a name, don't go saying it much. Treat it like bad luck.”

    Jake, huh. Alright.

    “..What kinda species, then, if only one or so are like you, potentially?”

    “Were,” John said, nose wrinkling. “Most were are fine, they keep to themselves or just carry on, but. ..Some are just. ..Eugh. Older people get, or longer the family lines are, the more frustrating they are to deal with.”

    “So. Vampires, were..wolves?” Dave guessed to himself. “Anything else? This is a Halloween grab bag double feature at this point, John.”

    John nodded, then shook his head right afterwards.

    “Yep. And that's it, that's the end of the line, I'm not spilling any more beans till we can find out if I'm even spilling the right ones! I could be spilling pineapples for all I know!” he insisted.

    “Fine, fine, damn. How would your Dad know more than you about a few random people being in town? Especially if you freaked out this far away from him?” Dave finally asked. There was at least a few things to focus on and turn over in his mind now, but the loose strings were bugging him more than ever. He knew when he agreed to be John's tap, agreed to date him, that he'd wind up in some crazy shit potentially. Suddenly arriving dick deep in said crazy shit was going to take some definite effort to coast along with.

    “The entire city is chock full of other beings, Dave, remember? All kinds of species, doing their own thing and living life. When something disruptive happens, people notice and talk about it. Dad's a lot more ear to the ground than me about things, he's older, has more contacts. I only recently bonded with you, there's a lot of catching up to do. ..And if it is English, then he'd probably have tried to creep on Dad at least once or twice since rolling into town. He doesn't alert me every time someone passes through, but generally there's not a ton of trouble being caused either. Not much need to mention anything. ..Er. Well. I mean NOW there is, with you around, but since this is the first time I've had one, he pro-”

    “Creepin' on your old man? Why the fuck would anyone do that?” Dave asked. “Isn't he like. Desk job, 9-5, nose to the grindstone of paperwork boring office work dude?”

    “It's apparently rude to not at least try to visit your relations,” John sighed. “Even if your relations want nothing to do with you and have been trying to get you off their collective backs for decades. ..If he's in town, he definitely would have been in range enough for Dad to pick up on personally if not just causing some kind of trouble to be obnoxious.” He glanced over, then leaned forward to switch the radio on. A few flips of the dial and he'd found a station playing things from the 90's and 2000's, and turned it down low to fill in the monotonous sound of wheels on highway. “And if that's what was creeping on us, it'd make sense why I couldn't spot him. Especially if his creepy friend's with him.”

    Dave gave John a dry look, then stared out the window instead. Great, MORE questions. None of this was making any god damned sense, did he need to take notes? Was there going to be a test on this? "So You Fucked A Vampire: Here's His Tangled Backstory And Side Quests!".

    “Y'know, I know I asked for the details, and I understand why you're not explaining more, but goddamn that's kind of annoying. How long till we get there? And how long till your dad turns up, too?”

    “Another twenty minutes till we get there, and probably a few hours till Dad. ..I'll try to explain more when we're there while we wait, try to make more sense,” John promised. “When I'm not driving anymore, when I don't have to worry about needing to run suddenly with you again. You're right. This is all things you need to know, if you're going to continue being my tap. I need to be more clear, but right now I'm just really, really rattled.”

    Dave wanted to be frustrated still, wanted to be annoyed. A lot of things had just happened at once, none of which he got any say in, but John sounded really sincere right now. After weighing his options, Dave finally nodded.

    “Alright. Sounds good.”

    Relieved, John grinned the brightest he had since they woke up coiled together that morning and nodded, already trying to run over what to say in his mind. There was so much to unpack there.. How do you even begin to compress hundreds of years of familial history into something bite sized for someone completely unfamiliar with everyone and almost everything involved?

    He stole a sideways glance Dave's direction, took in the stained shirt and the calmer, albeit tired looking features he could make out while the blonde's face was turned half away, and let his grin relax into something softer.

    ..He'd find a way.

#Homestuck #JohnDave #John Egbert #Dave Strider #my fic

[janthony-oneshots]

Vampires

Jasmine, 8:30PM - Are you awake? Anthony, 8:32PM - Yeah. Jasmine, 8:33PM - Wanna meet up? I just ordered pizza. Jasmine, 8:33PM - No garlic Anthony, 8:34PM - I’ll be over in 10

Anthony climbed out of bed and sighed, walking over to the window and peeking out. It’s finally dark outside. He hates summer. It stays light outside for so long and he can barely do anything! He just sleeps all day and it’s boring. Yeah, he could invite his girlfriend over, but he’s pretty sure she would be repulsed by the bags of blood in his fridge.

Jasmine knows that Anthony is a vampire, but she hasn’t seemed to come to terms with it just yet. She called him at 2:30 in the afternoon the other day (when he’s usually sleeping) to ask if he wanted to go out to see a movie. He gently reminded her that he can’t go out in the sun. He won’t burst into flames or anything, but his skin will sizzle like bacon and that hurts. It hurts worse than anyone could imagine. He may as well burst into flames if he goes out in the sun!

Anthony walked to his dresser and changed into a blue t-shirt and jeans. After slipping a pair of sneakers on, Anthony was opening his front door. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Jasmine standing there holding a box of pizza.

“Uh, hey, Jas,” he greeted, stepping aside and holding the door open for her.

“Hey, Anthony,” Jasmine smiled, pecking her boyfriend’s cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guesso…. What are you doing here? I thought I was coming over to yours?” This is the first time Jasmine is seeing his apartment. Luckily, he keeps it clean, but still…what if she gets scared? She is dating a vampire.

“Re-read that text I sent you. I asked if you wanted to meet up; I didn’t say where. Sorry I came over uninvited, but I wanted to see where you live.

“It’s fine,” Anthony shrugged. He’s not exactly comfortable with her being here, but it’s not like he’s going to kick her out. “Here, let me put that down.” Anthony reached his hand out for the pizza box. Once it was in his hands, he sped into the kitchen and put it on the table. “Um, do you want something to drink? I have water. I might have grape juice.”

Being a vampire, Anthony only really drinks blood. Alcohol makes him sick to his stomach and soda and juice hurt his teeth (they didn’t when he was alive…). Water is safe. He has at least five 24-pack cases of water at all times. Grape juice was his favorite when he was alive, so every once in a while he’ll have some. Usually no more than half a glass, though, unless he wants to go to the dentist. Surprisingly, there are no vampire dentists and Anthony doesn’t want to scare anyone when they see his fangs.

“Water’s good. Thank you,” Jasmine smiled, sitting at the table.

Anthony grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and a paper plate for Jasmine.

He hasn’t had any blood in nearly a week and he’s starting to feel sick; he’ll only feel worse if he eats normal food right now. Anthony hates drinking blood. Hates it. He hates that he has to rely on it to survive. He rarely drinks human blood, instead drinking from animals, which is equally as bad. He hates hurting creatures. He hates being a vampire.

“Anthony? Did you hear me?” Jasmine asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.”

“It’s fine…. Are you okay?” Anthony nodded. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I just don’t feel well right now. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” Anthony smiled at his girlfriend, but knew she wasn’t convinced.

“Have you…drank…?”

Anthony slowly shook his head no. He should have had some blood before Jasmine came over, but he wasn’t thinking about it.

“Would you…I mean, do you want to…?” Jasmine held her wrist out.

Anthony’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “No. No way, Jas. I can’t drink your blood. It…it wouldn’t be safe.”

“Why not? When’s the last time you had fresh blood?”

