#I was drunk last night and thought it’d be good idea to let him poke around outside the front door

[feelmoss]

Your meow right now would sound like music to me

[personasintro]

sucker (m.) | pjm

❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

❥𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut, angst, vampire au, horror au (?), vampire!jimin x human!reader, supernatural au

❥𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language, smut; slight biting, oral sex [man receiving], fingering, penetration, unprotected & rough sex, slight dom!jimin, death & mentions of death, blood, mentions of alcohol

❥𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10.9k+ 

𝒂/𝒏: I got this story idea after halloween and this is the first time I've written a vampire au, so I really hope you'll like it, this is something new for me but was so much fun to write!! banner by @dee-ehn​ (thank you luv, you did an amazing job!!)

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕  | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

Frat parties aren’t usually Jimin’s go-to place but considering the sudden circumstances, he had to agree and couldn't say no to his friend who had chosen the most overcrowded party. In other cases, Jimin would’ve chosen somewhere less crowded but enough to blend with his surroundings. Although, Taehyung deserves a few points for thinking this out considering today’s theme is Halloween. There’s no need to hide anything, especially their appearance that still doesn’t seem as weird as people dressed as pumpkin and other weird costumes. Just as a young male passes by, obviously dressed as Dracula while wearing a cheap cape, his friend snorts under his breath but Jimin can hear him perfectly.

“Horrendous,” Taehyung comments, scoffing at the guy that’s too preoccupied with a girl clinging to his side dressed as something both of them can’t recognize. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.” he grins, licking his bottom lip before they make their way into the huge house full of drunk people.

It’ll be hard to find someone sober or not drunk enough, Jimin thinks while his eyes scan the entire room.

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung slaps his hands over Jimin’s shoulders while he clutches them but his friend barely reacts, already used to Taehyung's rough hands and strength. “Try to have fun.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, still looking around to map out the whole room almost as if he’s waiting for something to happen. He knows nothing will, none of these people are ready for tonight and are completely clueless. Sometimes, he wonders how it’d feel like to just let loose and drink alcohol like every other person here. Loud rap music boosts against the walls, barely good enough music to dance to, but it seems nobody cares about that and dance no matter how ridiculous they look. A group of young girls pass by them, one in particular eyeing Taehyung as she winks at him, giving him a hint that even she doesn’t know about.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Taehyung grins, slapping Jimin’s shoulder with enthusiasm from receiving attention even though he barely came in. “Two hours?” he asks, slowly backing away from Jimin’s figure who responds with a short but firm nod.

Sighing, with Taehyung no longer in sight, he forces his legs to move through the crowd which is just bunch of drunk college students. It’s hard to blend, especially if he’s the only one sober out of everyone. He walks through the house, not particularly knowing where he’s going since he has no idea where he is. This is his first time here — probably last too. They never come back, not even once. They always just move on and plan things together, with Taehyung. Somehow, his legs lead him to a kitchen, less preoccupied room with an exception since there are still some people sucking their mouths off. Jimin’s nose scrunches in a slight disgust at the smell of alcohol, knowing that it’s just the picky side of him.

Taehyung had been in charge of tonight’s plans, it makes sense this plan sucks. Jimin doesn’t like it here but it’ll have to do. His sharp eyes dance across the room, nose softly sniffling as a sweet scent fills it and then he sees something. Something that looks much more interesting than anything he could’ve seen here so far.

You.

In other scenarios, you’d probably spend your Friday night differently than in a frat house full of people you don’t know. That wouldn’t even be such a bad thing, if your friend didn’t bail on you because her ex wanted to talk. You’re not mad, you’re just annoyed that you’ve been standing here for the past fifteen minutes watching couples make out, while third guy tried flirt with you. May you add, completely wasted where you could smell the alcohol on their breath. That’s enough to make you not interested and disgusted at the same time. When another guy dressed like Joker tries to talk to you, you ignore him and tell him to fuck off. You’re not rude, not all the time. But it’s only natural of you to act this way, especially when you let them know you’re not interested and they still keep trying. It’s like it pushes them to be even more eager to try to win you over. Well, you’re not some trophy and drunk enough to do that.

The guy gives you an ugly frown, visibly displeased by your choice of words but luckily he leaves you alone and your heart slowly calms down. You don’t know what drunk men are capable of, but you get the idea. You need to be careful either way. Not drinking any drink from strangers and not provoke anyone who's drunk, even if it’s standing up for yourself. Those are the rules you need to keep reminding yourself, especially in this place where alcohol clouds most people's judgement and mind. 

Ah fuck, tonight is supposed to be fun.

“Playing hard to get?”

Your head whips at the soft voice, completely contrasting with the awful music and people’s chattering drunken nonsense. Mouth opening in a mere shock, you’re met with a guy you’ve never seen before which isn’t that weird since you barely know anyone here. But you’d surely remember him, if you ever met him. It’s safe to say, he’s probably the hottest guy you’ve ever seen and looked your way. His blond hair is parted in the middle, swiped back as this particular hairstyle shows his sharp jaw but soft features. One of the most eye catching features are those thick lips, looking juicy and soft, like two pillows and the most delicious desert. And you can’t fucking believe you’re gushing over some stranger but you’re surely not done yet. His eyes are sharp and there’s a weird glint in them, maybe it's because of the orangey–red shade they hold. Black leather jacket hugs his frame along with, what seems like a casual white shirt underneath, and a great fit black jeans. You wonder what kind of mask he’s wearing, but then he grins at you and shows you his white teeth. Two sharp fangs poke his bottom lip, making you almost jump in surprise but you sigh in relief.

He seems to know you were just checking him out, judging by the slight smirk he’s trying to hide while he makes his way over to you.

“Just not interested.” you reply, deciding it’s better to find your own voice rather than to gawk at this sex god.

“I don’t blame you,” he speaks, your eyes flickering to his. There’s something that makes your heart skip a beat, maybe it’s his alluring eyes that seems to know everything. As if he could tell you’re mentally screaming at his hotness. “Young guys can be... very persistent and act upon their hormones.”

You snort, placing a hand over your mouth as you start giggling at his choice of words. “You can say it. They’re just horny and looking for sex.”

He smiles, tracing a tongue over his lower lip as his steps come to a halt just a few inches before you. He looks even more heartbreaking from up close. The lightning is shitty but there’s not an inch of flaw on his soft glass skin, he looks slightly more on the pale side, but that has to be the make up. At least he hadn’t overdid it like you’ve seen some other guys. And those eyes... what kind of lenses are they?

“You’re right, they can be like that.” he agrees, still sporting that secretive smirk adorning both his eyes and lips.

You snicker, causing his brow to raise in a mere confusion. “So, what? You’re not one of them?”

There’s no way such a handsome guy wouldn’t use his charms to get the best out of it. He said it himself, young guys are horny just like most girls. It’s not like you judge him for it, he can do whatever he wants as long as he’s respectful to others and doesn’t cross any boundaries.

“I’m certainly not,” he says, voice lacking of that sweet yet mysterious tone he used before. There’s something that flickers behind his eyes but it’s gone before you can dwell what it really was. “I didn’t come here to have sex.”

You’re surprised by his bluntness, not expecting him being so blunt all of a sudden, especially about that sex part since he basically ran his way around the topic of guys being horny and wanting to have sex. But you like it, even though you can’t bring yourself to grin like you want to, not when he’s staring at you with gaze darkening.

“Why did you come here for then?” you ask quietly, eyes searching for any kind of emotion or something that could give you a better glimpse inside of his mind.

There’s something about him. He’s mysterious, hiding something and you’re sure it’s just a part of his personality. Either way, it makes him even hotter and you’d drop onto your knees for this man. But there’s your dignity in the way and somehow, you’re glad about that. You’re not one to have a meaningless one night stand. Not that he’d probably want or care to have one with you.

It’s getting awkward, the silence between you two as he complements about his answer causing you to play with the hem of your stupid dress that aren’t even yours. But then something clicks inside of him and he smiles.

“To have fun.”

“Good luck with that.” you murmur, sarcasm lacing in your tone because you can’t believe Yeri just went after her ex leaving you ‘socializing’ (as she called it) with total strangers. Drunk strangers.

You don’t expect the hot stranger to hear you, your voice muffled by the loud music mainly, but he does when a deep chuckle erupts past his lips.

“Why’s that?”

“If you didn’t come here to have sex or get drunk, I don’t think you’ll have fun. Look at everyone.” you chuckle, arms motioning around you to prove your point.

He doesn’t, his eyes stay solely on you but you’re too busy being sarcastic and still bitter about this party to properly register that.

Jimin isn’t stupid. He knows how these parties work. Where’s alcohol, there’s a big urge to have sex and it proves to be right when everyone’s kissing or dancing which mainly leads to the sex itself.

“I take it you’re not here willingly.” he speaks up, eyes dropping towards your mouth where a fake blood is smeared in the corner of your lips.

It’s supposed to add a little bit of horror detail to your look, but you’re far from that.

“Debatable. My friend had decided to invite me at the last minute and now she ditched me because of her ex. Honestly, the guy is a total prick, I don’t know why she keeps running after him.” you explain, scoffing as you cross your arms over your chest.

Jimin reacts with a low chuckle, slowly licking his bottom lip before he takes a deep breath. It’s interesting to watch him, there’s something about him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You wouldn’t tell Yeri’s business to just some stranger, or anyone, but maybe it’s those two shots of soju that let your mouth on the loose. He doesn’t know her anyway and you’re too annoyed to care, even though you do feel a pang of guilt.

“What are you doing here? Besides, to have fun here. Did you come here alone?”

Great, Y/N. Now you sound noisy making it sound like you’re asking if he has a girlfriend. Did you come here alone is a totally straightforward question, a very bad pickup line usually guys use. You’ve no idea why you just asked that. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to mind and even though, his lips quirk in a sly smirk and you act like you haven’t noticed, he shakes his head to give you an answer.

“My friend was particularly interested in this party.”

He doesn’t lie, it’s true. Taehyung did persuade Jimin to come to this one.

“Oh, so you were dragged into this like me,” you chuckle.

He isn’t, but he stays quiet.

“I wish she’d tell me sooner than four hours before the party had started. I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t even get to shop for my Halloween look and ended up with Yeri’s costume from last year. God knows what these dresses have been through.”

The incredibly handsome stranger laughs, like truly laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound ever. It makes you grin without even noticing.

“I do think you make a perfect mixture of spooky and ravishing nurse.”

Yeah, Yeri’s costume last year was a nurse but you put your own thought into it and put some fake blood in the corner of your lips and the top of your cheekbone. There’s some of it on your collarbone and arm just to make it more ‘scary’ but it’s just a huge fail. The dress is short, luckily not dangerously short for you to feel uncomfortable in them. You’re not even sure if this is a Halloween costume. Yeri looks like the type of girl to like foreplay, maybe she used it with her ex. Oh fuck, you can’t think about that.

His compliment completely blows all your thoughts out, your heart picking a pace as for the first time, your facade slowly falls down and you blush. Did he just called you hot?

“Thanks,” you grin, “Although, I think this costume is shitty it’s still better than being dressed as Harley.”

“Harley?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

You stare at him, watching his confused gaze before something flickers in his eyes and he just stares at you.

Well, not everyone had seen Suicide Squad.

“From the movie? Suicide Squad? Harley and Joker? They’re this lunatic couple and everyone’s been wearing their costumes for the past... three years, is it? I don’t even know but it’s so cliché. I think I saw four Jokers on my way to the bathroom. Don’t get me started on Harley.” you roll your eyes, leaning yourself against the kitchen counter that’s behind you.

The two of you just stand in silence for a couple of seconds, and you almost think it’s awkward even though there’s not an awkward atmosphere and you’re just standing in a comfortable silence.

“So, vampire, huh?” you fill the silence after a moment, catching his attention as he watches you with a serious look. “Not to be an asshole, but that’s an overused costume as well.” you add, wondering if you’re getting too comfortable with this stranger.

But he’s probably the most normal and sober guy you stumbled upon, even if he’s the one who approached you. There’s something odd about him, but that’s just because he’s not like one of those drunk assholes trying to get you into one of the rooms upstairs. He’s not rude, disrespectful and drunk and that’s all that matters for you to feel comfortable talking to him.

His features relax and he lets out a breathy chuckle, showing his fangs. “Their costumes don’t do the justice.” he comments, eyes watching one of the guy passing by who’s got vampire costume which makes you snort. 

Overused, like you said.

“They do look cheap,” you comment, giggling. “Isn’t it uncomfortable to talk with those?”

He looks at you with confusion, mouth opening in realization when you point at your teeth to explain.

“No.”

It comes out short, surprisingly deep and serious and for a moment, it looks like he wants to say something else but decides not to when he closes his mouth.

“You look believeable, though.”

“I do, don’t I?” he chuckles, and your body relaxes when all the seriousness is gone.

“Your skin is pale, not covered in that awful white color and your eyes... wow, those lenses look beautiful. It must’ve been an expensive costume.” you tell him, head leaning towards him as you study his eyes.

They’re almost deep red. Weren’t they more orange before? The lightening is shitty and honestly, you’re too busy inspecting the beauty and uniqueness of his eyes.

He looks stunned, and it looks like he stopped breathing for a moment when you lean closer to him to study his eyes and face. He closes his mouth, not letting you see the fangs hiding underneath those plump lips and even though they’re slightly poking, you can’t see much. He’s dressed normally, not wearing some awful costume. He’s done the minimum with his costume but he can easily win as the vampire of this party. It’s not too much, decent enough to make people stop and praise his costume if they had the chance to be face to face with him.

“I’m Jimin.” he decides to say instead, not even showing his gratitude from your compliment but you ignore it.

It was more of a loud thought anyway. You’re distracted again, this time by his name.

Jimin.

Fuck, even his name is beautiful.

“Y/N,” you tell him, giving him a smile which you hide by taking a sip of your drink.

He watches you, eyes scanning your lips before they move down to your throat as you gulp. You’re too focused watching people dance to notice the way he licks his lips and gulps.

“So, are you studying here?”

His eyes shoot up, your voice catching his attention once again before he thinks through your question. It’s weird how long he’s taking to actually answer, it’s quite simple question that's got a simple answer.

“No,”

That’s it? Just no?

He must’ve noticed the faint frown that settles on your face before he gives you a little quirk of his lips, those plump lips stretching to a handsome smile that once again gets all your attention.

“Are you?”

“Huh?” you blurt out, embarrassed how quick that flew out of your mouth.

You’re even more embarrassed, your cheeks slowly tinting into a red color when he chuckles lowly under his breath, completely aware of your lack of attention because all of it was focused on his goddamn smirk.

“Are you studying here?” he asks, not hiding that amused smirk that slowly settles into a soft smile that encourages you to answer.

“Yeah,” you smile, “psychology.”

“Are you a future psychologist?” he asks, a glint of teasing in his tone but there’s a curiosity lacing on his soft pale features.

How did he guess that?

“Maybe?” you chuckle, poking your inner cheek with a tongue. “I thought that’s what I want to be in the future, growing up it used to be my dream.” you tell him honestly.

You’ve no idea why you’re so honest and talkative with a complete stranger. Even though you haven’t exposed anything too personal about yourself, it feels very simple to talk to Jimin. He holds this calm aura around him that makes you want to tell him your deepest secrets without you feeling guilty about it the next morning.

“Used to? It’s not anymore?” he asks, cocking his head innocently but you know he’s not stupid and knows what your words meant very well.

For some reason, it seems like he really wants to talk to you and urges you to talk more. He seems interested in you. Not seeing you as a snack and walking vagina, but maybe just someone he wants to talk with because he’s been dragged into this party just like you have. That’s one thing you’ve in common.

“Do you really wanna hear my heartbreaking life story?” you tease him, chuckling when the corner of his lips quirk up once again as he gives you a final nod.

“I’m quite intrigued.” he simply says, your heart skipping a beat for some reason and almost as if he could hear it, he lifts his eyebrow in a provocative and cocky manner.

“Will you tell me yours?” you ask in return, cocking your brow at him which makes him smile.

“Depends on how interesting yours will be.” he says, your lips set into a straight line before you purse them and give him a long sigh.

“It’s nothing drastic. I just feel like it’s not what I wanna do anymore, the worst thing of it all is that I’ve no idea what I wanna do in the first place. But it’d be a good job for me, something I need. It pays well and maybe, it’ll be more fun than I think it is right now. All I can think about is my dad and just the fact that I need to keep going. Life sucks, right?” you chuckle, trying to ease the sudden serious and saddened tone you had.

Jimin is not a person who gets bluffed easily but he acts like he hadn’t noticed anything.

“Your dad?” he asks, slowly watching your reaction as if he’s waiting for you to tell him some drastic news about your father.

“It’s just me and my dad. He’s got a huge loan for the next couple of years and I’m trying to help him, but the part-time jobs just aren’t enough. When I finish college, I’ll be able to find a better job and help him with that. He deserves it and that’s what keeps me going, y’know? I need to pay him back for taking care of me. But it’s okay, I just can’t wait until there’s no loan over our heads. I came to the conclusion that life can be happy and fun, even if there are things that suck.” you explain, noticing how interested he seems to be with your words, sinking all of the information you just gave him.

