#I guess that washing my hair is kind of like walking in a fire (not good. probably dangerous. used as a religious ritual in some contexts.)

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Heart attack up your sleeve You can make me believe That I will grow from the ground After you burn me down

[uluvjay]

Horners daughter “accidentally” flashing max for the 3rd time and he had enough

Max Verstappen x Horner daughter!

I wrote this as if it takes place before the purity ring blurb!

Warnings?: Cursing, mentions to sex, flashing, slight manipulation?, kissing, I can’t think of anymore

Au masterlist!

The first time it happened max thought it was a genuine accident, your little sister had dropped her iPad right next to you and you had bent over to retrieve it for her; causing the little dress you had on to ride up, just enough for max to catch a glimpse of your lacy thong.

The second time he felt that maybe it wasn’t so much of an accident, the way you had slowly bent down to pick up the fork you dropped and how you flipped your hair over your shoulder had made him overthink your actions.

But by the third time he knew, he knew that none of your flashes had been accidental.

It was after dinner, you and max in the kitchen while the rest of your family gathered outside to start a fire when it happened again.

You had been on one end of the island putting away left overs while he stood on the other end drying the dishes he had just washed when he heard the sound of plastic coming into contact with the wooden floor and a small “Oops”.

And right as the Dutchman looked your way you had bent over way more than needed, and this time he got a full view of your cunt. He cursed to himself at the sight, he’d been on edge since he walked into your father’s house and found you clad in a pretty sundress and this had finally been his last straw.

Setting down the dish he was drying his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you down the hall and out of sight of your family in the backyard.

“What kind of game are you playing here Schat?” He grumbled, pinning your body to the wall.

“What are you talking about Maxie?” You spoke, looking at him with those doe eyes that he adored.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about Y/n. Are you trying to get us caught? Bending over right in front of me today, flashing that pretty little cunt to me while your dads not to far” he spat.

“I-“

“You what? Huh? Let me guess you didn’t mean to? All three times were accidents?.”

“Yes! I’d never do that on purpose Maxie, don’t want my dad to catch us” you pouted, looking at him like you could truly do no wrong.

“Drop the act, we both know how much of a slut you truly are. How would your father feel if he found out all the things I have you doing when your with me? Huh? You think he’d like to hear how quick his precious daughter gets on her knees when I tell her to?” He taunted.

“No! Max please don’t tell him.” You panicked, you knew he wasn’t bluffing, the dark look in his eyes told you all that you needed to know.

“Then I suggest you cut the bullshit and behave baby, Or I won’t hesitate to go out there right now and show him all those videos.”

“Okay! I’m sorry, please don’t show him. I shouldn’t have flashed you! I’m really sorry Maxie.” You pleaded with the blonde.

“There’s my good girl” he smirked down at you, his hand gripping your jaw to pull you into a hurting kiss.

It was hard and dominating, his lips reminding you of your true place. The way his tongue snuck into your mouth and dominated your own, a small groan escaping his mouth at the taste of the sweet lemonade you had been drinking.

Pulling away he kept his large hand on your jaw in a sharp grip, his other moving to sneak under the skirt of your dress to grab a handful of your ass.

“Gonna be my good girl for the rest of the night right?” He questioned.

“Mhm” you nodded hopelessly, fully under his spell now.

“Good, maybe if you’re really good and can make of for your little games I’ll let you come later.” He smirked, his hand that rested on your ass leaving a sharp pinch before he leaned down to give you one more peck and walked away.

-



[vermilionsun]

The covered in blood HCS for ais n Mhin changed my life for the better so could i ask for hcs for the rest of the LIs with the same prompt? 👀

Yes yes yes~ I hope these are just as good! :)

Disclaimer! They/Them for s/o because we love inclusivity!

Vere

Once again, Vere stood out among the patrons of The Wick. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed the usual crowd—a mix of the mundane and the magical. There was a tension in the air tonight, an undercurrent of unease that only served to heighten his senses.

Vere's smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a look of shock and concern as his s/o stumbled inside, covered in blood. 

Superficial

✦ "What the..." He rushed over, his heart pounding in his chest, disregarding any attention their presence might've garnered from the other patrons. "What happened?!"

"A bastard tried to stab me," they groaned. "Don't worry, I’m fine."

✦ "You're fine? You're covered in blood, you idiot!" He gently took them by the shoulders, leading them over to a secluded corner of the bar.

"It's not mine!"

✦ Vere arched an eyebrow, a mix of relief and suspicion crossing his expression. He guided them to sit down on a stool, his eyes roaming over their form, searching for any signs of injury. "Whose blood, then?" His grip on them tightened just a fraction, the protective instinct within him flaring to life.

"Can’t you guess?"

✦ "What, you expect me to guess whose blood you're wearing like a damn fashion statement—" Vere's gaze slightly widened as realization dawned upon him. "Oh…"

✦ He grabbed some napkins from the countertop and began gently wiping the blood from their face and hands, his touch uncharacteristically gentle.

✦ "You better explain exactly what happened..."

Serious

✦ His heart stopped for a moment as a wave of concern washed over him. "Darling, what have you gotten yourself into?" he exclaimed, quickly making his way over to them.

✦ Vere caught them in his arms just as they fainted, his heart pounding in his chest. He lowered them to the ground carefully, his eyes scanning their body for injuries.  "No, no, no..." he murmured, gently pulling them closer.

✦ He found a large gash on their side, the wound still fresh and bleeding profusely. Cursing under his breath, Vere immediately tore a piece of his translucent robe and used it to apply pressure to the wound.

✦ With one hand, he gently stroked their hair, his touch soft and reassuring. His other hand remained on the makeshift bandage, his slender fingers stained with their blood.

✦  "Stay with me, love," he whispered. "You can't give up now."

#1

✦ His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. The Wick was not the place for this kind of emergency. He glanced around the room, eyes suddenly locking with—

✦ "Leander!" 

✦ The name left his lips in an urgent shout, his attention focused on a man across the room.

✦ Leander quickly made his way over, kneeling beside Vere, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know," Vere replied, his voice tight. "They just stumbled in like this."

Leander nodded, his eyes examining the wound. He began to mutter a spell under his breath, his hands moving swiftly and with practiced precision. A pale glow enveloped his fingertips, the spell taking effect and slowing the flow of blood from the wound.

"It won’t last for long. You need to get them to a doctor."

#2

✦ He looked around for help, but the patrons of the Wick seemed more interested in their own conversations. Of course they did. Cursing under his breath, Vere picked his s/o up and ran out.

✦ "Just hang on," he repeated, his voice filled with desperation. "Please, just hang on."

✦ The minutes felt like hours as he held them close, the blood from their wound staining his clothing. Finally, he reached Kuras’ clinic.

✦ Better to be at his debt than risk his s/o’s life. 

✦ He’d give everything, all of his being, he would walk through the fires of hell and back if it meant saving them.

✦ He'll hunt the ones responsible down. Track them to the ends of the earth if he has to. And when he finds them… He'll use every skill, every trick, every ounce of his power. He'll make them wish they'd never cross him. He'll make them feel the same terror and anguish they inflicted on his beloved. Every. Last. Bit.

Kuras

Kuras was at the clinic, tidying his desk. His thoughts kept wandering back to his s/o. Something felt wrong. Suddenly his s/o stumbles into the clinic, clothes drenched in blood.

Superficial

✞ "What the-?!" He's up in an instant, moving to steady them. His heart beats faster as his brain registers the implications. He leads them to one of the beds. "Take a seat. Now."

✞ "I’m fine," they gasp. "The blood's not mine."

"I don't care. Sit down." He grabs a chair and sits beside them. His eyes meet theirs. He reaches for the blood stained fabric of their shirt. "Let me take a look. Raise your arms." The command is calm and steady. He reaches for the edge of their blood-soaked shirt, pulling it up and off their body in a single, smooth motion.

✞ His expression is neutral, but alarm bells are ringing in his head as he surveys the exposed skin for injuries. He checks for any signs of pain or discomfort as he brushes his cold fingertips over their body. His eyes linger on their chest, searching for any scratches or cuts. His gaze fixates on their stomach, where one of the largest blood stains had discolored their skin.

✞ He takes a deep breath, struggling to keep a calm facade, then turns to the small medicine cabinet beside him. He retrieves a roll of gauze and some ointment. He dips the gauze in disinfectant and positions it over their stomach, gently wiping away the blood. As the stain is gradually washed away, he is left shocked: there is no wound. No cut, no scratch, no trace of injury. His gaze flits to their face, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He doesn't know what to make of this.

✞ He sets the bloodied gauze aside, then grabs the ointment. With a steady hand, he massages it into their skin, rubbing it gently to soothe any invisible pain. He works with a slow, almost meticulous precision, his calloused fingers tracing over every inch of their skin. The ointment leaves a faint glow in its wake, highlighting the absence of any wounds or scars.

✞ "You're not injured."

"I told you so."

✞ He lets out a soft scoff, his gaze hardening. Rage and frustration seethe behind his expression, barely suppressed. "You tell it like it is a trivial matter. You arrive at my doorstep doused in blood, yet you brush aside my concern with nonchalance."

"I’m sorry, love."

✞ He freezes at the sound of their voice. He hadn't been expecting that. For a moment he remains motionless then the tension in his shoulders eases. A small flicker of hurt crosses his eyes before it is replaced by a steely glare. "Apologies won't erase the way you made me worry."

✞ A moment later, he wraps his arms around them tightly, his fingers curled possessively into their skin. His chin rests on their shoulder, breath warm against their neck. He takes a shuddering breath, feeling the erratic thrum of their heart against his chest, the solid reassurance of their presence.

✞ He suddenly freezes. His hands are pressed against their back, and his eyes dart to theirs. Something like incredulity flicker through his expression. His eyes narrow, and a dangerous edge slips into his voice. "Whose blood was this?"

Serious

✞ A sharp gasp escapes him. For a moment, Kuras simply stares, taking in their injured form. "What in the gods happened to you?"

✞ "Im... sorry..." He catches them before they can fall to the floor, supporting their limp form in his arms.

✞ He lays them on the exam table as gently as possible, ignoring how their blood seeps into the sleeves of his coat. Faint tremors wrack his hands as he starts to examine them for injuries.

✞ His fingers brush lightly all over their body. He tries desperately not to linger on the large gashes and cuts he can see through the rips in their clothing. Kuras takes a steadying breath, focusing entirely on the task at hand. Every injury has a cure. They’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, they’ll be fine….

✞ He grabs a cloth and a bottle of antiseptic, cleaning the surrounding area before setting to work stitching the cuts shut. His movements are quick, efficient, and familiar—born of centuries of practice. He continues on like this, moving from injury to injury, methodically dressing each wound with practiced precision.

✞ By the time he finishes bandaging them, his hands are smeared with drying blood. Kuras finally allows himself to slump in a chair, the adrenaline of the situation giving way to exhaustion. 

✞ He reaches forward, gently taking their hand in his, letting his thumb rest on their pulse point.

✞ His thoughts race as he looks over their bandaged form: Who did this to them? Why? How long ago? Where...

✞ He takes a calming breath, forcing himself to stay grounded. He needs answers. But that can wait. For now, all he can do is wait.

✞ His gaze stays fixed on their unconscious form, watching carefully for any signs of distress or pain. His heart still pounds in his chest. He silently pleads for them to wake up, to stir, to do something.

✞ The waiting is agony. He tries to distract himself, pacing around the room, tidying the already tidy desk, flicking through medical journals and novels. But his eyes always drift back to their unconscious form, breathing evenly beneath the layers of bandages. He checks their pulse again and again, counting the beats like a mantra.

✞ When he's on the verge of pacing a hole in the floor, he gives up and collapses back into the chair, burying his face in his hands. He has run through every possible scenario in his mind. He has no idea when they’ll wake up, if they’ll wake up, if he’ll ever…. What if this was the last time he saw them?

✞ If they do wake up, he'll be by their side immediately. He'll take stock of their condition, assure them they're safe, most likely ask what happened, try to find out who hurt them... But most of all, he'll just be glad they're awake. Glad they're alive.

✞ If they don’t… He would go to the gods-damned ends of the earth to find a way. He would move heaven and earth, he would burn this whole gods-forsaken world to the ground if it meant sparing them a single tear. They will wake up, one way or another.

Leander

Leander steps out of the tavern and inhales a deep breath of the cool evening air. The wind tousles his hair as he looks around, his gaze scanning the surroundings idly. Leander's gaze snaps towards the blood-covered figure moving towards him… his s/o.

Superficial

🗡 "What happened to you?! Are you hurt?!" He stepped forward, his hands reaching out to steady them.

"I'm okay," they breathe. "It's not my blood."

🗡 "Then whose is it?" Leander's concerned expression didn't waver.

The only response he received was a sly smile.

🗡 Leander let out a small huff colored with a hint of amusement. He looked them over once more, before running a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "You're such a troublemaker, aren't you?"

🗡 He paused for a moment, his expression becoming a bit more serious as he looked them up and down. "Seriously, though, is everything else okay? You're not hurt, right?" His eyes searched their body for any visible injuries, looking for any signs that they might be hiding something from him.

"Just a bit screwed up."

🗡 "A 'bit' screwed up?" He echoed. "You're covered in blood, and you're telling me you're just 'a bit' screwed up?"

🗡 He took a step closer, gently lifting their chin to inspect their face more closely. "Let me see." He took a moment to study their face closely, his eyes tracing over their features, taking note of any scrapes, cuts, or any other signs of injury. Despite his irritation, his touch was tender.

🗡 Finding nothing obvious, he moved his attention to their body, his hands carefully checking for any injuries that might be hidden underneath their clothes. "You can't just shrug off being covered in blood, you know. I'm worried about you." He said, his voice a bit scolding but also filled with genuine concern.

🗡 "You're impossible, you know that?" He said, shaking his head. Despite the irritated tone, there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips."Promise me you're really alright?"

"I promise"

🗡 "Anything else I should know about?"

"The dead body in the back alley?"

🗡 "There's a what in a what?" He repeated, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual, hand paused mid-motion.

Serious

🗡 Concern and worry immediately fill his features as he rushes towards them. "Oh my gods, what happened? Are you alright?"

🗡 "Hey..hey..!" Leander catches them before they hit the ground, gently lowering them down. He carefully looks them over, his eyes searching for any serious injuries or where the blood is coming from.

🗡 He gently shakes their shoulder. "Wake up, come on..." Leander's heart sinks as he sees the large gash in their stomach.

🗡 He carefully lifts their head onto his lap, his free hand rummaging in his pocket for something. He finds a small, folded cloth and quickly presses it against the source of the bleeding, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "Stay with me, please. Please be alright..."

🗡 He quickly scoops them up in his arms, their head resting against his chest. "Hang in there, everything will be alright." With a firm grip, he hurries back inside the tavern.

🗡 He makes his way through the crowd, people stepping out of the way. "Hey, get me a first aid kit! Quickly!" He shouts. The bartender immediately grabs the kit kept behind the bar and hands it to him.

🗡 Leander gently sets his partner down on a nearby table, quickly opening the kit and rummaging through it for gauze and bandages. "Someone fetch Kuras!" He orders as he begins to clean the wound, hands steady. As he works, he speaks to his partner in a soft, soothing voice. "You're going to be alright, just hold on a little longer. I've got you."

🗡 Once the wound is cleaned, Leander carefully covers it, making sure it's secure. He glances up at his partner's face, gently brushing back some hair stuck to their forehead.

🗡 He takes a moment to catch his breath, before lifting his significant other back into his arms. He walks towards the back of the tavern, making his way to a small, secluded room. He gently sets them down on a makeshift bed, tucking a blanket around them. He sits beside them, gently grasping their hand as he waits for either Kuras or any sign of them waking up.

🗡 If they don’t wake up… he'll stop at nothing. He’ll tear down empires, lay waste to entire nations, bring down the very foundations of the fucking world.

[ilovetheriddler]

The Conundrum of Home Cooking.

(2022 Batman) Edward Nashton x F!Reader.

Word Count: 691.

Contents: Fluff, Nervousness, First Date, Cooking.

Edward let out a frustrated and nervous sigh as he attempted to clean up his apartment. His nerves were practically shot with much stress he was currently under. His new cute coworker was coming over for dinner. Why did he have to put his foot in his mouth and say that he'd cook? He's not necessarily a bad cook, but he most definitely isn't a great one either. His thoughts were running a hundred miles per minute as he frantically tried to clean up his messy apartment.

"Damn it! This has to be perfect, I can't allow myself to be humiliated in front of her! Oh God, she's so cute. I wonder if she'll enjoy herself? Wait, what's that burning smell?"

He turned around and immediately felt his face pale. The food he had been working on was currently on fire, like the pan itself was on fire! He carefully tosses it in the sink before running water onto it. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he takes in the depressing sight of his attempt at making you a nice home cooked meal.

He felt his heart rate skyrocket when he heard a knock on his door. You were already here, and ten minutes early! He ran his fingers through his hair quickly in an attempt to untangle it some. He walked over and opened the door, his nerves practically on fire.

His eyes lit up as he took in your appearance as you stood there. You were absolutely gorgeous in his eyes.

"P-please come inside and um... make yourself comfortable! I'm um.. I'm almost done with dinner..."

"Thank you, I'm sure it'll be great!"

You smiled at him as you walked inside, glancing around his apartment. You notice several trash bags filled with garbage from where he clearly tried to tidy up his apartment for your arrival. It was still a bit messy, but you appreciated the gesture. His apartment is filled with notebooks he's filled with his writings. You're a bit taken aback when he suddenly hands you a small bouquet of flowers. His face appears incredibly sweaty, so you assume he must be quite nervous.

"These are for you! I hope that you like them...."

"Thank you, Edward. These are absolutely lovely!"

You take the flowers from his and sit them down along with your bag. You then are immediately hit with a horrible smell, almost as if something was horrifically burnt. He notices the way you react to it.

"I-I'm sorry about the smell! Um... i... I may have burnt the food.... and my only nice frying pan...."

"Oh... well, that's okay! I can just help you make something else!"

You made your way over to his kitchen area. You took a brief look in the sink, Whatever he originally attempted to make for you was so burnt that you actually couldn't even begin to guess what it was supposed to be. You check his cabinets to see what you could possibly make the two of you for dinner. He had enough for macaroni and cheese. That would do just fine. You quickly set out everything that you would need and began working away.

Edward just kind of stood off to the side, not really sure how he could help you when it was something with as few steps as macaroni and cheese. So, instead, he took the chance to finish cleaning up around his apartment. Once he was done, so was dinner. So the two of sat down at his table to eat.

Despite Edward's initial worries, the evening went surprisingly well. The two of you talked into the late hours of the night. After dinner, you helped him wash the dishes. The two of you moved over to the couch and watched a movie to finish off the incredibly pleasant evening. He felt his face heat up slightly once he realized that you had fallen asleep with your head resting on his shoulder. He ultimately decided against waking you up right now, There was no harm in letting you rest just a bit longer. Especially not when you looked so adorable in your sleep.

[emiko-matsui]

Can't you hear that scratching? There's something at the door. The wind has picked us up now and we're hanging in the air as you grip me like an animal that you're about to spear. "Be good to me," I whisper. You say "What?" and I say "Nothing, dear." // I make shipwrecks out of my dress and the door below it splinters and the creature creeps inside. We fall into each other and the scratching grows so loud because that unwanted animal wants nothing more than to get out.

I've never seen a diamond in the flesh, I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies, and I'm not proud of my address, in this torn up town there's no postcode envy. But every song is like gold teeth, grey goose, tripping in the bathroom, blood stains, ball gowns, trashing the hotel rooms.

Take me away into the night, out of the hum of the streetlights and into the forest. I'll do whatever you say to me in the dark, scared I'll be torn apart by a wolf in a mask of a familiar name.

If you go out beyond those trees your palms will sweat, you'll nock your knees, and the creatures you'll encounter there will gobble you up for good. There's dangers lurking just outside, but no need to be terrified, this simple advice can be applied: never go into the woods! Wolves and bears will eat you there—they'll drag you to their den.

This town is dying—why are they like this? God keeps on lying and they try to hide it. They're setting fire to the churches tonight, the shadows dance on the wall waiting for the answers to their call.

I ate dinner with beasts, crinkled hands, and red cheeks looking at my body like it's food. // Burn the witch alive, drink our dirty water, be prepared for the Mississippi slaughter.

Blood was spilt along this road and you cannot wash it white with snow. Everything here is built on bones. // Visions you don't want to see, hide your face from prophecy. A soldier not from woman born will come for you, you have been warned.

To all things housed in her silence nature offers a violence. The bear that keeps to his own line, the wolf that seeks his own kind. // The ground walked here is a wonder. It never ceases to hunger. All things nature has given she takes back from the living.

Come and get some, skinning the children for a war drum put in the front of the table selling bombs and guns. It's quicker and easier to eat your young. // It's a kindness, highness, crumbs enough for everyone. Old and young are welcome to the meal. Honey, I'm making sure the table's done.