“I…don’t remember. That’s why it wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I could hurt you. I could–I could kill you! Jas, I don’t want to do that. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Jasmine was silent, staring down at her food for a few minutes. “Anthony, I’ve been thinking…what would happen if you turned me?”

Anthony froze. Did…did he hear that right? “What?” He whispered.

“If you made me a vampire…. We could be together forever.”

Anthony shook his head, refusing to believe his ears. “You don’t want that.”

“I do. You’re a great boyfriend, Anthony. You’re sweet and kind…but I rarely ever get to hang out with you. You can’t go out in the day and I need to sleep at night. I at least want to be able to be with you like a normal couple.”

“We won’t be a normal couple, Jas. We can’t be. I’m a vampire. I won’t turn you into one too. You don’t want that. It sucks.”

“I want to be with you, Anthony…. I don’t care if we can’t be a normal couple and go out everyday.”

Anthony didn’t respond. Jasmine sighed, knowing he won’t turn her.

“At least drink some blood.” She held her wrist back out.

Anthony winced. He could hear the blood running through Jasmine’s veins. He could smell it. He turned his head away and begged his fangs not to come out. He begged his stomach to shut the hell up. “No. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Here, look.” Jasmine grabbed a knife and made a small cut on her finger.

Anthony squeezed his eyes shut, but his senses got the better of him. He turned to see a small drop of blood on Jasmine’s finger. He gulped.

Jasmine stood and walked over to him, holding out her finger. “I want you to drink. I want you to be healthy. Please, Ant…. You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

Anthony looked up at his girlfriend’s pleading face and finally licked up the drop of blood before moving to her wrist.