Despite how sad you seemed to be talking about your family, Jimin notices that you’re staying positive no matter what exactly happened in your life and what you haven’t told him. And that you’ve a goal, purpose you want to fill and probably a bigger heart that you're letting show to others. Maybe he’s wrong, it doesn’t have to be this way. He doesn’t know you. But it’s not right to think that it’s only you. Every person in this house, or even in the entire world, has something they want to accomplish. Dreams, goals and all of that. Maybe some of them don’t know it yet, they’re lost but that’s what life is for. To let them figure it out. 

“That’s very nice of you.” he says, surprising you how serious and soft he sounds at the same time.

“But what about you? What is your life story?” you ask, wanting to change the topic because your life being discussed when you’ve had a few shots isn’t a good idea. Few more and you’d be probably bawling your eyes out just because you get emotional easily, especially if alcohol is involved.

“It doesn’t matter,” he chuckles, “It’s not interesting anyway.”

You don’t hide the disappointment that settles on your face, causing your lips to pout which makes him scrunch his nose cutely. What a shame, you really wanted to get to know him more. It’s like he’s putting distance between you two, keeping a safe distance but still wanting to be in your presence. He’s confusing you.

“But I told you mine.” you pout, mumbling under your breath like a child that just lost a game.

It’s comical, how you’re dressed in a sexy nurse costume and pouting just because you’re dissapointed. For the first time since being here, he feels unsure and actually stops for a second as you see his eyes dance between yours.

“My parents are dead. And I wish I could’ve made them proud like you’re making your dad.” he says, completely serious as you gape at him with an open mouth.

Is he serious? You don’t know him, his reactions are mysterious and despite him talking about his dead parents, he looks too serious and doesn’t show any sadness.

“I-I’m s--“

“Don’t,” he stops you, voice rough as he coughs and tries to mask his all of a sudden unfriendly tone.

It makes you speechless and actually bad for pressuring him into telling you more. Although, you’re not sure if that can be called pressuring.

“It’s been a long time since they’re not here. I’ve had time to process it.” he explains, hand brushing through his golden locks while you watch them bounce right back into its place.

You don’t ask how long they’re dead, or anything about them because it’s not your place to be curious about that. If you knew sooner about them not being alive, you wouldn’t even show him how disappointed you were of not hearing his shortened version of life story.

All you can give him is a slight nod, awkwardly glancing at your heels that, of course are borrowed from Yeri. Remembering that there's still almost a full bottle of soju that you snatched for yourself behind you, you turn around and pour yourself a shot as you glance at Jimin. He's staring at you, attentively paying attention to your face, as you give him a crooked smile.

“You want some?” 

“No.” he answers, causing you to shrug as you drink the shot in one go, weirded out by the expression he gives you. It almost looks like he's glaring at you for drinking and it makes you give him a dumbfounded look.

“Aren't you thirsty?” you ask, his jaw clenching before he allows himself to relax and a low chuckle comes out of his mouth. 

“You've no idea,” he grins, taking a step closer to you as he hovers over you, cornering you while your lower back digs into the kitchen counter. 

Your eyes are big, staring at him in a complete shock by his sudden move but you can't move away. Your whole body is frozen, staring into his red eyes that stare right back into yours as if he's looking for something in them. His own hands lean against the kitchen counter right beside your waist, almost touching you while your heart trembles with excitement. And then when you think it can't get worse, he actually leans his face closer to yours as he takes a sniff of you. He hums at your scent, your cheeks flaring both in embarrassment and praise, mentally clapping yourself on the shoulder for choosing that expensive Yves Saint Laurent perfume you got from Yeri last Christmas. You've always saved it for special occasions, and even though you don't think of this party as anything special, you're glad you've listened to your own guts and used it. Let's just ignore the fact that you used it because you were counting on sweating, knowing the strong perfume will make you smell amazing either way. 

He pulls slightly back, your noses almost touching as you can smell his own cologne, mixed with something that smells like mint. You don't even blink, not allowing yourself to budge as he gives you a tiny smirk. 

“I'm particularly thirsty for something else.” he tells you silently, his voice getting a few octaves deeper but yet sounding calm and soft.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, the huge lump there almost uncomfortable, as you stare at him with still the same shock. Gulping, you blink a few times as you wonder what the hell just happened. 

You should be mad because after all, he lied to you. He told you he's not here for sex, yet he implied something erotic and suggestive with a simple sentence that rolled off his tongue so easily and elegantly, but that's not the worst part. The worst part – that you're not proud of – is that you like it and you can feel yourself pressing your thighs together. This had never happened before. No guy could made your body hot without even touching you, and you wouldn't be so thirsty too for someone you only know by their first name. 

“I thought you didn't come here for sex.” you manage to speak up, successfully without stuttering or sounding too nervous, although confusion and the slightest tremble in your voice is audible even to you. 

“I didn't,” he confirms, nodding but not moving an inch from you. Without taking your eyes off him, you slowly blink as you watch him lick his lips. “But you look irresistible to my eyes.” he says simply, slowly reaching for the strand of your hair as he twirls it around his index finger. 

He's not touching you fully, and unfortunately you can't quite feel his touch through your hair because even now, he delicately touches your hair like you're a fragile doll that may break.

“Then, why don't you do something?” you surprise yourself, not believing something like that just left your mouth. You would never say something like this to a stranger, no matter how handsome and freaking hot he is. But this is Jimin, it seems like everything is different with him. 

And he laughs. He actually laughs like you've just told him a funny joke, and all you can do is stare at him like he just lost his mind. Is he just playing with you? Was he testing you? Before your crazy thoughts and theories could swarm your already confused mind, something else catches your attention that makes a prominent frown adorn your features. This doesn't get unnoticed by Jimin, his laughter dying down as he realizes where your eyes and attention are focused onto. 

There are no longer any fangs poking out of his mouth, and you watch something flicker behind those red orbs that seem to glow in the gloomy lightning.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, ignoring your look of confusion and curiosity that still lingers in your eyes that don't look away from his mouth just yet. 

“Where are your--”

“Took them off,” he cuts you off, letting go of your hair. “Now, be a good girl and answer my question.” he hums, inching closer to you as you hold your breath. 

“What do you want to do?” you ask instead, getting a breathy chuckle from him. You're not sure whether it's because of your question or because you purposely avoided answering his. 

“You wouldn't wanna know,” he chuckles, eyes dropping down to your lips that are already nibbling on your bottom lip. “It'll bleed if you keep bitting on it.” he comments, licking his own. 

“What, are you scared of blood?” you joke, releasing your mouth that seemed to get his attention, before the mention of blood causes him to snap those red eyes to yours. 

“Not in the slightest,” he smirks, for whatever reason but it shoots butterflies straight to your stomach. “Are you?” he cocks his head to the side, reminding you of a snake that eyes its prey. Or some predator that has some fun with its prey before they kill it. 

Fuck, you shouldn't have watched that horror movie Yeri suggested yesterday. 

“Of what? Blood or you?” you find the courage to ask, raising a brow at him as you eye his from up and down. 

He smirks, cocking his brow at you. “You tell me. Are you scared of me?”

Maybe you should be. No one has ever approached you, talked to you or given you this kind of attention before. This is a completely new territory that you're tiptoeing around, and it does give you some kind of thrill. Maybe it's because your life is boring and Jimin summons a new temptation that you've never felt before. There could be hundreds of reasons why you feel this way or what you should feel instead, but you can't bother yourself to think about it any longer. Because instead of feeling any fear towards the new stranger that has angelic features and voice, and with some kind of darkness that he's hiding, you feel yourself getting more interested and temped. In this case, he's like a forbidden fruit for you. 

“No,” you reply confidently, head held high as you grin. “Should I be?” 

This constant teasing and the lack of touch just sets a flame of temptation inside you that slowly drives you insane. 

“Maybe,” he says, tips of his fingers reaching for your dress as he plays with the hem of it, fingers dancing dangerously at the top of your breasts. “You're the one who's gripping the kitchen counter for your dear life.” he teases, your eyes shooting to your hands that in fact, are gripping the corner so tightly that they turn white. 

Embarrassingly, you let it go as you cross your hands over the chest to make yourself appear more confident, trying to mask the way your heart thumps loudly against your chest.

“That doesn't mean I'm scared.” you tell him, indirectly suggesting that there may be another reason why you appear to be so tense. 

Judging by the tiny and already known smirk that slowly stretches across those beautiful and thick lips, Jimin confirms that he knew way before you even said it out loud. No matter how many times you seem to outrun him, he's always two steps ahead of you, having a prepared answer. 

“What it could mean, then?” he asks lowly, feigning an incomprehensibility that this time – you see and are prepared for.

“Many things.” you gulp, breath hitching when the tip of his finger slightly touches your skin. It's short-lived and almost unrecognizable, but it still makes you shiver over the fact he's so close touching the top of your breasts. 

In other scenarios, you wouldn't let anyone this near to you, nor someone almost touching your breasts that are covered in a costume dress.

“Care to share, my love?”

The new petname shoots excitement straight to your body, your cheeks flaring pink as you look away from him for a moment. You know he's aware of your reaction and how that little petname affected you, but you remain confident as you stare right back at him. 

“I think you get the idea.”

In no way in hell, you'd ever tell him how much you wish to be fucked by him. Those sinful thoughts have to stay in your head, and even if you're not saying them loud like he wants you to, you know he's smart enough to get the idea. 

“Tell me.” he presses, fingers playing with the top buttons of your costume that you can't unfortunately feel that much, except the tiny pressure he puts on them by playing with it. 

“Jimin...” you whine, causing him to grin cheekily at you. For a moment, it looks like he lost that dark and mysterious aura. “Why won't you kiss me?”

You're done playing this game, your patience is slowly dying as you wish to feel his lips against yours. Even just for a second.

“Because you never asked me to,” he answers simply, surprising you by his diplomatic answer that sounds nothing but truthful. 

“If I ask you to,” Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. He's doing this purposely, he wants you to make the first move. You feel like his goal is to make you desperate for him, which he didn't have to do for long. You don't get it. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his once again. 

“Mhm,” he confirms. “If that's what you want.” 

First of all, you're surprised that he's more interested in your own interest and consent, instead to taking the first chance of your attention and weakness for himself. And there's a chance that you were wrong. Maybe he hadn't been doing this to push you to make the first move, or to enjoy how you're squirming underneath his hovering figure. All he wanted this whole time has been your consent. Second of all, it makes him fucking attractive for doing so and no matter what the real reason is, you're willing to risk it all for this man. 

“Jimin,” you tell him, voice strained and raspy. “Kiss me.”

For all you know, he could be playing with you this whole time and he doesn't have to be interested in you. Again, Jimin proves you that you're wrong and manages to surprise you all over again when in seconds, he pulls you closer to him and presses your lips together. Jimin seeks your lips hungrily, surprising you how rough and fast he is as if he was controlling himself this whole time. His hand is holding your head from the back for support, while the other one grabs your hip and squeezes it. Gasping, you shiver at the feeling of his tongue dancing across your bottom lip before he envelopes your mouth again. Your tongues move together, your own hands gripping his biceps that are hidden beneath his leather jacket. Jimin has a boosted energy, barely allowing you to breathe between the hungered kisses he's showering you with, and when you start desperately trying to catch your breath, you're forced to press against his chest firmly. It's hard, much harder than you've imagined and it takes an extra strength to actually make him budge, which primarily is the soft whimper that you let out against his mouth. He moves away, almost jumping away from you as he stares at you all frozen. 

He watches your chest move quickly, trying to catch the oxygen that your lungs are craving for. You put your own hand over your chest, chuckling when you feel your heart beating fast and hard. 

A group of drunk people stumble inside the kitchen, catching your attention as they laugh loudly, unable to walk properly as they're reaching for other bottles that are placed on the kitchen island. You weren't here alone this whole time, there are still a couple of people making out or talking, probably searching for somewhere more peaceful than the living room where the most people are. Considering this fact that someone might've seen you sucking off each other's faces, it doesn't bother you and it's probably mainly the fact they probably hadn't even noticed. 

The sudden drop of soju bottle that breaks instantly and stains the floor snaps you out of your thoughts, your gaze shifting to the drunk girl who starts giggling over the fact she's too drunk and clumsy to the point she just dropped a bottle. Now, there's soju smell lingering in the air and staining the floor with shards of glass laying there.

Turning to Jimin, you catch the sudden scrunch of his nose at the smell of alcohol which makes you giggle, even though you find it not so pleasing either. Taking a few steps towards him, you grab him by his wrist and drag him deeper into the house. Surprisingly, he allows you to drag him as he stares at the back of your head until you stop and push the door open. You're quick to turn the lock, making sure there's no one disturbing you as he finally notices where you brought him. The bathroom is decorated in deep blue, the same gloomy lightning that comes from the round mirror and creates a much more dark and intimate atmosphere. Standing in the safe distance, he watches you turn around to him and lean against the small counter where the sink is. 

His eyes turn dark, the red color almost unrecognizable as he keeps staring at you without making any move. Throwing out your insecurity, because this in fact is your first bold move that you've made on someone, you don't let it disturb you from your plan. Your palms sprawled against the bathroom counter, ass digging into the edge of it, you straighten yourself and cross your exposed legs. 

“Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me?” you ask, one hand flicking your hair over your shoulder which catches most of Jimin's attention and his eyes get big. The exposure of your nakedness, the vein that pokes beneath your beautiful and warm skin makes him react instantly. 

You yelp when he's suddenly in front of you, using the lack of your attention and the second of you closing your eyes to blink, he's gripping your face before he attacks your lips with his own, kissing you hungrily that he did the first time. Only this time, you're ready for the strength and intensity of his kisses, awaiting for his tongue that darts out into your mouth. You grip his jacket, trying to take it off but it's impossible with him holding you so close. Tugging onto the leather material, he gets your message and strips it off, tossing it carelessly onto the dirty floor. Your palms spread over his chest, feeling his hardened muscles that are surprisingly too hard. In an instant, you're turned around, hands gripping the sink as you feel Jimin's hands on your thighs, slowly disappearing underneath the skirt of your dress. You shiver, his hands cold against your heated skin as you look back at him as much as your current position allows you to.

Unfortunately, you get only a brief glance at Jimin who turns you around rather aggressively. From this position, you can barely see him in the reflection of the mirror but as he looks up, you're met with his red eyes that stare at you back. 

“What do you want?” he asks lowly, hands slowly caressing your ass cheeks that aren't covered by your panties, his nails grazing over the soft flesh. 

Thank God, you chose to wear sexy underwear – the only sexy underwear you own.

“You,” you breathe out, telling him the obvious answer that he probably just wanted to hear. “You.. Jimin.”

You hear his low hum before your panties are pushed aside and dress hiked up, enough to let his fingers replace the lacy material. As soon as the tip of his cold fingers meet your heat that's coated with your slickness, your breath hitches. He starts rubbing the area, making sure he does the same thing to your clit before he pushes two fingers in. You gasp, not expecting him to enter you all of a sudden, especially with two fingers that stretch you deliciously. It slightly burns, but your arousal that's used as a lube helps a lot and it makes it easier for him to get in. 

Jimin's surprised by your tightness, wondering when was the last time someone touched you while his red eyes flicker to your reflection to check your reaction. He's a monster, he shouldn't care if he's being too rough with you but for some reason he's curious to see how you react to his touch. A cocky smirk flickers on his lips when he sees your eyes closed and mouth open in delight. 

“You like that?” he whispers, mouth hovering over your ear as he takes another sniff of you. Do you really smell that good?

He presses his thumb against your clit, circling it when he feels you clenching around and that's why he adds another finger. You gasp, mumbling something incorrect to both your and his ears. Again, he just smirks at your lack of response and how fucked out you already seem to be. He barely had to do anything. 

Pulling your hips to him, he makes you arch for him with your ass pursed up almost dangerously close to his crotch. 

Fucking you with his fingers, he has no mercy on you and your loud pleas of slowing down. He doesn't know you, but it feels like he reads all the signs your body gives him and with you clenching around his three fingers, being a mess that barely stands on her own feet, he knows you're close. The pleasure gets too much, his palms slapping against your clit as he keeps fucking you is nothing you are prepared for. The orgasm and the chase after it gets too intense, no longer in your hands and with you being able to control it, you're cumming around his fingers, sucking them right in. He slows down, but still keeps a sloppy pace that fucks you through it. Your whole body burns with tingles of post-orgasm and if it weren't for your hands desperately clutching onto the sink, and Jimin's body behind you caging you in, you'd probably fall like a potato sack.

He pulls out his fingers, sounds of slurping leaving his mouth as he cleans them. Unfortunately for you, you've missed that devilish sight of him doing it. You pry your eyes open, slowly straightening yourself as you turn around to check the devil himself.

Just as expected, he's smirking at you, proudly staring at your flushed cheeks and the quick rise of your chest. You surprise him, clutching his shirt between your fingers before you pull him closer and connect your lips together. He lets you kiss him, hands wrapping around his neck and finally feeling up his skin more properly. You're surprised how cold he is, yet no hint of goosebumps cover his skin.

“You're so cold,” you comment, rubbing your hands over his forearms trying to warm him up.

Glancing back at him, you're surprised by the dumbfounded look he gives you before his mouth quirks up. “You wanna warm me up?” he asks, cocking his brow at you as your mouth salivates, your hands completely stopping.

“Yeah,” you answer, no idea why the fuck would you even answer that when you should just put yourself to action. The little act makes him chuckle, leaning closer to you as you hear him gulp.