Now I'm considered ugly from every angle, you're the only beauty I don't want to strangle. Can't you hear me crying out for guidance? // There's no sympathetic victims anywhere. There's blood in my hair.

Oh, girl, your story's all wrong and your dream will be a nightmare before too long. // When the sirens wailed and the bombs fell we ran from the schoolyard and into hell, and what we could've been time will never tell.

You with the dark curls, you with the watercolour eyes, you who bares all your teeth in every smile. He says, "I can always hear you sing, I wanna hear you speak to me," while a stranger braids my hair back out on the streets. // As sharp and serious as a pistol in the eye, my heart is full of swords.

Marrow made a wife of Eve, but no one gave up a rib for me or mine. My heart did expose to the elements calloused and untouched by man's design. Oh, my ugly organs... // The dark doesn't frighten me, I chose to close my eyes. It is mine, it is mine.

Embarrassed by her anger she slept amidst the rocks and as dreamland came to take her it seemed the moon began to talk. It said, "Oh, my little nothing, I am jealous of your voice for though the tides obey my orders, know my orders aren't my choice."

I don't want your half-baked sympathy. When did it save those in need? Still, I thought that angels did exist, but now I hope they plan to end it quick because Friday is black for me. Only my ashes will see the sea.

Which wolf wins? I guess it really depends, you just gotta wait and see which one's appetite is the biggest. Turns out I'm living in a horror film where I'm both the killer and the final girl. // Everyone is a bad guy and there's no way to know who's the worst. Karma's gonna come for all of us and I hope, I hope, I just hope she comes for you first.

You know how folks are afraid of the wolf? If you really stop and think, throughout time, between a wolf and a shepherd, who do you think has killed more sheep?

Please picture me in the weeds before I learned civility, I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted. // Though I can't recall your face I've still got love for you. Pack your dolls and a sweater, we'll move to India forever. Passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long...

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. I know it's true that visions are seldom what they seem, but if I know you I know what you'll do—you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

Once I was lost in the woods. I saw a girl in a hood and she told me I should stick to the path, wolves will plot behind your back. // Soon she was out of my sight, her red hood a phantom in the night, and that's when I saw the wolves appear (but they filled me with ease and not with fear). So I went into the night shedding the skin of my old life as I got deeper and deeper within (and I howled at the moon and at the wind).

ylfa snorgelsson | farewell wanderlust, the amazing devil // royals, lorde // candles, daughter // never go into the woods, the cog is dead // everyone's dying (grandma's drunk again), roe kapara // us and pigs, isella // built on bones, emily scott robinson // blood in the snow, hozier // eat your young, hozier // we will commit wolf murder, of montreal // grandmother song, vienna teng // dear arkansas daughter, lady lamb // ribs, the crane wives // oh my little nothing, kyle stibbs // black friday, angela giarratana // you first, paramore // the saint of lost causes, justin townes earle // seven, taylor swift // once upon a dream, lana del rey // lost in the woods, honey magpie

[sanaxo-o]

Fire Eyes (Eric Sohn)

|| for Deoboyznet summer event dbn: summer on you ||

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, kissing, strangers to lovers, reader is very much heartbroken in the beginning, kind of inspired from the scene Eric had with the girl from Lip Gloss MV and obviously Fire Eyes, fluff

Sana: This is quite literally the first time I had fun writing this kind of fic. I am not that good at expressing the things I have in mind yet but I am getting there hehe. As a girl who always mostly wrote yandere I am quite proud of this even tho it's not the best thing I have ever written lol. Thank you for always liking my work even tho it wasn't always the best 🤧. It really mean a lot to me 💗

Word count: 1886

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

🎵깊은 밤 저 하늘 위에

Warning sign🎵

Deep in the night, you sat alone on the stool which was by the bar. Taking small sips of your drink you stared at the wall ahead of you with no thoughts in your mind.

Who would have thought or guessed that a two year old relationship will break off in summer like this? With no warning signs ahead?

Everything was perfect. You were happy with your now ex, life was great when out of nowhere you get a text from him saying your two year relationship was over.

Having no motivation to do anything after that heartbreaking news you just thought that it'd best if you came to a club which was by the beach.

Looking around the crowded club you felt yourself getting tired of the view which was in front of you.

People living their life to the fullest, having their own fun, making out, having a fun night out with their friends.

You were never able to experience that. Your whole teenage life all you did was study just to impress your parents and then when you entered university you started living again only to get tied down by the end of it.

Getting in a relationship made you feel tied down to some unknown boundaries. Your whole life you were never able to see who you really were.

Always going ahead with what others told you were. They said you were too gentle? Then you thought you were. If they said you're too rude to others? You thought they were right. And that behaviour made you fall behind while others walked all over you.

Getting tired of your own thoughts you walked out of the bar with the drink in your hand. You were not planning on getting drunk. You hated the headache it left you with the next day.

All you wanted for now was to get over your ex and never think about him again. You wanted to find your true self and not what others told you you were.

Walking down the beach the night air blew your shoulder length hair. The cool salty air calmed you down a bit as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

Walking towards the sea you sat down on the sand. Your drink long forgotten by you. Staring down at the golden sand you started playing with it. Drawing random things only for it to get washed away by the sea water.

From the corner of your eyes you could see a figure approaching you. Stopping what you were doing you stared up at him as you saw him walk toward you calmly.

Sitting down beside you he forwarded his hand towards you "Eric," Shaking his hand you introduced yourself "Y/N," it was silent after that as you continued what you were doing not in the mood to make a long conversation with anyone at the moment. You were far too busy with your own thoughts which were playing in your mind.

Clearing his throat Eric spoke up again "Why are you sitting here all alone? The nights still long. Loosen up, have some fun." You chuckled lightly at his words and shook your head.

"I am not someone who just has that kind of energy. I don't know how to have fun.." you said softly as you looked at him. There you saw him already staring at you. You felt some kind of sensation in your stomach when you stared in his eyes.

🎵첫눈에 번쩍 튀는 spark

아래 you and me🎵

It some kind of spark you had never felt before. It felt nice but weird. You were scared of this new feeling. Is this a good sign? Or is it a warning sign? Ignoring your feelings you looked away from Eric and rubbed your arms when the cold breeze hit them.

"I can teach you how to have fun. Do you know how to ride a skateboard?" Eric asked making you look at him questionably

"No? Why?"

"Come with me," Eric stood up from his place and offered his hand to you. Staring at his hand you hesitantly reached out and held his hand. Standing up you dusted your dress trying to get the sand off.

"Where too though?" You ask while walking side by side with him.

"Skating rink.." Eric replied as he looked around the quite street of the town.

"What about the skateboard? Where will you get that?" You ask curiously.

"There might be some lying around in the rink. Let's see.." he said unbothered making you furrow your eyebrows.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

"Oh look! There are a bunch of skateboards there!" Eric said in excitement as he went to fetch one of the skateboards.

"They just...leave their skateboards like this lying around?" You ask him confusion and slight shock evident in your tone.

"Meh I mean they don't really care much. But we got what we needed. Come on. Let me show you how to ride it." Eric grabbed your hand and dragged you to the centre of the rink.

Getting on top of the skateboard Eric demonstrated on how to use it. Riding it effortlessly he showed you some skills he knew off making you look at him in astonishment

"Woah...you're so good at this.." you said in amazement. Looking at Eric with wide eyes you saw him coming towards you. Stepping aside for him he stopped right beside you.

"Come on. You try it now." Eric said while holding your hand and leading you towards the skateboard.

Shaking your head as a no you stood still on your place, "No, I will just embarrass myself in front of you." You tell him and refuse to get on the skateboard.

"It's not that hard Y/N. Come on. I will help you." Eric said with a smile on his face, his face wrinkling in a adorable smile which made your heart skip a beat. That feeling came again. Sparks. It made your stomach churn again but it was not a awful feeling it was rather something you liked. It felt nice. It was like there were fireworks in your stomach.

"Promise me you won't let me go?" You say your voice slightly shaking. You were excited to try something new but at the same time you were scared. Scared of disappointing yourself if you fail in succeeding it.

Giving you a smile Eric nodded at your words and helped you stand on the board. Holding both of your hands in a gentle yet tight hold he helped balance yourself on top of it.

"Not so hard, is it?" Eric said as he looked you in the eye with a soft smile on his face, "Now try to push yourself ahead. Remove your right leg of the board and settle it down on the ground. Give it a light push and balance yourself. Don't worry I will not let go."

Nodding at his words you did what Eric said. Carefully placing your foot down you gave yourself a push and moved ahead slowly and steadily. Looking up at Eric with a huge smile on your face you said in excitement, "I just did that! Did you see?" You looked him in the eye.

There it came again. It was like you were possessed whenever you looked in his eyes. This feeling you were having was filled with spark. Something you never knew you needed until now. It was exciting.

"Go ahead. Try again. This time do it with more force." Eric said encouragingly. Nodding at his words you pushed yourself ahead. By instinct you let go of his hands and continued with what you learned a moment ago.

Going forward in excitement you looked back at Eric and saw him smiling at. Getting caught in the moment you failed to notice that you were starting to lose your balance.

🎵Slow down baby, slow down

이미 trippin', trippin'🎵

"Eric! I am gonna fall!" You yelled in panic only to lose your balance and fall down on the hard surface.

You heard footsteps coming towards you, "Y/N! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" Eric asked in panic as he frantically looked around for any signs of injuries or wounds.

Seeing him so worried made you laugh a bit. Looking up at you Eric furrowed his eyebrows, "Why are you laughing?" Eric asked in confusion.

Seeing him so confused made you laugh more. Falling down on the ground you stared up in the sky. "What...?" Eric looked at you as he smiled staring at your laughing figure.

It was as if you were drunk all night. Tapping on the ground you told Eric to come and sit down beside you.

Sitting down beside you Eric stared up in the sky, the moonlight shining it's light on both of you. With him you felt like you were finally able to find yourself which you never knew existed. It was like a destiny which shined brightly like a dream.

Scooting closer to Eric you got yourself comfortable and leaned your head on his shoulder. You felt your heart thump in your chest. It was a nervous feeling you knew you never felt this before.

🎵떨린 첫 느낌대로 (fallin' in love)

이 밤을 갈라 what you wait for (what you wait for)🎵

Staring up at him you saw his perfect jawline which complimented his tanned skin. Feeling your stare on him Eric stared down at you.

You noticed his gaze looking down at your lips for a split second before he looked in your eyes again.

Leaning closer to him you you felt it again. The fireworks in your stomach. Slowly you saw Eric inch closer to you. Grabbing your chin Eric pulled you closer and attached his lips on yours.

🎵물든 on your lips

자극된 상상 가득히 날린 confetti🎵

The whole night you spent talking with Eric. Getting to know each other more. Till sunrise you both were in the same place, together.

Time passed by quickly when you were together. Watching the sunrise together you stared down at the hands which were entangled together.

This was what you needed. Something new, something exciting which did not made you feel like you were tied down to it. Eric made you forget about that feeling you always felt.

Staring in his eyes again, you could see the fireworks in his eyes while you felt the fireworks in your stomach making you give out a smile.

"You would be here the whole summer right?" Eric whispered as he bought your hand closer to his lips and gave a light peck on the back of hand.

"Hmm..all summer.." you whispered.

"So you're mine the whole summer?" Eric said while coming closer to you

"Why only summer? Why not your whole life?" You said with a chuckle

"I don't mind that. Calling you mine for the lifetime sounds better then just saying that for this summer.." Eric grinned as he kissed you on the lips again. Holding onto your waist he pulled you closer to his body.

This felt like a destiny which shined brighter then the flames ever could. It was like a fairytale you never knew you needed.

🎵'Cause you are mine, mine, mine

The fireworks in your eyes🎵

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

[sweetestlittledarling]

Clothing Thief

Rating: PG

Pairing: GalexFinley (Halflingbardtav)

Part of @fluffbruary

Day 2 Prompt: Scent (I rolled these out with Dnd dice so this should be fun lol)

Summary: Finley has a habit of stealing Gale's shirts...

(Inspired by this image by @ghostly-kal who is an awesome human being)

“Darling, have you seen my- “Gale’s words faltered as he stepped out into the living room half-dressed and saw his partner Finley sitting on the couch in front of the fire, sipping tea, and wearing his shirt. Gale leaned against the doorframe, a look of good humor crossing his face. This wasn’t the first time he had come upon this scene of his halfling wearing his shirt which often was big enough to be a dressing gown then a shirt. Actually, since they had officially both started living in the tower Finley was often robbing him of his shirts which was both alluring and a little bit troublesome, especially when he had no shirts to wear. He was pretty sure he was lucky his partner couldn’t fit into any of his pants because he might have been out of clothing all together.

              As if feeling his eyes upon them, Finley looked up with what anyone else would call a look of innocence, though Gale knew better. “Oh, hey Gale,” they said, raising the cup to their lips once again, “did you need somethin’?”

              “Yes darling, I was looking for my night shirt, have you seen it?”

              “Hmmm, no, did you check hamper? Maybe it’s in the wash.”

              Gale rolled his eyes as he pulled himself from the doorway and walked into the room. He stood before Finley, crossing his arms. “Finley Dekarios, we have already talked about this.”

              “I have no idea what you are talking about darlin’.”

              “You know very well that is my shirt.”

              Finley glanced down at the shirt as if just realizing it. “Oh, this shirt! This is yours?”

              “Again, you know very well that it is, now can I please have it back?”

              Finley looked thoughtful, before setting the tea down on a nearby table, and saying: “No.”

              Gale sighed as he sat down next to them. He considered trying to remove the shirt, but he had tried that before and found that his partner was not only clever but fast and as the tower was temperature controlled (by himself) it wasn’t like he was too terribly cold. Plus, Finley did look rather comfortable in it and Gale was nothing if not an accommodating spouse. “May I ask why you find my shirts so particularly comfortable?” he asked.

              “Well for one you got good tastes in shirts and for another it smells like you.”

              “Yes, like a library, I have been told before.”

              Finley looked up at him and smiled. “I mean yeah, there is that old books smell, but there is also the smell of incense, burning candles, and musk.”

              “Musk?” Gale asked raising an eyebrow.

              “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to explain. I’ve never smelled it anyone else but you.” Finley paused, taking in a big sniff. “It makes me feel calm and safe, the same way I feel whenever I am with you.”

              Gale felt a warm feeling building within his chest as he smiled adoringly at the halfling bard who had taken his heart so completely. He gathered them close, allowing them to sit in his lap with their heads resting on his chest. “So, I’m guessing getting your own shirts is probably out of the question,” he mused, playing with a little bit of the tuft that made their hair.

              “I mean only if you wear them first,” Finley chuckled playfully, “which I think you’ll find is probably tricky unless you enchant them.”

              Gale laughed. “I suppose I’m going to have to start locking my drawers and closets from you my daring clothing thief. Though I could imagine if you stole my teaching robes, I might get away with calling out more often.” Gale paused a moment and looked as if he was actually thinking about it. “It also might be an interesting idea for the bedroom. You could be the naughty school librarian come to punish the naughty wizard.”

              “Gale!” Finley laughed, turning their glittery emerald eyes up towards him. “Do you really think that we need THAT in the bedroom?”

              “No,” Gale admitted, as he leaned in, “you are all I want and will ever need, I love you.”

              “I love you too.”

              As their lips met in a kiss, Gale knew that he probably wouldn’t be locking up his shirts too soon. Especially as later on as he slipped on his shirt again and took a moment to take in the scent there. It was indeed, as Finley said, old books, incense, burning candles, and now there was another smell not of the library. It was something warm and just a little bit spicy, like Finley, which made Gale smile.

[torpidx]

Saimami now

Bitter Sweet Love ((CHAPTER 1))

A/N; I know what you want bae, working hard to please you.

CHARACTERS ; Shuichi Saihara , Rantaro Amami CONTAINS ; Saimami , Vampire!Rantaro , Human!Shuichi , hints of obsession and possessiveness , Enthralment , eventual smut , slow burn

It was a dark day; it was gloomy and depressing, but to Rantaro it was perfect; he loved the smell of a cloudy sky and the fresh smell of grass on these kinds of days. Today was the day he would go into the small village that lived down from his large castle; he was dressed extra fancy for the occasion. The only reason why he was visiting specifically today was because a blood moon was coming soon, when he would be the most hungry. Rantaro wasn't a big fan of human blood, but it was the only thing he craved for this particular day. He wore a ruffled button-up with a matching pair of black high waisted pants and dress shoes; his fingers were decorated with pretty rings and his hair was all ruffled but still neatly made. With that said and done, Amami left his castle and began to walk through the dark forest. Shuichi walked down the packed streets of the village holding a basket of food that he had bought from people at their venues. People's voices ringed in his ear as they greeted him giving all of them a small nod. Stopping at a small bread venue, he stared before pointing at a fresh looking loaf, he was about to pay before getting bumped into, getting knocked onto the dirty, washed away road, everything in his basket being spilt out all over the streets. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't see you there.” A hand became clear in his vision, staring up at the face before him. “Oh.” Shuichi was starstruck at how beautiful this guy was; he’s never seen him around and his clothes were much neater than his and his hands were gorgeous. they were so long but just the right amount of thickness. Wait. What was he even thinking about? Shuichi shook his head before taking the stranger's hand, pulling himself up. “Ah, Thank you.” The stranger smiled, “Are you new around here? Haven’t seen anyone like you around here.” He didnt mean for it to come out as rude or in a bad way; he saw the strangers eyes widen before he let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I live just out of town and I was running out of.. Food supply, The names Rantaro, but you can call me Amami. ” Shuichi sensed a strange weirdness in this guy, but he chose to ignore it. It was probably just the overwhelming small talk that made Saihara nervous. “Ah.. If I hadn't knocked all my food out, I would have given you some. I’m Shuichi Saihara..Nice to meet you, Amami.” Even his name sounded good, but why all of a sudden he was attracted to someone, he’s never felt like this towards anyone besides Amami. He got butterflies just by looking at him, and the way Amami stared at Shuichi made him feel like he already knew everything about him, even his deepest darkest secrets. “Oh.. I guess It’s kind of my fault that your food went everywhere, isn't it? Shuichi? Here, I've got some money to spend. I'll buy whatever you need. Unless you feel weird that a stranger is buying you things.” Shuichi looked at the food on the streets, then backed up at Amami. “Oh.. um.. If it's not.. Bothersome then, I guess I wouldn't mind.” He felt bad about taking Amami’s money, but he needed the food if he wanted to eat tonight. Amami’s body felt like he was on fire; the smell lingering off the stranger was strong. He smelt of sweetness and a hint of blueberries.. He’s never smelt like someone this good before ..And it left him wanting more; he began to wonder how his blood would taste down his throat; it made his whole body ache. The simple touch of bumping into Shuichi he already felt obsessed, the burning that was left made Rantaro long for even more, but he couldn't do that to someone who seemed nice. He was only supposed to be looking for someone who didn't have much to live for anyways who was willing to give him blood for the blood moon but the urge to tease and play around with Shuichi was unreal. he wanted to hold him away from everyone and bite everywhere, leave marks for only himself to see. He only wanted Shuichi to pray; it was an instinct that was held against him. Amami was shaken out of his thoughts when Shuichi said yes to his request, giving the other a small smile. “Well, let’s get on with it.” After a day of letting Shuichi dragged him around to different venues; it slowly became darker than before, the clouds finally went away, when the moon appeared, the venues started to close, and people started going home. He’s always heard tales of humans going to sleep after a long day before the monsters could get to them. He found it to be intriguing to think a monster couldn't pray on their meal while a weakened human was sleeping. It was silly, that's how humans think. “Shuichi, I think you should head home now. It’s getting quite late.” Shuichi seemed shocked at the fact that it was already late, he was having so much fun with whom he considered a new friend. He stared down at the floor, he didn't want the day to end yet, “What if you came over… for a bit longer, I would normally be asleep, but.. I’m not tired yet, and if you want, I have a spare room since it's late out and you said you lived out of town.” He felt silly inviting a stranger over, but he couldn't help himself; he wanted to get to know him more. He could sense Rantaro was shocked, the greenette didn't think it would be this easy, but he quickly agreed. “Yeah, I would love to, getting back home would be quite a struggle..” Shuichi laughed before nodding, leading the way back to his house.

[golden-rats]

Hold Me Beneath The Stars

I had a several hour crying fit before writing this and finished the most part at 3 am while watching santa jaws with @sweatandwoe and @sherwood-forests. So don't expect a masterpiece.

Pairing: Dewdrop x Rain Warnings: Implied/Referenced SH Tags: Hurt/Comfort, late night conversations, dew always copes alone, but not this time Words: 2.5K

You can also find this on AO3 here

As dark and endless as the night always had seemed, with its everlasting abyss of shadows and sounds, the tranquility. It was no match for how it looked inside the fire ghoul. Mourning. Hurting. All alone as he chose. But not tonight. Not this time. Not when Rain could make a difference.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late?” Voice still sleepy, Rain came out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand. Ready to snuggle back into bed. When Dewdrop walked by, still fully dressed and with such silent steps he wouldn’t even have noticed him if he didn’t practically walk straight into him. Noticing how he tensed up right away. Tilting his head so his long open hair covered most of his face. “Are you ok?”