I won’t hurt her. She wants this. This is okay. Anthony reassured himself before biting.

~~~ 5 Years Later

Anthony laid in bed with Jasmine. He turned to look at his still sleeping wife and smiled.

Five years ago, Jasmine was walking home from Anthony’s apartment. She was crossing the street when a drunk driver sped right into her. She almost died, but Anthony made it to her with his vampire speed. She was almost gone, just barely hanging onto life.

As much as he didn’t want to turn her and subject her to living a life in darkness, having to feed off of other creatures, he didn’t want her to die.

Now, five years later, Anthony and Jasmine are married, living in a small apartment with their dog, Nala. They’re happy.

Anthony’s happier with Jasmine, even though he still lives in darkness and has to drink blood at least once a week to survive. This is the happiest he’s been in 90 years.

—

What is this? I don’t know. I saw a post on tumblr before and was just like “but what if Anthony was a vampire?” I don’t like how this came out. Not at all. But am I going to rewrite it? No. I actually didn’t even wanna finish it like 700 words in (this is 1232 words) but eh I did it. Also I’m sad I can’t italicize parts of this to make it better (or can I but I just don’t know how?) Ah well. It’s 11 pm now. Might go to sleep, might write more, probably gonna cry over Jas and Ant.

#one shots #janthony #vampire #short stories

[krycek-asks]

Luis' Story Time: The first time I got a hug from Steve Fuckin Rogers

Or "Two times Luis hugged Steve and one time Steve hugged first." Originally written for @thelittleblackfox , a Luis' feel good story (If you make it to the end of 2k+ words coming out of Luis's mouth there's a gold star in it for you) (Sorry no 'read after the cut' when posting from my phone ha!) "The first time I stood in front of Steve Fuckin Rogers man I smiled so wide I felt my cheek bones crack, and I couldn't stop yo! I said somethin stupid like 'it's nice to finally meet you bro' or 'heard a lot about you brah, but like only the good stuff ya know?' Like there's any legit bad stuff. And he just smiled into that aura of kindness that radiates all around him, and that shit is gold yo, my prima Leticia is in tune with the spirits and she says the good ones are gold, literally, like they radiate gold and what could be more good than Steve Fuckin Rogers holding his hand out to you? I get into that golden warm haze and pull that dude in a for a hug and jeeeezus have you felt that guero's biceps? Practically gave myself a concussion on the dudes pecks. Course I told him that, a brotha likes to hear all his hard work ain't goin all under appreciated, and Scott's just standing behind him nodding at me all 'Right? Right? I toooooold you he was awesome' but silent talkin like with his eyes. And Steve Fuckin Rogers is the humblest dude you will ever meet, duckin his head all shy teenager or whatever age he's frozen in since that magic potion he drank or gamma ray or whatever made him wander the earth all ageless 'n shit, like the world's most buff vampire but instead of hiding from the sun and drinking blood, he shines that light right through you and eats like six burgers at a time as though his life depended on that shit, like he'd turn to ash without twelve million calories a day. So of course I introduce him to my tío Pepe's taco stand, ain't no safer place to discuss a job AND chow down on life giving suadero. Best salsa in town too. Just about closed the place down early that night with the sheer quantity of taco consumption yo! and everyone fallin all over eachother tryin to get Captain America a jarrito or a napkin or whatever. Of course Steve Fuckin Rogers pays for everything we ate and more. He can be a happy dude man, well when he's eaten anyways, dude is the definition of 'have a snickers' most of the time. Anyways so a couple months later and I'm helpin Scott do some serious ass swear to god legit Avenging. I mean I've met Norse gods and kissed Black Widows but nothin could prepare me for the awesome presence of the Winter Distract You With My Awesome Darkness While I Slice You Soldier saving me from some shit eating alien monsters with nothin but the butter knife or whatever the fuck he pulls out of all those secret little pockets in that kick ass black leather number he wears. 'Course he's just Bucky outside of the fight, like that dude could be 'just' anything ya know? Like who else appreciates how to properly braise leeks or fold butter to get just the right amount of lamination in a goddamn croissant huh? Bucky that's who. Anyways he's Steve Fuckin Rogers life partner or whatever, no need for labelling amongst friends ya know, so when the Winter Soldier gets his last filleting knife lost in the slobber of the most persistent of alien dickweeds and we're staring down the short track of our lives into the dripping maw of death it's Steve Fuckin Rogers who comes in at the last second to save the day, his glowing aura alone shredding that hell hound into shadowy fuckin bits that blow away in the breeze. I mean really it was that kick ass shield made of Infinitum or awesomium or whatever, but you hear me dawg. There was a group hug after, well it was more like I wrapped my arms around a single super being - those two were like melded into one yo, my arms barely got half way. It was beautiful. Tears were shed bro I ain't afraid to admit it but I'm sensitive like that. Daddy ain't afraid of feelings. So me and Scott start hangin around the Avengers club house more often and it is so tight yo! They got ping pong, Xbox, indoor outdoor pools, fuckin Nordic spa quality steam rooms ya know what I'm sayin? Like breathing eucalyptus through every pore in my body is a religious experience, and all this in midtown Manhattan yo! Stark knows how to treat his buddies right, get 'em back in fightin form asap. We'd do midnight ramen with Clint, Scott'd hang with Bruce around his lab exchanging science knowledge like they were playing poker or somethin, I'd hang with Nat and play Boggle or Scrabble but my girl she cheats in other languages I'm sure of it! But whatcha gonna do, call Black Widow out on some Eastern European word for yak's milk? 'sides she lets me use my chilango 'cause deep down she's a real sweetheart. Brunch Roulette with Bucky on Sundays - we pick the trendiest restaurant we can find that day and proceed to order everything we can stand, acting like real buffs, legit Michelin Four Star reviewers or whatever gets the staff jumpin. Dude loves cuisine and can talk about the thousand ways to cook over fire while slicing a tomato without even looking, nothing snags on my mans knives, keeps those muthas sharp ya know? But Steve Fuckin Rogers is a whole other story yo, saddest dude I have ever met when he ain't got no fight to plan for, and you can only run in one spot for a certain amount of time until you wear that floor down, or like literally break your shoes or somethin. And it ain't like he's havin a hard time adjusting to modern digital life, and dude seems happy enough eating whatever Buck puts in front of him, even gets this close to a smile when he can drag himself outside the clubhouse to join us for Brunch Roulette and makes the staff fall all over themselves if they fail to fill up Bucky's water when asked or turn his creme brûlée into scrambled eggs. I mean seriously yo, my abuela can make a perfect flan in her sleep and some of these posers can't tell the difference between a creme caramel and a Cadbury Creme Egg. But if left to his own devices he starts lookin through old photos from his Known Associates box or old sketchbooks from his apartment in Brooklyn from the dawn of time, aka the Great Depression. Tony calls them his Sad Souvenirs, and that golden aura? It just fades yo, like it's still there but limp or something. Bucky told me over mimosas, best ever wake up juice on the market by the way! He told me he tried to hide the Sad Souvenir box once, but Steve Fuckin Rogers just sat at their breakfast bar making houses out of an old bicycle card deck and they just kept fallin over and he'd get sadder and sadder and smaller and smaller until Bucky couldn't take it anymore and asked him to help open a pickle jar or some shit and put the Sad Souvenirs back while he was occupied being 'helpful'. I heard that story and thought of my cousin's girlfriend's brother's neighbor's dog's vet's husband out in Red Hook - dude owns a sandwich shop, best cubanos you can get bro! It was the pickles that reminded me of that heaven on a bolillo. But what does a sandwich shop have to do with Steve Fuckin Rogers you ask? Nothin bro, 'cept it's next to a pawn shop owned by a hundred year old dude named Frank that used to know my homeboys from back in the day! More to the point he knew Sarah Rogers, the living saint herself who used to walk the halls of the TB wards like the superhero she was, took care of her little slip of a boy and smacked down anyone who dared breathe wrong in his direction. Scott said he overheard Nat tellin Clint that she'd overheard Tony talkin on the phone to some Commando named Morita's kid about stories his dad told him about Steve Fuckin Rogers back in the day. Seems like the poor kid lost his mom to the very disease she'd been savin people from all those years ago, and he used to sing her favourite songs in this strange language but would shut up when caught out by his soldier buddies. Kept lookin in all the churches they crashed in while marching through the mud of war for rosaries too, but not just any rosary though he'd pray pretty hard regardless but he was lookin for something all specific like. Seems Tony's dad Howard sent some dudes out to try and track down Sarah's shit that was left behind at the sanitorium where people go to get better but mostly just pass on, but never found nothin. Scott said Nat said she asked Bucky about the singing but