You think he's about to kiss you, his lips close to the crook of your neck and you tilt your head to the side, to give him a better room for that. However, you're surprised when his mouth never makes an actual contact with your neck. You slightly tilt back, staring at his frozen state as you see his throat bob. 

“Jimin?” you ask, growing worried when he seems to be acting weird all of a sudden. “Are you okay?”

Your voice is muffled to his ears, he barely hears you as all he can focus is the way your blood pulses in your veins and the soft heartbeat of your heart. But you don't know that, all you can see is Jimin standing there gulping and not moving at all. It's until your hand makes contact with his cheek, your warm palm ready to envelop it but before you can even properly touch his skin, he's gripping your wrist at an extreme speed. You stare at him, almost jumping back from the sudden movement. 

“You scared me,” you chuckle, trying to ease the tension as he takes a step back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers nonchalantly, staring at you with those red eyes. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, surprised by the sudden change in his behavior and tone. He starts unbuckling his belt, your mouth salivating at the thought you're about to see his cock. It's been awhile since you gave a proper blowjob and although, you're not quite satisfied with your skills of giving one in the first place, you just can't wait to taste him. 

If Yeri could see you right now, she'd never believe that it's the same best friend that has always been opposed to one night stands.

Dropping onto your knees, your face is facing his growing bulge as you look up at him for permission. He chuckles, licking his bottom lip as he nods his head at you, silently telling you to get to it already. You put his jeans down, not entirely just enough to expose his casual black boxer briefs, as they stay wrapped around his mid-thighs. His boxer briefs are next, your fingers too eager to see him rather than to tease and play with him. Something tells you that Jimin is not the type to enjoy teasing. His erection spreads free, finally out of the material of his tight jeans, and it slaps against his clothed stomach that's hidden beneath the white shirt. 

You wish there was a better lightning and for a second, you contemplate whether to turn the main light on, just to fully appreciate his erected length. No matter what the lightning is, you notice how thick he is and a few veins that poke underneath the thin skin. From the light patch of hair to the red tip that's leaking with a little bit of pre-cum makes your mouth salivate like never before, and you make sure you gulp all of it before you can embarrass yourself. Not wasting any time, your hand curls around the base as you give him a testing squeeze which surprisingly, makes him barely react and when you glance up at him, he stares at you with dark eyes. 

Little do you know he needs your touch, he needs to distract himself from the thirst and hunger, and that dark voice inside his head that tells him to do something completely different, rather than have you on your knees and ready to take him.

As if you could hear his thoughts – which you can't and he knows that – he almost sighs in relief when you wrap your pretty red lips around his tip. It doesn't matter that your lipstick is completely smeared from Jimin's lips and his furious kisses. Sucking on it, you let the angry red tip glisten with your saliva before you start pumping him. Through hooded eyes, Jimin watches you licking a strip up his cock as you go back to sucking him off while pumping his hardened length, this time harder and quicker. Jimin's low grunts that occasionally leave his mouth encourages you to take him deeper, the tip of his cock almost hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes burn with tears but you blink them away, curling your tongue around the head of Jimin's cock. His hand grabs the back of your head, clutching your hair in his fist as he starts moving his hips. It hurts a little, he's putting too much pressure and strength into grabbing your hair and the roots that burn your skull. But with your own arousal between your legs, slowly dripping down your thighs and the undying lust that you feel towards Jimin, you've no time to complain. It adds another pinch of pleasure, a pleasure that makes you moan around his length and almost gag when he thrusts into your mouth. Surprisingly, you look up and you find him checking your reaction.

Your warm hand around his cock and even warmer mouth that's wrapped around him feels surprisingly nicer than he thought it'd be. He takes his time to notice your reddened cheeks that he can see even from up, and with the dim lightning his red eyes catch the line of saliva that's drooling out of your mouth. And he growls, he actually growls and pulls you from his cock in seconds, before he's pulling you up and if it weren't for his strong hold, you'd surely stumble how quick he got you up. He backs you into the bathroom counter, to your previous position before he fingered you, but this time you're face to face. Your ass is digging into the edge of the counter, although you don't seem to care. You're too focused staring at Jimin that clenches his jaw, suddenly bumping into you as he starts kissing you. Whimpering into his mouth, you're surprised when he easily lifts you up and gets you seated on the bathroom counter. However your yelp is muffled by his mouth, his hands pulling you close to the edge, dangerously close that you're clutching onto him, scared of a possible fall. But Jimin got you, his body is caging you and creates a barrier between you and the floor. 

Jimin's hand wrapped around his erected cock looks sinful, like nothing you've ever seen before, at least no one made it look so effortlessly hot. Your body almost trembles with the anticipation of feeling him inside of you, and you know it's coming because he starts pumping himself. Not even aware that you stretch your legs to give him a better space, plus giving him a view of the mess between your legs. He pulls you closer, nudging your thighs apart even more before his other hand moves your ruined panties more to the side. He gets a better view of your pulsating heat that's waiting just for him.

“What about a condom?” 

He stops, eyes flickering to yours as he stares at you with unreadable recognition. It's enough that you're about to have sex with some stranger, even though it's very hot and irresistible stranger, but you don't know him after all. Are you ready to risk it for him? The rational you mentally praises you for remembering such important detail before it could've been too late. 

“Don't have one,” he says through teeth, almost seeming to be annoyed that you stopped him.

Maybe you should grow offended or annoyed yourself by his reaction, but for some reason you don't. You just stare and wait for him to say something else. 

“You don't trust me?” There it is – the smirk comes back and makes an appearance on his thick lips again. 

“I don't know you.” you point out, cocking a brow at him.

“Yet, you're here sprawled for me ready to be fucked,” he chuckles lowly, your expression dropping as your eyes grow big. “I don't know you either, that's why we need to trust each other.” he says, but still doesn't move to do anything else. 

Your mind is screaming at you, telling you over and over again how a bad idea this is and that you'll regret it. There's no actual threat of disease of a potential pregnancy (even though, you've been taking birth control since your teenage years) but you don't know that. He can't exactly tell you without having to explain something that he doesn't even want to or has to explain.

“Hm? What's it gonna be?” he purrs, his hand cupping your jaw as he starts caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Are we gonna trust each other?”

In a way, you're aware he's coaxing you into agreeing and using your temptation by using his low and tempting tone, but you don't find yourself calling him out for it. You're speechless, not able to move your mouth and find your own voice, even though you're not sure what your answer is going to be. But then he's pulling away, taking your silence as an answer which kind of surprises you because you thought he really is coaxing you into agreeing. Before he can fully pull away, you wrap your legs around his frame and cage him. 

He opens his mouth staring at you as you can feel his hardened length touching the exposed skin of your thigh. 

“Fuck me, Jimin.” you tell him, meeting him in the middle as you both crash your lips together.

The kiss is heated, even more than ever before and you shiver when you feel his tip against your heat. He looks at you, checking one more time as you give him a nod before you crash your lips together again.

He needs you as his distraction but he's not an asshole to take you without your consent, or trying to control you.

With that, he pushes past your folds and enters you. You gasp, pressing your face into his shoulder as you bite onto him gently. He doesn't budge, not surprised by the feeling of your teeth dangerously poking him through the fabric of his shirt. He's pushing in, bottoming out before he's already pulling out just to thrust back in. Jimin has no patience, already getting to work as he starts fucking you. With each thrust, it gets easier to move inside of you as your cum and arousal helps him. You're surprised how good you're taking him, even though your walls do burn with the sudden penetration and the new feeling of his thick cock. Even the pace is going too fast, the top of his thighs slapping against the back of yours while his balls make contact with your ass. The bathroom is filled with sinful sounds of skin on skin slapping, and it coaxes you to clench around him repeatedly. You can't keep up with the animalistic and rustless pace he set, whimpering and moaning his name all over again with an occasional curse falling out of your lips. Jimin grunts are no longer silenced ones, although he seems to be controlling his voice much more.

“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back as your hands are doing a poor job at trying to hold you in place. 

Jimin's hands are around your thighs, making sure your legs stay apart as he keeps fucking into you. You can feel sweat slowly dripping down your neck, even your ass getting sweaty from the contact of the bathroom counter.

“I'm--fuck, I'm close.” you gasp, clutching the edge even harder and before you can say something else, you're already cumming around him. “Ohhh, fuck, Jimin.” you moan out through your orgasm, his pace not slowing down even after you're done and gritting your teeth at the overstimulation.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, lips almost making contact with your skin as he starts shaking and grunting. You think he's close, that it's only a natural reaction of approaching orgasm and you're completely thrown back when he suddenly pulls away completely. His cock is out of you in a record time and as you blink, he's in the middle of the bathroom standing with his jeans and boxer briefs wrapped around his mid-thighs, along with still hardened cock that's coated with your cum. If the situation weren't so weird all of a sudden, you'd probably focus on the sight in front of you much more. 

You watch Jimin's features twist in an almost painful expression, his nose scrunching as his whole body shakes. It's nothing too drastic but just enough to notice by the way he's shivering and trying to control himself. He gulps a couple of times as well, seeming like he's in a pain. You've no idea what has just happened and you just stand there completely clueless, eyes big and mouth agape. 

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. 

You hop off the counter, ignoring how sensitive you're between your legs and how hard it feels like to be standing on your feet all of a sudden.

“Don't,” he warns you, voice raising as he outstretches his arm to keep you from coming closer. “Don't come any closer.” he says lowly, head held high as you can't see his face.

“What, why? What happened?” you ask worriedly, your eyes filled with worry and confusion at the same time. 

When you're about to take another step towards him, it's like he can sense it before you can even more your feet, his head snaps to you and he growls at you. 

“Fucking stay away.” he warns you again, almost yelling at you as you jump in fear.

The last thing he sees is your scared eyes before he focuses his gaze to the floor again. He can feel the veins starting to cracking up on his skin, showing what he really craves for. He can't let you see. With your heartbeat being the loudest melody in the room and your smell filling it too, he can't promise not to do something he doesn't want to. That was the whole purpose of tonight, the whole purpose of approaching you and talking to you. He has no idea what's happening to him and why can't he listen to what his mind is telling him to do. He's controlling himself and he knows if he stays any longer, you're not going to make it without any harm. 

And that's why he focuses his attention on something else, desperately listening to people slurring drunken nonsense and the loud music before something else catches his attention. It's not too much, just the only thing that helps with not focusing on your smell entirely. It's something no one else can hear, the whimpers and slurping sounds that could only mean one thing. 

You notice how he zones out, your hands pulling your dress down to have at least some kind of modesty as you eye the stranger in front of you. 

“J--”

His eyes snap to yours as he turns around. “You need to leave.”

“I-- what?” you blurt out, seeing him tucking himself back into the jeans. You ignore the feeling of disappointment that clouds your mind for a whole second, before you're back to confusingly staring at him. 

“I don't know wha--”

Taking two long steps, he's right in front of you before he grips your face tightly into his hands. You whimper at the strength staring into his dark orbs that shine like never before. 

“Get your friend and leave. You've to leave, right now.” 

The firmness in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, however it gets somewhere in the back of your mind as you stare at Jimin with big eyes. Painfully for you, he lets you go as he starts backing away from you but there's nothing you can do. You can't bring yourself to move, nor rush after him when he flicks the lock open and walks out of the bathroom. You stand there, your mind suddenly snapping into action as the only thing you can think about is getting Yeri. 

When Jimin makes it through the crowd, successfully hiding and blending with his surroundings, he stops and makes sure he has a great view of you walking out of the bathroom. He's watching you from the safe distance, seeing you trying to find your friend that seems to be nowhere in sight. When desperation is evident on your face since you've checked every room downstairs and you still can't find her, your legs lead you upstairs. He wishes he'd tell you to go alone, the longer you're staying... no, he doesn't care. 

His mind drifts away to the moment in the bathroom, where his long canines started growing and all he could think about was sinking them to your delicious neck.

He can hear your faint heartbeat but he doesn't allow himself to get closer, not even if you're already upstairs opening every door of each room to find your friend. And when he sees Taehyung with a satisfied grin and blood dripping down his chin nearing him, it makes Jimin think only one thing. None of these people are aware of the liquid dripping down his friend's chin, thinking that it's just another fake blood even if Jimin can smell the metal scent from miles away.

You're growing annoyed when the third room you open, there's still no sight of Yeri but some drunk couples having sex or smoking weed. You scrunch your nose in disgust, wondering if these people don't know what locks are. As you're nearing another room, you just hope there are no naked people and any possible butts that you'll be seeing before you take the doorknob into your hands. 

But nothing could ever prepare you for the sight behind that door. 

The room is dark, the street lights create at least some kind of lightning but you still decide to turn up the lights. It happens in seconds. The first thing you recognize is the costume, the same one she proudly showed you this morning saying she'll be the hottest Black Widow. You stare at the horrific sight of the face of your friend which is almost unrecognizable. Her lifeless body is laying on a bed, blood trickling down her neck and staining beige sheets underneath her. Your piercing scream rings in your ears but you can't stop screaming from the horror sight in front of you. 

Jimin hears your screams, his eyes shifting towards the house as he starts the engine. 

“You killed her?” he asks, voice low as he starts the engine. 

“Y'know how I get,” Taehyung chuckles, wiping the remains of blood from his chin and mouth. “I was hungry.” 

Jimin grips the steering wheel tightly, stealing a last glance at the house and the party that slowly turns into chaos. That's why they never come back. They can't and he should've known his longtime friend would get one of his moods. Taehyung is crazy, much more dangerous than Jimin because he gets so into his own needs. 

“You didn't have to kill her.” Jimin points out, leaving the driveway while the house keeps getting further and further.

“I didn't have to, you're right. But I did,” he sighs pleasingly, patting his stomach as he makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat. “And she tasted fucking great.”

Jimin's jaw flexes, slowly growing irritated by his friend's decision to end someone's life again. He should've gotten used to it by now, but he can't never really process it. It's even weirder now that he knows that someone wasn't just someone. It was your best friend. 

And that night, almost everyone who attended that party had some regrets. And you've got many of them. 

You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. 

Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

If you just paid attention, maybe your friend would be still alive. And maybe you'd be in her place and would never make it out alive, if it weren't for the stranger with red dark orbs that hunts you every night.

[realcube]

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two 

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things. 

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is. 

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him. 

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough. 

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you. 

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless. 

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range. 

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary. 

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea! 

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing. 

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters. 

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!” 

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours. 

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression. 

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?” 

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you. 

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it. 

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.” 

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.” 

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway. 

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship. 

[cupcakemolotov]

Happiness Looks Like You

So I think I have been poking at this thing for two years now. Anyway, its done, I am kicking it out of my WIP files, and y’all get lots of fluff.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Fluff and Humor; Drinking; Drinking & Talking; Drunken Flirting; (Only Somehwat Drunken);New Year's Eve;New Years; Caroline Forbes Travels the World;Ignoring TO;Ignoring Anything Canon I Don't Like;Happy Bonnie Bennett;Everyone deserves better

You can read it here on A03:

                                                    -    

Caroline felt a bit silly that it took her so long to realize what her nose was trying to tell her. She wasn’t even really that drunk, just kind of tipsy. It'd been a really long two days of moving, after all, even for a vampire, and she’d totally deserved those Bloody Mary’s. And that shot of whiskey. The bottle of gin. She’d turned down the vodka, hadn’t she?

It was New Year’s Eve, and she was maybe an itty bitty, tiny bit drunk.

The sage, potent and familiar, had helped to throw her off. Spells were common on this night, the need for private conversation and so she’d merely wrinkled her nose as she moved away from the exit she’d been pushing towards, wondering if another drink would suffice for the next half hour or so. Witch business on New Years was not something she wanted to be involved in.

Been there, done that, used Enzo as bait.

Really, it was an evening she just wasn’t up to repeating. Bonnie would have kittens, and the lectures had been bad enough the first time. Better to just find a safer spot even if it meant food options would be limited. She didn’t need blood, and the craving for something deep fried could wait. Turning on her heel, she just started to move when a different, old and recognizable scent teased her nose. It was familiar and intricate, something she’d never been able to fully name but knew well.

Hybrid.

With that single breath came a deluge of memories her alcohol induced haze couldn’t quite block, and she exhaled on a rush of air. Ignoring the jostling around her to rise up on her toes with her heart in her throat, she’d barely caught a glimpse of tousled curls she’d know anywhere, the arrogant set of a pair of broad shoulders moving deeper into the crowd she’d just left.

Klaus.

Caroline landed back on her heels with a thud. It’d been nearly a century since she’d walked away from Mystic Falls, and a series of noisy, converted warehouses in Amsterdam in the midst of a New Year’s Celebration was the last place she’d have thought to find him. Once or twice over the years when she’d allow herself to think of him, she sometimes wondered if it’d really be centuries before the next time they’d talk. Some nights, that seemed like a very long time.

But for all her occasionally morous musings, she knew Klaus wasn’t one to fade quietly into the background. In the back of her mind she’d known it had always just been a matter of time before they’d run into each other. The world had become much smaller and much bigger than she could ever have imagined back in Mystic Falls, and now her feet felt frozen to the floor.

Did she follow him?

Did she say hi?

Behind her, someone cursed and stumbled drunkenly into her, and it broke her out of her daze. Post-ball drop, the converted warehouse around her was a madhouse and for a moment she weighed the chance that he’d seen her and chose to avoid her, and immediately discarded it. It wasn’t Klaus’ style. If he’d seen her, she knew down to her bones he’d have taken the opportunity to say hello.