He was not. But he couldn’t burden the soft ghoul with this. Anyone else but not his innocent friend. Even though he’d always be the first to aid a ghoul in need. They were his pack. And Rainy only felt complete when he was able to provide help and comfort. But Dew was afraid.

“Just going out for a smoke..”

“But it’s raining?” Furrowing his brows, he didn’t have any time to react before the other rushed by. Dim sparks trailing after him. Chewing on his bottom lip, the water ghoul wasn’t sure how to proceed best. Should he trust his friend and leave it be? It didn’t seem like the right thing to do. Something was up and even if the fire ghoul didn’t want to talk about it now, he should at least know someone was there to have his back.

Rain knew everyone's favorite spot. Where his kin liked to hang out, where they felt most safe and what places they used when wanting to be alone. Knowing to avoid them there if they didn’t actively ask him over. So it was only natural for him to have a guess where Dewdrop might be.

And he found him. Half sheltered by the small roof he sat under. Feet dangling off the garden wall. The only thing illuminating the blackness surrounding him being his cigarette whenever he placed it between his lips. And his glowing eyes. 

His eyes that are usually so full of life, of anger, excitement, mischief. How they sparked up whenever he had passion. How they shifted from the deepest red to a full sunset of emotions, over orange and yellow, a sea of summer petals. They were warmth on a summers day. They were blind rage ready to defend. 

Right now? They were dull. A flickering flame in midst of this tempest of feelings washing over him.

“Why am I so weak Rain. Why can't I be normal?” Even his voice sounded not like his. It was quiet. Almost as if not to scare Rain away like a wild deer. The water ghoul saw it as an invitation to climb next to him, sitting close enough to wrap an arm around the slender shoulders if he wanted to, yet giving him some space.

“...You aren’t weak. You are strong. That’s why you’re still here, that’s why we met in the first place. Nobody is weak, we just have different circumstances in life to start and go with.” 

“I'm not good for you or anyone else.” These kind of thoughts were no stranger to Dew. The important part is, they were always just thoughts.

“Why do you think so?”

He inhaled deeply. Still unsure about all this. “I can't provide anything other than problems. I'm rarely around you guys anymore and when I am, all I do is vent and sulk.” Rain feared for a while now his friend wasn’t doing well. Noticing the lack of presence outside their rituals. “I frequently break promises. I tell people the world and what they want to hear but if it gets too much I just leave, not caring what they might do in that time. I'm so out of touch with my own kin that I show no interest cause it gets too much or I overshare till they grow tired of me always talking and having an opinion on every topic.” The fire ghoul brought one leg up to rest his head on his knee. Not caring it’s starting to get soaked wet. He still loved the rain, the water. Never forgetting where his roots lie. 

“I'm not very likable but you all put up with me cause I'm around. Because I'm a part of this project and they need to get along with me. It has no impact if I'm there or not. I'm a disappointment not only to myself but especially to those around me. Those that think they can lean on me…” Flicking the cigarette away he closed his eyes. Not being able to even look at the one sitting besides him.

“I'm not in a position to do anything or care about my life so how the hell am I supposed to care for people that mean so much more and are deserving of the world? And I do absolutely nothing about the position I'm in. Which is pretty pathetic..” A small chuckle escaped him. Ears lowering and tail swaying ever so slightly, brushing against Rains. He didn’t pull away.

It pained the gentle ghoul to see the complete opposite of his friend. His companion and bandmate. To see him so broken. With so much doubt in his head, his voice, his words. He didn’t deserve that. No one did. 

Waiting a few seconds to make sure this was all for now, Rain spoke up as well.

“It has an impact on me if you are here or not. I care about you and I love you. You are the only one who can change how things are. I'm very happily here to help, but you have to have the will to change this all. And I know you can.” Trying to sound hopeful, he put on a soft smile. Reassuring Dewdrop he wasn’t alone like he thought he’d be. 

“Why hate yourself when you can become the ghoul you can love? While it is true nothing can be done now about your elemental change… That doesn’t mean you’re a different person. You always were and still are you.” His hand found its way to the claw next to him. Taking it to interlace their fingers. It was highly unusual for them to have such a serious conversation. But he was happy. Happy that the fire demon finally spoke up instead of bottling his sorrows away.

Small waves of smoke poured from Dews parted lips. Trying to grasp and find the right words. Looking down on their hands. “I don't know if I want to change even more. It seems pointless. To waste time and energy on myself if all I'll be doing one day is just, retreat back to the pit to free my surroundings of having to put up with more of my insecure and selfish ass. But because of ghouls like you, I just can't do that.” Shaking his head he let go of Rain holding him. “I'm simply overreacting about everything. Probably like right now.”

Tears started to form in the corner of the water ghouls eyes. Listening patiently. Hurting for his kin. What makes him think all of this horrible stuff about himself? He was loved by everyone. Aether would take a bullet for him. Even Swiss loves him more than he would ever let show. Patrolling the hallway in which Dews room was situated to make sure he was fine. The ghoulettes had the most fun with him around, getting some much needed carefree time.

“Dewdrop, you returning to the pit would be the most selfish thing. You aren't a bad person, you are just broken. We all are fucking broken in a way. But hey if we are here already, why don't we glue the shards back together to build something great? I know you want change because you don't like how things are. People are sad when they don't like things the way they are. But the beautiful ability you have as a being is to form the world. Including yourself, your actions, your surroundings. Anything.” He finally closed the distance between them. Nuzzling against the shorter ghoul. “And spending time and energy on yourself is never a waste.”

Rain noticed. Of course he did. He felt the thinly healed scars when his fingers trailed over the fire ghouls hand, wrist, arm. Burned skin under his fingertips. Marks from those times when Dews sadness poured out of him like molten lava. 

He sighed. Wanting to say so much more but being cut off by sharp words. Being convinced Dewdrop could somehow hear his thoughts. Knowing how he thought about the harm the fire ghoul put on himself.

“I feel disgusted with myself. I hate that I enjoy this, but I also don't. It's like looking at someone who finally gets the pain they deserve. As if it's not my body. I see the person and just want to break them, in any way possible, by all means necessary. Till they can't stand anymore.” The more Dew spoke the more his voice began to shake and crack. He wasn’t so sure himself if out of sadness or anger. Anger over his thoughts and what he’s spitting out in front of Rain. Being so vulnerable. Sadness about the loss of his former self. 

Water was gentle. It meant healing and life. Fire was destructive, violent. He didn’t want to be that way. 

…that’s why we met in the first place.

Right. The ghoul next to him wouldn’t be here if Dewdrop didn’t transform. This thought arising made him look up again for the first time since they started talking. Made him look at Rain. See him. Actually accept his presence so near. Going so far as to lean onto him.

“I’m happy you’re telling me your thoughts. It's already great progress and even if you hate yourself, you already became a better person with this. I'm truly proud of you for staying here with me instead of sinking deeper into your thoughts, locked away from all of us. We do notice and care. We all..” Even the water ghoul had trouble speaking straight at this point..

“I can see your view and understand how you feel, and even if I don't agree with how you see yourself it's not like you chose to be like this. We can work on this in several ways. Perhaps finding something different as an outlet. Maybe something that distracts you when you have thoughts like this. So you won’t have to hurt yourself.”

“It feels like I'm not allowed to stop yet.” There it was. The thin line overstepped into sobbing. Dewdrop finally broke. And it broke something in Rain as well. Pulling him against his chest, stroking through his long hair. Trying to pour every ounce of comfort and healing he had in himself into Dew. Squeezing his eyes shut as he cradled the ghoul in his embrace.

“You are. I allow you to. You need one permission to stop something. You hurt the person enough now, believe me.” Feeling two hands desperately grabbing into his shirts fabric. Holding him even tighter. “Do you believe me?”

A few seconds went by. Giving Dew some time to collect his thoughts. To just cry. Neither one breaking the silence. The fire ghouls tears mixing with the sound of the rain. Forming a symphony of grief.

“How do I know it's enough?”

“It was enough since it started. Life hurt you enough already. Hurt it back instead of copying its patterns.”

Rain has both arms wrapped around his friend. Rubbing his back slowly in a circular motion. Feeling his whole body rise and fall. The sobs rolling through him, making Dew shudder and tremble. Trying to get some shaky words out in between.

“It's different when I'm the one in control of the pain. When I can hurt. When I decide how much and deep. It gives me a sense of, well, control. I never know what life has for me and when it'll hit next. Here I know. I don't know where the line is. Right now I just… Kind of hope I won't stop, until I stop.” Mumbling against his companions chest. He rubbed his face against the crook of his neck. Almost crawling onto him, and he probably would if they didn’t sit on a brick wall.

“Stop now. Stop so you can stop again. Stop so you know you’re the one in control. Stop so life won’t push you back and take away your sense of control. And maybe you don’t know when life will hit again, but you also don’t know when it will stand at your door with an apology. And while it happens you can still make your own decisions. You are in control when you form words in such an unique way nobody else could and create a universe that never existed before. You are in control when you write. You control the sounds and accords, you control your moves when you play music. You are always in control when you create. You have so much more power than you realize, don’t let anything take this away from you Dew…”

They stayed like this for who knows how long. Holding each other. Tails entangled. Letting the silent of the night wash over them. It was peaceful. With everyone asleep there was no pressure. No expectations to do or be something. It was the dead of night Dew enjoyed the most.“I'm sorry I'm putting you through that.”

Rain wanted to smack him for that. But at the same time, the fire ghoul rarely apologized for anything. He really had the feeling he needed to say sorry for this? “Don’t worry. I said I’m here and I hope I can help. I’m sorry you have to go through this..”

The soft ghoul pulled back a little. Wanting to have a clear look at the one next to him. Cupping Dewdrops face with one hand and stroking his thumb over the tear stained cheek. Searching his eyes for something.

“I'm proud of you for opening up.” 

“Don't be.” Whispering almost.

“Why not?”

Leaning into the touch, Dew reciprocated the eye contact. Feeling safe looking into his ocean eyes. The calm lake in the middle of his stormy sea.

“It's not an achievement or anything. It's common sense to do that. I shouldn't be rewarded just because I talk.”

“You should be because you made the right decision. And I’m happy you did so. I know it’s not easy for you. We can work on this. Nobody is perfect, you have to acknowledge and accept your flaws and backholds to be able to work on them and improve.”

A quick kiss was placed on trembling lips.

“You just couldn’t heal because you kept pretending you weren’t hurt.”

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 32 - Nightdreams and Daymares

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2801

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse.

Notes: Red Son's nightmares get worse...

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

Everything burns. His surroundings, his clothes, his hair.

It hurts.

Red Son clings to himself, trying to protect what he can, but the fire just holds on tighter.

The fire is blue.

"Why?" he questions, though he's not sure to whom. "Samadhi Fire?"

There is a form that walks through the curtain of flames, and towers over him.

"Father!"

The Demon Bull King snorts out the flames from his nostrils. The True Fire of Samadhi billows around him and washes over Red Son in a blue wave.

He wakes up screaming

"What, what is it!" Red Son's eyes snap open to see Mei jump up, brandishing her sword. Though if there were truly any danger, Red Son isn't sure she'd actually be able to take it on since she still looks half asleep. She also seems almost in pain, one hand over her chest, gripping the fabric of her shirt there, tightly.

"Red Son! Are you okay?" Red Son's vision flickers over to MK, who looks at him nervously. "You were dreaming."

At this point Red Son had been hanging out with Mei and MK much more. Sleepovers were a common occurrence. Unfortunately, so were the strange dreams he was having, and he supposed that sooner or later the two would coincide yet again… Red Son moans and puts a hand up to his head, rubbing his hand through his hair, and putting out any errant sparks that flickered as a result of his tumultuous emotions. "I-- yeah. I was having a nightmare."

"You wanna talk about it?" MK asks. Mei seems to have realized that there is no danger and slowly crawls back over to the pillow pile. It's now bright outside, but Red Son can't be sure how early or late in the day it is, and Mei seems content to just sleep again. Red Son isn't sure if she's even fully awake or listening, but he decides to answer MK's question.

"There's honestly not much to say,” Red Son says. "I've been having this dream for the past few weeks or so... Ever since we defeated Spider Queen."

"The one with The Fire?" Mei asks. Guess she was still listening, Red Son muses.

He nods. "Yeah, but this time..." He hesitates. "It was, uh, I don’t know, more clear? I could see my father more clearly… and it felt–" He peters off, and Mei looks a bit more awake. MK looks nervous, but also like he's thinking of something.

"At least it didn’t affect my powers this time," Red Son says, trying to brush the awkwardness off.

"Yeah, but you've been having this kind of dream for a while," Mei says. "That sounds like an issue in itself, dude."

Red Son puts his head in his hands and groans frustratedly.

"Have you checked in on your parents recently?" MK asks.

Red Son's head snaps up. "Uh.. no actually." He had completely forgotten. Or maybe "forgotten" isn't the right word. "Avoiding it" might be a better choice of words. They were aware that he had a way to spy on his parents, but he hadn’t been open about how little or how often he did.

He takes out his phone, but hesitates before opening the program he uses to spy through the bullbots.

"What's the holdup?" Mei asks, she still seems sleepy, but engaged in the drama.

"I just-- I don’t want to look because I was trying to put the past behind me." Red Son says.

"Yeah?" MK says.

"I thought I was with you guys now, so I don't need to look, right?"

"Well something in your subconscious must be bothering you about that," Mei says.

"It's not just that..." Red Son squirms. There's something about his dreams and the fire that he'd been trying to avoid thinking about. As if he was afraid of speaking it into existence. "It's the Samadhi Fire. It feels... kind of alive. I was worried that I might be awakening it in my dreams."

"Why's that so bad? Maybe that means you can control it again or something." Mei pushes.

Red Son sighs dramatically and looks at MK, who still seems a bit nervous about this whole talk, but genuinely curious to what Red Son has to say.

"If I awakened it or if my parents found out where I was... Well, I didn't want to subject that to any of you again..." Red Son says quickly.

There is a beat.

Then Mei, now fully awake lets out a big "Awwwww!!! Red Son cares about how we feel!"

"Ugh, shut up!" Red Son rolls his eyes.

MK’s nervousness changes to laughter at the display, and he finally says, “I think you should check this out if it’s bothering you this much. It’s better to talk about it than keep it bottled up,” MK says. “We’ll be here to support you!”

Red Son can't help but smile slightly. It does feel good to have people in his corner for once. But there's also the annoying feeling that he now has people he doesn't want hurt over something he started. And then there’s that underlying fear of what facing his parents would mean. He thinks for a moment. If he can’t go through with it, he can at least be honest with his new friends as to why.

“I haven’t actually spied on them for some time now… If I did - if I thought about them more - then that means I’d have to think about actually facing them. Explain why I’ve been away for so long. Talk about The Fire. I just, I’m not ready yet…” he says the last part in a sigh, like a puff of air letting out his insecurities.

“You know you’re probably having those dreams because you’re keeping yourself from thinking about it, right?” Mei says bluntly.

Red Son rolls his eyes and snaps back at her, “Yeah, I know!” His tone had a bit more annoyance than intended, but she didn’t seem bothered by it.

“You know, if you did face them, you wouldn’t have to do it alone. We’d be there for you,” MK says reassuringly.

“DBK is dangerous. I wouldn’t want you all to have to face him as well because…” Red Son again, looks nervously at MK and Mei.

"Because you CARE about us!" Mei says with a giant grin.

"Ugh!" Red Son rolls his eyes heavily, and throws his hands up. “Listen! I’m just not ready to deal with this yet! And not on a day when -” he finally looks at the clock and sees the time, “-when we have to be at work in a half an hour!”

MK also looks at the clock and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. He turns back to Red Son and looks him hard in the eyes. Red Son looks back somewhat pleadingly, though he’s unpracticed at a puppy-dog-eyes look, so it probably just looks strained and awkward.

MK finally nods. "We can respect that you need your time," MK says. "But we'll be here when and if you need us!"

Mei affirms with her own nod.

“Now let’s get ready for work!” MK exclaims, back to his usual boisterous self. He loops an arm around Red Son, who rolls his eyes, but doesn't protest the motion.

Yes, he'd wait a bit. But if he can resolve the issue with his parents, without bringing the others into it, he'd prefer that. He started it, so he'd end it.

Unfortunately, if there's anything that Red Son has learned it’s that things don't always go as planned.

- - -

Luckily, Red Son and MK make it to work on time and with little fanfare. Red Son is currently in the kitchen seasoning some noodles and broth. Pigsy is stirring up some noodles boiling in a large vat next to him. MK had just come back from a delivery and was waiting on the two of them to finish with the soup so he could bring the product to the appropriate customers. Mei and Tang are chatting with him at the counter, with Pigsy and Red Son throwing the occasional comment out to them from the kitchen area.

Red Son is in the middle of a minor tirade about the differences between various noodle types and the appropriate spices to go with them, when he is cut off mid-sentence by a low rumble and the room suddenly darkening around him.

In the next instant, columns of blue flames launch out of all the burners on the stovetop, bathing the entire kitchen and himself in a sapphire light. Somehow his friends are no longer there, but the dark void that had replaced them is then filled by the overwhelming booming voice of his father; a rage-filled yell echoes around the area. Red Son’s breath catches in his throat, and he freezes, unable to move, until a pressure appears on his shoulder and literally shakes him out of the state.

As quickly as they had appeared, the flames, the voice, and the darkness are all gone, replaced again, with the gentle warmness of the kitchen, and the worried faces of his friends. Red Son is finally able to suck in a breath, and he lurches forward, holding his chest and pulling in deep breaths. He is coached through it by Pigsy, who he now realizes is the owner of the hand on his shoulder. He focuses on the pressure there and on his voice, and it helps ground him. He looks over and notices that the Dragon Girl looks equally stressed out, hand to her chest, and looking almost in pain. MK has a hand over her shoulder and is looking nervously between both her and Red Son. After a few tense breaths, Pigsy worriedly asks, “You okay, kid? What happened?”

Red Son looks around confusedly and answers honestly, “I– I don’t know… I just - um–”

He catches Mei’s eyes, which are staring into his own with such intensity, as she clutches at MK for some stability. Red Son stares back for a moment, searching, and he practically feels her own searching gaze. Did you see the same thing? Red Son thinks hard, as if hoping she hears him, but his tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth, so he doesn’t say it out loud. Mei doesn't respond, just keeps on looking at him intensely. His thoughts and practical staring contest with Mei are interrupted by a voice to his side.

“Maybe you should lay down?” Mr. Tang is there, too.

Red Son nods slowly in response. Still confused about what happened.

Pigsy hands him off to Tang, as he takes over the stove. MK seems hesitant to separate himself from Mei, but she nudges him encouragingly and he helps Tang with guiding Red Son into another room. Mei trails almost cautiously behind him. Or at least Red Son thinks she seems cautious, he’s still a little hazy. He is brought to a sofa and given a glass of water.

He drinks slowly, and it gives him time to think. What was that?! That had never happened before, and yet it felt familiar-

Something clicks into place.

He turns slowly to MK and Mei. MK is sitting next to him, and Mei had slung herself over the edge of the sofa, giving an air as if she was not bothered, nor ever was in the last few minutes. Maybe Red Son was wrong about the look she gave earlier. Tang hovers by the entrance to the room.

“I– I think I’d like a moment to myself,” he tells them.

“Sure thing,” MK says, giving him an extra pat on the shoulder. “Just call if you need anything.”

Red Son nods as they take their leave. Once they are out of the room, Red Son takes out his phone. No one had turned on a light in the room, and now that the door had closed it is much darker. The only light in the room is the eerie glow from the phone that illuminates his face. He’d turn on a light, but his thoughts are stuck on what had happened.

Whatever vision he had seen, felt a lot like the dreams of the Samadhi Fire he had been having. Like before, he is certain the dreams were just inner anxieties, and maybe that was just a hallucination - a sign he is falling further down the mental rabbit hole. But despite that being somewhat terrifying in itself, a part of him thinks maybe it is wishful thinking that it was just in his head, and not the even more terrifying alternative… That what he’s been seeing were true visions or premonitions, not merely dreams.

He quickly opens up his Bullbot app, takes a deep breath in, and checks in on his parents. What he sees confirms his fears. He sees his father, with blue flames wreathed around him. His eyes have a blue glow to them, and there are wisps of fire floating out of his mouth and nostrils. He can’t get sound on the bullbots without potentially clueing his parents into his spying, but he can see that his father is talking to his mother. The Demon Bull King doesn’t look crazed like he initially was when commanding The Fire. Instead, he seems to just be talking with Princess Iron Fan. He does seem angry, however; some of the fire is kicking up from beneath his hooves, and the two look to be having a heated discussion. Eventually Princess Iron Fan storms away, and Demon Bull King sits down in a huff on a large throne-like chair. He casts a look over to the bullbot that Red Son is commanding, starts breathing heavily, cool flames puffing out and being sucked back in through his teeth, before he yells angrily and the entire screen is covered in blue.

Red Son jumps in his seat and quickly exits the program.