he wouldn't say a word about it, just laughing it off as though the Cap couldn't sing. But it got me thinking - so what if Howard Starks minions couldn't find anything? They weren't from the 'hood ya know? You gotta know people, trust 'em, if they gonna give up somethin precious. So I put the word out at Franks pawn shop, you know if they come across anything, or know who to ask. Well, a few weeks later I got a call from old Frank himself. Seems he remembered a neighbour of Sarah and her son who'd been in the same TB ward as Nurse Rogers but had survived! Attributes it to Sarah giving her something before she passed on, and she kept that stuff for her son Little Stevie, and don't you know Nat won't let go of that nickname even under threat of death, But Little Stevie turned into Captain America and drove a plane into the ice and never came back to Brooklyn so she passed Sarah's stuff down to her daughter then to her son to his daughter until Franks great granddaughter puts the word out and that's all she wrote man! Except it ain't cause the Cap came outta the ice and now I had to convince him to come out with me to Red Hook yo! And the quickest way to get Steve Fuckin Rogers to follow you is with the promise of the best cubano sandwich he's ever had in his life. Don't forget he's a food vampire bro! And dudes most relaxed after he's eaten his four sandwiches and a box of Girl Guide cookies from these niñas who set up shop outside - little hustlers know a target when they see one! Between the two of us we bought three cases to bring back to the clubhouse. But there's one more mission we gotta complete, so I say I wanna say hello to an old friend and we go into Franks place and don't you know Steve Fuckin Rogers recognizes Frank right away 'Hey Frankie!' he says like it's been a week or something, well I guess it hasn't really been that long for him being frozen most of the century and all. Frank gives some Brooklyn salute or somethin then gets right down to business sayin 'I guess you're here for your mothers things' The confusion on my poor mans face! Lookin from me to Frank back and forth until Frank takes mercy on him and pulls out what is now and forever known as the Happy Crying Souvenir box. It's got Sarah's rosary, a song book in Latin and one in Irish or something and a letter, a letter for Little Stevie and you know I teared up at that point yo, I said I was sensitive! But I was smilin' and Frank was chattering away about how he'd found this stuff and the golden aura starts to fill the place and I'm suddenly swallowed up by it, biceps crushing my neck but all gentle like, like being embraced by a huge warm teddy bear made of concrete, that's what it's like to be hugged by Steve Fuckin Rogers, and he just says to me in this super legit old school gangsta voice I have only ever heard in The Godfather, 'Thank you, Luis. An stop callin me Steve Fuckin Rogers' And when I get released and can finally take a breath I take his massive hand, look him in his eyes and say, 'Anytime Little Stevie' and dude just shoves me like a Saint Bernard pushing over his little chihuahua buddy, and it goes on like that and when we get back to the clubhouse brandishing cookies and happy stories from the hood we turn that shit into a party. Bucky was so happy he made me chilaquiles from my ma's secret recipe, as though you can keep a secret from Slice 'n Dice Barnes. I even got a kiss from Nat and one from Barton too, though dude was on a pretty crazy sugar high from all those cookies so he totally denies it. And that's the story of the first time I got a hug from Steve." ⭐️

#Luis and his stories

[fictionalwonder]

True Blood Season 4 Review

Ok It's done. The guessing and spoiling is over for another 9 months leaving us with only a serious fangover and an unprecedented post season body count. True Blood Season 4 was bat shit crazy even more than Season 3, the timeline of such memorables as jar of Talbot and spine ripping TV. So now post Season 4 finale whether you were calling for a Scream award or thought the whole thing blew chances are you're about to embark on 9 months of TB withdrawal. Yup even the haters feel its absence. So let's savor the moment in a post finale look at the best and worst of True Blood Season 4

THE BIGGEST THANK GOD MOMENT: Wee Marcus and gang finally putting Tommy and us out of the misery that was Tommy Mickens sorry ass life. As soon as he went skinwalker you knew his days were numbered. Sam Tramwell was brilliant doing Tommy doing him and who didn't cheer when said Tommy/Sam fired Sookie! She is the worst waitress ever! Talk about sick leave; is she ever at work for more than half a shift!?! The fall out from his death will certainly carry us through season 5, where we can only hope Sam has some modicum of hope at returning to just running the bar and attending anger management sessions.

Close second was Sookie decisively shooting Debbie Pelt in the head, even though she begged her not to. Yup, we had to wait till the very end of the season for evil, laughing while pouring Talbot down the drain Sookie, to return.

BEST OMG MOMENT: Ginger riding the coffin - nuff said.

SCARIEST/SEXIEST MOMENT:

Scary and sexy are often one and the same on True Blood, and this year Eric Northman ripping out, here to be known as, Juice Box Roy's heart will be stamped on my brain as a shining TB moment. Countless screamed everywhere, I had know idea THAT could be sexy! Give Skarsgård a raise!

BTW the T-shirts were on sale a mere 3 hours post show.

BIGGEST WTF MOMENT: Sookie and Eric snow shower then frak in Narnia. I've never read the books but the post Spellbound roar over The Vampire, The Witch and The Shower Stall, chocked up the blog commentary for days. I suspect because nothing could ever live up to this sacred cow of the sookiverse sexcapdes, Ball and company for better or worse decided not to go there; thus sparing us from more Skinmax test reels by getting out of the shower faster than they got in

MOST IMPROVED: King Bill - sure

he's damaged goods nailing his great great great great granddaughter and watching his ex screw his brain-damaged frenemy but sans Sookie round his neck, Bill was standing a bit taller this year. He even had a sense of humor, and Bill with balls is actually kind of hot. The developing bromance between him and Eric turned out to be one of the best parts of the season close.

MOST POTENTIAL: Laurel and Hardy move over. With Sookie out of the way Bill and Eric make an an awesome tag team, dissing each other on the pyre then cooperatively staking and decapitating Nan and troopers. Here's to more of Bill and Eric's excellent adventure in Season 5.

MOST IN NEED OF IMPROVEMENT: Sookie got enough of her spunk back to blow Debbie Pelt's head off, sure, but seriously she spent most of the season literally on her back, well sometimes on top. She was once a gifted mind-reader; we saw that maybe twice this season. Instead we learned more about her castrating powers when it comes to boyfriends. She mommied Eric into a hoody wearing puppy dog, did the dirty with him in every room of grandma's house and then kicked him, alongside Bill, to the curb come finale. In four seasons she truly did go from virgin to love em and leave em fangbanger. The classless moves have got to stop if the Stackhouse angle is to survive. We need an even slightly relate-able protagonist. I'm hoping another eligible lady moves to town, though god forbid she get a job at Merlotts - the most dangerous workplace in America.

SOOKIE'S ONE REDEEMING FEATURE SEASON 4: Sookie had unbelievably great hair this season. I swear to god I saw the camera man reflected in her locks in Eric's cubby.

MOST IN NEED OF A HUG: From defending herself against zombie slurs to losing an ear, Pam had endured what must go down as the worst week in her hundred plus years. She lost her maker to back country fairy vagina and her face rotted off. And things weren't exactly looking up when we left her, blood tears running down her cheek, hugging Ginger.

Why did they do that to Pam!!! Well for one reason she gave TB viewers some of the best gore the show has ever delivered. Still, writers, you better fix her. At the end of the day we really just want to look at Kristin Bauer being gorgeous and acting snarky.

Coming in second is Hoyt who despite the bitterness of his bad boyfriend rejection could really use a little lov'in right now, if not some of Summer's biscuits.

BEST RECAPS and REVIEWS:

VLOGS

#1 Bloodworks takes the stakes as a no contest winner. Besides being just the cutest couple in the world, Brian and Any's post show cocktails and theatrics amount to sometimes slurry worded and always hilariously astute recaps. I swear by mid season you look forward to Andy and Brian's upload as much as the episode itself. With its "staking points" and "do bad things" they were the best thing that could happen to a mediocre TB episode. Brian Juergen and Andy Swist @campbloodbuzz @andyswist http://campblood.org/Newblog/

#2 Think Heroes True Blood Review is tried and true. Roth Cornet has hosted solo for two seasons, and this season Jenna Busch was on board. Roth's reviews are first-rate often delving deeper than the show deserves. Busch does a good job of keeping things in the watercooler-moment mood of the short vlog format. The two combined offer a sometimes giggle ridden but always insightful True Blood take. Jennings Roth Cornet @JRothC | http://www.jenningsrothcornet.com/ JennaBusch @JennaBusch | http://girlmeetslightsaber.blogspot.com

#3 BloodBites is family friendly fair with this sister and brother team showcasing familial bonds and blood-dipped funny bones. Reenacting then reviewing a given episode's wtf moments, Blood Bites has cross-gen appeal. It's quality YouTube content you could show your grandmother and your eight year-old niece, who you know are both watching True Blood too.