Her lips curled at the realization that for once, she’d have the chance to surprise him. It seemed fitting, in the early hours of the new year. Decided, she moved through the crowd in the direction he’d gone, hoping she could catch him. Reaching up smooth curls turned frizzy from hours dancing, Caroline was thankful she’d chosen to dress up.

She almost hadn’t.

The last two weeks had been a chaotic mix of boxes and paint samples, arguing with Enzo via VC as he complained about her ditching him and Bonnie in London. Her witchy best friend had mostly ignored their bickering, her fond exasperation clear in the commentary she ran from the background. She hadn’t managed to buy more than a few of the basics, it was seriously going to annoy her until she found the perfect headboard, but at least the mattress was off the floor and she’d found a pair of super cute side tables with pretty motifs that brought in the colors she wanted.

Decorating agreed with her.

So did living outside of the US.

Leaving had been hard, but it hadn’t been lonely, not with Enzo and Bonnie with her. They’d all changed, the way she’d been told she would, but they hadn’t lost themselves, the way had worried her. Bonnie might have learned to accept her friend’s choices, but she was still Bonnie. Dangerous, opinionated, and a lovelier friend you couldn’t find. She was also a witch madly in love with a vampire who was totally pro-murder. Enzo had no regrets about who and what he was, and he’d been so good for her friend who had packed enough hurt and troubles in her late teens and early twenties for ten lifetimes.

And once she had been surrounded by fewer judgements and no expectations, Caroline had finally found the balance between the vampire and girl that made her happy. It had taken time, she’d needed to outgrow the parts of humanity she’d held onto for all the reasons that had never been her own, but she’d never felt so steady in her own skin. She suddenly found she wanted to know if it was something Klaus would notice. She rather thought he would; he had always seen her better than anyone else, sometimes even better than she saw herself.

Amsterdam was her recognition of that, the first place she'd picked to be hers. Just hers. And hours before, when she’d sat in her first house, if not her first home studying two days worth of work, it had been done with a sense of pride. The urge to go out, to celebrate, had sunk into her bones and she’d dug a dress out of her closet, found her favorite heels and gone dancing.

She’d never really been able to turn down a New Year’s Celebration in a new city.

And now here was Klaus, brushing back up against her life just as she was opening for new opportunities, letting herself go after she wanted because she wanted it. Caroline wondered if she should take it as a sign and if Klaus put any stock into New Year’s traditions. She’d make a point to ask him, she decided.

Nerves fizzed along her skin as she realized when she caught up to him she was going to talk to him, and her steps almost faltered. She pushed aside that unease, refusing to balk now. She wasn’t a quitter. Talking with Klaus had never really been her problem, really, and even if the last time she had seen him his mouth had still been wet from her arousal as he’d murmured his last goodbye, that was a long time ago.

And that thought wasn’t going to help her play this cool, at all. Rising back up on her toes, she scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes. If he’d moved to the VIP floor she was likely going to be out of luck, but there was another bar on the back wall that held all the overpriced booze. He might’ve headed there. Impatience had her moving people out of her way with a little more force than was advisable, and the crowd finally parted in front of her and she caught her first real look at him.

He looked good.

Klaus wore a pair of dark slacks, but if he’d had a jacket, he’d already discarded it. The crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled nearly to his elbows, and the hint of leather cords at his throat were tantalizing. He was holding a tumbler of whiskey, and for a moment he left her breathless. The last of her buzz disappeared under a surprising rush of feelings she didn’t want to look at, and her teeth sank into her lower lip.

He stood parallel to the bar, expression mildly bored as a witch spoke to him with a nervous face, the flush of his cheeks young. Amusement bubbled as she realized she was watching someone hit on Klaus even as something like jealousy coiled low in her belly at the realization, good taste or no. The idea that she was interrupting something was surprisingly sharp in her throat. Caroline considered leaving, even as the sudden hesitation annoyed her.

She was saved from having to make a choice when his shoulders suddenly straightened, his head coming up sharply as he clearly caught her scent even in the mosh of people. A half a heart beat later, and his head turned, eyes finding hers unerringly in the dim light.

Really, his hybrid senses were just unfair.

Dark and intent, the flicker of surprise behind his gaze that she’d always privately delighted in melted quickly into something hotter. His mouth curved slow and tempting, and she inanely lifted a hand in a small wave. His smile widened, and clearly the witch didn’t matter, because Klaus sat aside his drink immediately and cleared the distance between them in mere strides.

“Caroline,” Klaus murmured, dimples peeking through the scruff of his beard. “This is a surprise, love. A delightful one.”

She arched a brow, unable to help her own answering smile, and finding that she really didn’t want to. “Hi, Klaus. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Can I interest you in a drink?”

Around them, the music blasted at the whim of the DJ, the crowd surging, and Klaus threw a glare over her shoulder as someone bumped into her. Unbothered, she stepped closer to the heat of him, amused by the way his brows arched a little but he made no move to put distance between them. Assured that she was welcome, Caroline shrugged and moved by him. “Sure.”

He beat her to the bar by half a step, but she’d expected that. The witch had disappeared, and as Klaus moved to catch the bartender's eye, she took the opportunity to skim her gaze along the picture he made now that she was closer. She really liked that he’d forgone a tie, the open collar showing off the line of his collarbones beneath his usual tangle of necklaces. His eyes were amused when she glanced back at his face, but she was hardly embarrassed.

Particularly when he didn’t bother to mask the flicker of heat in his gaze as his eyes dipped along her body in a perusal that was anything but casual. The tip of his tongue flickered across his lower lip, eyes warm when they met hers again. “What brings you to Amsterdam, Caroline?”

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder and dropped it, knowing exactly what the motion would do for her boobs. Flirting with Klaus wasn’t new but having no rules against it was and, she realized, fun. “I live here.”

Interest sparked on his face. “Do you?”

Letting out a low hum, she bit the edge of her lip when a bottle of champagne and two glasses appeared. It would never cease to amaze her that the most deadly monster in any room he entered was such a giant cheeseball or how much she liked it. “What about you? Please tell me you're not stirring up trouble. I just finished renovations and would like to actually live in my house, Klaus.”

“Not this time,” he said easily as he poured the champagne and handed her the first glass. “I am here for a bit of business that has now been concluded, and I thought I’d visit an old friend or two. It’s been some time since I spent any time in this city.”

Caroline sipped her drink, letting it fizz on her tongue for a moment as she considered that. “Friends…” she said skeptically. “You have those?”

His eyes gleamed. “Of a sort. Though my current company is far more charming.” She scoffed, ignoring the way she could feel her cheeks heat. Klaus was undeterred by her skepticism. “Why Amsterdam, love?”

She considered his question, all the questions he hadn't asked. “I’ve been in Europe for a few decades now. When we left the states, well. Europe wasn’t our first stop, but Enzo kept insisting, and he’s amazingly persistent. And annoying. London is lovely, he might have been right about that, but I loved it here more.”

“Enzo?”

A hint of something dangerous flickered behind his eyes and she deliberately moved closer to nudge him with her hip. “Nope. Enzo is my friend and happily married to Bonnie. You break his neck and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

His lashes hid his gaze for a moment when she didn’t bother stepping back into her previous space, the heat of him pressed firmly against her side. His gaze held the tiniest flecks of gold at the edges of his eyes when his lashes parted and her pulse skipped. “And have you enjoyed making your home here, Caroline?”

“Yup. I have a few apartments I’ve bought, here and there. But I decided I wanted a house of my own, you know?” It had been an urge that she hadn’t satisfied with her tiny apartment in Cape Town or her flat in London. But Amsterdam was her first house. It’d felt bigger, more significant somehow. “And sometimes a girl just needs a bit of space from her friends, but not too far so, Amsterdam.”

Buying her home had been a touch of serendipity, mixed with careful planning and maybe some online stalking. When she had finally found the home she wanted, she might’ve shamelessly used a teeny tiny bit of compulsion to ensure her offer was accepted, but Real Estate was cut throat and she liked to win. Besides she'd done her research, and she knew exactly what the property was worth. But not even compulsion could make the buying process run completely smooth.

“I’m glad,” Klaus murmured, eyes warm.“I can see how this place would suit you.”

His words settled something in her chest and she took another sip of the excellent champagne to hide it. This monster who only wanted her to fly. Head tipping, Caroline studied his face curiously. “And you? What have you been up to? The PG-13 version, please.”

Pleasure and amusement flickered across his face at her question. “Less murder and mayhem than you’d imagine, sadly, as it does liven up the occasional bit of boredom. But there is always an idiot or two who has decided eternal life is just not the existence for them. I’m generally happy to oblige.”

Her lips pressed together to hold in a smile at his mock exasperation, and his eyes gleamed at her. “That can’t be all you do. Surely.”

Klaus reached up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, fingertips lingering. “I’ve spent the past few years moving through parts of Europe, but not much to report that would surprise you. The occasional sibling idiocy to correct, a painting here or there.”

She was willing to bet there was a lot more to that statement but she didn’t push. She’d heard rumors of what had happened in New Orleans and had no desire to bring that up here and now. “And how long will you be in Amsterdam?” Caroline asked, making no move to step away from his touch. “Visiting your… friends.”

“I suppose that depends on my welcome,” he replied lightly, but his eyes were dark. His mouth tilted in a small smile before he took a drink of his champagne.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the hint of coaxing in his voice. “I am not inviting you to my house, Klaus. It’s mostly empty and boring and my grandmother would roll over in her grave.”

“Ah,” he agreed mock-seriously, the glimmer of amusement behind his eyes also lingering in the dimple in his cheek. “We can’t have that, can we?”

She pushed at his shoulder with no real force, trying not to laugh. “No, we cannot.”

Klaus didn’t budge, she hadn’t expected him too, if anything he leaned into her space with an amused little noise. “Invitation or no, I’d be delighted to hear of your plans. I have set up a home or two myself, and have a few contacts should you have trouble finding a piece you want. Dining room tables for instance, can be quite vexing.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have your budget, but I’ll probably take you up on that,” Caroline said. A lot could be said about Klaus’ home that she’d seen in Mystic Falls, but his taste, while a little stuffy, had been impeccable.

“Excellent,” he murmured. “You’ll also have to let me know what you consider an appropriate housewarming gift as well. Such things have changed over the years, and I haven’t had a reason to brush up on that particular etiquette.”

Something warm tugged at her chest and she shook her head to cover it. “And here you were just trying to tell me you had friends.”

Before he could reply, and the glitter of mischief on his face told her he had a response, the music skipped, jarring the crowd. All around them, the lights that had been dimmed started to turn on. Klaus scowled murderously, and she laughed once her ears stopped ringing.

And realized she wasn’t ready for this to be over.

Looping her arm through his, she tipped her head towards the exit, stomach a sudden tangle of butterflies. “I was actually on the hunt for food when I saw you and decided to say hi. We’ll probably have to fight the crowds now, but any interest in joining me?”

He had gone carefully motionless when her arm had taken his, but at her words, her admittance that she’d come back to see him, his smile left her breathless. It was such a delighted, boyish thing. Picking up the half full champagne bottle, he handed it to before stepping next to her. “I’d be delighted. I might even have a suggestion or two on a location that will be open this time of night and willing to find us a table.”

She took a long swig of the bottle, letting him start her through the crowd before offering it back. “Pancakes, Klaus. I want pancakes.”

Klaus ignored the bottle, his hand lifting so his thumb could trace her wet lower lip. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the champagne from his thumb and her body immediately heated, her body becoming intensely aware of everywhere they touched. “Hmm, I’m sure we can find a place to meet those exacting standards.”

Taking a calming breath, she narrowed her eyes at him in warming and he seemed entirely unrepentant. “Uh huh. Pancakes or I won’t show you any of the pictures on my phone of my house.”

His laugh was soft and he started moving again. The crowd never quite pressed close, and people moved out of their way as soon as they got a look at his face. He looked human, the monster tucked away by the amusement and indulgence of him, but his presence was hardly affected by either of that.

“A tragedy, but one we can avoid.” He glanced at her, that dimple tugging at his smile. “Should I warn you that I might have a… suggestion or two?”

She snorted. “By suggestion, you mean opinion. And as long as those opinions are that my taste is flawless and I’m absolutely correct about everything, you may have as many as you want.”

Another laugh, this one deeper, and he led her through the crowd out into the darkness of pre-dawn. The air was cold, she hadn’t bothered with a jacket, but with Klaus next to her she didn’t feel it. Taking another long drink of the last of the champagne, she knew it wasn’t just the booze that fizzled in her veins.

She might not have kissed him at midnight, but she knew in her bones that this night was changing things. Klaus would take her to breakfast, would keep to whatever boundaries she set between them, boundaries she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted anymore, but she’d invited him back to her life. Klaus wasn’t the type to ignore that kind of opening.

Sliding her hand down his arm to link their fingers instead, she found herself smiling widely as his palm pressed tightly against hers.

Happy New Year indeed.

[missmensis]

no gods, no masters, iii.

Pairing: Benny x F!Courier

read ch. 1 here, read ch. 2 here. read ch. 3 on ao3.

They were all feeling a bit beaten-up after fending off the Legion; the victory was just that, but it felt hollow. They'd be sending assassins after Ava until there were none of them left or she kicked the bucket. The latter was unlikely. She was being quiet as usual, but this quiet felt different. She wouldn't stop looking over her shoulder, a vacant stare in her eye as she did so, and her pace had slowed down considerably compared to the last few days.

The ambush had taken more of their time and energy than they'd planned, and they decided to stop at the 188 Trading Post for the night. There were a handful of NCR soldiers occupying the spot, so it'd be safer than just stopping on the side of the road or off the trail. There were no free beds to spare, but all they needed was a relatively safe place where they wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open; nobody was new to the occasional necessity of sleeping on the ground.

Once they found their own little area to hold up for the evening, the Courier sat down to rest and make a fire. They gave her some space. Boone pulled Benny aside, far enough so that Ava wouldn't hear.

"Right, so," Benny stuck his wrists out in front of Boone, "Gonna leash me back up, huh?"

Boone shook his head, "Actually, no. At least... not now, anyway. That's up to her. About today-"

"Oh, yeah," Benny chewed his lip, taking the gun out of his waistband, "Here you go."

He held it out for the other man to take, but Boone waved his hand, "Keep it. For here. Just in case."

Benny gave him a funny look, "You sure, cat?"

"Yeah," He nodded, glancing behind Benny in Ava's direction, "Just... watch her, alright? She's hurting."

"I will-" Benny moved to stick the pistol back in his pants, but not before Boone grabbed his arm.

"Take advantage, or try anything and I swear to god," Boone said, lowering his shades to look Benny straight in the eye, "I'm not far away. I will be watching, and I will put a bullet in you."

"You're gonna have to come up with a new threat," Benny replied with ire, "That one's getting stale, dig?"

"Be less of an asshole and then maybe I won't have to threaten you." Boone rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. He whistled for Rex, who trotted to the sniper's side and followed along obediently to keep watch.

Boone's 10mm in hand, Benny made his way back to check on Ava. He stashed the gun in the back of his waistband again, hoping he wouldn't need to use it. At least, not tonight, anyway.

Ava was sitting in front of the small campfire she'd made, her legs splayed out in front of her, the toes of her boots tapping together to some beat only she could hear. There was a bottle of whiskey in her lap, and it looked like she was making solid headway on it.

"Hey, hey," Benny crouched down next to her, "What's shakin'?"

"Benny," She turned to him, a dazed smile on her face, "I’m trying to get drunk. Shakin' with you?"

"Ah, nothin' much," He settled down, stretching his legs out next to hers, "Gettin' smashed, huh? Can I get some of that?"

"Mmmmmhm," She hummed, handing him the bottle and watching as he took a deep swig, "It's good shit."

"It's... not bad," Benny swished it around a bit before swallowing, "Got better shit at the Tops, though."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so high and mighty at the Tops, aren't you," Ava poked him hard in the side with her finger, her eyes hazy, "'Benny's gonna show you the Tops', hah."

"Shut up," He snickered, "I did, though. The dent in that mattress was permanent."

She looked over at him, the light from the fire dancing on her features, "I remember."

It was astonishing how terrifyingly stunning she was. That handful of months ago now, when she'd been kneeling on the ground in front of him, her life flashing before her eyes, she'd just looked like a kid, nothing more than a clueless girl who had no idea what kind of package she was carrying.

How had that not been enough in itself to make him reconsider what he’d been doing at the time? He hadn't even thought twice; once he had that chip between his fingers, it was a done deal. He could've let her go, she probably wouldn't have come looking. Even the Great Khans had reservations about the whole thing, but it hadn't stopped him. Shit. He was a piece of shit, an untrustworthy fink, and he knew it. She knew it. Everyone knew it.

Benny looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Benny rolled his eyes, "Good goddamn lord, woman."

"I'm fucking with you," Ava mused, "Go ahead."

"Last night in Novac. And... earlier today," Benny started carefully, "You, uh, kinda freaked. You looked really messed up."

Ava looked down at her hands, averting her gaze, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Ah.... yeah... so, my head does that every now and then," She answered with tight lips, "Ever since... y'know, I got a bullet to the brain from this checkered bastard I know."

"Right," He said guiltily, "Shit."