He sits there in stunned silence for a moment, processing the information. His father still has the Samadhi Fire somehow. It is only a matter of time before they come looking for him, and potentially try to take their anger out on the Monkie Kid crew. If Red Son could somehow connect to The Fire and see visions about it, there is a possibility that they could find him through it as well, which would put a target on his friends.

Red Son sits there for a few minutes more mulling over what to do. He’s not sure how long he sits there, but it’s MK poking his head into the room, bringing a ray of light from the kitchen into the dark room, that stirs him into action. He stands up, suddenly.

“Oh, um, I was just about to come and see if you were okay…” he hears MK from behind.

Without looking at him, Red Son says, “I’m fine, but I think…” He pauses, then turns to his friend and says with an earnest expression, “I think I should go home and rest.”

MK raises his eyebrows. There’s an odd sort of glint in his eyes, but Red Son can’t tell if it’s just from the odd lighting of the dim room or something else. “At the boathouse..? Uh, sure.”

Red Son holds his phone tightly, and hopes that the Noodle Boy can’t see the tremble in his hands. He quickly skirts around him, voices some curt goodbyes, and takes his leave.

- - -

“Everything okay?” Mei asks MK, when she notices his worried expression as he watches Red Son leave the noodle shop.

“Oh, um, yeah…” MK’s voice trails off. Mei had given him a scare almost as much as Red Son earlier, but she had brushed it off and seems all right at the moment. He’d push her about it more later, but right now he had a more pressing question on his mind. “Hey, Mei,” he asks her, “Has Red Son ever called the boathouse ‘home’ before?”

She puts a finger up to her lips and hums in thought. “Hmm, no I don’t think so. Why? Did he just do that?”

“He said he was going ‘home.’”

“Awww, Red Boy really does care about us! He’s finally seeing Sandy’s boathouse as home, that’s super sweet! I’m definitely going to bring it up when he’s feeling less out of it, haha,” Mei says, all too eagerly. She hops happily onto a seat by the counter and starts talking to the others.

MK continues to look out the door where Red Son just left, with a nervous rumbling in his stomach, due to the fact that Mei didn’t quite catch onto what MK was getting at. He said he was going “home”. But the way that Red Son had left the shop was not in the direction of the boathouse…

start || <– previous // next –>

[finalgirlkateausten]

Some totally random questions:

How does Hayley feel when the new babies are finally brought home and she actually has siblings in her house now?

Mickey and Maggie vs decorating a nursery and assembling the crib, are they good at this or is there Chaos?

Are Mickey and/or Hayley there when the babies first start kicking? How do they react?

lmao you can tell we were having this conversation at like 1am because i did not even realize you had send this to my inbox 😂 but my brain is firing on a much higher level now anyway so i am going to answer. all of these

with twins Maggie starts feeling the kicks earlier than she expected... they're actually having a family beach weekend in July and the cold smoothie Maggie has is exciting to the babies apparently because that's the first time she feels them moving

it surprises her and so Mickey and Hayley can tell something's happening, ironically Hayley is the one who is concerned at first until Maggie explains

Mickey asks if he can feel and Maggie says she doubts he'll be able to but he's all over her anyway

Hayley forgets about being worried because it's her duty as a 15yo to remind her parents that they're being embarrassing and also that this is kind of weird if you really think about it and mom is it weird?? it seems like it would feel weird

(Maggie says yes, but it was weirder the first time around. Mickey jumps on this by proclaiming that Hayley has always been a weird one. Hayley rolls her eyes and heads back into the water and Mickey decides this is an invitation to a splash fight)

("daaaaad you're buying my next box of hair dye if the salt water washes out the pink!" "well it would stay better if i got you a salon appointment wouldn't it?" [maggie from shore] "michael haller what are you promising her now??")

for most of July Maggie and Mickey both are still reeling from getting the news about twins (and work stuff I guess. Mickey did have quite a lot to deal with after the Trammel murder trial. it's probably better that she's arrested and hates him than walking free and obsessed with him and aware of his family??)

by the time Hayley is going back to school though they Need to start preparing and decorating

there was a moment where Maggie wanted to move; Mickey's place is pretty much a bachelor pad

but Mickey points out that they have the space and moving would be too much stress

Hayley seals the deal; she loooooves the house in the hills and the view and totally flexes the whole place when she has her friends over

Mickey claims that his gift to Maggie for agreeing to stay in place is letting her have full creative control over the nursery plans. she thinks he would've done that anyway

Maggie picks an intense jewel tone green because she says a bright color will make it easier to leave the walls solid and focus their decorating in other areas

Mickey enlists Hayley to paint with him so they don't have to hire anybody

(they could do that easily. but he has it in his head that this is excellent father-daughter bonding)

it goes well for them until he accidentally trips over a paint pan and spills it all over them both. Hayley's new jeans are ruined and she doesn't speak to him for 48 hours

("mija if you didn't want paint on those jeans why didn't you change?? hey, quit slamming doors, your mother is resting!!")

a few days later Hayley comes home from school with her jeans covered in even more paint

("yeah Luna stole a bunch of fabric paint from the art closet because the teacher is obsessed with her and even gave her her own key. And then while I was telling her and Dante what happened they both offered to come help paint. And Julia just didn't want to go back home right after school")

Mickey establishes that all four of them are in good painting clothes and then leads his new train of teenagers straight to work

Maggie is watching all this go down from the kitchen like "I have two arraignments tomorrow I'm not cooking I hope you all like takeout"

all working together, they finish the rest of the painting that night. and Hayley declares those are still her favorite jeans

this was sort of. 1.5 of the three questions here? but i think i will save maggie and mickey putting furniture together for maybe actually in the fic,,,, and other than that i do have to make food now. but thank you for the inspirationnnn

[fullcollectivecloud]

"Tell it to the Frogs" Pt.2

Later that night, Most of the group gathers by a fire that was set up,Rick is sitting with Carl in his lap. Lori is sitting close, her hands in Carl’s hair. Rick begins to explain his side of the story “Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented Fear, confusion – all those things but Disoriented comes closest”. “Words can be meager things. Sometimes they fall short.” Said Dale, Rick goes on to explain more “I felt like I’d been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from ever.”Carl looks up at his father. “Mom said you died.” the young boy states, Lori lays her hand on Carl’s forehead. She doesn’t speak. Rick reassures Carl “She had every reason to believe that. Don’t you ever doubt it.” Shane doesn’t speak.  Nearby, Ed puts another log on his fire. Shane walks over and has to tell Ed the rule of the camp once more, Ed does not care and has his wife Carol take care of it. Shane thanks him sarcastically and checks up on Carol and her daughter Sofia, once he’s done that Shane rejoins the other group. Dales decides to address the elephant in the room, “Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind.” T-Dog speaks up “I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me.” Rick shakes his head “I cuffed him. That makes it mine.” Glenn cuts in “Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.” T-Dog looks at Glenn “I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him.” Amy tries to offer a solution: “We could lie.” Andrea tells it as it is “Or tell the truth. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's.” Dale looks at her wide-eyed “And that's what we tell Daryl? I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise… We're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt.” I’ll tell him” Bow finally speaks up, and all heads turn to her,” It will come better from me” She insists. “She’s right, she has grown the closest to the Dixons” Lori agrees. “Besides I know what happened I can try and make Daryl understand” “I’m sorry how do you know what happened I don’t remember seeing you there?” Rick asks, Bow takes a deep breath in preparing to explain “I’m a mutant, I can read minds and manipulate the world around me to a certain degree” Bow decides to demonstrate for Rick so she enters his mind and speaks to him, “kinda like this officer friendly”. Rick looks at her with surprised eyes “The hell?” he questions out loud. Bow smirks at him “It’s cool isn’t it dad?” Carl asks with an amused smile and laugh. Pretty soon everyone decides to hit the hay early. Bow however could find no sleep, her heart broke for Daryl, she knew that even though Merle was a dick sometimes, the Dixon brothers still loved each other and were the only family they had left. Bow finally gave in to sleep, knowing she’d need it for the fresh hell that was gonna be unleashed tomorrow. The next morning everyone was up early doing their normal task, Bow was helping Carol with laundry when they saw Rick come out of his tent. “Mornin’ officer friendly, have a nice sleep?” Bow asks “Yea better than I’ve had in a long time.” Rick replies, Carol comes up to Rick with his clothes “They're still a little damp. The sun'll have 'em dry in no time.” Rick looks at her surprised “You washed my clothes Carol nods “Well, best we could. Scrubbing on a washboard ain't half as good as my old Maytag back home.” Rick shakes his head “That's very kind. Thank you.” Rick walks away to see what the other members are up to. Suddenly, the group hears screaming...

[aspenmissing]

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚍 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

Sam is in the bathroom of their motel room. He gasps. He leans over the sink, the water running.

"No..." He runs a hand under the water and washes his face, scrubbing the hand through his hair. As he shuts the water off and looks up into the mirror, the door bursts open to reveal Dean.

"Sam, come on, zip it up. Let's hit the..." Dean pauses, absorbing Sam's condition "...road. What?" Sam is breathing heavily and blinking.

==

Y/N is driving the Impala, speeding down the road. The youngest Winchester is sat in the passenger side looking troubled with Dean sat in the back, leaning forwards. The radio is the only noise playing in the Impala.

"Rockin' Nebraska. Your source for the classics, all night long"

"I don't know, man, why don't we just chill out, think about this" Sam shuts off the radio.

"What's there to think about?" Sam asks.

"I don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea"

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where"

"Yeah, man, but..."

"Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do"

"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if, if, if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a, a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?" Y/N hits Dean's arm, a cast is shown.

"You could have phrased it better"

"So, I'm a freak now?" Dean slaps Sam on his shoulder, laughing.

"You've always been a freak" Dean smiles weakly and leans back in his seat. Sam looks to Y/N, who just shakes her head, shrugging and mouthing for him to ignore Dean.

==

At the roadhouse, Jo is playing a shooter arcade game as an older man watches. She hits every target and he groans.

"Damn, little lady, that was my room money" Jo takes the money he pulls out.

"Well, I guess you're taking a truck nap tonight" As she walks away, pleased with herself, Ellen walks over.

"Ought to check the high scores before you put your money down" She presses a button on the game and a list of high scores- all reading Jo "You went and got yourself hustled, Ed" Dean, Sam, and Y/N enter, passing two men at the table cleaning weapons, they look over and see Y/N and look her up and down, then smile. Dean almost runs into Jo, who stops, smiling.

"Just can't stay away, huh?" She speaks.

"Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?"

"Where's Ash?" Sam asks, hurried.

"In his back room" Sam brushes past her.

"And I'm fine..."

"Sorry, he's, we're...kind of on a bit of a timetable" Y/N says. The three walk to the back room. Sam approaches a rough wooden door with a sigh handing which reads 'Dr Badass Is: In'

"Ash? Hey, Ash?" Sam asks, knocking on the door.

"Hey, Dr. Badass?" Dean says, also knocking on the door. The door is unlatched and opened with a crash to reveal Ash, who is naked. Y/N looks up and Dean averts his eyes.

"Sam? Y/N? Dean? Sam, Dean, and Y/N"

"Hey Ash. Um. We need your help" Sam says.

"Well, hell then. Guess I need my pants"

"I guess you do" Y/N says. He shuts the door and Sam, Dean, and Y/N go back into the main area. Ash is sitting at a table, now fully dressed, with his laptop open, looking at the hand-drawn sketch of the bus logo from Sam's vision. Sam sits across from him; Dean stands behind. Y/N is sitting on the other side of Ash.

"Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma"

"Okay. Do me a favour- check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that"

"You think the demon's there?" Ash asks.

"Yeah, maybe"

"Why would you think that?"

"Just check it, all right?"

"Dean. He was just asking" Ash gives him a look; Sam and Dean frown at each other.

"No, sir, nothing. No demon"

"All right, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six-month birthday" Ash looks at him, startled, and Dean looks around to check for eavesdroppers. Jo, cleaning a table nearby, is watching them

"Okay, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that" Sam pulls out a beer bottle and sets it next to the laptop.

"'Cause there's a RBR in it for ya"

"Give me fifteen minutes"

"How come when you want me to do something you just give me your puppy dog eyes. Why don't you give me a beer" Y/N says. Later, Jo presses a few buttons on the jukebox and the opening chords to REO Speedwagon "Can't Fight This Feeling" play. Dean, sitting at the bar and holding a beer, looks horrified. Jo carries a tray to the bar and sets it down, catching his eye.

"What?" Jo asks.

"REO Speedwagon?"

"Damn right REO. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart"

"He sings it from the hair. There's a difference" Jo looks at Ellen, then back to Dean.

"That profile you've got Ash looking for?"

"Hmm"

"Your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?"

"Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing"

"I could help"

"I'm sure you could. But we've got to handle this one ourselves. Besides, if I ran off with you, I think your mother might kill me" Ellen, cleaning glasses behind the bar, looks at him. He smiles nervously.

"You're afraid of my mother?"

"I think so" Sam hurries up behind Jo.

"We have a match. We've gotta go" Sam says.

"All right, Jo. See you later"

"Y/N come on!" Sam shouts, just before Y/N could take a sip of beer. She groans and gets up.

==

The strains of 'Can't fight This Feeling' come from Dean's voice, singing a Capella.

"And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter night. And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..." Sam keeps looking at Y/N who is trying not to laugh.

"You're a natural" Y/N says, sarcastically.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asks.

"I heard the song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head, I don't know, man. Whaddya got?" Sam looks at a stack of papers.

"Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty-three, like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like me"

"You think the demon killed his mom?" Y/N asks.

"Sure, looks like it"

"How did you even know to look for this guy?"

"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?"

"Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho" Dean says.

"The point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy"

"How do we find him?"

"Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities..."

"Collection agency flags?" Y/N suggests.

"None in the system"

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean says.

"Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago. Let's start there"

==

A young woman is pouring coffee into a cup. Sam and Dean are in their suits whereas Y/N is wearing her blouse, pants and jacket once again. The three are sat at a table.

"You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do"

"They?" Y/N asks.

"You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back"

"Actually, we're lawyers. Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate"

"Yeah. So, are you a friend of his?" Sam asks.

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore"

"Andy? Andy kicks ass, man" A man says, coming over to sit at the table.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once, it was beautiful, bro"

"How about bussing a table or two, Weber?"

"Yeah. You bet, boss" he says, before leaving the table taking a cup with him

"Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side"

"Barbarian queen?" Dean asks.

"She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss"

==

Dean, Y/N and Sam stake out Orchard Street, watching the van-with-barbarian-queen.

"I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet" Y/N looks at Sam.

"What's wrong?" She asks"

"Nothing"

"Sam, you look like you're sucking a lemon, what's going on?" She speaks.

"This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Guys. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people"

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, all right? He could be innocent" Dean says.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet"

"What's your point"

"My point is, I'm one of them" Y/N and Dean look at each other than to Sam.

"No, you're not" she says.

"Y/N, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be-"

"What, killers?"

"Yeah"

"So, the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? Come on, gives me a break. You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones" Y/N says.

"No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things"

"Those things were asking for it. There's a difference" Dean says and looks out the window, away from Sam. A man exits a building, wearing a pyjama and a long satin robe embroidered with dragons.

"Got him" A woman in a second-story window waves at the man, who blows her a kiss. The man greets another man on the street, who smiles at him and hands the man in the robe a coffee.

"Man, I wish I can get coffee that easily" Y/N mutters as the three continue to watch him. Further along, the man greets an older man and shakes his hand.

"That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter"

"All right, you keep on him, we'll stick with Andy. Go" Sam gets out of the car and follows the older man. Y/N jumps into the passenger seat as Andy gets into his van and drives off. Dean and Y/N follow in the Impala. Sam watches as they go. A few minutes later, the man stops and gets out of the van, walking back to Dean and Y/N. Y/N gestures to the handgun and Dean tucks it into his jacket.

"Hey" The man says.

"Hey, hey"

"This is a cheery ride"

"Yeah, thanks"

"Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic"

"Yeah. We know, we just rebuilt her, too" Y/N says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, can't let a car like this one go"

"Damn straight. Hey. Can I, have it?" The man asks.

"Sure, man" Dean says and Y/N's eyes widen.

"What!" Dean gets out of the car, smiling, to let the man in the driver's side and he gives Y/N a smile.

"Sweet"

"Hop right in there. There ya go"

"Dean, what the hell are you doing"

"Take it easy"

"All right. Oh, and don't worry about her" Andy drives off in the Impala, leaving Dean standing in the street, looking confused.

"What the hell are yo-" Y/N says but it cut off as the man places his hand on the back of her head and smashes her head against the dashboard, effectively knocking her out.

"Sorry" he says and continues to drives.

==

Sam watches the older man from a short distance; the older man's cell phone rings and he answers it.

"Hello. Yeah" Sam sees the Blue Ridge bus approach, and crosses in front of it towards the sporting goods store. He runs up the steps and inside, looking around. He sees the clerk and bystanders. He turns and pulls the fire alarm. The older man approaches the store, but hearing the alarm go off he stops, confused, then turns and walks away. Sam leaves the store and goes down to the street, where he sees the man drive in the Impala on his phone, with Y/N leaning against the window. He stares in shock. The older man gets another phone call "Hello? Yeah? All right"

"Dean! Andy's got the Impala! And Y/N!" Sam says into the cell phone.

"I know! He just sort of asked for it and I, I let him take it. And he locked Y/N in"

"You what?"

"He full-on Obi-Wanned me. It's mind control, man" Sam watches in horror as the older man walks in front of a bus, which slams into him at full speed.

==

As paramedics put the older man into a body bag, Sam sits on the curb nearby. Dean crouches behind him, hand on his back.

"I kept him out of the gun store. I thought he was okay. I thought he was past it, at least...I should have stayed with him...And now, we've lost Y/N"

==

In the diner, Weber is busing dishes as Andy enters, looking upset.

"Andy! Whassup, dog?" He raises a hand to high-five Andy, who ignores him and heads for Tracy.

"Andy! What are you doing here?"

"Doctor Jennings...he's dead"

"Oh no, I'm sorry"

"I don't know, I, I was upset, and I wanted to see you" Tracy puts her hands on his.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I um, I missed you. Oh, you know what? Three people were here this morning looking for you. Two men and a woman.

"What guys?"

==

Sam and Dean approach the Impala from across the street.

"Thank god! Oh. I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again" Dean looks over baby to see if there is any damage "Well, at least he left the keys in it" Dean looks into the back and sees Y/N, laying down with a blanket over her "...And a sleeping Y/N?

"Yeah. Real Samaritan, this guy" Sam comes around the car and opens the door, shaking Y/N. She groans and turns around, showing her slightly bleeding head. Sam wipes it away with the blanket before pulling it up further. He then closes the door and goes around to Dean.

"Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's gotta use verbal commands"

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus. Andy must have called him or something"

"I don't know, maybe"

"Beg your pardon?"

"I just don't know if he's out guy, Sam"

"Dean, you had O.J convicted before he got out his white Bronco and you have doubts about this?"

"He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all. You know. And O.J. was guilty"

"Oh, but he seems like a person to steal your car and hurt Y/N" They pause "Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?" Dean thinks for a moment.

"Not a problem" Dean and Sam approach Andy's blue van from the back.

"Not exactly an inconspicuous ride. Let's have a look" Dean pulls out a small crowbar out of his jacket and pries open the back door. Porn music plays as the interior is revealed; disco ball, fur rugs, a tiger painting on the wall, several thick books, and an enormous bong "Oh. Oh, come on. This is...this is magnificent, that's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. There's no... clown painting on the walls, or a scissor stuck in victim' photos. I like the tiger" Sam looks at the book.

"Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, Dean"

"Yeah, and uh, and Moby Dick's bong"

"It smells like piss" A voice says. The two spin around to see Y/N with a scrunched face "What?... Oh, uh, surprise" she says, smiling.

"We have got! to get you a bell" Dean says.

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 72

odd and Melanie were leaving the club and headed for their car. It was three in the morning, and there weren’t many cars left. Theirs was parked all the way in a back, poorly lit corner of the lot. Todd had consumed a little too much alcohol during the course of the evening, so Melanie had taken his car keys. As they approached the car, a man stepped out of the shadows and approached them. The couple stopped, not sure whether to run or stay where they were.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the man said to them as he came closer. “I’m not a mugger.” Melanie noticed he was carrying something in his left hand and stared at it intently. The man noticed her gaze. “It’s just a camera, see?” He held up the small silver device for her to see. It looked very much like an ordinary camera, and she relaxed slightly.

Todd blinked a few times before he spoke. “So, like what...what is it you want, man?” He asked hesitantly, swaying slightly. “We kind of like don’t have any...any money. Been clubbing all night.”

The stranger shook his head and smiled. “I told you I’m not a mugger,” he repeated. “I don’t want your money.”

Melanie looked at him inquisitively, her large green eyes open wide. “Well what are you, and what do you want from us?” She asked nervously. Still smiling, the man responded.

“I’m a movie producer,” he said easily. “And I just want to take your picture.” He held up the camera and looked through the view finder. “Is that okay?”