Honorable Mention My Future Lover's Reason to Ship Sookie and Eric Spawn of You Tube strictly for Team Eric members, My Future Lover's play by play captions to the best and worst Sookie Eric moments capture at least half the audience's joy, tears and tv punching moments.

BEST PODCAST

True Blood in Dallas Straight up fan founded talkshow and review of both book, show and TB culture with revolving guest reviewers each week. A steady dose of all the criticism only a Stackhouse booklover can bring, Talk Blood is laced with plenty of Charlaine Harris loving that fellow fans can appreciate.

Listen to internet radio with True Blood in Dallas on Blog Talk Radio

BLOGS AND WEB SITES

Best Recaps

Pros and Cons True Blood by Meredith Woerner nails it everytime. for a no holds barred, tell it like is play by play pro con style. This is one of the funniest and most astute TB recaps out there. Meredith Woerner @MdellW | http://io9.com/people/MeredithDW/posts/

After Eltons WTF recap by Steven Frank is an imaginative post morteum with major plot points reviewed then rated in Grace Jones Vamp limps.

Jef With One F's music and episode recap for the Houston's Press is a creative spin that lets the show's lead track set the tone for review and analysis. Jef With One F @HPRocksOff

Best Blogs

Talk True Blood Digging deep and ranting in the best way, Talk True Blood goes so far as to offer scene by scene body language analysis of major characters.

Buddhism and True Blood Dedicated to Alan Ball and the wheel of life, Buddhism and True blood reminds us that life is suffering especially in Bon Temps

True Blood Underground Do you really know what's going on in Bon Temps? Conspiracy theories abound as TB Underground calls out Alan Ball on his addictive mind control experiment.

FINAL WORD Four seasons later there is still a bit of blood left in the series, and while fairy-finger-cop-outs and super silly, supernatural assumptions do show signs of laziness in the writers room, True Blood still does deliver some amazing TV. Godforbid we get bogged down by process oriented stuff like how amnesia Eric lost his shirt post-spell or ends up on a bonfire tied to Bill between episode 11 and 12. Things like how come no one reports a death in Bon Temp anymore or WHO IS running Merlottes only get in the way of a good story or at least a good "oh no they didn't" jaw drop.

I suspect, forty eight episodes later, TB writers actually relish every shark jumping moment as much as fangbanging spectacle. They know they can get away with it because they know how dedicated, creative and forgiving their fan base is. Plus narrative logic be damned, camp and drama are fine edges to play on, and they deserve applause for taking even tasteless risks.

For every bit of hocus pocus cgi True Blood throws at us, such as the anime forcefield surrounding Moon Goddess or the ridiculously bad fx exorcism of Mavis, there was a Pam getting a skin peel or Eric ripping the heart out of juice box Roy to make up for it. For each ridiculous Scooby Doo and the gang moment, there was a Vampire A-team or death by pencil. For each and every minute we tolerated Andy, we had a shot of Ginger riding a coffin or Eric drinking the whole fairy. True Blood IS very uneven but it IS very fun.

So that caps summertime Sundays and True blood still remains my ultimate guilty pleasure. The culture and coverage this year has been as much fun as the show itself and made Sundays feel like a party. I think Alex Skarsgård sums it all up in this quote,

“At 7 in the morning, I’m hanging from the ceiling in a Nazi uniform with fangs in[my mouth]. I look over and I see [Allan] there in his Nazi uniform hanging like a puppet. We’re about to descend down to kill this wolf, you know? And that was the moment where we just looked at each other like, This is what we’re doing for a living?‘”

Yup, IT IS! And even more surprising I CAN"T believe I'm watching you do it and not only that but loving every minute!

#True Blood #tv series #horror series #HBO #vampires #reviews

[alilbihh]

hocus pocus — 1

masterlist  previous part  next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both. 

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; crack (lmao); humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 6.3k

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. this will benefit no one but me and will have 3 parts. thank u

This kind of patience better earn you a great seat in heaven, you think offhandedly.

"Please help me! The test was only announced today and I don't have much time, I need a potion that gives me photographic memory!" Says a desperate looking girl, hands clasped together as she repeatedly whispers a mantra of pleases under her breath, as if worried she'd push you over the edge if she were to say it any louder.

Little does she know she's, metaphorically speaking, already pushed you. Hard. With no remorse. Probably followed by a series of stabs to the back.

"Please, I would do anything!" She looks frantic. The only time you've seen her unclasp her hands was to pull desperately at her hair. She's pretty, you'll give her that, the kind of pretty that makes people more easily soft and influenced to her desires. But you're no sucker, and you're certainly not soft.

"Anything?" You whisper, leaning forward a bit. She nods, hope pooling in her round, pretty eyes.

"Anything!" You're not really used to people interrupting you during your free time. She at least has the decency to keep her voice down in the library, but you have a feeling the librarian and usually easily irritable students would easily succumb to her puppy dog eyes and let her scream all she wants.

You don't tell her that there is no such thing as a potion for photographic memory. You don't tell her that, even if such a thing were to exist, it would have drastic long-term side effects. As in, death.

"Anything anything..?" You lean forward a bit more, the female eagerly mimicking the action. You stare into her pretty eyes, the honey gold of her skin. "...even study?"

The female deflates, shameful as she twirls at a strand of her hair. This girl is just one of the many reminders on why you should never have been known as the campus witch in the first place.

You also should have just stayed in bed, despite the uncharacteristically calm day you've been having. You should have slept through your subsequent assignments and uncountable morning classes; but Jungkook had pulled the sheets out from over your head that day almost knowingly, reminding you how much you're paying for tuition. Curse that familiar of yours.

(Jungkook's voice also seemed to be the one to coax you into giving the girl a discount on your widely known all-nighter potion; which really just mostly consisted of a monster and some ground coffee beans, but she didn't need to know that. But you're still definitely, definitely not a soft witch.)

Three years ago you started a shop of your own, one typical of a witch like yourself. All herbs and tea leaves and scented candles and crystals, ground sunflower seeds and fruits and, later on, potions; the thing that's gathered the most attention in your community, from both supernatural beings and, as harry potter so delicately put it, muggles alike.

On Sundays, you sit behind the shop's counter on the red cushioned bean bag chairs that Jungkook likes so much, taking in the low hanging vines of your small, dainty little shop, the smell of old parchment and the sound of fluttering pages, the shelves of books barely anyone but yourself reads but are familiar and comforting nevertheless.

On Sundays, people stop by; sometimes for tea, mostly for potions, and one time someone asked for a potion to help him get laid but even so, business is buzzing, Sunday or not.

On Sundays, you tolerate Jungkook's grunts and groans of boredom, the boy taut as violin strings until he starts arm wrestling with the plants and reading books by the corner, his long hair obscuring your view of his features as he bounces all over the place.

In the corner by the bookshelves sits a fish tank you'd gotten over a year ago, courtesy of Jungkook, now barren of fish of any kind. (The male managed to get a goldfish at some point. He named it ironman. It died a week later, now buried in Yoongi's greenhouse, and you coaxed some flowers into sprouting around its grave for his sake. Mostly lavender, reminiscent of your familiar. Lavender helps you sleep. Lavender soothes small hurts.)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll hear little snippets of a singing voice, murmuring when he thinks no one can hear him — and you can almost feel the creaking of the floorboards and bookshelves ceasing, the books shifting about in their spines halting at the mere sound of it —  as if even the walls are straining to hear the tiny little sounds of your familiar's voice.

And although Sundays are meant for that, meant for all of that, on one particular Sunday you find yourself out of faerie tears to mix into your concoctions. An odd ingredient it is, but important nevertheless. And you know just the faerie willing to hand over some more.

"Yoongi!" You squeal as you enter the greenhouse, messenger bag over your shoulder, glass vials inside of it clinking together as you walk.

The greenhouse isn't big— not as big as Yoongi would have liked it to be, anyway— but it's tall enough to make room for trees of all sizes. Certain panes have been removed on its walls to allow the branches to carry through towards the sky, as if Yoongi would rather tear the place down than tear off a branch. Vines curl around your feet as you walk, tickling at your legs, and the plants greet you softly as you pass, (except the roses. They don’t like you too much and they tend to gossip quite a bit).

You tip your head up to stare at the hazy sky through the glass. It's humid and will probably rain later, another late summer storm.

You hear a grunt.