What could he say that wouldn't sound stupid or disingenuous? He'd shot her in the fucking head and now she was living with the consequences. God, there was a lot he wanted to tell her, but none of it would come out the way he wanted it to.

He sat next to her, quietly cursing himself when she spoke up again, "I get these like... migraines mixed with small bursts of panic attacks. I don't understand them. I've even asked a doc and he doesn't know. I have dreams all the time about people that I don’t recognize. I see their faces and it’s like I’m supposed to know them and I just don’t," She sighed, the heaviness of the conversation beginning to sober her, “And even when I’m awake, sometimes, I see them, too. In the back corner of a mirror, in the desert heat, they're just watching me. Like I'm riding on Daytripper in a bad way, but I'm stone-cold sober. I'm living with ghosts, Benny. People I'm supposed to know, to feel something for, but all they do is confuse me and make my head spin."

Benny frowned, "You don't remember them. Not at all?"

"No. Don't even know if they're dead or alive. It's not like anybody's come looking for me," Ava shook her head, taking a small yellow and green box out of her pocket that said MENTATS on it in rusted red lettering, "The way I see it, everyone from my past is dead, or I'm dead to them. Or I'm just not someone worth searching for."

She said it with bitterness, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to the horizon as she popped a Mentat on her tongue.

"Do they help?" Benny asked, gesturing to the box of chems as Ava rubbed her thumb across the letters.

"Kinda? I mean, everything from before Goodsprings is a blank. I haven't forgotten anybody I've met since then, but I get these, like, little flashes of moments that seem like they're mine, but they're not. At least, not mine anymore. That's when it hurts. When it turns into something like what happened today. I saw somewhere else, like here, but worse. More desolate, if you can believe that. It was like the whole place was in pain, screaming at me. Kinda think it's better that I don't remember."

She shoved the Mentats back into her pocket and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she filled herself with the dry Mojave air, "Everything before Goodsprings doesn't matter anymore, not really. Who I was before is gone. I just want to make sure I remember who I am now."

There was a beat of silence, the two of them just sitting and staring at the fire as the wind began to pick up around them. Ava tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them as she stared at the sun slowly making its way towards the edge of the world.

"I'll make sure you don't forget," Benny said quietly, "Been a goddamn fink to you so... I owe you that much. I'll never stop being sorry. I mean that."

Ava turned her head to look over at him, her brows slightly raised in disbelief at his words.

"And for what it's worth, if anything at all," He continued, "I think you're someone worth searching for."

Her eyes softened; he'd never seen her look at him that way before. It was something like... fondness? Appreciation? A lapse in judgment from the whisky and chems? Whatever it was, it pulled at the corners of his mouth. Ava smiled back, the first real one he'd ever seen from her, and it was infectious. Her cheeks dimpled, and she looked almost a little nervous before she settled into it, which made Benny wonder just how many reasons she'd even have to smile these days. A gust of wind blew through their camp, and Ava visibly shivered. Wordlessly, Benny shrugged his jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

"I'm still really fuckin' mad at you," She whispered, "But thank you, Benny."

She didn't wait for him to reply before she scooted closer to him so that their sides were touching. Ava reached for his arm and gently slung it over her shoulders as she rested her head against his chest. He was stiff for a moment, not quite sure if this was a sick joke or not, but when she didn't do anything else besides lean into him, he finally relaxed.

The girl knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it; he dug that.

They sat for a while, neither of them saying a word, as the sky grew darker and darker. Vegas glowed like a lantern off in the distance, a stark contrast to the rest of the Mojave bathed in black. With how brightly the skyline shone, the stars had a hard time competing, even though the sky was littered with them. It wasn't often that Benny spent a night out in the dust - that was now more a thing relegated to a former life - and though he wasn't one to live in the past, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as he stared up at the constellations. Years of his life spent as a nomad walking the Mojave with the Boot Riders, countless nights just like this, and how quickly he'd tossed it all aside for caps and comfort. He'd have done all that again, he knew, but as he felt Ava relax fully against him, he had more than one regret in the back of his mind. Benny was careful as he glanced down at her, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open as she slept soundly on his shoulder, and gently moved some of the hair away from her face. As he did, his eyes caught the edge of the scar from the bullet.

Yeah, sure-as-shit, more than one regret.

[quillingyousoftly]

life is far away from fair

Written for Day 1 of Rumrollins Week! The prompts are: Deception/”The sooner we forget what happened, the better.” "Deception" is only there if you squint 😛

AO3 link for tags and whatnot.

Jack quickly became one of the patrons Brock had learned to recognize from far away. Tall and wide-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones and deep green eyes, he was rather memorable. He first came to The Hydra on last year's Halloween with a group of friends, and Brock immediately noticed him. After that, he would show up every week, alone, take a seat at the bar, and ask for a scotch.

What Brock didn't immediately notice was his scent: herbal and fresh, delicate and clearly omega. It was rare for an omega to not smell like a flower garden or a bakery, but looking at Jack, who appeared so much like an alpha he passed the selection at the alpha-only club, it fit him. Still, it was annoying whenever another patron smelled him, looked around, and then gave Brock a suspicious look. It sucked to be mistaken for an omega with the actual omega sitting nearby, clueless. It didn't bother Brock enough to kick Jack out, though; his job was tending to the bar, not selection. As long as Jack didn't cause any trouble, Brock had no reason to call security.

Despite Jack showing up consistently for a year and spending a night at the other side of the bar, sipping casually on his blended scotch, Brock didn't get much more than his name, approximate age (early thirties) and line of work (IT). Brock had a handful more patrons he knew better though shorter. People tended to open up to strangers about their problems. Jack was the opposite; most of the time, he'd sit turned away from Brock, people-watching. He'd also look at the stage whenever they had exotic dancers over, and Brock decided perhaps Jack preferred other omegas--which still didn't explain what he was doing, drinking in an alpha-only club. It wasn't like he was going to pick up an omega here.

Brock spent months pretending he wasn't curious about Jack, but even when he finally admitted to himself--and his various friends--he was fascinated by his person, it still wasn't enough to actually ask. At the end of the night, all that mattered was he paid for the drinks he ordered. The loud EBM filling the club didn't make it easy to converse anyway.

Things changed one Friday before Christmas; the club would close early, and Brock expected it to be a quiet night. The DJ wasn't in, a softer music seeped from the speakers, and the lights were on. Brock liked those kinds of nights the most, when he could just relax behind the bar and occasionally pause Netflix and take out one AirPod to pour someone a drink.

Only a handful of people came, and Brock wasn't sure if he should expect Jack, but he saw his tall figure soon after opening. He poured him a scotch before he even reached the bar and sat down, ready to go back to watching Prison Break when he heard, "The cheapest bourbon you have."

Brock paused, looked at Jack, his unusually unruly hair, reddened and circled eyes and five o-clock shadow, then at the glass he'd already poured him.

"If it's simply about money, we can pretend this is the cheapest bourbon I have. Just this once," he said, sliding the glass closer to him.

Jack nodded in an awkward thanks and sat down.

"Money's tight before the holiday, huh?" Brock asked, taking advantage of the music being quiet for once. "Want me to open your tab as usual?"

"Yeah, but I have only like, fifty bucks." Jack opened his wallet and gave him the bill. "Here. Pour me all the bourbon you have for fifty bucks."

Brock raised his eyebrows at that; Jack used to leave much more in his cash-box on a night. He tried to convince himself it was more amusing than concerning.

"Wow, you must be a generous Santa," he joked.

Jack snorted mirthlessly. "Quite the opposite; I was fired."

Brock winced in sympathy. "Damn. I'm sorry to hear that."

Jack leaned back with his drink, shrugging. "It happens all the time to omegas in the typically alpha lines of work. I thought it would be a good idea to call someone out on their inappropriate behavior, then was blamed for it and dismissed on disciplinary grounds." He scowled, downed his scotch in one go, then set it down on the bar, hard. "Another."

Brock looked around to see if anyone heard Jack's admission to being an omega, but the only people nearby were the group playing poker at a round table next to the bar. They had already caught on who Jack was and didn't have a problem with it.

Brock took a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 and refilled his glass. "You were blamed for someone's inappropriate behavior?" he asked, leaning in so less people heard.

Jack scoffed. "An alpha's inappropriate behavior is always an omega's fault. Don't act like I need to explain it to you."

Brock shrugged. "Sorry if my question was insensitive. I don't really hang out with omegas."

"Yeah." Jack looked around meaningfully. "Could guess as much. No omega to come home to either?"

"Nah," Brock replied and with that their uneasy conversation came to its natural end. Jack turned away to watch the other patrons play poker and Brock went back to watching Prison Break, occasionally pausing to make someone a drink or to refill Jack's glass.

They didn't talk again until two hours before closing when Jack's fifty bucks ran out.

"That was the last one," Brock said, taking Jack's empty glass away.

"Fuck." Jack dug out his wallet, his hands sloppier from the booze in his system, and looked inside. He pulled out another fifty. "Make me another."

Brock eyed the bill and Jack's now empty wallet. "Is that all you have left?"

Jack shrugged and shoved the bill farther in Brock's direction.

"What will you eat tomorrow?" Brock pressed, leaning away.

Jack scoffed. "Fuck tomorrow. Pour me another bourbon."

There were glances thrown at them from the poker table, and Brock finally took the bill. In the end, his job wasn't to worry about his patrons’ personal lives, his job was to pour them drinks and collect the pay. He set the bill down behind the bar, took a clean glass, and filled it with ice. Pleased, Jack leaned back in his stool and greedily cradled the full glass once Brock slid it to him.

They haven't talked again until the closing. The poker club left first, and that was Brock's cue to poke Jack's arm. He was leaning on the bar, his bleary eyes fixed on the empty poker table, the hand that wasn't supporting his tired, drunk face cradling his empty tumbler glass close to his chest.

"I'm closing."

Jack hummed in acknowledgement but didn't move.

"Want me to call you a cab?" Brock asked just before realizing Jack couldn't afford a cab because he'd just drunk all his money. He sighed to himself. "Fuck it. I'll give you a lift."

It wasn't something he'd ever done before for any of his drunk patrons. But then, neither had ever drunk all of their money, and Brock felt partially responsible.

And neither had been an omega.

Brock tried not to think about it, but he wasn't so much in denial not to acknowledge it played a part in making that decision. Jack stirred at his words, and gave him a prejudiced look like he was very much aware of it as well. Or maybe Brock just imagined it.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What a Good Samaritan you are."

"You're welcome to take a walk," Brock shot back, shrugging. "But do so right now. As I said, I'm closing."

Jack stretched his long body and covered a yawn with a back of his hand. His shirt rode up his stomach, uncovering a stripe of tanned skin, and Brock turned away from the sight to lock the cash-box. He would just be giving him a lift. He'd known the guy for a year and he wanted to make sure he'd get home safe. That was all there was.

"Fine," Jack said finally, sliding from his stool and putting his leather jacket on. "I live on 542 Freedom Lane."

Brock nodded, grabbing his jacket as well and turning off the music and the lights. He could come in the next day to wash the tables and sweep the floor; he didn't have any Christmas plans anyway.

A couple minutes into the quiet drive, it became apparent ignoring the fact Jack was an omega would be hard. Locked in a small space, sitting so close to him, Brock could smell him better. His scent still was light and unoppressive, but now Brock could discern sweeter undertones, perhaps of peppermint, and something invigoratingly fruity--grapes? It was all he could focus on, and it took all his willpower not to lean in and scent him. He shifted in his seat, gritting his teeth, and kept his eyes fixed solely on the road. He could feel his body freaking out with hormones, could almost smell the change in his own scent. It seemed it'd always happen to him, no matter if he was seventeen or forty-seven.

Despite that, the drive passed fast, and soon enough Brock was parking at 542 Freedom Lane. He looked out through the window to check out the tall apartment building.

"You okay getting home by yourself?" he asked, feeling his heart beating like crazy. His skin was warm and clammy like he was drunk himself.

Jack raised his head from where he was leaning it against the window to look at him with glassy eyes. "Ya can help me if you wanna."

"Okay," Brock murmured more to himself than to Jack, and licked his dry lips. He was just going to walk him to his door, make sure he was safe. He wiped his hands on his jeans and got out.

The air felt cool on his skin as he trailed behind Jack to the apartment block. Jack punched in the code with a trained hand and let them both in. He led them to the closest door, and Brock suddenly felt stupid when he realized Jack didn't need his assisstance at all. He wanted to say goodnight and leave, but instead he watched Jack pull out a key and struggle to fit it in the hole.

And struggle.

"Let me?" Brock asked finally, and Jack gratefully handed him the key.

Brock unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Here you are," he said as Jack brushed past him inside. "Make sure to lock behind you--"

He reached out with the keys, but instead of just taking them, Jack grabbed his wrist, pulled him inside the apartment and pressed his mouth firmly to Brock's.

Brock's mind went blank for a while, barely registering Jack pushing the door close behind them and pressing Brock against it with the length of his hard, muscular body. The sour scent of his arousal overwhelmed him, the feel of his warm, bourbon tongue prodding at his lips made him arch up for more. Jack's big hands ran down his chest, mapping out the hard muscles beneath his black shirt, and paused at his belt.

Brock wished he could just throw all the caution to the wind and go with it with his conscience clear. But the taste and smell of alcohol on Jack prevented him from it. He grabbed his wrists and pushed him away.

"Jack, I can't. You're drunk," he barely whispered, breathless.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Yer a real nice guy." He leaned in, reaching for his lips again. Brock stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Jack, I'm serious. I don't know what asshole alphas you've been running into so far, but I ain’t like that. Let's... Let's meet after Christmas and talk, m'kay? Then we can... figure stuff out," he finished lamely. Jack watched him, looking lost. Brock squeezed his hand reassuringly and let go. "Go to bed. Goodnight."

He slipped out the door before Jack managed to stop him. He almost ran out of the building, taking deep gulps of cool air and willing his semi-erection to go away.

The next week, Brock nervously awaited Jack's arrival, and he couldn't tell if he was more disappointed or relieved when he didn't show. He wasn't sure what he really wanted from Jack, and apparently, Jack wasn't either.

Two weeks later, he wasn't the only one who noticed Jack's absence.

"I haven't seen Jack around lately," Sharon pointed out, nodding at the stool that would normally be taken by Jack, but was occupied by someone else. Brock only hummed in acknowledgement as he prepared her drink. "Doesn't it worry you?"

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," Brock murmured, pouring a mixture of vodka, blue curacao and grape juice into a chilled martini glass. The smell reminded him a bit of Jack's scent.

Sharon took her drink, but she didn't get back to her poker table yet. "He's been here every Friday since I can remember," she said, raising her eyebrow slightly.

Brock shrugged. "Here's to hoping he developed a healthier lifestyle."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Ouch. Anyway, I'd check on him if I were you."

She walked away with her drink, and Brock shook his head to himself. He didn't know Sharon any better than he did any other patron, and here she could somehow tell he liked Jack. He must have been more obvious than he thought.

Her advice wasn't a bad one, though; even if Jack was purposefully avoiding him, it'd be healthier for Brock to just clear that up instead of worrying every Friday. He could handle the truth, however bad it was, but being ghosted? That absolutely sucked.

He drove to Jack's home next afternoon before his shift. He didn't remember his room number, but he got lucky; an elderly lady was just walking out, and kept the door open for him.

"Thanks," Brock breathed over his shoulder, striding for Jack's door. He knocked loudly, wondering nervously what he wanted to say and coming up empty.

The door cracked open and a moss green eye looked at him.

"Fuck, Brock." Jack turned his head inside, presumably to check for something, and chills ran down Brock's arms and chest as he saw an angry red bite mark on the back of his neck. He was almost sure it wasn't there when they... When they last saw each other.

Jack slipped through the door and closed it behind himself. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his words colored by slight panic.

Brock took a step back. "'M sorry... Just wanted to check up on you, after--"

"The sooner we forget what happened, the better,” Jack snapped, laying his hand back on the doorknob.

Wanting to stop him from leaving and unable to help himself, Brock nodded at the back of Jack's neck that was now out of his sight. "I didn't know you had someone."

"I didn't," Jack said bitterly. "I do now. I'm not allowed to go to alpha-only clubs anymore. You should go."

Deep in his bones, Brock could feel there was something very wrong there, that Jack was unhappy. But it wasn't his place to snoop. He wasn't Jack's lover, not even his friend. He was a bartender; his job was to pour drinks and collect the pay.

"Okay," he said soothingly, wanting Jack to lose his guarded stance. He didn't. "I'll go. You know where to find me if..." He shrugged, not knowing how to finish that sentence. He eyed Jack up and down, looked into his eyes that last time. Jack averted his gaze, then opened the door and slipped back inside.

With his shoulders slumped, Brock turned on his heel and left.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

‘Secret Relationship’ - Lukadrien June Day 26

My mind went to Hart of Dixie when I read the prompt so yeah. Lemon was a lot to deal with so I felt like Chloe would be her but they have redemption arcs, don't worry. And hey, she and Zoe get along here, so it's ok. Secret Relationships

He didn’t have to say anything, really. As much as he loved this small town, for some reason, it didn’t love him back. Even though he grew up with summers here, helping his mom in the practise and hanging out with Chloe, when he left for a few years to become a doctor and try and land a residency, everything changed. Chloe was ten times more intense and her overprotectiveness of her half-sister and hatred of her mother made her unbearable, nothing like the girl he remembered. People seemed to think he was a completely different person that the very idea of him being their friend was something to be scared of. Like now, he’d been secret friends with Sabrina, helping her gain more confidence to stand up to Chloe - who he’d hope would eventually talk to him and explain why she was acting the way she was – and she’d been chosen as Memory Matron, basically a person who ran the town’s traditions and tried to preserve a few old historic buildings. Chloe of course wanted it and was obviously upset, but Adrien was proud of Sabrina for taking charge. He’d been hoping it would mean they could hang out in public but she said she couldn’t since most people in the town ‘hated him’. It still hurt to hear and see, after calling this small town his home, and not just because his mother was one of the doctors.