Melanie looked at Todd, who shrugged his shoulders at her. “Well, I guess so. If that’s all you really want,” she answered. She had no sooner finished speaking than she saw the flash go off and her mind went completely blank. Todd stopped swaying as he stood next to her, his face completely expressionless. The man with the “camera” lowered it and slid it into his jacket pocket. He then walked up to the couple and peered into their eyes.

“Excellent,” he muttered to himself. He took a step back from the unmoving couple. “Tell me your names!” he commanded.

“My name is Todd McGregory,” Todd answered in a toneless voice.

“My name is Melanie Schwartz,” came her reply.

“Well, Todd and Melanie, you may call me Dexter. Master Dexter, actually.” He studied the couple for a moment. “Let’s go over to your car and sit down, while I explain what’s going to happen tonight.” The couple obediently walked to the car, followed closely by Dexter. When they got to the car, he had Todd sit in the front, and Melanie get into the back seat with him.

“Do you like to suck cock, Melanie?” he asked. She hesitated. “Answer me, please Melanie,” he scolded. “Do you like to suck cock?”

“Not really,” she said. “I don’t like it when Todd squirts his icky goo in my mouth.” She wrinkled her nose as she said that. Dexter turned to the front seat.

“Does Melanie suck your cock, Todd?” Todd nodded slowly.

“Yes, but I have to just about beg her to do it,” he spoke while still facing to the front. Dexter looked back at Melanie and grinned.

“Time for some changes,” he announced. “Your name is no longer Melanie Schwartz,” he began. “You are Betty Cumsformie.”

“Bet he cums for me?” she repeated.

“Close enough,” Dexter chuckled. “And your most favorite thing in the entire world is sucking cock until it explodes in your hot little mouth. You love the taste of cum, you get horny just thinking about it.”

“Love cum,” Betty repeated. “Get so horny.”

Dexter continued. “Betty, you are a high school drop out and not very smart. In fact, you think of yourself as really dumb. When you have to deal with words more than two syllables long, you get confused and your head hurts.”

“I’m just a dumb girl, huh?” she asked innocently. Dexter nodded.

“You’re just a dumb slut,” he corrected. “A dumb slut who just got fired from the beauty parlor where worked washing hair and sweeping the floor.” He paused before continuing. “You are desperate to find work, but you don’t know how to do anything except suck cock and screw. You don’t have any family—your parents were killed in a car accident when you were twelve—and you don’t have a steady boyfriend.” As he watched, a tear ran down her cheek.

“I’m just a stupid slut that no one cares about,” she whimpered. Dexter grinned.

“I care about you, Betty. And I can help you get another job. Todd wants you to suck his cock, and he’s willing to pay you for it, don’t you Todd?” Todd hesitated. “You love paying to have your cock sucked, don’t you Todd. You want to pay Betty to suck you off right now.”

Todd turned in the seat. “But that’s my fiancee, Melanie,” he protested. Dexter shook his head.

“There is no Melanie, Todd, just this stupid bimbo Betty that you picked up off the street. And Betty wants to suck your cock for ten dollars, don’t you Betty?” She nodded, licking her lips.

“Betty?” Todd repeated. “This stupid slut Betty wants to suck my cock?” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a ten. He waved it at Betty. “Come on then, you stupid cunt!” he taunted. “Come on and suck my dick!”

Betty looked uncertainly at Dexter who nodded his head. She got out of the car and back into the front seat where she literally attacked Todd’s zipper. When she had it down, she fished out his cock and began to suck it like her life depended on it. She engulfed the head, swirling her tongue around it and down the underside of the swelling shaft before taking his entire length down her throat. It was only a matter of seconds before Todd moaned and grabbed her by the back of her head, pushing her down onto his spurting cock. As his balls pumped his sticky load of cum, Betty kept sucking, moaning in pleasure as she drained every drop they produced. When Todd finished cumming, he sat back with a deep sigh, releasing his hold on her head. Betty sat up and wiped her lips with her left hand, reaching for the ten spot with her right.

“That was fucking incredible,” Todd said in awe. “I wish I had a girlfriend who could suck dick like that.” Betty blew him a kiss.

“How did you like that, Betty?” Dexter asked her.

She smiled and cocked her head to one side. “That was delicious, Master Dexter.” She licked at a droplet of cum in the corner of her mouth. “Would you like me to suck your cock now?” she asked wickedly. “I’ll even do you for free.” Dexter shook his head.

“Not right now, you dumb bitch,” he answered. “You and I have some business to take care of at my studio.” He opened the door and climbed out of the car. “Come along, Betty, we have to finish getting you ready.” He stopped by the front of the car and looked at Todd. “You came to the club alone tonight after you and Melanie had a big fight and broke up. She told you she never wants to see you again, and you don’t want to see her either. Whatever affection you had for her is now gone, and any mention of her makes you feel disgusted. You have had too much to drink, so you came out to your car and are about to pass out. When you wake up, you won’t remember anything about what happened in the car tonight, but you won’t worry about it. You’ll swear off women because of that bitch Melanie, and start hanging out at peep shows and porno movies looking for cock to suck.” He looked into his eyes. “And now it’s time for you to pass out.”

Todd slumped forward against the steering wheel, then slid to one side until he was resting on the front seat. He began to snore. Dexter took Betty’s hand. “Come on, Betty, my car’s over there.” As they walked away he asked her, “I think you really have the talent to be in the movies.” Her expression brightened. “Really, Master Dexter? Do you think I could be a movie star?” Dexter chuckled. “I think if you listen to me and do everything I tell you, you’ll be on the silver screen in no time.” She squealed again. “By the way,” he asked her as they reached his car. “What do you think about sucking and fucking six guys at once?”

She stood by the car and wrinkled her forehead as she thought about it. “Do I get ten dollars from each one?” she asked. When Dexter nodded, she giggled with delight. “When do I start?” She got into the car and fumbled with her seat belt.

Dexter started the car and looked over at her, finally sliding the buckle into the receptacle. “From what I can see, I think we’ll be able to start tomorrow.” He put the car in gear and drove out of the lot. The only car left was Todd’s. As an after thought, Dexter picked up his cell phone and called the DWI hot line to report a very drunk individual who was trying to drive his car after leaving the club.

Two

Betty woke up and looked around her. She panicked momentarily, then remembered that she had gone home with Master Dexter. He was such a nice man! He also had a very nice cock. She blushed slightly as she remembered how he had let her suck him until he had gotten very big and hard, and then how he had fucked her for what seemed like an eternity. She had cum about seventy zillion times before he had filled her up with his nice hot load. He had pumped so much of his cum into her, it had run out and all over the bed. But the best part of all was that Master Dexter had video taped all of it, and she had gotten to watch herself in her very own porno movie! She and Master Dexter had watched it, and he had given her advice on how to do things better for the camera. Like holding her ass really high when he fucked her doggie style and moaning and groaning really loud! He was really going to make her a porn star! While she was still reliving last night, Dexter came into the room.

“How’s my little fuck bunny doing this morning?” he asked with a wide grin.

“I’m really swell this morning, Master,” she burbled. “Would you like me to suck your cock again?” She sat up in the bed and the covers fell down, exposing her breasts. Dexter frowned slightly. “What’s the matter, Master?” Betty asked in a concerned voice.

Dexter stared at her for a moment before answering. “How big are your tits, Betty?” he asked her.

Betty sat there dumbly, looking down at her breasts, then cupped them. “Gee, I don’t know!” Tears formed in her eyes. “Don’t you like my tits?”

Dexter laughed. “Honey, they’re very nice, as tits go. But if you’re gonna make it in the movies, I think we need to see about maybe getting them worked on a little bit.” He walked over to the chair by the bed and picked up the bra lying there. “34B, huh?” he muttered as he looked at the tag. That’s just not gonna make it, baby.” The tears ran down Betty’s cheeks.

“But I wanna be a porn star!” she wailed. “You said I could be a porn star!”

Dexter shook his head. “Look, you dumb cunt, I can make you a porn star, but you’re gonna have to make a few changes in the way you look.” He paused and watched her lip begin to quiver. “Aw, now stop that. You suck cock like a pro already, and your pussy can milk a guy’s balls dry.” A smile began to form on her face.

“Am I really a good cocksucker?” she asked.

Dexter chuckled. “Honey, you’re a natural.” She squealed and jumped out of the bed to run over and hug him. He gently pushed her away. “But if we’re gonna get you on the big screen, you gotta look the part too.” A confused look spread across her face. He reached out and touched her long brown hair. “This has gotta be bleached,” he dropped the hair. “And these need to be pumped up a little bit,” he squeezed her breasts and she squealed again.

“If it will make me a star, Master, then I’ll do it!” she nodded her head vigorously. “I wanna be a porn star!” Dexter smiled broadly.

“Okay, then baby. Get some clothes on, and we’ll get things started.” He patted her on the ass and left the room so she could get dressed. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a grey T-shirt and flats. Dexter shook his head.

“We definitely got some work to do here,” he muttered as he led her out the door.

When they returned to the apartment three hours later, Betty’s hair was platinum blonde. All over. She was cooing and giggling as she ran up to the mirror and preened. “I look so awesome, now!” she said to her reflection. dexter shook his head.

“Enough with the mirror, already!” he said in an impatient tone. “We still gotta fix your tits.”

Betty tore herself away and looked at him. “How do you do that?” she asked in bewilderment. “Am I going to get some of those implants?” Her eyes grew wide.

Dexter shook his head. “Betty, my sweet little bitch, I have developed a process that doesn’t require any cutting or inserting crap into your boobs to make them bigger.” He pointed to the recliner. “Just sit your pretty round ass down in the chair and take off your shirt.” While Betty did as she was told, Dexter went to the closet and took out a plastic brief case and set it on the table next to the recliner. He opened the case and took out an electric cord that he plugged into a wall outlet. Betty stared in amazement at the contraption, unable to comprehend anything about it. Dexter took two leads from the case and carefully attached one to each of her nipples, securing them in place with surgical tape. Next, he took out a syringe and a small bottle of pale blue liquid. He filled the syringe and put the bottle back into the case.

“Now this is going to sting, just a little,” he told her as he swabbed her right breast with an alcohol pad. Before she could say anything, he stuck the needle into her breast and carefully injected half the contents.

“Owwww!” Betty shrieked. “That fucking hurt!” Dexter smiled as he swabbed the left breast and repeated the procedure. “Ouch! Dammit!” Betty rubbed her tits, almost dislodging the leads. Dexter gently pulled her hands away and pushed her back into the recliner.

“Just relax, baby,” he said in a calm voice. “We’re almost done.” Betty frowned at him.

“That hurt!” she pouted. “You said it would just sting a little.”

Dexter just smiled at her. “Betty, in a few minutes, it will all be worthwhile. Just watch and see.” He turned to the case and flipped a switch. A low humming came from somewhere inside the device. Betty felt a tickling sensation in her breasts and giggled.

“That feels kind of good,” she said, relaxing slightly. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the new sensation. While she lay there, Dexter made a few adjustments to the controls. The humming got louder, and Betty moaned slightly. “That feels really, really good,” she murmured, keeping her eyes closed. Dexter stood back and watched.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Betty’s breasts began to enlarge, like two balloons being inflated in slow motion. He nodded to himself and made one more adjustment to the device, then sat down on the sofa to wait for the process to be completed. He picked watched as those luscious melons grew, and grew, licking his lips in anticipation.

Twenty minutes later, the device shut down. Dexter got up and walked over to where Betty was now napping. Where there had once been rather normal sized 34B breasts, a pair of 46DD’s greeted him. He carefully removed the leads and put them away, followed by unplugging the machine and storing it back in the closet. When he returned to Betty, he had his “camera” with him.

“Wake up, Betty,” he called to her. “Wake up and see your new tits.” Betty groaned and slowly opened her eyes. When she looked down at her chest, they flew open wide.

“Oh my God!!!!” she cried out. “What did you do to me?” Panic filled her voice as she held up her now massive mammaries. “I look like a fucking cow!” Before she could continue, Dexter’s camera flashed, and she went silent.

“Okay, Betty, I expected that.” He sighed loudly. “There is nothing wrong with your tits. You have always had huge knockers.”

She shook her head. “My boobs were smaller,” she almost whispered.

“No, Betty!” Dexter said forcefully. “You have always had very large tits. In school, the boys would all tease you because they were so big. They use to call you Betty Boobs. You remember that don’t you?”

Betty shook her head again. “No, I don’t think so,” she said uncertainly.

“They called you Betty Boobs, and the other girls were all jealous of you.” He reached down and squeezed one of her enlarged breasts. “They were all jealous of your big, beautiful tits. But you were so proud of them. You loved to shake them for the boys, and let them touch them when you went out on dates.” He kissed one of the nipples and she moaned. “You even let some of them jerk off on your big beautiful tits, didn’t you, Betty?”

She nodded hesitantly this time. “Yeah,” she sighed again. “I loved to have them cum on my big sift boobs.”

Dexter leaned forward. “They’re tits, Betty. Big fucking tits!”

She smiled at him. “I loved having them cum on my big fucking tits!” she said loudly. “I’ve always had big fucking tits!” She held them up for Dexter, who couldn’t stand it any longer. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his raging hard on, sliding it between her gigantic breasts and tit fucking her. When he pushed up, she would take the head of his cock in her mouth. In just a few seconds, he felt himself getting ready to cum, and he pulled away, stroking himself furiously. With a bellow, he jerked off onto her tits as she held them up, his ropy sperm splattering on them like creamy white icing. When he had milked the final drop from his cock, Betty licked his load from her tits, smacking her lips in pure enjoyment. When she had licked all of the cum from them, she looked up at his and smiled.

“Am I ready to be a porn star now?”

Dexter could only smile back at her and nod. “Yeah, baby. You’re ready now.”

--

Todd Montgomery reached into the pocket of his blue jeans and fished out his last ten dollars. He slid it across the counter to the man sitting there and waited patiently for his change. When the man slid the ticket stub and the two rumpled dollars bills back at him, Todd just nodded at the man and went into the auditorium. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched the scene on the movie screen.

A large black man was screwing a small blonde woman with incredibly large tits. As the man pistoned his massive cock in and out of her, those gigantic tits swayed back and forth, like two fleshy pendulums, the erect nipples brushing against the bed covers. Todd found himself getting aroused at the scene, not because of the over abundant charms of the blonde slut, but because of the awesome physique of the black stud. He unconsciously reached down and fondled his stiffening cock through the material of his jeans. When the black man pulled his cock from the blonde’s dripping pussy and began to spew a huge load of cum on her ass, Todd almost came too.

“Whoa, boy,” he cautioned himself. “It’s going to be a long afternoon and you don’t want to waste a load too early.” He went back to studying the auditorium, able to make things out a little better. There was only one other person in the room at the present time, so Todd made his way toward him. He walked down the aisle and past the row where the figure was sitting, stealing a glance as he went by. The man was absorbed in watching the screen, stroking his own cock slowly. Todd went to the front of the theater and then headed back up the aisle, finally selecting a seat in the row behind the man and just to his left.

As he sat down, the stranger continued to play with his cock, stroking it slowly and moaning in a low voice. Todd leaned forward in the seat, staring at the stranger’s stiff prick. The man turned slightly toward Todd. “Nice, huh?” he asked in that same low voice, letting his hand come off his cock for a moment so Todd could see the entire length. Todd felt weak in the knees and his mouth watered.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Looks delicious.” The man went back to stroking himself while Todd continued to stare at him. Todd’s own cock was as hard as a rock, throbbing in the confines of his jeans. He wanted desperately to reach out and take this stranger’s cock in his own hand, feel its pulsating warmth as he massaged it to an explosion of cum.

“That blonde bimbo is a pretty hot bitch, you know?” the stranger said, making conversation. “She’s one of them “Newcummers” they’re talkin’ about in the porn industry. Got some fuckin’ stupid stage name like Betty Comes A Lot, or somethin’ like that.” He looked back at Todd. “What you think, man? She a hot fuckin’ cunt or no?”

Todd looked at the man and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so,” was his reply. “If you like that stuff.”

The man grinned at him. “Oh, shit, man!” He exclaimed. “You rather be the one workin’ on the hard cock, huh?” Todd hesitated before he nodded. “You ever do this before, man?” Todd shook his head. The man grinned even wider and pushed the seat down next to him. “Well come on and sit down right here, baby,” he crooned. “And you can practice on this.” He wagged his cock so Todd could see it clearly. Todd stared, transfixed by the blatant display of manhood, unable to move. The man stopped shaking his cock.

“You know what, man,” he sneered at Todd. “I think you’re just a fuckin’ wimp who likes to watch, but is afraid to do anything.” He stood up and turned toward Todd so his cock pointed straight at him, almost at eye level. He sat there and stared. The stranger snorted in disgust. “Yeah, I was right,” he half laughed. “You ain’t nothin’ but a fuckin’ voyeur.” He slapped Todd across the face with his cock and grabbed him by the hair. Holding his head in place with one hand, the stranger grabbed his cock with his free hand and rubbed it over Todd’s lips, forcing them apart.

“Come on, you fuckin’ cocksucker wannabe,” the man hissed at his. “Open up and take it.” Todd’s mouth slowly opened, and the man took his head in both hands, pushing his cock deep into his mouth and down his throat. Todd gagged as the meaty pole closed his airway, and he fell back into the chair. The stranger followed him, keeping his cock buried in his mouth. When Todd came to rest against the seat back, the man began to fuck Todd’s mouth with long powerful strokes,

“Yeah, baby,” the stranger moaned. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He pounded Todd’s mouth like a pussy, his balls slapping against his chin. In just a few seconds Todd felt the man tensing up. “Oh fuck, yeah!” he bellowed as he buried himself to the hilt in Todd’s brutalized mouth, his cum pumping down Todd’s throat. He held himself there until he had emptied his balls, then slowly withdrew. He wiped his cock on Todd’s shirt, while Todd just sat limply in the chair. The man looked down and laughed again, pointing at Todd’s crotch. “Hey, man, looks like you enjoyed that more than I thought.” The stain from Todd’s semen was spreading visibly, even in the dim light of the theater. “You fuckin’ blew a wad without even touchin’ yourself!” The stranger tucked his now flaccid cock into his pants and zipped up before heading for the exit. Todd sat there, confused and unsure of what had just happened.

“Well that was pretty piss poor,” came a voice from the back of the theater. Todd sat up and turned to look for the source of the voice. A figure stood all the way in the back. As he watched, the figure walked slowly down the center aisle toward him. He stood as the person got nearer. “I thought for sure you were gonna blow that guy nice and proper.” The newcomer said, the voice sounding disappointed.

Todd stepped into the aisle and went to push past him. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” he said to the man as he tried to go by. The stranger put a hand on his shoulder.

“Like that bitch Melanie did to you?” he asked in a sinister voice. Todd froze.

“How do you know about her?” he asked, turning to stare at the man. “How the Hell do you know about that no good bitch?”

The man smiled and the hand on his shoulder patted him consolingly. “I know she was your fiancée, and she left you without so much as a goodbye kiss.” Todd just stared at him. “I also know you went out and got rip roaring drunk, got busted for DWI and have generally had your life turning to shit for the last month since she dumped you.”

Todd shook his head. “How do you know all this, man?” he asked. “It’s like you been reading my life story.”

It was the stranger’s turn to shake his head. “No, Todd, it’s more like I’ve been writing your life story.” With that, he took his hand from Todd’s shoulder and stepped back. He raised something up and pointed it at Todd. Just before the flash went off, Todd recognized the object was a camera of some kind. After the flash, Todd couldn’t recognize anything but the sound of the man’s voice as it spoke to him. He obediently followed the stranger out the exit and to his car. When they were both seated, the man turned to Todd and spoke again.

“Well, Todd, I had a little bit of a hard time catching up with you since that night behind the club. You don’t really remember that night, do you?” Todd shook his head. “All you remember is how much you hate that bitch Melanie for dumping your skinny ass, huh?” This time he nodded. “You know, I almost actually feel sorry for you,” the manmutterd under his breath. “Almost.”

“Fuckin’ no good cunt!” Todd muttered.

“Really turned you off to women, didn’t she?” Again a nod. “But you haven’t quite made the move to cocks yet, have you?” Hesitation and then a shake of the head. The man smiled. “Well, old Dexter is here to make both of us happy, son.” He started the car, put it in gear and began to drive. “I just got a request from one of my clients, looking for a fresh new face to do some work in gay porn.” The smile broadened. “And I immediately thought of my old buddy Todd.” The smile grew feral. “You want to be a gay porn star, Todd, more than anything else in the world.” He looked over at Todd. “There is nothing that would make your life more complete than to be working in gay porn movies.” He turned his attention back to the road before speaking again. “Tell me your greatest desire in life, Todd old boy?”

Todd turned to face Dexter and spoke slowly. “I want to be in the movies,” he answered.

“What kind of movies?” Dexter prodded.

“I want to be a star in gay porn movies. I want to be on the big screen, sucking big cocks and taking big loads!” His voice rose as he spoke. “I want to fuck guys in the ass and get fucked.”