Hunched over a flowerbed sits a tuft of black, the endearing sight bringing a smile to your face that remains even as the male in question notices your amusement, frowning as his brows furrow and his nose crinkles.

He stands up as gracefully as his little faerie ass can manage, wiping the accumulated sweat on his forehead away with the back of his hand, a streak of dirt on his cheek and, somehow, on his nose. "Yes?" He mutters, grumpy and all, despite his patience as you move to grab an empty vial from your bag.

You stretch the empty glass expectantly, "I'm in need of some faerie tears, my good man."

The man waddles towards you in typical Yoongi fashion, inspecting the vial for a second before his gaze shifts to you, eyes squinted. "You know I don't cry," He says stubbornly.

"Oh, please. You’re one of the softest boys I know. Didn't you take theater in high school? The tears don't have to stem from real sadness, you heathen."

His cheeks redden at your reminder, grabbing the vial from your hands with a huff. "I just messed with the lighting for a while. Fixed the sound. It's not like I acted, damn you."

"But still! You gotta feel some sort of.. kinship. Come on. I'm not asking for much!"

"You're asking for my bodily fluids. It seems like quite a bit to me."

You hide your smile with your hand as you watch the male grunt and grimace, trying to get the tears out by sheer force. His body is shaking a bit at the strain, and you finally laugh when he lets out the breath he'd been holding with a dramatic, Yoongi flair. "Can't do it?" You ask through laughter.

"Shut up." He shoves the vial onto your chest. "Anything else for you to humiliate me with?"

"Huh. I am in need of some pixie dust, now that you mention it."

"Hobi probably has some of that, he's full of pixie friends." You, personally, aren't a fan of those tiny little rascals. The ones around your hometown were known for trouble, pulling at your ears and pushing objects off tables.

Though you suppose the ones around your current home weren't all bad. You've caught a few helping motivate your plants by your window to sprout, and sometimes you find petals by your windowsill that weren't there before, all layered with pixie dust. Sometimes they simply flutter overhead, tossing pink dust at passersby, and sometimes you hear them sneezing by your ear, drunk on plum blossoms.

They hang around Hoseok almost regularly, and it's not uncommon to find a few napping on his head and shoulder, warbling softly in their sleep. That merman attracts a whole bunch of creatures, so you don't blame them, really.

"Well. Walmart probably has some faerie tears, anyway. Thanks, Yoongs!" You pat at the now frozen male's chest thoughtfully, the man blinking slowly with wide eyes. You take off into a sprint at his bewildered WHAT? from behind you, laughter on your heels.

"Here, noona." Your familiar mutters as he walks into you finishing some paperwork, your form hunched out of view under the shop's counter, red bean bag hardly a chair for such a feat but at least it's comfortable. He places a cup of tea by the coffee table beside you, still steaming, the smell wafting through the tiny expanse of your homey shop.

"Thanks, Guk." You murmur in response without looking up, but you still catch his tail let out a tiny wag at that before he nods and shuffles away, almost like a waddle, and disappears into the closet-sized kitchen, large clothes swallowing his form adorably.

He shuffles back a few minutes later with his own cup, sinking into the bean bag beside you. He stretches the cup towards you after a second of hesitation, "Sorry, but could you heat it up please? Do that thing?"

You chuckle, sitting up straight to drop your papers on the counter before turning back towards the werewolf, "'course." You take the cup, fingers brushing against his, and you see him recoil in his seat as he sinks further into it.

Your fingers cup the mug lightly, and you feel the liquid slowly heat up, becoming darker in color. Your eyes catch his gaze as you hand it back, his eyelashes trembling as he looks down, cheeks dusted a shy pink, taking the drink generously. "Thank you," he mutters.

The moment is interrupted by the gentle chiming of the wind chimes tinkling in welcome as someone opens the door, and you stand up with a groan the second you hear it. Gently placing your cup on the coffee table, your attention shifts to the customer tripping into your shop, the smell of rain and autumn and wonder on his heels.

"Can I help you?" You ask, albeit uselessly as he continues inspecting your array of books without a word, pausing at the poetry section.

Maybe you shouldn't have bought those bean bags. They're low enough to hide you completely from view of anyone if you were to sit and you, being the one to sit by the register, kinda have to do that a lot. You take to standing, taking occasional sips from your tea when you think the boy that stumbled in isn't looking.

The boy suddenly marches towards you. Eyes you for a minute. Blinks profusely. "Morning," he says after a moment, voice soothing and soft, like melting butter and dripping honey. He slides a book onto the counter. Poetry.

"Good afternoon," you answer with a twitch of your lips, "Is this all?"

He clears his throat, his cheeks a bit flushed, "Yes."

You can feel his eyes on you. They flick over you quick and then again slower and then again one more time, dragging like a lip being pulled through teeth. You feel tingly.

With a hum, you mutter the price you know by heart as you stuff the book into a bag. His voice interrupts you.  "Do you sell blood here?"

You blink, catch Jungkook freezing from where he's seated. The boy in front of you at least has the decency to look sheepish after a moment, smiling with just a twitch of his lips, and it's then you notice the ever protruding fangs that line the sides of his teeth.

"Uh, nope, sorry."

"Hm." He hums. "How long has this been here? It's, well. Nice. Must be nice to work here."

You scoff out a laugh, "It has its downsides. Pay is shit, mostly. You're mostly just making drinks and making sure no one is doing anything stupid or trying to hide a body in one of the vanishing bookshelves."

"I already disproved that theory, noona!" Comes Jungkook's interjection from somewhere below you, voice laced with an odd sort of pride. "I sat there for an hour and didn't disappear."

"That... okay." Maybe you would scold him in any other setting, seeing as the bookshelf was completely capable of actually making him disappear — but seeing his pretty, honest eyes, his cupid's bow pulled into a smile, well.. who were you to take that away?

It's only then you remember the strange vampire you still have yet to know the name of was here for a reason. Your eyes stray to the book he'd bought, and you notice he seemed to dwell on which to buy for a bit too long. "Do you like poetry?" You mutter as you hand over his purchase.

"Nope." He grins. "I'll be back!" The boy says it like a promise before closing the door behind him, nimble as a cat and grinning like one, too, giving the dream catcher by the entrance a dangle and, in a blink, he's gone.

"That was weird." Jungkook mutters through the rim of his cup, and you agree with a simple nod of the head. “He was pretty, though,” he adds thoughtlessly. You nod again.

You spend your lunch, as you usually do, in a coffee shop close to campus, Jungkook sipping on a milkshake beside you and Yoongi sitting opposite you both, the latter pumping an unreasonable amount of sugar into his coffee.

"So Hobi's in this wack exercising mood these days. He signed us both up for couple's yoga classes."

Your lips twitch upwards at that before you purse your lips, trying to hide your smile. "That's.. wild."

"Yeah. Worst part is that I don't even mind going that much 'cause I know it'll make him happy. Gross, huh?"

"Super gross, dude."

Yoongi picks up his spoon and promptly stabs at the thick layer of sugar in the bottom of his cup, stirring glumly. "Anyway, how's the shop? Anyone walking in asking for condoms again?"

"Well, no, but I was asked if I sell blood bags."

Yoongi raises a brow, probably more surprised that there's a vampire on campus than he is surprised at the question. "Huh. That is weird. Was he cute?"

"Yoongs, you are not asking me if my vampire customer is cute. Tell me you're not." The man promptly starts to sip loudly at his coffee, avoiding eye contact stubbornly. You sigh. "Yes. Yes he was. Damn you." The man grins.

"He really was, though," Jungkook speaks up for the first time since you all sat down — not counting the little hello he'd whispered to Yoongi — and you watch as he sinks down his seat, smiles this shy little thing, cheeks and nose all scrunched up, trying to hide it as he sips aggressively at his oreo milkshake.

You smile knowingly at him and he all but melts, looking out the window, the tips of his ears a pretty pink.

"That so?" Yoongi says, watching you over the rim of his cup, "I was starting to think you two were cave gremlins incapable of feeling. How nice for you."

You scoff out a laugh, "Easy for you to say, you met Hoseok on Grindr."

"And we are positively thriving, thank you for asking."

"Oh!" The tiniest sound, whispered more to himself than anything but you manage to catch it anyway, your familiar's eyes widening prettily as he spots something out the window as his whole face breaks into a smile, cheeks crinkling at the edges, "It's Hobi-hyung!"

"Where?" Yoongi asks but sees him immediately after, the man in question spotting them through the glass and waving frantically, like he thinks you all might not see him.

Hoseok opens the door to the coffee shop cheerily, both the dulcet soft chime above the door and the usual light he carries on his shoulders alerting others of his presence. There are remnants of pixie dust on his shoulders, strapped to his clothes, glued to his hair. He smells of salt water and chlorine and dried flowers and something like pomegranate, just on the edges. The smile that always seems to be perpetually glued to his face brightens as he power walks towards your table by the corner.