When his parents split and his mom was busy with the divorce, the town practically came together to help raise him until he had to go back to his dad, the unfortunate part of the deal between them. he’d been in Paris for a few years, hoping to get high up before coming to help his mom out. His mom had been sick during then and made those who knew, promise not to tell him and leave before he could get his fellowship. When he got here, his mom was on her deathbed and the sudden announcement that he’d take over her half of the practise was a surprise and a lot of people thought he choose the job over his mom. Chloe’s dad was his partner and certainly didn’t want to share, there was a minor incident involving a parade float that he got blamed for and apparently delivering a baby at an engagement party was in poor taste. Though, he’d blame that last one on Nath’s mom, since she never got along with his own and she was just passing on the dislike to him.

Point was, here Chloe was, with Sabrina keys, the keychain he’d given her earlier dangling from the ring, and the blonde was looking smug, thinking she was going to get what she wanted after all, basically announcing that he and Sabrina were friends and that was against the law.

He loved Chloe and he might be mad at Sabrina for choosing a position over him, but he wasn’t about to let Chloe win. “My keys!” he got up from his table and practically sprinted to the front of the room, snatching them from Chloe’s hand. “I’ve been looking for these everywhere. Thanks for finding them Sabrina.”

Chloe scoffed. She might hate her mom, but her attitude was fitting her more and more each day. “You have keys with your own name on it? Self-obsessed much?”

“No that’s you. these are keys I made for someone else.” He looked across the restaurant, trying to decide who. It’d have to be a date; the whole town had been gossiping about him dating someone. Finally, he made his decision and walked over to the bar, relishing a little in Luka’s confused expression. “I think it’s time we stop hiding things. Here, it’s for the carriage house. Try not to be late this time.” He grabbed his stuff and left, letting out a breath once he was as far from the Liberty’s Hardrock.

He just told the whole town he was dating Luka, his kinda sometimes annoying neighbour, who had a heart of gold that hide beneath all those piercings and hair dye. There was a minor make out when he moved back, since he’d completely changed and Adrien was a little drunk of wine, then when the heatwave hit and he almost went further and then the moment they shared during Christmas. Adrien wasn’t going to lie, when he was a kid, he thought Luka was the coolest and the years had been very good to him. But he hadn’t been ready to date anyone, his last attempt ended up sleeping with someone before their date could even happen. He wanted to put a pause, but now to protect someone, he was.

He just hoped Luka didn’t kill him for leaving him to answer questions everyone was sure to have.

                                                  ________________

Luka knocked on the door to the carriage house an hour later. Adrien was sent back to the last time Luka knocked on the door, with Nino tagging along to try and find Adrien’s mystery man.

“Hi.” Adrien greeted, taking in the ruffled appearance Luka had compared to the more put together one from before. “What happened to you?”

“Courtesy the very curious towns people. Thanks for leaving me there. Still think you should have let Sabrina sink.”

Adrien let the bartender in and headed back to his bedroom. “I’m not that type of person. I helped Sabrina earn that head place and maybe if appearance didn’t matter so much, things would have been different. That and if the town didn’t think I’d choose a fellowship over my ailing mom.”

Luka dropped himself on the bed next to Adrien. “You know all you have to do is ask Marc and he’d release that recording on the gossip cite.”

“And get him fired from being a lawyer’s assistant, no thanks. I’ll prove it to them myself. Now, I think we need to talk secret relationship. You know as well as I do if we break up way too suddenly, Chloe will know we were lying and Sabrina will pay for it.”

Luka shook his head, clearly wanting to say more but clearly knew when to stop poking. “Alright. What do we say?”

“Ok, why did we hide our relationship? When did we start going out?”

“Started after Christmas. And…” Luka let out a hum, trying to think before he snapped his fingers. “You have a tendance to put others before yourself and since the town is weary of you, you didn’t want to get me in trouble. Me being the town rebel doesn’t care and has been looking for an excuse to spill about this ‘secret relationship’ since we got together.”

“Luka.”

“Hey, you wanted to know what the story is, it’s the one that makes the most sense.”

Adrien shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I was supposed to not be dating anyone but thank you for going along with this.”

“You’re lucky your worth it.”

                                                ______________

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you and Luka were dating!”

Adrien listened to Marc talk about what happened last night. he was used to people staring at him but now it was intense. Was him dating someone that big a deal?

“How long has it been going on? Wait, is he the guy everyone’s been whispering about? The one you’ve been so giddy over?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He happed to see Chloe, her sister and Sabrina passing by. “Hey, I’m gonna go to the corner store and get ice cream.”

Marc looked confused and glanced at his watch. “It’s like 8 am? Don’t you have to be at the office soon?”

“Like Andre wouldn’t revile in me being a bit late. I’ll see you later!”

Minutes later, Adrien was in the corner store, hiding by the freezers waiting for a head of red hair. Finally Sabrina showed up. He pulled her keys he’d gotten from Luka and passed them to her.

“Here. Luka had to keep the keychain.”

“He deserves it more than me.” Sabrina looked sorry for herself and Adrien had been there when she started crying when they couldn’t be friends anymore. “So I guess it isn’t true? You just did it to protect me?”

“Yeah. I want to be friends with Chloe again, but she’s gonna have to learn not to be so selfish. You deserve this spot. You stood up to her and you proved you’ve got what it takes. I just, I need friends who are gonna stick by me. And I guess Luka is one of them, doing this for me.”

“I know it’s fake but I think you two would be good for each other.”

Adrien shrugged. Would they? Since moving back, even though they could poke each other buttons, he always knew he could count of Luka for help or just be there. Any other person would have asked for something in return, but Luka was different.

‘You’re lucky your worth it.’

He usually said that when Adrien would beg him to do something for him. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he like it when Luka said that, made him feel special.

He left the corner store and almost crashed into Luka, who was being followed by Alya and Marinette, friends of there but also people behind the town’s gossip cite. Adrien could only guess why they’d been following him around.

“Hey, I was just heading to the office.”

“Cool, so I’ll see you at the restaurant for lunch?” Luka asked.

Adrien nodded and before he could even say anything else, Luka had his arms around his waist and his lips pressed against his.

They’d shared a kiss before but it was a memory Adrien didn’t look at with the biggest fondness. This however, was much better.

“I’ll see you later.” Luka whispered against his lips before he was gone. Adrien didn’t even hear Alya and Marinette grill him.

If this was a fake secret relationship, why did it feel so real?

[mybiasisexo]

Roommates (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

Genre: Fluff | Roommate!au | College!au 

 Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Length: 1.2k

Warning: Language | Unfinished

Summary: You decide to move in with your best friend, Park Chanyeol, for school.... What’s the worst that could happen???

Author’s Note: Deadass, I wrote this measly 1000 words waaaay back in 2013. This was going to be That Fic™. But, my passion for it fizzled out rather quickly. Sad day. (Also I was drunk when I made the vine reference in the title and yah its staying 😤)

MASTERLIST

credit

“I can’t believe this is actually happening!” You squealed.

“I know right? After all these years we are finally moving in together.” Chanyeol smirked up at you.

“Thank you guys for helping!” You thanked the rest of your gang as they carried the couch into yours and Chanyeol’s new shared apartment.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Kris said between huffs. “But it’d be better if you were also helping us, instead of sitting on the couch. You’re heavy!”

You sighed and leaned back deeper into the couch, “I’m a woman, and women aren’t supposed to lift heavy objects. Especially if there are a bunch of attractive men who will do it for her.”

“I feel like I’m a slave,” Kai muttered, struggling to keep the couch afloat.

“Well, I am the queen.”

Finally, they were able to bring the couch in and set it down to where you wanted it.

“That’s the last of it,” Chanyeol informed. The boys all cheered and started rushing out the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” You hollered at them, racing to the door and staring at their retreating forms.

“We’re leaving before you find something else for us to carry you on!” Xiumin replied back.

“But… But I bought pizza!”

“We’ve already ordered our own, but thanks anyway!” Sehun called back. You watched in disbelief as they all hopped into their cars and drove off, leaving skid marks and dirt flying into the air.

“Those little…” You slammed the door and spun around. Chanyeol was standing in the middle of the—your--living room, just looking around. You locked eyes and broke out into grins.

“We did it!” He yelled and you ran over to him. You both started jumping around in circles cheering and giggling.

“No more parents!” You cheered.

“Parties and booze!” Chanyeol laughed.

Twenty minutes later, you were huddled in front of the television, watching an exciting action movie while enjoying your first shared meal: pizza and red wine.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Chanyeol sighed, taking a sip of his wine.

You nudged him with your elbow, “we are going to be the best roommates ever!”

He lifted up his glass, “I can cheers to that!”

You clinked your cups and chugged down the rest. This was going to be fun.

~*~

You were walking home from school when your phone started ringing. You hastily checked the caller I.D., just to sigh when you saw ‘mother’ written across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Honey! I was just thinking about you and thought I’d give you a ring. How is everything?”

“Fine. I just left my last class for the day and am heading home.”

“How is school?”

You shrugged, “school is school. I’m not failing anything yet, so that’s good.”

“And are you still working at that fancy restaurant?”

“Yup.”

“And how is Chanyeol and the apartment?”

You smiled at the mention of your living arrangements, “Chanyeol is an absolute angel and the place is still intact, although we almost started a fire a few days ago.”

“Fire!?” You started laughing at your mom’s worry.

“Nothing the two of us can’t handle. I’m at my house now, so I’m going to go.”

“Oh, well, I love you, take care.”

“Of course, love you too.”

You hung up and tossed your phone back into your purse, trading it for your set of keys.

“Chanyeol?” You called as you entered the room. No reply. You took your shoes off and headed over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water when you noticed the man of the hour. He was sitting at your wooden table, his head in one hand as the other gripped a hot mug of coffee tightly.

“Chanyeol?” You repeated as you took in his tall frame. He groaned as your voice pierced his ears. You winced also, “hangover?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he murmured.

You sat opposite him, “I told you not to drink that bottle of vodka all by yourself.”

“I know, I know. But you already knew I was drunk before I even grabbed it, right?”

You chuckled, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You can drag me to my room and then clean this house up a bit,” he mentioned with a slight smirk.

You scrunched up your nose, “I’ll pass. Your party, your mess.”

He pouted, “I guess...”

You stood up and walked over to him, yanking him up as well, “come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He moaned, but followed you back to his room. You tucked him in like a child and kissed him on the forehead.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured sleepily before he got comfortable and dozed off.

You already knew that.

You decided to clean up a bit. Chanyeol was usually very good about cleaning the aftermath of your parties, but last night he did drink a lot more than he typically did.

While cleaning, you couldn’t help but to think about the day he asked you to move in with him. You were actually making plans to move in with your other best girlfriend, Jisoo, but he got to you first, and you just couldn’t say no. Chanyeol could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. He gave this big speech about the both of you being best friends since kindergarten and that he was afraid to live with one of the other guys because they were ‘disgusting’ and ‘pigs’. He had told you that you were responsible enough to be like a mother but without suffocating him like one, and that you would balance each other out.

He was right about all of that. At first you thought the idea was queer. Moving in with a boy right after high school? Your parents questioned you a lot after you purposed the idea, but once they realized that you were moving in with Chanyeol, the idea was less sinister to them. And he was a great roommate, he cleaned up after himself, and bought things that you needed, he also didn’t make a lot of noise, which was nice. All in all, You’re glad you took his offer.

Last night’s party was a celebration for your first month living together—a great cause for celebration. You still couldn’t believe that you’d been living under the same roof for a month, but here you were, and the house hadn’t burnt down yet.

Around six, you knocked on Chanyeol’s door and poked your head in. He was still wrapped in his blankets, but he was awake, watching television, although the volume was turned low. He glanced up at you, his eyes still glossy, and you invited yourself inside the room. You sat a glass of water on the desk beside him and a couple pills.

“You’ve done it again,” he praised, his deep voice scratchy from sleep.

“I try.” You watched him swallow the pills and lay back in his bed, full of content. “Well, I’m off to work.”

“Aw man, they gave you the late shift?” He asked.

You nodded with a sigh, “luckily it is a Friday, so hopefully I get some tips.”

“You always get tipped well.”

“Because I have nice tits?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He chuckled, “because you have a pretty smile… and because you have nice tits.”

“Ew,” You hit his head and left the room. “Feel better, Perv.”

[voidcat]

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Characters: Matsukawa Issei/Reader

requested by anon, prompt 9

Warnings: reckless drinking, dont drink the amount you cant handle kids, esp if you’re not supervised by someone you trust

Word Count: 2.3k , this was supposed to bE SHORT, seijoh brainrot........

It’s loud, too loud. If they weren’t in your head, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to hear your thoughts. Is that what people listen to as music nowadays?

The flashy lights all around and people keep bumping into you, you remember once again why you’re not the party type. Which brings the question: what are you doing at one?

See, the answer to it is quite simple, really. Maybe a little sad too, even pathetic. You’re beyond caring for the night. You’ve gone to a party, can it get any lower than that? What a waste of night, is the only thing you can say to yourself.

Placing the untouched cup in your hand to the counter, you look around to find the bathroom. Exiting the kitchen is a nice first step. The blur of bodies only make your task more difficult. Getting tired of people bumping into you, you start shouldering the ones not moving, crashing into people if they refuse to make way, expecting you to go through the five centimeter long gap.

And at long last, you find what you were looking for. Checking to see no one else is in, you lock the door behind you and turn on the tap. Splashing some cold water to your cheeks, careful not to mess with your make up, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Why did you let him drag you into this in the first place?

Or better yet, why do you keep following wherever Matsukawa Issei takes you, never saying no, never refusing the puppy looks, always right by his side... why do you keep doing this to yourself? Since when have you gotten so weak towards him, for him?

Exiting the bathroom and spotting him in the distance, you recall earlier today. It was just a usual hangout, nothing special. Typical grabbing a lunch together and procrastinating when the reason you met in the first place was studying. Thirty minutes of silence, finally finding your focus fully on your text book and you jolt up suddenly at the contact you feel by your waist. Looking to your right and seeing his pen hanging by your waist, ready to poke again if necessary, you just rub your side.

“What, Issei?”

“There’s a party tonight, starting around 8. Would you like to go with me?” Oh, this again. Another hopeless party invitation. He never seems to give up, though knowing how much you dislike the parties. One party couldn’t hurt, right? You can’t help but admit to yourself how curious you are to see him at one. So you just shrug. “Sure, pick me up by 7 if we want grab dinner beforehand.”

“Look I know you don’t like the- Wait, really? Are you sure?” The caught off-guard look suits him.

“Yeah, I mean I kept saying no but it’s time I expand my… extra curriculum activities.” He grabs you by the shoulders.

“Who are you and what have you done to (Lastname)? They would never accept an offer from me that easily.” You can’t help but laugh at his dramatic antic. Pushing his hands off you, holding the said hand while you can, you roll your eyes again.

“I am fine. Can’t I be the supportive friend for once?”

“Oh but please! You always are the supportive one.” He says as he wraps you in a big hug. It’s moments like these when you feel your breathe hitched, heart racing and brain imagining a scenario you’ll never get to live.

As you eagerly make your way to him, the figures in your way make way and you see he’s not alone. Some girl talking to him, if eyeing someone like that and touching their muscles nonstop can be count as talking, not to mention leaning over him on a constant. What’s worse is he doesn’t look bothered slightest bit. Can you blame him, though? You’re sure it’s not the first time she has approached him, she hangs around the gym sometimes, walks up to him after their shared classes, she’s clearly interested and makes no effort in hiding it.

She is beautiful, no straight man, or lesbian or bisexual, in their right mind would ignore someone such as her. And yet you can’t help but feel jealous. Jealous that you have no chance of competition, no chance of winning, no such luck in being seen as “‘more than just a friend”. Changing your direction suddenly, you walk back up to the kitchen and grab the first untouched cup you see. Searching for a bottle of alcohol next, you don’t care what it is as long as it is alcohol, you pour it down until your cup is filled to the brim.

Looking outside, you can see them again. Issei smiling and looking as breathtaking as ever, it hurts that the smile is for her. You down the whole cup before you can register what you’re doing. The party is just getting started, you better get into the mood.

After a while it gets fuzzy. You lost count of the drinks you’ve had, the shots you’ve taken too. You’re glad to have eaten before the party at least, the alcohol won’t hit as hard.

Maybe it’s already hit? You’re not sure, you feel warm and bubbly but you still walk just fine. Walking up to people and joining the conversations randomly, leaving as quickly once you’re bored, you walk around and around and around...

It must be late, is it late? You try checking your watch but you can’t make sense of the little circle plastered on your wrist, it seems too tiny.