Dexter nodded his approval. “And I’m just the guy to make that happen, you lucky cock sucker!” He pulled the car into the driveway and had Todd follow him into the house. He led him into the central room and had him strip, then sit in a recliner. He brought over a brief case and set it on the coffe table near the chair, opening it and taking out some electrical leads.

“Now this is not going to hurt a bit,” he assured Todd as he began attaching the leads to various parts of his body. Todd flinched a little when Dexter attached a lead to his cock and one his scrotum. “Just relax, stud,” Dexter encouraged him. “Life is about to get much better for you.” He turned back to the briefcase and took out the power cord, plugging it into the wall, and then flipped a switch.

“We’re going to make a few minor enhancements to make you more marketable in the gay porn industry.” As he watched, Todd could see the hair disappearing from his chest and legs. Dexter turned a dial, and he saw his pubic hair slowly fade from its dark brown color to a platinum blonde. “Matches the color on your head,” Dexter commented casually. He reached into the case and threw another switch. “Now for some work on your cock.”

Todd felt his prick being stimulated and growing stiff. He watched as it rose to it’s usual five inches. His jaw dropped as it continued to grow. He watched as his cock swelled to a thick nine inches of hard throbbing manhood. Dexter came closer and looked at it. “That’s great for length, but it’s too thick,” he commented and went back over to the case to make an adjustment. Todd watched as his stiff prick slowly lost some of its girth, slimming down until it was a sleek meaty pole, standing proudly erect. He felt something was out of place, though, and reached down to check his balls. To his surprise, they had swollen to twice their normal size. He looked at Dexter in amazement. Dexter grinned at him.

“They make a nice contrast to that long, thin cock,” he commented. “And should make one sit load of cum for your money shots.” He flipped one more switch. “Now to work your muscle tone a little bit.” Todd felt his abs tightening and could see the muscles in his thighs swell slightly. Finally, Dexter turned off the machine and disconnected the leads.

“Come look at yourself in the mirror,” he said. Todd stood and walked over to the door where there was a full length mirror mounted. He looked at himself in amazement. He had no hair except for his crotch and his head, which was a platinum blonde. He had near wash board abs, and clearly defined muscles in his thighs, calves and biceps. Best of all, his nagging acne had cleared up entirely.

“Wow,” was all he could manage. Dexter nodded.

“And from now on, you have a new name.” He paused as Todd looked at him. “Your name is, and always has been, Woody Everhard. You have no memories of the name Todd Montgomery. You grew up on a farm in Wisconsin and came here to the big city to live out your homosexual dreams.” He stopped, grinning ear to ear.

“Now, tell me your name, son?”

“Woody!” came the response. “Woody Everhard.”

“And now for the final test,” Dexter proclaimed. “Carmen, get your sweet ass out here!” Woody looked as a naked black woman came into the room. She had the largest tits that he had ever seen, and her bubble butt jiggled as she walked. “Carmen, suck off old Woody for me,” he directed. She obediently dropped to her knees and took Woody’s long thin shaft into her mouth. To her dismay, it began to deflate.

“What’s wrong, baby,” she pouted, looking up at him. “Don’t you like brown sugar?” She resumed sucking his cock, but it refused to grow hard again.

“That’s enough, Carmen,” Dexter told her. “You can come over here and suck my cock.” She smiled and walked over to Dexter, dropping to her knees in front of him. As she fished his cock out of his pants, Dexter turned toward the bedroom again. “Julio!” Dexter called out. “Come on in here.”

At his summons, an olive skinned young man with jet black hair came almost prancing into the room. Like Carmen he was completely naked. Unlike Carmen, he was sporting a six inch hard on. He spied Woody and glided over to him quickly. “You are so gorgeous,” Julio panted as he looked Woody over. “I have to have you,” he dropped to his knees and took Woody;s flaccid cock into his mouth. Immediately, it began to stiffen, swelling under the expert ministrations of Julio. “I want your cock in my ass,” Julio hissed at him as he stood. He grabbed Woody by the cock and led him toward the doorway.

Dexter sighed loudly as Carmen worked his cock like a woman possessed, watching the two gay lovers disappear into the back room. He took his cell phone from his pocket and hit a speed dial number.

“Hey, Douglas, my man,” he said when the party answered. “Have I got the just the thing for your next gay flick.” He could hear moaning and slurping noises coming from the back room. “Yeah, a really sweet gay couple named Julio and Woody. Should make a great contrast on the screen, one dark skinned Latino and a hairless blonde beach boy type.” He listened for a moment. “Oh yeah, they both can fuck for hours and cum in quarts,” he laughed and then listened again for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll have them there at nine tomorrow morning.” Another pause. “Yeah, Dougie, the usual finders fee will be just fine.” He closed the phone and put it away. He reached down and took Carmen’s bobbing head with both hands and began to fuck her face. He was just shooting his load down her throat when Woody came back into the room again. He was covered in sweat and smiling.

“I can’t thank you enough, Dexter.” He almost cooed. “I can’t remember ever being so happy.” He reached out to hug Dexter, but the older man raised his hands in front of him.

“That’s okay, Woody! Save it for Julio. I’m not into the gay scene, myself.” He took his cock from Carmen’s mouth and wiped it on her dark cheeks. She looked up at him and smiled, licking her lips. Woody smiled at him, too. “You and Julio are going to have one busy day tomorrow,” Dexter said to Woody. “You should get some sleep.” Woody turned and went back in to Julio. Dexter smiled down at Carmen and pulled her to her feet. He slapped her on her big round ass and she scampered off to her room. As she left, he spoke to no one in particular.

[jenrecs]

oh boy...

Admitting to your face that he’d been up all night with a girl, and then calling you first thing upon waking like he knows you’ll just be there, waiting for him.

me, for the fourth consecutive week, through tears, fists clenched: hahahahaha ok get it bear, you're doing amazing sweetie, good for u for getting laid! haha aaha .aaha ahhs.dja

Something in your stomach turns. You don’t want to. You don’t want to keep getting your heart stepped on. You don’t want his metaphorical scent on all of your clothes, so that you can’t go anywhere or do anything without him lingering on you. 

*throws my head back like the seagull meme* *channels my inner taylor swift* AND I KNEW YOU'D LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS. I KNEW YOU'D HAUNT ALL OF MY WHAT IF'S.

God, you think to yourself. Get it together. Two days ago, it hadn’t been like this, where every met glance cues up a shy smile, and each tiny smile elicits a flush. You don’t know who this girl is but she is un-fucking-recognizable. 

me, as if i didn't instantly smile when the text came and twirled my hair and shit: yeah gorl.. get it together jeez 🙄

You huff out a sigh. “Like - unrequited because the other person doesn’t know, or because they don’t return the feelings?”

“One of those is the good kind?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“The first one,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “It’s… it always exists only as the idea of love, it’s untarnished, it can remain a beautiful and pure thing. It never gets messed up.”

okay jo... come after my feels at 10 in the morning i guess 🤒

but anyway THE POEMMMMM. i am v excited for the analysis of this one BECAUSE my brain thought a thing about namjoon being autumn askdfhksak

“Fucking shit,” Namjoon swears, and then he grabs your hand and tugs. “Come on!”

When you round the corner of your block, together, you try to pull back, try to slow down. Your lungs hurt, your legs are burning, and you just want to admit defeat and walk the block letting the rain know it won.

MHMM OKAY DIMPLES. when i tell u that i kicked my feet and squealed and everything... we're running in the rain, we're writing and talking about poetry and love and grief, true romance 💘

nah but his legs are too long for me. i would stop and let mother nature take me. you go dimples... leave me here i won't make it...

You look back at him, the rain still assaulting you from above. There’s a second where you feel something. Something like… you’re half-drowned and chilled to the bone, but you feel warm with his affectionate gaze on you. Like you don’t want him to look away and leave you cold again. Like the rain was penance and now you’re all paid up. 

Like for at least this moment, right now, the rain has washed away your histories and left you clean and empty, a blank page waiting for a new story to tell - where before, your pages were full of scribbles and scrawls that held such heavy meaning there was no room for anything new.

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK 😭 do not talk to me like genuinely do not talk to me. i need you to put a pin on updates bc i need at least 15 business days to recover from these paragraphs. god tffffff

“The stove is on fire!” you shriek, pointing, your spare hand flying to cover your mouth in horror. Flames crawl from underneath the pan of meat, over the top, devouring what’s in the pan and leaping into the air. Namjoon drops the knife with a clatter and whirls around, eyes wide. 

“What do I do?” he cries, hands in the air like he’s going to swat the flames like gnats.

this might be the most chaotic thing i've ever read from u 😭 i had a feeling that something would go wrong the second i read that he was cooking but i never thought it'd go down like this. dimples you accidental arsonist

The thing about grief - long-term grief, lifetime grief - is that you can go days, maybe even weeks at a time without noticing it. It’s kind of like a bruise in a hard to reach spot. It just takes one bump in exactly the right place, and it hurts just as bad as day one all over again. Namjoon’s words pierce you, and you take a slow breath. You were just caught off-guard, that’s all. You can be fine. You can be normal.

the kitchen was on fire just minutes ago... how did we get there, jo why... we were just running around trying to put out the fire and clear the smoke like 2 idiots and you've just dumped this bucket of ice cold water on our heads. whiplash.

He’s teasing and you know it, but after a lifetime of friendship with Taehyung, you know this too: there’s a little sliver of him that must be hurt, or at least bothered, or he wouldn’t tease at all.

+

When he hugs you goodbye at the end of the night, swaying you playfully back and forth like he might drop you, both of you giggling wildly, you’re reminded of just what the stakes are. You’re reminded of just how much you have to lose. 

nah i know that some people might be ready to come after tae's head but i'm still on the defense squad. like yeah, it might come across as him being hypocritical (this might show itself more clearly in later chapters). sure, i can do see how it might be interpreted as that. but i don't think he's doing it on purpose or idk is even aware of it. this subtle change is unfamiliar to the both of them, evident during that scene of her in the shower. and like, again, regardless of tae knowing about her feelings or not, i think he's just used to her always being there and adhering to him? idk it feels like he's used to knowing her, being her best friend and all that? but now she has a roommate (one of his buddies, no less) and they have a dynamic that he doesn't understand and he's practically an outsider here. them living together, secret texting during movie nights, exchange glances that he can't decipher, etc. sure, it is a liiiiiiitle selfish but i don't think he has bad intentions. it's just that things are slowly changing after been this way since forever and they both need to adjust to this new reality. does this make sense? i do not know! i hope it does tho lol

anyway read the teaser for next week and JAILLLLLLLL. my money's on tae getting riled up and saying Dumb Stuff 😙

IV. Something Has to Change

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

Your friendship with Taehyung starts to show its cracks.

Section Warnings: language

WC: 7.5k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday October 20th

You text Taehyung before going to sleep just to confirm he didn’t die in a ditch, but it’s radio silence from him until almost three o’clock the next afternoon. When he does finally answer you - “alive but at what cost?” - you roll your eyes and turn your phone over, screen down. You’re sitting in the living room, two author anthologies open on the coffee table, bookends to your open notebook. 

Apparently he’s displeased with your silence, because your phone buzzes again a few minutes later - the longer buzz, indicating a call of some kind. With a huff of aggravation, you flip it over to see it’s a video call, his preferred method of communication. You slide the button to accept the call, but let him stare at your ceiling. 

“What?” you demand. “I can’t talk, I have to go call off my search parties.”

“I was asleep,” he defends himself. “I texted you as soon as I woke up!”

“Didn’t sleep last night, huh?” you joke, but the sting is there. Just a little. 

He avoids the question. “What are we doing tonight?”

You laugh at the audacity of his whole existence. Admitting to your face that he’d been up all night with a girl, and then calling you first thing upon waking like he knows you’ll just be there, waiting for him. What would happen if you weren’t?

Not to mention asking what the Saturday night plan is thirty seconds after waking up with a hangover. 

“I’m assuming you won’t want to go out?” you ask. 

He hums, runs a hand through his messy hair. “Depends. I could be persuaded, maybe. Wouldn’t mind just hanging out, though. What about a movie? We have that one we’ve been saving?”

We.

You’re not sure why, today, it’s bothering you so much. The truth is, Taehyung’s acting and speaking the same as always. So what’s different?

You don’t want to examine the answer to that, so you focus on the plan instead. “I like the sound of a movie,” you agree. “Wanna see if anyone else is interested?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “I’ll text everyone.”

“Sounds good. See you around eight?”

“Should we order dinner before that?” he asks.

Something in your stomach turns. You don’t want to. You don’t want to keep getting your heart stepped on. You don’t want his metaphorical scent on all of your clothes, so that you can’t go anywhere or do anything without him lingering on you. 

And at the same time, he’s your best friend. He’s your family. You love him, in multiple ways.

It feels like being tugged in opposite directions. It feels like lose/lose. It feels like there’s no right answer, nowhere to turn, no option that doesn’t hurt.

“Not tonight,” you hear yourself say. “I have too much homework.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “See you around eight, then. I’ll let you know if anyone else is coming with me.”

You try to return to homework after you hang up, but your focus is shot. You lean onto the cushy back of the couch, closing your eyes. You’re still sitting like that when you hear the front door open. Namjoon hadn’t been home when you got up, had been out the whole time.

“Hey,” you say, eyes still closed.

He gives a chuckle. “Everything okay?”

“I think my brain is broken,” you tell him. “Can Edna write about something besides death?”

He huffs out a laugh, and you hear him drop his keys onto the counter. “I think she does,” he says, coming closer and peering at the anthology you still have open on the table in front of you. “Nature. Rebellion. Men. Women. Love. Sex.”

Your cheeks burn, like you’re thirteen damn years old, just from hearing the word sex in his low, steady voice.

Get a grip, you scold yourself silently. 

“I guess so,” you admit. “But today everything I read is about grief.”

“Take a break,” he suggests, moving into the kitchen. You hear a cabinet open and the sink run, and then he comes in carrying a glass of water. He sits down a few feet away from you on the couch and copies your pose, leaning back against the cushions.

It occurs to you that you’ve never sat on the couch at the same time as him before. In fact, your Uber ride last night was the closest your bodies had ever been. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie tonight,” you find yourself telling him. “That new one with what’s-his-face, Raven’s Prophecy? Around eight. If you want to join.”

“Yeah,” he says right away, surprising you. “Sounds good.”

–

The movie’s good  - really good. You’re all crowded around the living room - Namjoon on one end of the couch, Yoongi on the other, you and Taehyung and Jimin on the floor. The coffee table has been pushed to the side to make room for you, the lights turned down. Taehyung is sitting with his back against the couch, legs extended in front of him, and you have a throw-pillow leaning against his knees, laying perpendicular to him. Jimin sits next to Taehyung, one of his legs resting lazily over top of yours.

It feels normal, and it feels nice, and everything weird from earlier seems to float away. Maybe you had just been tired. 

“That’s totally foreshadowing,” you pipe up, raising a hand to point at the screen. “Because when he-.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says loudly, reaching over to flick the back of your arm. “No nerd talk. Just enjoy the movie. No one asked for a literary analysis.”

“But, look -.”

“No,” he repeats firmly, and Jimin giggles, used to this exact squabble. “This is fun, not school.”

“Foreshadowing is fun!” you protest, laughing, but you let it go. 

A second later, your phone buzzes in your hand. 

[9:37 PM] Namjoon: 🤯

You bite back a smile, turning off your screen before the light can catch anyone’s attention, and then you cast your gaze up at the couch to find Namjoon looking right at you, a sheepish smile creeping up on one side of his face. 

You’re thankful for the dark of the room, the light shifting and changing with the scene on the tv screen, as you feel yourself blush. 

God, you think to yourself. Get it together. Two days ago, it hadn’t been like this, where every met glance cues up a shy smile, and each tiny smile elicits a flush. You don’t know who this girl is but she is un-fucking-recognizable. 

You wait a minute or two, then turn your brightness down and send back, “but am i wrong?”. Then you glance back up to watch Namjoon read the text. He gives a laugh, one shake of his shoulders as he sees it, and then he meets your gaze. That same half-smile on his face, he shakes his head imperceptibly. 

Behind you, beneath you, Taehyung shifts and you turn back to the tv quickly, feeling something akin to guilt simmer in your gut. You don’t see his eyes bounce back and forth between you and Namjoon, curious. 

Monday October 22nd

Monday brings bright sunshine despite the chilly air, morning light illuminating the deep reds and oranges of the trees down the block. 

Namjoon finds you in the kitchen, staring listlessly into an untouched cup of coffee. 

“Good morning?” he greets you, a question.

You startle. “Shit!” you yelp and then laugh, heart pounding. “I didn’t even hear you getting ready in there. ”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says apologetically. “I’m heading to campus in a bit… how about you?”

“Yeah,” you say glumly. “I have work and class.”

“Same,” he says, moving around you to rummage for some breakfast. “Class first, and then I’m TA-ing all afternoon.” 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t think I’ll be needing your services today.”

“No?” he asks mildly. “Last few submissions went well?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I’ve written anything worth submitting.”

He laughs, his back to you, and then settles against the kitchen counter. “I can help you brainstorm, too, if you’re stuck.”

You bite back the prideful I don’t need your help that rises to your tongue. He’s being nice. Instead, you say, “Hopefully I’ll make some progress on my own. Have fun, though. You still have that office to yourself? If I had that, I’d be so productive. Nothing to distract me.”

Namjoon shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “I find ways. I still have my phone. And a window.”

You laugh at this, and then rise, draining half of your mug of coffee in one go. “I need to head in. Are you leaving now, too? Or, later?”

“I can make now work,” he says, something warm in his tone. “Let me just go grab my bag.”

Out front, you blink against the sudden brightness, holding up a hand to shield your eyes as they adjust. Namjoon locks the front door and comes down the steps at a light jog, stopping next to you.

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, and you start off towards campus in silence, the only noise around you the calls of birds and the hum of car engines from nearby traffic. 

You stop at an intersection, watching the orange hand tell you to wait. “So,” you say, glancing up at him as the cars whiz by, “what’s your book about?”

He looks at you completely blankly, like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“For the grad program,” you clarify. “You said you were in fiction, right?”

“Oh,” he says, as if he forgot. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” you say dryly.

“It’s a coming-of-age, I guess,” he says, rubbing his chin as he thinks. He’s wearing his glasses today, and you have half a mind to tease him that he’s just trying to look like one of the professors so they don’t kick him out of his hijacked office. “And a bit of an unrequited love story.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?” you ask, a little absently. When he doesn’t answer, you look at him to determine why, and he’s looking at you like you’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

You huff out a sigh. “Like - unrequited because the other person doesn’t know, or because they don’t return the feelings?”

“One of those is the good kind?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“The first one,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “It’s… it always exists only as the idea of love, it’s untarnished, it can remain a beautiful and pure thing. It never gets messed up.”

“But you’re alone,” Namjoon counters. 

“You still love someone,” you insist. “The meaning of life, and all that shit.”

Namjoon shakes his head as the stoplight above you changes from green to yellow, and then to red. “It’s not the same as loving someone and having them love you back, building it together and working to sustain it,” he says firmly. “That’s real love.” And then he heads for the crosswalk, his long legs carrying him swiftly away. 

You hurry to catch up, feet following his without question.

–

The first leaf falls, a warning. Now the rest will follow. I watched them sway all summer. Autumn leaves me hollow.

There’s a promise in the air, I turn towards the icy bite. If autumn can’t make me happy, I wonder if winter might.

Aren’t those frozen days so dark? Isn’t catching snowflakes strange? Perhaps this could be something. Perhaps something has to change.

You frown at the page. Half of you is tempted to take Namjoon up on his offer to workshop during his TA hours, but you’ve got a good reason not to let him see this one. 

“Y/N?” Kris calls from the register at the front of the store. “Did I leave my phone back there?”

Their voice brings you back to reality, pulling your focus from the page of your notebook open on your lap. You’re hiding in the stockroom, sitting on an unpacked box of what you hope are books, trying to cram in some coursework. 

Kris’s phone is indeed on a table behind you, where you sling your bookbag when you come in to start a shift. You rise, slipping your notebook back into said bag and grabbing the phone, walking it out to them. 

You’re alarmed when both phones buzz in your hands, a long, repeating pattern that you aren’t accustomed to.

“What the fuck?” you utter, even though if your boss heard you cursing on the floor you’d get a written reprimand for the first time in your life. 

“Storm alert,” Kris says, reaching one grabby hand out for their phone. You pass it over and press your thumb to your own screen. Sure enough, it’s a severe weather alert. 

You groan. “Great. I walked here.” You try to pull up the radar, but your shitty service takes too long to load it so you switch over to the hour-by-hour. 

“See if your knight in shining armor will give you a ride,” Kris says with a twisted chuckle. 

For a second, you aren’t sure if they mean Taehyung or Namjoon, and that fact is startling. Obviously they mean Taehyung, they know a lot of your history with him and they don't know anything about what’s happening with Namjoon. Nothing is happening with Namjoon, you correct yourself sternly. You had a weird desire to scoot closer while drunk in an Uber and had one sort of deep conversation. It’s not a thing. 