"Hey! What're you all doing here?" He asks with a laugh as he slides on the seat beside his boyfriend, and Yoongi allows himself to be hugged by Hoseok, who hugs everyone.

"We're the physical manifestations of Y/n's inner demons." Yoongi says before Jungkook snorts out a laugh endearingly.

"How're classes, Hobi?" You ask, managing to ignore Yoongi only due to several years of training.

Yoongi groans at your question. Pretends to be annoyed. "His yoga classes or his dance classes?" Hoseok laughs at that, a loud and confident thing.

Hoseok laughs a lot. Dances a lot. Smiles a lot. Sometimes helps his dad teach little kids how to swim. Sometimes sea foam sticks to his eyelashes. Knows nothing about flowers but listens patiently when Yoongi talks about them, when Yoongi talks about his greenhouse and his love for jasmines and sweet sweet bubble tea.

You watch as Yoongi listens to Hoseok's ramblings, very much enamored and very much enraptured, eyes filled with love love love, a shy but fiercely sure thing. He's watching with the same soft, scrunched eyes he tends to be looking at everything with these days; at his plants and his friends and his music, like they're something precious, something to be cherished. You watch and it fills you with a not-jealousy, an almost-jealousy, an almost-want.

You want that kind of love, and yet you stray away from it at the first chance you get.

Yoongi leans in close, whispers something in his ear, and it's then that Hoseok snorts the coffee he'd been drinking through his nose, flushed from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones and suddenly they're all laughing, the two sneaking glances at each other. Glances you feel are private, intimate, probably something you weren't meant to see. You look away, feeling as if you're intruding.

Your eyes catch shifting from your peripheral vision, and you turn to see Jungkook moving hesitantly about in his seat, nibbling at the straw of his now empty milkshake. He stops. Purses his lips. Makes eye contact for a second before looking away.

You sigh. "If you clean out the backroom at home tomorrow for twenty minutes, I'll buy you another drink."

Jungkook perks up immediately. "How about if I clean out the backroom for ten minutes?"

"Twenty."

"..Fifteen?"

"Twenty."

"Seventeen."

You consider it. "...Deal."

Jungkook bursts into a celebratory dance as Yoongi tries hard to rein in his smile. You flip the two off before catching Hoseok's eye. WHIPPED, he mouths, enunciating it heavily just to be annoying, so you flip him off, too.

Two years ago, Jungkook entertains a visit to the town's newest herb shop; his expectations low and, despite his pack sending him out to search for medicine, his eyes were mostly searching for amusement.

Witches. A funny lot, all of them. They gather leaves for a living and use brooms as a means of transportation and they sprinkle basil into their soups and they think they know how to — how to herb.

The werewolf approaches the wooden door — printing paper taped to it with 'open' written in sharpie — and in he steps, wind chimes tinkling in welcome. If there was one thing he was expecting, it wasn't this. 

The air smelled like wood and scented candles, paint that's just beginning to dry. Shelves lined the walls from top to bottom with potions and tea and crystals and, well, herbs, and in the far back stood a nearly empty bookshelf, only half the books on the shelves and the rest still sitting in a box not quite in plain sight but not exactly hidden, either, as if the owner hadn't quite finished packing them.

If Jungkook holds his breath just right, he can feel his heart beating in sync with something in the air. Something living. 

Jungkook approaches the counter, searching left and right. No one in sight. "Hello?" He calls out. Flinches when he feels a thud, followed by a very abrupt, very loud—

"OW."

He leans forward tentatively after a moment of hesitation, glancing beneath the counter and, sure enough, there you are. This small thing curled on the floor, rubbing at your head from when you'd just tried to stand. No pointy hat or a big nose or dozens of moles, no evil laugh threatening to tumble out your lips, hidden just under your tongue.

It was just you. Wide eyed you. Sweet smelling you; sugar cookies, his brain supplies even though he didn't ask it to. Sugar cookies and vanilla and dark woods and something like coriander, just on the edges.

"Why were you sitting on the floor?" He asks you, the first thing he asks you.

You look up at him. Stare for a while. Your eyes don't linger on his ears stretched up in curiosity, black fur tipped with brown, or his tail wagging a bit behind him. He grabs at it to make it stop.

"I don't have any chairs." Is all you say, the lilting tone of home in your words. Jungkook laughs that terrible laugh of his, the one with his grin stretched ear to ear, his nose and eyes crinkled terribly. His laugh makes you laugh. Your laughter is terrible too, he notices.

He gets the medicine, tossing a pouch of coins onto the counter, courtesy of his pack. They have a knack at bringing the most inconvenience possible and living as if it were the nineteenth century.

Jungkook thought that would be it. But his father needed more scented candles and his brother needed more tea and his mother whined, like, once, that they were out of basil. And of course there are other shops that sell scented candles and tea and basil, but yours happened to be on his way every time.

True to his word, the vampire does indeed come back.

Despite barely talking to the boy, you know a bit about him from his interactions with Jungkook and what Jungkook, himself, shares with you. There's a dog with angry and very expressive eyebrows as his lock screen. His lips are naturally pouty and his hands are never quite still. Jungkook once stepped into the kitchen with peppa pig bandaids on his knees and despite knowing fully well that it could be any one of your friends, Yoongi is the least prepared person you know, Hoseok was working at that hour, and Jin only carries hello kitty bandaids from down the street, so you have a pretty clear idea of who's responsible.

And despite all that, you know little to nothing about the man personally.

"Noona, he's.. so nice. He's, like, my weekly reminder that I am, in fact, bisexual." Jungkook speaks as he polishes a crystal, sky blue in color and warm in his palm, and you watch him from between the bookshelves, placing your newly ordered volume of Jim Morrison's books through the available spaces.

"That's nice, Guk-ah." And it is, it really is. He's starting to move on and he's happy and his eyes are shining brighter than the crystal in his hands, tiny constellations hidden behind his eyelids, his eyelashes. "Tell me more?"

And so he does. He explains in a tiny voice, a soft one, occasional giggles and nose crinkles and bunny teeth as he talks about this mysterious boy and it all just feels like. So much.

The shop's lights dim the slightest bit. Jungkook doesn't comment on it.

It goes on until you both hear a loud gurgle from the closet-sized kitchen followed by the scent of smoke, and it's only then you remembered the potion you'd left brewing in the cauldron. You trip only once in panic, and Jungkook's laughter echoes through the walls and it follows you the whole way there.

It's a small little thing. A typical witch cauldron in its finest, smaller than average, sitting over your stove and under the kitchen cupboards. They're all filled to the brim with color-coded tupperwares, its ingredients labeled in sharpie in each respective container; because otherwise you wouldn't be able to distinguish the luck potion from the mashed potatoes, the health potion Jungkook thinks tastes like dirt from the apple sauce.

Somewhere between you opening your window to let the smoke out and your attempts at dwindling the damage, your familiar approaches you from behind and looks over your shoulder curiously, ears moving about in alert. "Can you save it? Is it still good?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you." You say in response, but there's no bite to your tone. He bites your shoulder playfully, a tiny howl slipping from his throat. You chuckle, fully endeared.

You grab a nearby measuring cup. You'd prefer glass vials, but they were all being used at the moment, sitting somewhere in your cabinets. You should probably move them somewhere else. Last time they were left alone too long, one exploded and ruined everything else you'd left in that cabinet.

"Do you know if we got any crystal orders recently?"

Jungkook hums at your question, chin propped on your shoulder, his arms still and unsure at his sides. You should probably nudge him off. Some selfish part of you, the bigger part, doesn't let you.

"Um. I think so. Maybe last week? I think you shoved them in a box somewhere." You probably did. It's starting to become a bad habit of yours.

"Dammit."

Jungkook laughs. "What do they do, anyway? Do they predict the future or something?"

"No, unfortunately. Only specific kinds of witches can do that. Divination is pretty hard so I'm pretty sure, like, only Namjoon is capable." You huff out a laugh, "And they're for curses, mostly."

"Namjoon-hyung can do everything so he's the only exception." He pauses. "Except context clues. He's very bad at context clues."

"And taking care of plants," you add. Just last year you'd given him a succulent because you figured it was the easiest thing to keep alive. It died within a week.