At some point, you’re singing along to a song you know. And making the most absurd dance moves to it. It doesn’t matter, everyone else around is drunk as hell, looking more ridiculous than you are, moves not even making any sense. It makes all the crashing more understandable, it’s good to just move around and not apologize once. To let some steam off, get loose and do whatever the hell you like.

Except it isn’t as good because one thing you truly want in that moment and you don’t even know the room he is in. Maybe you should have another drink just in case and decide to cross the line from tipsy to drunk. It’d be good to forget about tonight once you wake up.

Making a 180 to go back to the kitchen for another drink, you crash into something warm, someone. Probably a chest. Feeling warm hands on your shoulders adjusting you, to keep your balance, you don’t even look up. Waving your hand in the air, you shout out an apology.

“(Name)? Is that you? I’ve been looking all over for you!” Hearing your name come out of someone’s lips is unexpected, but recognizing the voice makes all the fuzziness go away in a second. You make a mental note to name it the “Issei effect” if you ever come up with a hangover elixir of sorts.

“Hiiii Mattsun.” Hearing yourself speak feels weird, especially if you have no idea if your lips are actually moving. “I’ve been here this whole time! Was about to go get a drink, want some?” You can imagine the worried look on him, so you keep your gaze focused on his tshirt. What was that color called anyway?

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can leave if you wa-“ he stops mid-sentence to examine you from head to toes. “Have you been drinking?”

The tone in his voice indicates, it’s wiser not to answer him. Your mouth decides otherwise. “Maybeee.”

“But you hate alcohol! And you’re a lightweight!”

“Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ as you reply. “Had a change of heart! I like new stuff now! Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” Crossing your arms, you look to your left. “Hah, lightweight!” You mumble.

“I mean it. If you want to leave, we can. When I asked you to come, I didn’t do it so we could get separated. I just wanted to spend some time with my friend.”

Ouch. That word sure hurts. More than the movies and books can even tell. You suddenly feel sick, stomach empty and deadweight.

“M’kay, let’s leave.” You say softly.  Seeing the smile rise like the sun on his face, you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Truly feel it. The term no longer sounds ridiculous when it becomes real for you.

“Okay. Let me just grab by jacket and we’ll be out in a minute. Wait by the door if you want, it’s whiter there.” He says and leaves in a hurry.

Making your way to the door in slow steps, you reach it in no time. When you look back at the apartment, all the people partying seem so irritating to you. It’s hard to believe you were just like them a while ago. Eyes trailing the crowd, you see Issei again, a smile making way to your lips, almost on instinct now.

It dies out before it can bloom.

Because there she is, again, and he is still smiling at her and nodding and talking and suddenly all the hurry he made to find his jacket seems like it was not to make you not wait, but to get to her quickly.

Looking to the hall, you spot a tall boy holding a bottle of what you hope is booze. Grabbing it with a “Sorry, emergency.” You take a big gulp of the bottle. To hell with staying tipsy.

God, is that how plain vodka tastes? The Russians must be out of their minds. And yet, you keep taking gulp after gulp, sip after sip and open the door to escape the suffocating party air.

If Issei wants to find you so badly, he must know how to do it.

Walking a bit and sitting in the pavement, your head drops to your knees, bottle still in one hand. You’re not sure how long it has been since you arrived.

Hearing footsteps coming closer to you and coming to a stop right by your side, you look up to find an angry Issei. Arms crossed, he’s looking down at you, trying to look as mad as he can but worry painted in his eyes. It hurts how well you know him sometimes.

“So?” You make no noise.

“Care to explain?” He’s tapping his foot this time, probably to get your attention. You grunt in response.

“Do Not grunt at me young lady. I am only asking because I am worried, can’t you see!” Voice raised, you realize you’ve never heard him raise his voice, not at you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to worry about me! Or maybe I do but not like this! Have you thought about it?” You snap.

“What’s that supposed to mean?-“ not waiting for him to finish his words, you stand up fast, stumble for a mini second in the process, the bottle gripped tighter, and you start walking away.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” He calls our behind you, walking after you.

“Away from you! Leave me alone Mattsun.” You yell back, quickening your steps. Damn his height and tall legs because he catches up to you in no time and grabs your wrist, trying to stop you from going any further.

You expect a “fine.” And a “no.” And maybe a “stop being so childish and talk to me.” But not a “Why are you calling me that?”

The softness in his voice catches you off guard. You stop and turn to look at him, your wrist already free of his grasp. “Calling you what?”

“You never call me Mattsun. It’s always Issei. Did I do something wrong?” You don’t meet his gaze.

Maybe it’s the hurt in his words, the sadness in his eyes or the alcohol in your blood. When you look up to meet his gaze, you’re certain you see something die. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You gather enough energy to say the words.

“Why now? We’ve never hold back anything from one another.” You turn your head at his words again. This is exactly why you don’t want to talk. Hearing a sigh behind you, he clears his throat. Probably one last try, you’re determined to keep your stance.

“Look, whatever it is, please tell me. Maybe you’re drunk and happen to be the unfiltered honest kind. You may as well not be drunk at all and honestly this is a lot of better. But please give me a reason, an explanation and if it’s so bad or awkward, we won’t talk about it in the morning and pretend we were both drunk. How does that sound?” The offer itself sounds ideal and he, hopeful. You nod your head as you sit down on the pavement, the bottle now in your lap. Following your cue, he sits next to you.

The words are a mumble of incoherent sounds. You can sense him leaning towards you, considering to say your next words loudly, just to irritate him, you decide against it.

“I don’t want you to worry about me as a friend.” You say. He looks confused. Silencing him with your finger before he can say anything, you continue. “I want you to see me in a different light for once. I am sick of the back and forth dance we keep having.”

He stares at you for what feels like forever. Followed by laughter. It only gets louder.

“Stop- Stop that! Are you… laughing at my feelings?” You make no effort in hiding the disappointment in your tone.

“No! It’s just- I- I’ve been thinking of the same thing for too long. I can’t believe we were both so blind.” Words interrupted by occasional chuckles, he seems happy, glowing even. You throw yourself at him, arms around his neck.

He speaks to your head next: “If you hadn’t been drinking, I’d even kiss you right now b-“

“Do it then. I am not drunk.” You whisper to his chest.

He kisses the top of your head. “Tomorrow, I promise. For now, let’s get you home.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

style

pairing: eb!frank x reader

summary: frank realises he’s in love with his sister’s best friend. inspired by taylor swift’s style, a prequel to this.

You've got that long hair slick back, white t-shirt and I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt, and when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style. So it goes, he can't keep his wild eyes on the road, takes me home, lights are off he's taking off his coat

Parties had never been Y/N’s cup of tea, she found them more to be an excuse for people to drink and smoke their worries away rather than deal with their issues. It was more of an escapism, in her mindset, for those which daylight brought too much worry and thus the night darkness and blinding neon lights allowed for a forgetfulness of what awaited outside. As one to try and solve whatever came her way, she absolutely despised them. There were better ways of socialising. However, Clara seemed to be just like her brother when it came to partying as right now, the house that during Christmas looked like every American sitcom’s house looked more like the drug den where the mafia would be hiding out with all the empty solo cups and random people making out on various corners.

Nevertheless, she was here and somehow here sounded better than her cold, mouldy student apartment. With a solo cup in hand, Y/N had taken refuge by the door, looking as people exited and entered the home and taking mental notes about Clara’s behaviour and how to properly tease her once her drunkenness faded away.  Still, the real reason why she wasn’t inside freaking out whenever someone did use a coaster was Frank. When she agreed to come to the party, not in the wildest of her wildest thoughts did she think Frank would be around. He lived in the city and, following his mother, would only come out if he was broke or in huge trouble, however, here he was. Well, at least his broken up, terrible car was and considering how much he loved the piece of junk, he was probably around trying to flirt with as many university girls as he could while she was hiding, not wanting to face the events that took place during Christmas. 

     - Y/N ... - she could hear Clara almost sing out her name as she stumbled onto the porch of her home, tall and probably older man next to her which made alarm bells sound on her mind. The drunk girl must’ve realised that as she quickly explained who was next to her. - Y/N, this is Jack. Jack is a friend of Frank’s and he’s a writer like you. Thought you’d like to chat. 

     - Pleasure. - he stuck out a hand for her to shake which she did, worried look still settled on her face. Clara, happy with her match making, returned to the inside of the house, probably to down more of the cheap cider she had gotten from the corner shop. - So, what are you majoring on? 

     - English at Yale. 

     - Yale, that’s a big one. How is it going so far? One of my mates has started a teaching assistant position there, all I hear are good things from it. - he was nice, maybe too nice. Nice enough that Y/N wondered if he had a weirder darker side he wasn’t showing to her as that would be the only reason someone would decide to be friends with Frank whose occupation was still a big question mark on her head. 

     - Well, it’s Yale, never changes that much I suppose. - she shrugged, not entirely sure how to keep the conversation interesting.

     - Who are you hiding from? - he leaned by her side, a much less used solo cup in his hand with clear liquid which Y/N guessed by the colour and smell was probably vodka. Not her favourite poison. She raised her brow at his question, wondering if she was putting it out in the world that she was constantly trying to escape from that party. - No one wears full black and then hangs by the porch unless they’re trying to hide from someone.

    - Maybe I’m in mourning. - she tilted her head slightly up, smirk on her lips as she took the last sip from whatever cheap corner shop strawberry flavoured wine she had been drinking for the past hour. - Besides, July nights have the best night skies. 

     - I’m afraid I’ll have to agree. - Jack looked upwards to the particularly clear sky. It was one of those weird hot nights which contained only the slightest of warm air coursing through and one of the most stunningly clear skies. Had she been back in her youth, Y/N would have been rushing outside with her telescope to see if she could see any celestial bodies. 

Meanwhile Frank was having his own sort of fun. He was never one to say no whenever his sister rarely invited him to a party with her university friends as that normally meant a wide array of less than five dollar spirits, cheap keg beer and people willing to give you a cigarette if asked. It also didn’t hurt that university girls were extremely easy for him to flirt with, however, tonight, he was looking for Y/N. He had even arrived earlier to see if he could catch her helping Clara with the decorations but she was nowhere to be seen and in the past four hours, he hadn’t seen or heard her name. It wasn’t like Clara was much of help, ignoring him whenever he asked for her best friend. 

Things were starting to get boring and he wondered if he’d be better off at home either sleeping or having quality alcohol. As he saw yet another couple climb up the stairs to what he hoped wasn’t his childhood bedroom, he decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Y/N most likely wasn’t at the party, it wasn’t her style, and he was wasting time. Besides, he was a fully grown man and she was a girl in the middle of university, not even mentioning his sister’s confidant. This was probably just his instinct of trying to stick it up to his sister by screwing around with her friends. 

Frank threw his cup onto the growing pile in the bin and grabbed his jacket Moving through the crowds of people and ignoring the few girls who tried to stop him by grabbing his hand, he eventually made it to the red entrance door which was slightly open to reveal Jack. Maybe he was up to go to an actual bar, Frank thought to himself. However, what he wasn’t expecting as he stepped closer was to see Y/N in a slip black dress with a drink in hand and a stupid little smile as if Jack was telling her the best of jokes, which he probably wasn’t considering he had no sense of humour. At least not a good one. 

    - Hey man, you alright? - Jack noticed him as he turned to place the cup on the ground. - Going home already? 

    - It’s a university party, I’ve had my few share of it. - his eyes lingered on Y/N who suddenly found the tree of their front garden the most exciting and fantastic thing in the whole world. He probably should’ve just ignored it and let it slide but he couldn’t help it. - I see you’ve meet Rory. 

    - Shut up, Frank. - she rolled her eyes at the nickname he refused to drop. Jack looked utterly confused at the both of them, he was certain Clara had introduced her as Y/N and not Rory. Was he that drunk already? - Frank insists in calling me Rory, I’ve told him to stop.

    - You know each other? - he moved his finger between both his friend and Y/N who was trying to find something to look at other than Frank. 

    - We’re acquaintances. - Y/N quickly replied before Frank had any ideas or any snarky comments, which, let’s be honest, he most likely did. - Spent Christmas together. 

    - Oh ... - Jack rubbed his neck and, feeling the atmosphere settling between the three of them, decided to go back inside with the excuse of needing a refill which he clearly didn’t. If looks could kill, Y/N’s look as he left would’ve dropped him straight to the ground in less than a second yet sadly they couldn’t and now she was stuck with the last person in the world she wanted to be stuck with. 

    - Flirting with my friend to get my attention? - he spoke up in that tone of voice that made her want to hit his head against the side of the house. - You could’ve just come and find me. 

    - Knock it off. - she threw her plastic cup at him, watching as the pink of her drink stained his shirt and took off inside the house to try and find her purse. Why she had stayed in so long she didn’t know but suddenly the moldey, icy apartment sounded like paradise to her.

Y/N entered the storage closet which Clara had conveniently turned into a coat hanger and stared to look for her coat and purse. All she wanted to do was find her coat and her phone so she could call an Uber and evaporate from this party before Frank could find her and make another snarky remark. Sometimes she wondered if he only existed so he could poke fun of her.

As she kept browsing through the endless sea of jackets, between the noise of the crumbling fabrics, she heard the door being shut behind her. Y/N rolled her eyes, expecting it to be Frank trying to play a trick on her but as she turned to face the door she didn’t see Frank. Instead, she saw one of her colleagues with whom she shared Medieval Narratives class with. 

   - Hi Nate. Looking for your coat? 

   - I was actually looking for you. Clara said she saw you come in here so I followed you. - he took a step closer to her, turning their once comfortable distance into one that she wasn’t very comfortable with. - You look stunning tonight. 

   - I know. - she said, taking a step back hoping it’d send a message that she was not keen with such closeness. She grabbed her coat from the hanger and purse quickly and tried to excuse herself but he refused to move. - Nate, I have to go. I have some essays I need to look into and I’m not in the mood for whatever this is. 

   - C’mon, I’m a nice guy. - he put his hand on her waist thus ending the tiny shred of patience that was still within her. With a might, she kicked him in the leg, making him crutch which gave her enough time to reach for the door, opening it wide and power walking out of it. However, he seemed to not be done with the constant following. - NEXT TIME DON’T DRESS LIKE A WHORE IF YOU DON’T SOMEONE TO APPROACH YOU!

She stopped on her tracks, still facing the door as she wondered if she had heard it correctly. By the sounds of the people surrounding her who had suddenly stopped their chats allowing her to listen to the music playing wide and clear, she had heard it well. 

   - You’re drunk, Nate. - she turned around to look at him, still keeping her distance and surrounding herself by other party goers who had found her answer not interesting enough to hold their attention. 

   - And you’re clearly still the same uptight goody two shoes who needs a good fuck to be put in her place. - Y/N rolled her eyes. Just what she fucking needed tonight. As she prepared to find a comeback for that and return to her beloved mission of reaching her home, someone punched him, the strength of the blow itself sending him to the ground. - What the fuck? 

   - Stay down if you know what’s good for you. - she recognised that voice way too well to know who it was. Her gaze went from Nate who was standing on the ground, clearly following orders, to Frank who had just punched him hard enough to scare him into not going up. God, great. Just what she needed, Frank to get a saviour complex. 

Deciding this was too much for her, she returned to her mission of reaching the outside which after a few “are you okay?” from some of her friends who were sober enough to recognise the situation, had been successfully reached. Y/N sat down on the sidewalk by the house, phone in hand as she read that her driver would be in her with an hour. On that specific moment, she agreed with Frank as she let out angry huff. 

   - Fuck the suburbs. - she mumbled, bringing her knees up to her chin. There was no way this night could get any worse. 

   - Are you alright? - Y/N looked up to see Frank. Had she not been harassed by someone she probably would need to see again, she would’ve probably found the strength within to tell him to leave her alone. - I can leave if you want me too, Y/N. 

   - Nice to know you can use my name. - she commented. - You didn’t need to do that, didn’t need your help. 

   - Yeah, I know but he was asking for it. - he took a seat on the sidewalk, a bit further from her. - I think Clara’s got the rest of the beating handled. God, she’s ruthless when she drinks cider. 

   - Should’ve seen her during Fresher’s week. She climbed up the roof of our student housing topless and screaming the lyrics of "Wake me Up Before you Go”. - Y/N giggled at the memory of her and her flatmates trying her hardest to remove Clara from the wet roof. 

   - How come you never tell me the interesting stories? - Frank slightly turned to look at her. He couldn’t see her face completely due to her hair in front of it, but of what he could see, she thought she was the most stunning thing brought to life. 

   - Well, you never ask me. - she too turned to look at him. - You cannot tell Clara that I told you that. 

   - Can’t promise anything. - he raised his hands. - How long til your Uber arrives?

   - An hour. - she huffed again. - Now I understand why you like the city so much.

   - Get up. - he raised from his seating position, lending her a hand so she could do the same. - I’ll take you home. 

   - Frank, I will not enter the death machine again specially when you’ve been drinking. - her eyes turned to the same car. God, how come someone whose parents were well off decided to get that type of thing and call it a car? 

   - Cheap alcohol does not affect me besides I want to give you a ride. Just to make sure you’re safe.

   - I’m safe enough in an Uber, Frank. 

   - Consider this, you’re an university student and it’s not gonna be cheap to catch an Uber during a Friday night. Just humour me, you don’t even have to speak with me, I’ll just drive you and drop you off. - he took his keys from his jacket pocket, the little keychain catching the little and she couldn’t help but let out a small smile as she recognised he was still using the keychain she had given him for Christmas. - You pick the music? 