And, actually, texting Taehyung for a ride is a pretty good idea. Outside, it’s not even raining yet, but the clouds hang low and the leaves that have managed to cling to their branches this late into autumn are flipping and shimmying in the harsh wind. 

There’s a long line of students waiting to check out - probably grabbing last minute snacks and drinks before the rain starts, so they don’t have to go out later - so you slide next to Kris at the second register and swipe your access card. You work like this for at least an hour, the rain starting a pace outside the windows as steady as the flow of students trying to get what they need and hurry back to their dorms. 

When you catch a minute, you send a text, holding your phone down under the counter and typing with one hand, as if it isn’t painfully obvious what you’re doing. When the answer comes in, you tap the screen quickly.

[4:22 PM] You: are you still on campus?

[4:31 PM] Namjoon: just finished work. can’t wait to walk back in this…

You giggle and Kris looks at you out of the corner of their eyes.

“That him?” they ask. They mean Taehyung, and you’re too damn aware of the lie as you answer, “Mhm.”

[4:34 PM] You: i’m done in 25 min if you want to suffer together

[4:36 PM] Namjoon: yeah sounds good you can make sure i dont drown lol

An “lol”? Oh, goodness.

[4:37 PM] Namjoon: you’re at the bookstore right? i’ll come there and wait for you

Oh, lord, Kris is going to have a field day with this. You don’t have time to focus on this, as your boss finally sweeps out of her adjoining office, announcing that you need to shut down the second register and finish everything in the back room before your shift ends. She’ll be the one to close the store tonight, as she does on Mondays. 

When you emerge from the back room at 4:59 on the dot, your backpack on your back, Namjoon is loitering near the registers, and Kris is shooting you looks that are somehow mischievous, delighted, and wounded. You have a feeling you’ll be interrogated during your shift on Wednesday.

Outside, the rain isn’t that bad, but it is steady. The wind blowing makes it look like it’s raining left to right, in sheets. 

“We’re gonna be drenched,” you groan. You follow Namjoon out of the bookstore, waving a goodbye at a still-disgruntled Kris, stopping at the glass doors that lead outside. 

“It’s not that bad,” Namjoon tells you, voice a little fond, like he thinks your complaining is cute. “We’ll just go quick. I’m mostly worried about my laptop.”

“Ugh, same,” you lament. “We’d better be fast, I fully cannot afford a new one.”

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and leads you outside. Just like that morning, your feet follow his, like it’s natural. You walk in silence almost halfway home, the pace too clipped to really carry on any kind of conversation. 

You’re practically panting for breath when you hit the major crosswalk, stopping to wait for the signal to walk. The rain seems worse when you’re stopped - sticking your hair to your head where it lands, raising the hairs on your arms as your body gives one dramatic shiver against the chill. Namjoon looks down at you.

“We’re almost there,” he says, reassuring. 

“Mhm,” you manage, rubbing your hands over your arms to fight off the goosebumps. The light changes and you start across, following Namjoon and his naturally long stride. You keep your eyes on the ground, dodging puddles, watching the white stripes pass beneath you. 

You’re just across, stepping up the curb onto the sidewalk, when it happens.

The sky opens. 

One second it’s raining hard enough to be a nuisance, the next second it feels like someone dumped a bucket of water over your head. The sound goes from a soft patter to a sudden roar, like the rain is alive and it is pissed. You splutter, actually blowing water away from your lips, reaching up to wipe your eyes. 

“Fucking shit,” Namjoon swears, and then he grabs your hand and tugs. “Come on!”

He’s not running that fast but there’s still a few seconds where you feel uneven, your gait awkward, trying to match his. Eventually your feet settle into the rhythm and you run just behind him. His hand, so large in yours it's almost swallowing it, is warm and solid and sure. His grip is tight - like he means it. He doesn’t look back as he runs, just squeezes your hand in his and trusts you to keep up.

When you round the corner of your block, together, you try to pull back, try to slow down. Your lungs hurt, your legs are burning, and you just want to admit defeat and walk the block letting the rain know it won.

Namjoon doesn’t let you. He slows his pace to more of a race-walk, gives your arm another playful tug. Not for a single second does he loosen his grip on your hand.  

“You can make it,” he tells you over his shoulder. His hair is flattened from the rain, his face a little flushed from the run, but his dimples wink at you through the deluge.

When he reaches the front of the apartment, he finally drops your hand and takes the steps at a clip. At the top, under the safety of the awning, he turns to see why you haven’t followed him.

You can’t help it - it’s all so ridiculous you have to laugh. Your hair sticks to your face like cooked spaghetti, your shirt clings to your arms, your backpack is dripping water like there’s a faucet in there, and even your socks are wet, making each step you take squelch like mud. Still cackling at the absurdity of this moment, of having been completely defeated by the season, of running all the way home and still ending up half-drowned, you look up at the sky. The rain slides down the sides of your face and you let it cool the heat that’s there from either running, or Namjoon’s touch.

You feel a little drunk from it. 

“Y/N!” Namjoon scolds from the top of the stairs, but he’s smiling that same fond little smile he’d had on movie night a few days ago. “Come inside! You’re going to get pneumonia.”

You look back at him, the rain still assaulting you from above. There’s a second where you feel something. Something like… you’re half-drowned and chilled to the bone, but you feel warm with his affectionate gaze on you. Like you don’t want him to look away and leave you cold again. Like the rain was penance and now you’re all paid up. 

Like for at least this moment, right now, the rain has washed away your histories and left you clean and empty, a blank page waiting for a new story to tell - where before, your pages were full of scribbles and scrawls that held such heavy meaning there was no room for anything new.

You’re thinking too much.

You’re standing in the rain, Namjoon is looking at you like you’re nuts, and you’re thinking too much.

 Watching your feet, you head up the stairs, going through the front door that he’s holding open for you.

You squish your way upstairs, neither of you talking. Inside the apartment, Namjoon flicks on a few lamps.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You should, too.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “That was my plan.”

You stand beneath the spray of hot water, tapping on the faucet to work it hotter by degrees, not wanting the temperature to jump and scald you. You feel drained, like your limbs are noodles. You lean your forehead against the tile wall, closing your eyes and just breathing.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to no one, “is going on?”

You wish you had a friend to talk it out with. Kris would go overboard, exploding with glee. Lin isn’t a talk about boys kind of person, or even a talk about your feelings kind. That leaves Taehyung, and the idea of trying to talk to him about your burgeoning feelings for Namjoon makes you laugh out loud, the single syllable echoing off the shower walls, echoing back to mock you. 

When you finally make it back into the living room, hair blow-dried and wearing your fuzziest joggers and a hoodie, Namjoon is tucked away in his own room, the door open that familiar four inches. 

You get settled on the couch and pull out your phone and realize practically with a gasp - you hadn’t even tried to text Taehyung to drive you, nice and dry, back from campus. Your brain had thought but I walked here with Namjoon and the option of “dry” went right out the window.

You cover your face with your hands, sliding down on the couch a little bit. What is the matter with you? 

You feel right now like it’s all happening too much, too fast. What even is “it”? Do you like Namjoon? Despite barely knowing him? Despite having to live with him? 

Despite the years and years of experience you have with loving Taehyung, and Taehyung alone, out of everyone in the whole wide world?

Luckily, Namjoon stays in his room for the rest of the evening, sparing you from any more self-reflection, any more soul-searching. 

You still kind of wish he’d come out. 

Tuesday October 23rd

One of the steady things that you and Namjoon share, that works for you as roommates, is that neither of you cooks. A whole kitchen of pots and pans just to heat up water for tea and ramen and to occasionally cook an egg. 

So when you get home from class on Tuesday so late that it’s already pretty dark out and you hear the clanging and banging from the kitchen that indicates a meal being made, you genuinely wonder if you’re at the wrong door. 

As you push the door open, the noise only gets louder. You round the corner and see the kitchen in chaos - two unmanned pans on the stove, bowls and whisks and colanders and cutting boards all over the counterspace. Namjoon has his back to you, a large kitchen knife in hand. 

You ease around him, not wanting to startle him until the knife is set down. He spots you anyway, and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What… exactly… is happening here?” you inquire. 

“It depends on the scope of your question,” Namjoon answers, because of course he can’t just fucking answer you like a normal person. “If you’re referring to the stove, I am burning some sauce on the left and burning some meat on the right. If you’re referring to the cutting board, I am -.”

“The stove is on fire!” you shriek, pointing, your spare hand flying to cover your mouth in horror. Flames crawl from underneath the pan of meat, over the top, devouring what’s in the pan and leaping into the air. Namjoon drops the knife with a clatter and whirls around, eyes wide. 

“What do I do?” he cries, hands in the air like he’s going to swat the flames like gnats.

“Turn off the burner and smother it!” you cry, not willing to enter the kitchen and get closer to the danger. 

“Smother it?” he repeats, the words a little wild as he screams them. Smoke has filled the kitchen, blurring your view of him, and the smoke alarm over the front door begins to blare. 

“The lid!” you scream, trying to be louder than the alarm. “Turn off the burner and put the lid on the pan! Be careful!”

You add this last part in a shriek as Namjoon follows your directions, reaching towards the flame to twist the burner and then slam the lid over the top of the pan, hissing a little as he does. 

The flames vanish almost instantly, but the smoke remains and the alarm keeps screaming. Namjoon looks at the pan, then his hand, then at you. 

“Go run cool water on that,” you tell him firmly, and you cross the apartment to open the windows and turn on the fans. 

You return to the kitchen to find Namjoon running the sink over his knuckles, brows furrowed.

“Is it bad?” you ask loudly - again, to be heard over the smoke alarm - as you open a drawer and get a kitchen towel, moving to stand in the kitchen’s doorway flapping away, trying to send the smoke towards the open windows. 

“No,” he tells you, pulling his hand out of the stream of water to examine it more closely. “It’s just a little red.”

“Keep it there for a little bit,” you tell him, still flapping away. “I might have burn cream in my bathroom, I’ll check in a second.”

Eventually the alarm quiets and you both heave a sigh of relief. The cold air coming from the open windows chills you down to your toes, but smoke still clings to the room, blurring your vision just enough to wonder if you’re imagining it. 

You find the burn cream in your medicine cabinet and return to the living room. Namjoon is looking at the ruined remains of his dinner with something like heartbreak on his face.

“Come here,” you tell him, sitting at the breakfast bar, ointment in your hand. “Come sit so I can do this.”

“I can do it,” he protests, but he heads your way.

“Sit,” you repeat, pulling out the stool next to you.

He does, silently and obediently, sliding his hand over to you. You can see the redness over his knuckles, middle and index the most. You uncap the tube and squeeze a little onto your fingers, then take his hand in your spare one to hold it steady. Gently you press the cream into his skin, making sure to cover each bit of redness. Namjoon watches you solemnly, wincing a little when your fingers touch his middle knuckle.

“See if that helps,” you tell him, his hand still resting on yours. “Want help cleaning up?”

He sighs heavily, and you both look at the kitchen in defeat at the mess of pans and bowls to wash.

“Do you ever just… miss your mom?” he asks plaintively, not looking at you.

The thing about grief - long-term grief, lifetime grief - is that you can go days, maybe even weeks at a time without noticing it. It’s kind of like a bruise in a hard to reach spot. It just takes one bump in exactly the right place, and it hurts just as bad as day one all over again. Namjoon’s words pierce you, and you take a slow breath. You were just caught off-guard, that’s all. You can be fine. You can be normal.

“Sure,” you say, trying to sound casual. Failing. 

He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “Why’d you get weird?” he asks. “Do you have a bad relationship with your mom or something? I didn’t mean to -.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, but you rise and head for the kitchen, starting to pick things up just to do something with your hands. “It’s just… I don’t have my mom anymore. She passed when I was little. My dad too.” Might as well get it all out there. It felt weird to let someone only know half.

It’s easier to handle this moment with Namjoon in another room. You don’t have to watch him react, don’t have to translate his silence and his body language. You slide all the chopped onion onto a plate just  in case Namjoon still wants to use it, and turn to rinse off the cutting board in the sink. 

He appears behind you, silently lingering in the doorway. “Y/N,” he says softly. 

“It’s fine, Namjoon,” you tell him, scrubbing at the cutting board vigorously. You don’t turn to face him.

“I wouldn’t have been so blase about it if I’d known,” he says apologetically.

“I know,” you say. You turn - away from the doorway - to put the cutting board aside to dry. You grab the pan with sauce in it - all congealed and unappetizing now - and move to scrape it into the garbage can. 

He comes up beside you; his fingers touch your elbow, feather-light, like he’s afraid he’ll spook you.

“Y/N,” he implores. “Look at me.”

You do, glancing sideways up at him, the pan heavy in your hand. “I’m not upset,” you assure him. “People just get so weird when they find out. I hate… navigating that, over and over again, with new people.”

He gives you a guilty smile, but there’s relief in it as well. “I will stop being weird immediately,” he promises. “I just felt like I stepped in it, you know?”

You shrug. “It happens to the best of us. It really is fine. It’s been a long time.”

You arm tingles where he’d touched you, but he stays put when you move back to the sink, running the water hot enough to steam before you put the pan under it. Then, wordlessly, he moves next to you, grabbing a cloth and starting to dry the cutting board you’d washed.

You carry on that like that, a perfectly synchronized dance, in silence until the countertop is empty. All that remains is the pan that had been alight about half an hour ago.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he asks, leaning against the counter as you scrape the remains of the charred meat into the garbage with a grimace. “I’m just curious. You can tell me to fuck off.”

“It’s so jarring when you swear,” you tell him.

He grins at you. “Hobi says my surprising potty-mouth is one of my best charms.”

You laugh at this. “I can see that,” you agree. “It is surprising.”

“Not charming?” he teases.

You shrug, feeling that blush rise up again. “No comment. Anyway - what did you want to ask?”

He lets you get away with evading the flirtation. “If you were little… who raised you?”

“Oh,” you say. You aren’t sure what you thought he’d ask, but it wasn’t that. “My grandma, until she couldn’t. Then my Aunt Lin took over, but she’s more like a big sister than anything.”

Namjoon nods. Then he asks, carefully, “Did Taehyung know your parents?”

The question makes you smile at the memories it pulls up - you and Taehyung as kids together, goofing off around your house, back when it had been filled with people.

“Yeah,” you say softly. It doesn’t occur to you to wonder why he’d ask that. It doesn’t occur to you to mask the tiny smile, that it might jostle his feelings even a little bit.

You look over at him when you realize he’s gone quiet. “Are you close with your family?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He nods, eyes on the pan lid that he’s drying. “Very. I was a lost soul when I first moved to campus. I couldn’t do anything.”

“You burned dinner tonight,” you point out. 

“I can do laundry now,” he retorts, smiling at you as you put the last of the dishes away. “I’ve come a long way.”

“Still room to grow,” you tease, reaching out to give his arm a playful nudge.

You’re giving playful touches now. That’s a thing that’s happening. 

You ache, again, to have someone to tell. 

Wednesday October 24th

You both love and hate Wednesdays - on one hand, you have your thesis double-feature, and you actually enjoy it. On the other hand, you go straight from double-class to closing shift at the campus store, and you don’t get home until dark. The day is long, and you’d rather be home. For several reasons. 

Your morning goes as you expect - you make it through the lecture part of class, updating Professor Jemisen on how your research segment is going. During the break, you eat some leftovers you’d thrown in your backpack, and talk with Gloria and the other girls. After the break, your group helps you workshop your latest poem, the one about the season changing, and you do the same for them.

The season changing is happening in real life, all around you. Fall fades quickly, the days darkening, the chills lasting longer, becoming more pronounced. Gone are the autumn days that change their mood and become summer again for hours at a time. 

You normally go straight to the campus store after class, but this week you’re hungry - the leftovers you packed weren’t enough to keep you until you get home. Instead of heading down the main paved path to the student center, where you work, you head for a large academic building you pass on the way there. You know there’s a little sandwich station on the lowest floor, tucked away past the mailroom like a well-kept secret. 

You take a hallway off to the side, passing some open classrooms on your way to the staircase. You’re walking mindlessly, head thinking only about the sandwich you’re going to order. You slow your steps when you hear a familiar voice, low and calm. 

“All I’m saying,” a girl is saying, and you stop in the doorway, listening, “is that while the idea of going to live alone in the woods is actually extremely appealing, Thoreau as a whole kind of sucks.”

“I might agree with you, but you need to frame that more academically,” Namjoon corrects gently.

A circle of students - freshmen, if you had to guess, maybe eight of them, are sitting at desks, their bags all forgotten on the floor by their chairs. Namjoon perches on the edge of the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, legs casually stretched out before him. He’s listening intently as the students debate.

“We have to specify the problem,” someone else in the group points out. “I’m all for metaphorically dragging down statues of the patriarchy and everything, but we need a solid argument.”

“Or,” a different girl says, voice just barely loud enough for you to hear from the hallway, “maybe instead of giving more attention to ‘classics’ we see as undeserving, maybe instead we should focus just on the underprivileged voices that we prefer to be amplified?”

“You mean pick a lesser-known author and shed light on their work instead?” Namjoon clarifies, and the girl nods. 

The group begins to debate this passionately, and Namjoon lets them fight it out, taking a second to glance at his phone. You become aware of the fact that you’re just standing in the hallway staring. You’re about to move on when Namjoon notices you. He looks away quickly at first, and then it registers that it was you standing in the doorway like a weirdo, and his gaze flies back to you. 

Caught, you have no choice but to lean into it. You give him a tiny smile, raising a hand in a guilty wave. He smiles back, just barely. You stay there another minute, smiling at each other, while the freshmen continue to argue. Then your feet spur you on, and you give him a little nod before heading down the hall. But the stupid fucking butterflies stay in your stomach the whole time you wait in line for your sandwich.

When you get to the bookshop, you toss your backpack behind the counter and slump onto a low stool that’s stashed back there. You lean your head on the counter next to the currently unmanned register and let out some unhappy grumbles.

Kris comes out from the stockroom - you can tell it’s them by their footsteps.

“What is happening here,” they say flatly, not exactly a question.

“Kriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis,” you whine, not looking up. “I think I need to talk about… my roommate.”

“Bitch!” they utter indignantly. “He has a name! What grade are we in right now?”

You stomp your feet lightly, needing to display your crankiness. “I am feeling very confused and conflicted and I need you to be nice to me about it,” you say petulantly, finally picking your head up so you can pout better. 

“Okay,” Kris says easily, leaning against the wall. The shop is devoid of customers, so you don’t bother to lower your voice. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you continue to whine. “It’s just how I feel.”

Kris gives you a level stare. “I need the whining to stop, like, yesterday. If you feel conflicted, there’s a reason. So, figure out what it is.”

“I already said I don’t know,” you tell them, still pouty, but sitting up straight now.

“Dig deep,” Kris deadpans. “Do it for the dimples.”

“Oh my GOD,” you say, unable to even make eye contact. “Never mind, conversation over.”

They shake their head, not letting you off the hook. “What’s the problem, Square?” It’s a nickname they gave you last year when you wouldn’t go partying - because… apparently you’re a square.

“You know the problem,” you grumble quietly, making them lean closer to hear you.

They lean back, something knowing in their eyes. “Ah. It’s the Taehyung factor.”

“Shh,” you scold, glancing around the empty store like someone might have materialized without you noticing. When you return your gaze to them, Kris is just staring at you plainly, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I don’t know,” you say, and then more emphatically, “I don’t know! If I… start something else… does that mean giving Taehyung up? Because I can’t say I want to do that. Not if I’m being honest.”

Kris nods silently, letting you work it out. You meet their eyes, suddenly feeling the squeeze of anxiety around your chest, like your lungs have something heavy they have to push every time you inhale. 

“If I lose him,” you say in practically a whisper, “I will quite literally die.”

Kris scowls at you. “You will not.”

“I will,” you retort. 

Kris gives you an eyeroll. “So dramatic,” they scold. 

“He’s my family, Kris,” you try to explain. “In a lot of ways he’s my only family.” Your voice breaks as you ask, “What if I lose him?”

Now Kris softens, lips pulling together into something like a very pursed frown. “Maybe you should talk to him,” they suggest quietly.

You hate that idea a lot. “Maybe,” you say loudly, slapping your hand on the counter and standing as the bell over the door chimes and a group of lacrosse guys (the sticks are a give-away) enter the store with a burst of noisy chatter, “I should never talk about any of this ever again.”

Kris sighs heavily, practically doubling over. Now who’s dramatic? “You’re so self-destructive,” they complain.

“Don’t be mean,” you say, going back to pouting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kris waves a hand at you. “Go write a poem about it.”

“And what if I do?” you demand, but you’re both laughing now, unlocking the registers as the lacrosse dudes line up to pay for their snacks and drinks.

–

Taehyung texts you near the end of your shift - “we haven’t hung out in five billion years :(“.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and text back, “come get me from the bookstore then and hang out for a little”.

You’re pleased when he agrees. He shows up a little bit before closing, knocking on the already locked glass doors. You hurry to let him in, ignoring Kris staring knives into your back. 