You grab a ladle and scoop up some of the liquid from the cauldron, bringing it to your lips before blowing softly. Probably a bad idea to taste test unknown substances, especially in its early stages, but you decide that it's as good a day as any to challenge death, so you swallow some determinedly. It doesn't burn in your throat, just fuzzes and warms a bit on your tongue, so that's a good sign.

"Are we cursing someone?" Jungkook says with a toothy grin before then resolutely, decidedly, adamantly, rests his hands on your hips, twisting his head so his cheek is on your shoulder instead of his chin. You can feel his breath on your neck, goosebumps prickling at your skin, his touch burning even through your clothes.

"No." You say, feeling small. "Not today. Crystals aren't made for that, Gukkie." You mix the wooden spoon through the concoction absentmindedly as you continue, "Plus, curses need a lot of magic. Usually more than one witch. And don't ask Namjoon because I know he would say yes if you asked."

"I think you can do it yourself." He mumbles, nose pressed to your neck.

"Sweet talk isn't going to make me curse someone." You say but your eyes are wide and lovely, as if you'd give in with just a bit more persuasion. "Who do you have in mind, anyway?"

"No one," he hums for a bit, lips pursed, and they tickle your neck a bit in a not-kiss. An almost-kiss. "Yet."

A hearty laugh bursts from your chest and Jungkook giggles along, giggles, the sound delightful and lovely and the cacti on your windowsill hum, leaning into it. You find yourself doing the same. The kitchen gets a tad bit warmer and the lights get a tad bit brighter.

"Any crystal can curse someone if you throw it hard enough." He grins, bright and unreserved. His eyes look like the chocolate truffles he drools over when commercials for it show on TV.

Some days it hurts more than others. This intimacy you have with Jungkook, how safe he makes you feel. How sometimes is hurts just a bit, just around the edges, where it's easy to hide. How sometimes it hurts too much, when the words are all up in your throat and blocking your airway, no space to let your rib cage expand when you try to draw in a breath.

"Guk- grab me some aloe vera roots, please? Please." You whisper, afraid that if you talked any louder the other words would come tumbling out. Your heart sits so big in your chest it's taking too much effort to hold it in place. Hands claw around it incessantly, some squeezing at it and others making it harder for you to breathe.

Jungkook untangles himself from you just as the lights overhead flicker indecisively. His hands don't linger. They feel like they might linger. They hover over your hips for a second, as if he stopped them from lingering.

He says something that sounds like okay, noona but the words get lost somewhere between his tongue and his teeth and only half of it makes it out. You hear cupboards opening and closing—feel Jungkook lingering in the air you breathe in.

You turn around and the werewolf is moving aside your many tupperwares, reading the label of the ones he finds the strangest. He picks up one with a soft pink color, the liquid bubbling unpleasantly. He places it right back, brows furrowed.

"How do you know how to make all this stuff, anyway?" He exclaims with a huff, closing another cupboard with a thud.

"Pinterest. Yoongi. Years of training, maybe. Or not. I think I stopped paying attention after seventh grade."

He laughs a bit at that, a soft thing. Hands you the tupperware with the root you asked for, which ended up being shoved somewhere in the fridge. You really should reorganize your things.

You take trains sometimes.

Faraway trains, hidden somewhere in the deepest part of the city. Trains taken straight out of Ghibli films, splashes of watercolor and pencil art drawn by hand. You take them when you feel like getting away, like outrunning the heartbreak chasing you down, like you want to go somewhere but have no destination in mind. You get off on stops where you don't know where you are.

The train sometimes takes you to farms, where the horizon is burning against the tips of the wheat, setting the world on fire. Sometimes it takes you to towns you haven't even heard of, where everything is homey and everyone knows each other and the flowers sitting on windowsills to bask in the sun greet you softly.

Everything is nice. Calming. You like when the train goes through tunnels, the dark inviting and comforting, a childlike wonder. The sound of the rail wheel on the track almost lulls you to sleep at times, white noise in your ears, and the few people in the train agree — most already doing exactly that, slumped against the seats.

The train skids to a halt. Nothing compels you to get off, so you don't.

People are leaving, a mother sitting in the seat in front of you urging her daughter awake, the old man sitting a few seats back getting up slowly, with kind eyes and laughter lines. You stay slumped by the window, sunlight warming the side of your face.

Amidst your daydreaming and despite the available seats, a man gets on board, spots you, sits beside you. He watches your side profile for a bit, as if waiting for you to complain or call him out on it. You don't, so he gets comfortable in his seat, closes his eyes. His skin is the color of honey and gold.

He looks absolutely horrible. Well, not outwardly—not outwardly at all. He's wearing slippers with little rabbit ears drooping horribly endearingly, a flannel and basketball shorts, two articles of clothing that don't match at all, as if he grabbed them last minute, but he makes them work. You have a feeling he would look good dressed in cardboard and trash bags.

His ears are a light brown color, and on his head sat a pair of antlers, the tip of one broken off a bit.

But his aura. His aura is absolutely horrible. It's gloomy and so unbelievably dark, hovering over his form and twisting into something ugly.

Maybe this strange man is like you. Maybe he likes to take train rides to the middle of nowhere in early mornings, when the clouds are still blurring over the horizon. You catch him staring at it, the horizon; right when you look up and see him looking not at you, but just past your head up to the skies.

You stare, too. The silence stretches, and a voice—thick and smooth like honey—breaks it. You're comparing him to honey a lot, you notice. His voice and his skin. You'll call him honey boy for now. "Blue."

The sky is awfully blue today, only a few clouds hovering overhead. "It'll rain soon," you reply thoughtlessly.

"How'd you know?" You sense a lilting tone of comfort in his tone of voice. He has a bit of a lisp. His eyes are big and open and honest.

"The leaves are turned on their back, the crickets are chirping, there were some colorful streaks on the sky today." You can tell he's processing the words, taking them to heart, listening gently.

"Oh." Is all he says. The silence stretches again. It doesn't last long. "Are you sad, too?"

Your eyes are wide with surprise when you turn to look at him. A grin splits across his face at your unintentional open admittance, and it's so pretty you can't look away.

The man explains he hasn't gotten more than four hours of sleep for the past two weeks. That he hasn't properly interacted with another human that wasn't his roommate and his mom probably since last Wednesday ("Maybe, that might have been a fever dream," he adds. You laugh). That he's been functioning solely through chocolate, granola bars and vitamin gummies—not coffee, no, he can't stand caffeine—and you laugh until he opens his backpack and pulls out, like, thirteen kitkats.

Describing honey boy is some new word you don't know. Like all the gentle love in his heart has manifested itself, is seeping out through his skin. You wonder how many strangers he's charmed in his life.

Honey boy hums a song absentmindedly from beside you, probably unaware that he's doing it. His voice is a deep timbre that fills the silence in a quiet way. His voice is nice and the train ride is nice and for a second it feels like you've run so far ahead from the heartbreak that it's likely impossible for it to ever catch up.

"Do you like the ocean?" He asks after a bit. The train is getting closer to it, to the ocean, and you can see the line where the blue of the sky blurs into the blue of the ocean. He answers before you get the chance to, "I really like the ocean. I would come here a lot with my grandparents. I like how my dad used to chase me around the sand and my mom would sing to me and my grandma would buy me cotton candy from the vendors that walked by and my grandpa would playfully pull at my antlers. And how the pretty scaled mermaids kept the tide gentle when I was learning to swim and it's, just. A cradley sort of place."

The way he views the world is so gentle. "It'll kick your ass, though," you mutter.

He giggles, really giggles, and it comes out as a ehehe kind of sound. It's cute, your mind supplies even though you didn't ask it to.

"It will, won't it?" He says between laughter. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No!" You say too quickly. Clear your throat at the realization. "No, you're not. I like when you ramble."

Pretty pink on his cheeks. He looks small, somehow. "You sound like someone I know."

"That's good. You should have those kind of people in your life or else you'll go mad."

He laughs. The train skids to a stop the same way it always does, but it feels different. The man goes to stand up, hesitates, sits back down. Looks at you, almost as if to ask for permission. "Will I see you again?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. "I don't know."

"Gram says that people that are meant to find each other, will." He looks determined. One of his ears twitch. "See you soon."

And with that he gets off the train, doesn't look back for even a second, is saving that glimpse for when you see each other again. A part of you doesn't think you will. Another finds itself wishing for it.

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