“Hi,” you say happily as he slips into the store, and you lock the door again behind him. “I’ll be done in about four minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he says easily, striding over to the checkout counter and leaning against it. 

“Taehyung,” Kris greets him, nodding their head as they lock the register. “How’s it going?”

He sighs dramatically. “The usual. Classes. Parties. Trying to figure out why Y/N doesn’t love me anymore.”

You freeze halfway to the stockroom, your eyes wide, air catching in your throat. 

Luckily, Kris is and always has been way more slick than you. They cock their head quizzically, letting a playfully concerned frown settle over their features. 

“Y/N doesn’t love you anymore?” they echo, the poor baby pronounced in their tone. “What on earth do you mean?”

Taehyung shoots you a mischievous look; luckily, you’ve gotten your act together since he said those words. 

“I had to beg for her attention tonight,” he says, clearly loving this bit. “I’m beginning to think she has a secret boyfriend she’s not telling me about.”

He’s teasing and you know it, but after a lifetime of friendship with Taehyung, you know this too: there’s a little sliver of him that must be hurt, or at least bothered, or he wouldn’t tease at all.

You feel both caught - despite not having a secret boyfriend or anything like it - and guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I just got busy with my thesis and everything. I promise I’m not out with other people and not you. Even Kris only sees me at work these days.”

“And Namjoon,” Taehyung adds plaintively, and your blood runs cold.

“Namjoon?” you echo, not sure you can form a different word.

Taehyung’s pouting now, which means he’s not too serious. “Yeah, he has no choice, you’re in his living room every day.”

“Oh,” you say, relief flooding through you. “Yeah.”

You don’t see the point in telling Taehyung that there’s a teeny, tiny something starting with Namjoon. Not when it’s so… unformed, insubstantial, uncertain. You don’t know which word fits best. It’s a maybe at best, and it just doesn’t seem worth rocking the boat over it. 

What would happen if things started for real? Would you tell him? It shouldn’t have to be a secret… it shouldn’t stay a secret, not if you mean it. What would happen?

You’re afraid to know the answers. 

You finish up in the store and you all head to the parking lot together. You tell Kris goodbye and drop down into Taehyung’s passenger seat. 

“You’re gonna stay at the apartment for a little?” you ask. 

“Mhm,” he says, fiddling with the heat until he gets it how he wants it. “Can I work on homework with you?”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I have so much shit to do. I wasn’t kidding when I said school is eating my life. Senior year sucks.”

Taehyung isn’t looking at you - he’s watching the road as he waits for an opening in traffic so he can pull out of the parking lot. But something crosses his face - relief, maybe. Something softens, anyway. Maybe he really had been hurt that you hadn’t been hanging out as much.

When you return to the apartment, Namjoon isn’t home - his door hangs open, his bedroom completely dark. 

You and Taehyung settle in the living room, dragging out your laptops. It’s nice, hanging out like this again. You hadn’t realized how long it had been - over a week - since it had been just the two of you, like old times. Everything falls right into place. You swap snacks, hands brushing as you both reach into crinkling chip bags. You reach over and type nonsense into his paper when he isn’t paying attention, letting out peals of laughter when he figures it out and starts spluttering at you in outrage. You tell him about the customer at the store who argued with you over - of all the stupid things - a used copy of The Odyssey. 

When he hugs you goodbye at the end of the night, swaying you playfully back and forth like he might drop you, both of you giggling wildly, you’re reminded of just what the stakes are. You’re reminded of just how much you have to lose. 

<- Prev || Next ->

ahhhhh what do we think??!! there was hand holding!!!! are we clutching our pearls??!!!

as always thank you all so so so much for being here, i appreciate every one of you so extremely much!!!

[azurelyy]

Hi, congrats to 100 supporters ayyyyy👏🏻You deserve it love!

Can I propose smut prompt nr 7 with Kakashi and a fem reader? And maybe a jealous friends to lovers thing?

I hope this is ok, again congrats!!!

Hi! Thank you so much! 🥺 You are too sweet.

You can propose anything with Kakashi. 😏 I, once again, went feral writing for my favorite Sensei... lol. I hope you enjoy and thanks again for requesting something!

P.S. Sorry I am kind of mean to Genma?

Words: 3.8k

🍋 Prompt: "You should be kissed. And often. And by someone who knows how."

Warnings: oral (f!recieving), soft dom!Kakashi, over-over-overstimulation, orgasm denial, jealous!Kakashi, face sitting, rimming, dumbification

The fire’s flame flicked across your neck, hugging each curve delicately the way he wished he could as you leaned in to the chestnut haired man next to you, your plump lips curved into a cunning smile with wild eyes, like little monsoons. Kakashi convinced himself the reason he was burning up was due to the large bonfire just a few feet in front of him, but the longer he glared at the way Genma’s hand rested over yours on your knee, he wondered if he was being completely honest with himself.

A large hand slapped him on the back, hard, causing him to cough and twist around angrily as he narrowed his eyes at his dark haired rival. Guy’s head was back and he was laughing harshly, his white teeth sparkling. 

“Poor Kakashi here hasn’t yet topped my latest record. Isn’t that right?” Guy looked at Kakashi, who merely scowled in response, which only made the burly man laugh even more. “As you can see, he’s still a bit sore from the whole thing.”

Kakashi grumbled curses as he saw you stand up, clasping your hands above your head as you brought your arms up for a big stretch. You locked eyes with him and gave him a small smile before you stumbled through the sand to the cooler. Instinctively, Kakashi got up to walk to you, ignoring Guy asking for him to grab him another drink too.

“Hi there,” Kakashi hummed, approaching you from behind. Your moonlight haired friend leaned down, grabbing two beers from the cooler swiftly, standing with a wink as he gently leaned his head back towards Genma. You felt your cheeks flush as he said, “You two seem close tonight.”

You opened the wine spritzer and took a small sip, letting the little bubbles pop their way down your throat as you watched Kakashi suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess.” You glanced at Genma quickly before focussing back on Kakashi. His silver hair was swaying gently in the summer breeze, one hand placed in the front pocket of his dark wash jeans as he cupped the two cans in the other, and the light from the bonfire just barely caught his eyes, drawing liquidy slivers of color in them. “Kakashi?”

He bumped into your shoulder with his. You bumped him back.

“Yeah?” He questioned, gently raising an eyebrow at you.

“Wanna… Take a walk?”

He nodded without a single hesitation, dropping the beers back in the cooler, as he nodded and gestured forward. You walked along the beach with him, completely spilling your guts out to him about everything. Genma had been acting so weird lately, and you needed another opinion - a guy’s opinion - on why.

“It’s just like,” you gulped down the last of the wine spritzer, your speech now slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol you had consumed in such a short time, “He ignores me, for weeks, and then appears again out of nowhere. Things get steamy, but the second I think we’re about to-”

You freeze, unable to continue the sentence. You awkwardly shuffle your feet before you cave and plop down to the ground, twisting the can until it rests securely in the sand next to you. You sigh and bring your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them as you watch the dark waves crash against the shore. Kakashi sits next to you, leaning his body against yours. He is so warm. You look over at him, but he is totally focussed on the ocean, the smokey smell of the fire still clinging onto him.

He was a handsome man; someone you had liked for a long, long time. He didn’t feel the same, of course. It hurt you for a while, but moments like these - where he sat next to you, where he helped you wrap your brain around even the most miniscule of obstacles - made you happy that he had trusted you enough to let you into his small circle of friends. Kakashi was a secretive and private person, and you understood why. His past was dark and secluded, making it hard for him to open up to others. It was why your heartbeat quickened every time he smiled at you, even under his mask. It was why instead of admitting your feelings for him, you would crack a joke, or pat his knee. His smile was your light; so long as you could keep that, you would be happy enough.

“I think I understand,” Kakashi’s voice cracked and you could tell he was smirking. It only made your face heat up more as he said, “You two aren’t intimate.”

“N-No,” you admitted, drawing a circle in the sand with your index finger. “Is that bad?”

He thought for a moment before he said, “No. Not necessarily.”

A shadow of a smile passed over his mysterious face, there and gone so fast you figured you had imagined it. “Are you two staying here… together?”

His voice had a twinge of an indecipherable emotion to it. His body felt hot against yours, almost uncomfortably so. You shivered despite yourself and Kakashi shrugged off his jacket to wrap it over your shoulders as you whispered, “No.”

“Good.” He replied, smiling at you.

You stayed like that for a long time, pretending to watch the ocean, your bodies pressed into one another. Whenever one of you rearranged, the other followed. Whenever a position got too uncomfortable, you both shifted. But you never stopped touching. You were in dangerous territory.

Kakashi hadn’t felt this way in years - that almost painful weight of wanting, that paralyzing fear that any wrong move would ruin everything. He glanced over when he felt your gaze on him, and you didn’t look away. Neither did he. You wanted to say something, but your mind was mercilessly blank. The kind of blank of staring at flames for too long, or the colors popping in darkness blank from closing your eyes tightly shut.

The staring contest stretched an uncomfortable distance without either of you breaking it. His eyes were completely black, and when the light of the moon hit them, they filled quickly with stardust and lightning, then vanished.

“We should get back,” you said abruptly.

Kakashi smiled under his mask. “If you say so.”

You adjusted to stand just as he did, your faces unbearably close - close enough to smell his lavender shampoo, to feel his cool breath tickle your cheeks. His hands moved to cradle the sides of your face, angling you up to his, his fingers threaded gently through your hair. His eyes wandered their way down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered.

Oh, damn. 

You leaned toward him, closing your eyes. Kakashi didn’t move as he murmured, “Look at me.”

You obeyed, opening your eyes slowly as your pulse raced rapidly. His gaze was heavy lidded as he said, “You should be kissed. And often. And by someone who knows how.” His finger trailed down your cheek to grip under your chin, and he leaned forward, the smooth fabric of his mask grazing across the skin of your cheek as he whispered in your ear, “But not here.”

A tingle ran down your spine as your breath caught in the back of your throat. Your soul was lit on fire as he continued, “Let me walk you back to your room?” The rushing waves were as loud as your heart as you nodded and he took your hand in his to help you stand. 

The walk back to the beach house was long and quiet - filled with anticipation and yearning. You passed the group sat at the bonfire swiftly. You glanced at Genma, who watched the two of you intently, unmoving and unblinking. Kakashi stepped beside you, blocking your view as he connected his coal black eyes to yours. He had a gentle twinkle within his eyes that let you know that, if you wanted to, you could leave and go back to the group. That you could choose Genma, and Kakashi would simply continue back to his room, completely alone. That nothing would change.

You gave his hand a quick squeeze as you giggled and averted your eyes toward the house, tugging him forward as you started jogging lightly. 

You sat on the couch, stradling Kakashi’s lap. His nose brushed the side of yours as you lifted your mouth, trying to close the gap between you. Your slow breaths pressed you into each other as his hands squeezed your sides, your thighs tightening against him in reaction.

The two of you hovered there for a minute, like neither of you wanted to take the blame. Your breathing was shaky and shallow; his was nonexistent. You wanted this. You wanted him. He was so perfect, so gorgeous, so special to you. A friend with honest eyes and a wit that could burn you alive. Was this really happening? Was Kakashi Hatake really letting you sit in his lap? How had this happened, and were you-

His mouth dragged warm breath across your jaw and then up to your lips. His teeth skated across your bottom lip, and a small hum of pleasure erupted throughout you. His fine mouth quirked into a smirk even as it sank hot and light against your own, coaxing it open. He tasted like vanilla and cinnamon, like the best French dessert money could buy. His heat rushed into your mouth, into your stomach, down between your legs. Desire dripped through you, pooling in all the nooks that formed between your bodies.

You reached for a handful of his grey shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material. You needed him to be closer, to remember how it felt to be pressed against him, to be wrapped around him. One of his hands swept up the side of your neck, his fingers curling under your hair. You sighed into his mouth as he kissed you harder, slower, deeper, rougher. He tipped your mouth to him for more and you grabbed for his ribs, trying to get closer than gravity allowed. 

You raked your hands through his soft hair as he leaned back and flipped you to your back. You greedily pulled him over you as an involuntary groan lifted in your throat and you ground your hips against his. He braced one hand to the couch behind you and his teeth caught on your lower lip. Your breaths came fast and shaky as his hand swiped down to your chest, feeling your breasts through your shirt. A pulse went through you at the feeling of his arousal pushing into your thigh and he let out a low and raspy moan as his hand snaked under your shirt.

His thumb scraped along the length of your hip bone, melting you the further he went. His mouth grazed hot and damp down your neck, sinking heavily against your collarbone. Your whole body was begging him for more without any subtlety, lifting into him as if pulled by a magnet. 

“Kashi?” Your voice sounded miles away. He hummed against your skin, his hand working your breasts like dough. “I-I… Really like you.”

He unhooked your bra, quickly, pulled it down from under your shirt as his mouth trailed up your neck to suck the skin of your earlobe between his teeth. He moaned, “Watching you with him has been like torture, did you know that?”

When his flamed fingers twisted your nipple between them, the only response you could provide him was a shrill sound of jumbled curses. He smiled as his breath fanned across your ear, goosebumps raising along your arms. “I don’t like feeling helpless,” he continued, moving his mouth to the side of yours. “I want this. I want you. I’m annoyed knowing we could have been doing this the whole time.”

He leaned back and pulled your shirt off and over your head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes carved their way down your chest as your hands reached under his shirt and your thumbs trailed across his abs. He smiled and removed his shirt, letting you trace his scar that stretched across the length of his stomach. He was a Godly man, a silver-haired Zeus. Sensing your apprehension, he leaned down and enveloped you in a kiss that could destroy poets. Your hips moved against his and he rolled you back into his lap as you gyrated across his thigh. He flexed his muscles dangerously as his hand trailed up your spine, his lips never leaving yours. Warmth spread through your core as you continued to move against him, each rock of your hips building the pressure within you up closer to the heavens. Your clothed clit was throbbing as the fabric of Kakashi’s pants grew wetter, each thrust nearly toppling you over the edge.

You stopped as you breathed, “Kashi, if I keep going-”

“Don’t. Stop.” He commanded, grabbing onto your hips to sway you over him as he pushed his thigh into your core harder, rocking you back and forth at a maddening rhythm. A dangerous groan rumbled from his chest as your leg nudged against his painful erection and you continued grinding against his muscular thigh like your life depended on it, your head harshly thrown back in pleasure as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. Kakashi was certain he had never seen a more lovely sight. 

“G-Gonna-” You gasp when he lifts you into his arms, the abrupt lack of friction leaving your cunt cold. You whine as he lays you on the bed with a giddy giggle. He sounds like a kid who heard the jingle of an ice cream truck coming down the block - just completely joyful and mischievous. It almost distracts you from your annoyance at the orgasm denial, and as his slender hands work at the zipper of your jeans and pull your pants and panties off simultaneously, you forget about it fully.

“I want to try something, if you’ll let me?” He asks hesitantly. He’s towering over you but his face is soft and inviting, not at all as intimidating as you expected him to be. Sweet. Caring. 

“W-What is it?” Your voice comes out breathless as your heart tries to return to a normal rhythm. His finger trails between your breasts to your pussy as he leans down to your ear. 

“Will you sit on my face?” Time stands still. Your eyes widen in pure shock as Kakashi looks up at you with blown out pupils and gently kisses your neck. “Only if you’re comfortable with it…” 

His cheeks are a beautiful shade of rose, his breathing almost silent. You push your hands onto his collarbones to roll him over and you straddle his hips with your legs, blacking out momentarily as his dick catches against your clit. Kakashi hisses gently as he grips onto your hips. He watches you intently, hardly moving at all beneath you. His Adam’s apple slowly moves as he gulps down his insecurities. 

“You look really pretty above me like this,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb across your hip bones, “Beautiful.”

You adjust up him gently and he releases that cute giggle again as your soaked pussy drags over his chest and his nails dig into your skin. He helps you hover your pussy over his face and his hot breaths fans across your folds as your hands grip into his hair, your legs trembling around his face as your knees frame around his ears. 

“Such a pretty thing,” he whispers, tickling your already trembling core. “I’m gonna sit you down now, okay?”

You wiggle and he yanks your hips down, a bit more aggressively than he intended, as he licks along the length of your dripping cunt. His heart is singing in his chest as he moves his quick tongue around within you, lapping around each curve and swirl. Your entire body is shaking harshly as your hands make a mess of his hair and you jerk forward, letting his tongue flick over your clit. A harsh sound rips from your lungs, completely animalistic and not at all ladylike. It was the hottest thing Kakashi had ever heard. 

His hands grip at the back of your thighs as you rock over his mouth, completely drowning him with your essence. You were sweet and delectable - every noise encouraged him to work harder, to explore more, to continue to devour you. He sucked your clit between his lips and you screamed a sharp half complaint of protest of his name, driving him completely feral. He chuckles into your cunt, vibrating through your entire body. You tremble above him as you collapse even more onto his face, finally succumbing against his assaults and suffocating him with your scent.

Your hands are everywhere: in his hair, against the wall, gripped on his shoulders, as thick liquid drips down his chin and neck. This is heaven, you have finally sent him there, and your hips that continued to grind against his face were the subway that transported him. For all of Kakashi’s teasing, he was just as needy as you. He had thought about this moment often, with his hand wrapped around his thick cock as he imagined how you’d taste and smell, or the noises you’d make. This was better than anything he fantasized.

Lewd sounds erupt throughout the room as Kakashi’s head moves down the length of your cunt, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue slides between your ass cheeks. Kakashi doesn’t let up for a second, not even as you shiver and try to pull away. He corrects you, moaning an indecipherable string of sentences as his hands pull you down to him even further, sinking you deeper into your ecstasy. Kakashi has no care for the lack of air in his lungs, or the tightness in his pants. He wants you to drown him. And he wants to destroy you over and over and over and over.

Hot pressure bubbles deep within your stomach as his deft tongue circles back up over your length, licking any and everywhere it will reach, and wiggles your clit side to side. You lean forward, resting your sweaty forehead against the headboard, stars shooting throughout your vision as your eyes swiftly shut. Your hands lace in his hair and when he leans back to whisper “it’s okay” is when you finally crack.

You couldn’t even warn him first. A hushed sililoqy of fuckfuckfuckcomingcomingcoming rushes out of you like a waterfall. A small uh huh hummed against your core is your only anchor to Earth as splashes of color erupt in your vision through the darkness. Your orgasm is harsh as every muscle in you spasms abruptly, your fingers twitching in his hair as you fall. Kakashi’s pace doesn’t slow down as he drinks you in, enjoying the burst of liquid that hits every inch of his face and sticks to his mouth and chin. He helps rock your hips for you as you struggle above him, maintaining a good pressure to ensure you ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Thank you,” you murmur. It was a soft sound, small. Delicate. Pathetic. Beautiful. Kakashi pushes his head up against the headboard to grin up at you as you sit on his chest. A thin film of sweat coats the entirety of your face and chest, causing your already beautiful skin to sparkle in the moonlight. 

As he watches the way the aftershocks continue to shake your body, and your lips tremble as you continue whispering praises to him, Kakashi feels how much his heart is pounding. It’s almost painful. He hasn’t felt this way in years; that sweet feeling of knowing someone cares for him, that someone sees him. Really sees him. Not just Kakashi Hatake, Copy Cat Ninja. Not just the son of The White Fang of the Leaf. Not just the infamous perv everyone assumed him to be. You see Kakashi: the erotica enthusiast, the worrier, the gentle soul beneath the mask. 

  He smirks up at you before he grabs your ass with renowned vigor, dragging your cunt up his face until he’s enveloped fully by your scent once again. Your little fingers dance in his hair, tugging desperately - a futile attempt at pulling him away from you, which results in his nails digging into your sensitive skin.

You whine as he thunders from below, “Not done yet.” His tongue licks along the length of your slit like your pussy was made of water, just another wave against the soaked through depths as it melts into you smoothly and effortlessly as you cry out and go limp in his arms, fully at his mercy. Kakashi’s goal is to break you in a way no one else has - to completely rip you apart and put you back together himself. He will give you no quarter until you’re nothing but a writhing cloud of lust above him. 

After you have shattered into fragments twice over, Kakashi’s strong hands guide you to your back on the bed and he frees his throbbing girth from its clothed confinement. You are nothing but sticky limbs and a beating heart, completely unable to speak. You’re murmuring something in a language that seems foreign, your eyes completely glued shut. Every nerve in your body is trembling and your clit is on fire. Kakashi’s cock twitches in his hand as he watches how completely and totally ripped apart you are; coated in bliss for him. 

He ghosts his dick over your cunt as he leans down to your ear, hot breath fanning across the skin of your earlobe. He whispers, “I’ve got you now.” And you know he will take care of you with the gentle way he pushes his thick head through the slick muscles of your walls, the way he wraps an arm around your back to help arch your spine enough so the curve of his cock pushes against your sweet spot. His lips press to yours as he pushes further inside you, to places no one before had ever gone, and the two of you sing a beautiful duet in the dark.

Requests for the event still open here.

Please consider reblogging to support my work and, as always, scream at me in the comments if you enjoyed! <3