  - No snarky comments? - she decided to negotiate. - And by snarky comments it includes calling me Rory Gilmore, Gilmore, Rory or any variation of the name. You will make me hate watching Gilmore Girls. 

  - Fine, deal. - Y/N followed Frank into his death machine also known by common people as a car. He kept his promise, not saying a single word and only turned on the radio which was playing some instrumentals. Throughout most of the journey, both their gazes were set on the road, not entirely sure how to interact to each other. She was the first to break the gaze from the road, turning her head ever to slightly to look at the side of his face. Y/N would never admit it out loud that Frank was an attractive but he was and somehow managed to look even better whenever his face was calm. Lips partially open, eyes slightly narrowed as his hands gripped onto the steering wheel. Her gaze settled on his parted lips, almost as if she could feel them against hers like Last Christmas.

If she were to be completely honest, she had put the event right in the back of her head fully knowing exactly what type of guy he was. She didn’t need to hear it from him, she knew it from accounts from Clara who’d normally complain about how many girlfriends her brother had gone through and how he liked to mess around with her friends to get under her skin. However, she was still a woman with taste and as such she found him wildly handsome.

    - Stop staring at me, Y/N. - he pulled over one of Yale’s residencies, not entirely sure where Y/N and Clara lived. - We’re here. 

    - Thanks. - she put her hands on her lap, diverting her gaze from him. - Uhm, I think I should also thank you for punching Nate. 

    - I would punch whatever guy disrespected you. - he shrugged, almost as if being her protector came to him naturally. - Even if you flirted with my friend prior.

   - I did not flirt with Jack, Frank. Even if I did it was none of your business. - if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve said he was being jealous. - Clara introduced us, if you must know. 

   - You can tell me you fancy him. I saw you all smiley as if he were a comedian which let me tell you, sweetheart, he definitely isn’t. 

   - I don’t fancy him. - she harshly opened the door of his car, huffing as she stepped out. Frank did the same but instead of lighting a cigarette, he instead walked to her, arms crossed. - Even if I was interested in Jack, I wouldn’t owe an explanation. You, out of all people who is constantly screwing around. 

   - Just asking, sweetheart. No need to get worked out over it. 

   - If it bothers you so much at least admit it, Frank. Don’t sulk about it like a school boy. - she took a step forward, heel clicking against the worn out asphalt of the ground.

   - You’re my baby sister’s friend, I couldn’t care less.  

   - Seems like you’re awfully interested, Frank.

   - You wish I was. - he put his hand on his pocket to fish for his cigarette pack along with his lighter. - Is that why you were flirting with Jack?

   - You know what ... - she dropped her purse to the ground, hands coming to grab his face as her lips collided with his for the first time since Christmas. The kiss went on for a while, lasting substantially longer than she had intended.

Y/N tested the waters plenty of times by pulling away slowly but, much to her surprise, Frank took a step forward each time with a smirk against his lips as he slowly pushed her against the side of his car. She thought it would last forever or at least until one of them lost breath. That someone proved to be Frank, who pulled away, a very large stretched grin across his wet chapped lips as he stared down at her, her eyes staring right back.

    - Hey! - a bright light shined their way, interrupting the moment. She looked in the direction seeing one of the campus security guard with a flashlight in hand. - No funny business on campus grounds. 

    - Sorry. - she mumbled as the guard went his merry way. Her eyes settled back on Frank. - I should go back to my flat. 

    - I’ll walk with you.

    - No. - she raised her hand. - You can go back, I know the way. 

    - Y/N ... wait. - he rushed after her. - I know you don’t wanna talk about it but I don’t flirt with you just because you’re my sister’s friend. 

    - It’s really not the point, Frank. I know the type of man you are and I know exactly how you act. I should probably know better but I don’t and I’m a few cups in of cheap wine so my judgement is clouded. 

    - Listen, maybe when your judgment isn’t so clouded, we can discuss this.

    - Sure, Frank. - she sighed, tired and wanting to go into a hole and scream at herself. What was wrong with her? God, this was worse than when she had a crush on the neighbour’s son. Why would she kiss him? Out of everyone? Was she feeling way too thankful for him being her weird white knight, she did not know, all she knew is that she needed to leave his sight, fast. - Good night. 

    - Night, Ace. 

[helisol]

Wait so.. link to this quodo fic you mentioned in your tags?? I’m intrigued :DD

its only an idea but i will HAPPILY ramble about it in detail under this read more because i never finish writing fics but i do love sharing my notes.

they get Pretty Extensive considering this clocked in at 2k words. so strap in.

tl;dr: karaoke night gone wild leads to garashir and quodo setting each other up for holodeck shenanigans

so basically quark has acquired a karaoke program. everyone on ds9 is going mad about it and it's keeping the holosuites booked out for weeks

the main squad decides to try it out and they just jam to a mix of human, klingon and bajoran music. but lets be real it's mostly human music because i have a mighty need to see captain benjamin sisko tear up the dancefloor to Earth Wind & Fire’s September. so sue me.

anyway everyone has to sing, even odo, even garak and they all have a blast. the only person who is notably absent is Quark because Quark has a bar to run and Quark can't indulge in mindless fun activities when he has money to make.

Unless… Odo challenges him and he has to prove that Odo is wrong.

so yeah quark checks on the gang to see how they like this “Hooman Kara-oke” and if he can sell them some drinks and everyone is like “hey you should sing. just one song. we won't even laugh about your bad ferengi singing! we promise!"

and quark is about to say "ferengi voices arent that bad. im still not gonna sing tho."

but odo is ahead of the game and insults his grating voice and how it could only be worse in song. and because this is quark he’s like “actually fuck you. now I WILL sing.”

so he snatches the mic from whoever was about to go next and fucking Crushes It. 

while odo starts Looking Respectfully everyone else is just going "woooooo! go quark!" which makes quark just get even more into it

Takes His Jacket Off, Drops It On The Floor, Dances With The Microphone Stand. The Works. and he's also enjoying himself like "haha! suck it odo! i'm a good performer, it's how I make money!"

until he actually looks at Odo and Odo is Looking Back and then he’s like “wait what the fuck why is he looking at me” and Promptly Messes Up A Step And Falls Off The Stage-

so now quark has a twisted ankle and julian has to take him to the infirmary, which bums out quite literally Everyone and the gathering disperses, leaving only Garak and Odo.

garak as we know is but a simple tailor, but he’s Observant and his little lizard eyes did spy odo looking at quark and making the soup-version of heart eyes. we also know he is the gayest bicth on this station so of course he’s going to poke and prod at odo to see how he reacts.

garak waits until everyone is out of the room and asks odo if he can walk the dear constable home to the ol’ bucket. because odo looked a little melty during quark’s performance, y’know. it’d be bad if he turned into soup on the promenade.

odo denies this, of course, so garak is like “oh great then we can have a Chat :)”

and odo goes "wait no i hate talking” but then they’re in garaks shop and drinking kanar and garak is getting drunk off his lizard ass and talking about Julian because, again, he IS THAT BITCH!

meanwhile in the infirmary, Julian is trying to take care of quark’s ankle, but since he’s nosy and kinda Knows that quark wouldn’t just mess up his steps for no reason he asks about that.

and quark loudly goes “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS JUST FIX MY DAMN ANKLE-”

which of course turns the nosyness up to 11 and has julian going 👀

"no i mean uh- i was distracted" "distracted? by what?" "nothing" "distracted by nothing?" "FIX. MY. ANKLE."

so julian sits him down on a biobed and gets whatever medical thingie fixes ankles in the 24th century. and while he does that he offers quark some wine to loosen the tongue about what made him slip.

anyway one thing leads to another and before you know it quark and julian are wine-drunk sitting on the infirmary floor and talking about garak. which suits quark just fine because it means he doesn’t have to admit he fell because odo was looking at him like he just revealed all the secrets of the universe along with his bare arms when he took off his jacket.

so we have two sets of gay idiots getting drunk in two locations and the next morning two sets of gay idiots have hangovers. yes odo gets a hangover. being soup does not exempt him from it.

julian and odo do the right, logical thing and take some meds to go to work and be productive and garak shows up in the bar to fight fire with fire and finds quark Already Doing That. 

so they just sit next to each other, beating their hangovers with more alcohol, and they get to talking.

garak goes on about how he took odo home and pretty much only talked about julian all night and quark is like “wow what a coincidence, the doctor and i only talked about you all night.” 

and it's all downhill from there because basically quark and garak just figured out that the garashir pining is Mutual.

"wait, julian was looking at me???" "yes." "AND I WAS LOOKING AT JULIAN-" "Yes."

and then they hash out this elaborate scheme to trap julian and garak in one of the Spy holosuite programs until they make out. this is garak and quark planning. how could they NOT make an elaborate scheme involving holosuites.

anyway i promised quodo so i will keep the ‘garashir makes out in the holosuite’ section a lil more brief

so within the next two days these two gay bitches whip up a new “The Adventures Of Agent Bashir” program, but quark has ‘adjusted’ the program a little so that it only ends when the main characters kiss. fun stuff.

garak and julian go through the program, havin a blast being spies, but at the end garak’s character gets “shot”, and they are so immersed in the story that julian is Actually Concerned and garak Actually Acts like he's in pain.

they kiss, the program ends, and garak- not actually shot- goes “haha gotcha, you wanted to kiss me before i died” 

so they walk out the holosuite one hour after their time is already up with a lot of hickeys and untied bowties. hooray.

But That’s Not What We’re Here For.

after garak and julian come down from the high of getting together julian asks Just How and Why quark would agree to help with this. quark Never helps Unless he’s helping himself.

and they realised Quark Has Played Them Like Cheap Kazoos. he just wanted to take attention away from himself and the unanswered question of why he suddenly fell off the stage.

so they go "wait, if odo and quark were both lying and obscuring facts and being weird about this, doesn't that mean- ohhh"

and it boils down to them deciding to help those poor fuckers because they are apparently off even worse than they were in terms of mutual pining.

they also hash out an elaborate scheme. this time it involves odo’s never ending hard on for finding reasons to throw quark into jail.

since quark technically violated the holosuite rules by locking garak and julian in there garak goes over to odo to report the “Crime”

after some back and forth about Why In The World Garak, Friend And Tailor, would report a crime to odo that doesn’t affect anyone’s safety Odo heads to the bar to investigate the holosuites and if there really was criminal activity.

he doesn’t ask quark for permission, mostly because he’d never ask permission to snoop around in quark’s property but also because quark is actually not there at the moment. for Some Reason he’s being held up in the infirmary. Weird.

so odo is looking through the holosuite recordings of the last few days, and he runs through what garak said was the illegal activity of locking them in there and just goes "Ah, alright, i can throw him in a holding cell for that.” but then he sees a message left by garak.

it was apparently left there today so garak must have prepared this which means something is afoot. and the message just reads "the karaoke session was recorded and you might wanna check what Actually™ made quark trip :)"

to which odo reacts with "hmph. why should i care. maybe hes just messing with me and quark tripped over a cable." but Odo looks at it anyway. respectfully.

and he watches the whole performance up until the point where quark falls. Multiple Times. until he remembers that this is a criminal investigation and he finally looks at the part where he falls from quark’s perspective, which is the important one.

and he just. looks right at himself. looking at quark.

and holy shit. he looked at him like he was going to shove him against a wall, not to beat him up, but to make out with him. he straight up looked like he was going to mess him up but not with his fists.

so he stands right in front of quark and replays that moment to see quark’s reaction and analyse how he fell. and sure enough quark Saw Him and his knees gave out.

after that he really just wants to walk out and spend the next 30 hours as a houseplant to cleanse his mind of any quark-related thoughts but uh oh. when he opens the holosuite door Quark Is Right There.

and odo panics and just pulls him inside, accidentally re-initiating the spy program.

“But how did Quark happen to be there at just the right time?” i hear you ask well it was OUR MAN BASHIR

while garak was at odos place telling him to investigate quark’s wrongdoings, quark himself got called to the infirmary for a check-up on his twisted ankle.

and julian kept him there, examining his ankle over and over, until garak came in to Insinuate that Someone is snooping around in the holosuites.

so quark, yelling "NO COPS IN MY BAR", hurries over to the holosuites on his totally fine ankle and bada bing bada boom, here we are.

with two idiots stuck in a locked holosuite.

odo is like "QUARK WTF" meanwhile quark is like "ODO WTF"

"YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" "NO YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" ”well it was you who pulled me in here" "but it was you who designed it like this"

anyway to get out they have to go through the program somehow. quark and garak programmed this very carefully. unless they follow the general story, there’s no way out.

and at first quark says "listen, its okay, we just have to kiss" to which odo replies with that kinda look you’d get from someone if you told them to swallow a cactus whole, for fun.

"you heard me" "quark if this is a joke-" "its not. i made rom pull an all nighter to put in the new sensors." "you paid him for this???" "no." "right of course."

and after a very quick cheek kiss doesn’t end up doing the trick the two actually go through the program properly. except quark knows the script, cheats a little, takes shortcuts and totally doesnt impress odo by shooting a few hologram guards on the way.

so they get to the end, where they believe odo is supposed to get “shot”, but turns out they mixed up the roles and quark is the one who gets shot.

And Odo Doesn’t Know. The Safeties. Are. On.

so he tearfully goes "WAIT NO- QUARK!" and quark is like "odo...odo come closer..."

"yes, quark?"

"kiss me"

"quark please dont die i'll kiss you and we'll beam you straight to the infirmary and-" "ODO JUST KISS ME"

and then they kiss. the holosuite controls unlock and quark thinks ‘oh great, now we can leave-’ but odo doesnt stop kissing him

and he doesn’t Stop kissing him until quark actually speaks up and has to go "HEY IF THIS WERE REAL I’D BE DYING BY NOW-"

"what?" "the safeties are on. I didn’t get shot. you just had to kiss me to unlock the controls-"

and odo is like "QUARK"

and quark is like "ODO"

and then odo gets up and is very convinced that he Must Turn Into A Houseplant For A Ferengi Lifespan To Atone For His Sins.

but quark says “no, wait. can you do it again?”

"yelling at you?" "kissing me."

anyway odo finally gets to fulfill his fantasy of pushing quark against a wall and quark finally gets kissed by odo like hes dreamed of for like 15 years or however long ago it was that they were first on terok nor together during the cardassian occupation.

the end.

[raleighcarrera]

16. Best Tattoo vs Worst Tattoo for Raleigh x MC because I am addicted to how you write them

best vs. worst prompts / 16. best tattoo vs. worst tattoo

the worst tattoo 

she squints, eye-level with raleigh’s hipbone. “but... what is it?”

the huff he gives, as he reaches down to swat at her arm, is exasperated. “it’s a diamond.”

cadence’s grin spreads, her pointer finger poking at the -- admittedly blurry -- tattoo. “as in... baby you’re a diamond, let me give you a ring?”

raleigh’s silence is answer enough. then he sighs, “shut up.” 

“talkin’ bout forever,” she continues, “i’m not here for a -- raleigh!”

cadence wiggles where she’s suddenly flipped beneath him on the mattress, laughing as she squirms in the sheets. “oh my god, you’re such a baby.”

“you’re a baby,” he insists, pinning her flailing arms down to the bed above her head. “you’d better watch your mouth.”

“oh yeah?” she challenges, lips splitting into a grin, “what’re you going to do about it?”

“you won’t like it,” he warns, settling more fully on top of her, pressing her down with his weight. “but... if you stop being a brat, i’ll tell you about the tattoo.”

her eyes widen, and she nods as innocently as she can, pursing her lips shut. “i promise. let me up!”

he does, and they lay side-by-side in bed, shuffling until they’re sharing the same pillow. her eyes drop back to the tattoo at the top of his thigh.

“so -- it was the night of our album release party,” he starts, voice heavy and serious as though he’s telling a story of great loss and not something that’s objectively hilarious, “i was sixteen and very, very drunk. obviously i should not have been allowed to get a tattoo, but -- what artist is going to say no to raleigh carrera?”

“unbelievable,” she murmurs, and then, when he arches an eyebrow at her, “sorry -- continue.”

“so me blair and cameron kill the bottle of patron and blair is like, we’re going to be best friends for the rest of our lives, this is unreal, our lives are changing forever -- yadda, yadda, yadda. the album debuted at number one and everyone was freaking out. i was a kid with more money in my bank account than i knew what to do with. anyway, cameron was the one to suggest the matching tattoos. he said if we all got diamonds it’d manifest the album going diamond.”

“okay, but -- that’s so cute. so -- are you telling me you all have those blurry little blobs on your legs?”

raleigh rolls his eyes. “well... i went first.”

her teeth bite at the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh. “oh, no.”

“yes. those fuckers backed out as soon as it was done. i could have killed them. but at least it’s small, i guess.”

“sure, but... why does it look so --”

“bad?”

she nods hesitantly, her expression curious.

“well, it was, like, four o’clock in the morning. i don’t know that anyone should be tattooing that late. and i think it’s probably gotten worse with time.” his hands slide slowly up and down her arms, the expression on his face thoughtful. “i almost got it covered up, when we first met. but then you did that whole -- your past and your present can coexist, thing, and you changed my mind.” 

cadence’s eyes soften when they meet his. she leans in a little closer, until her nose bumps into raleigh’s affectionately. “that’s really sweet.”

he shrugs, as though it’s nothing -- but it’s not, and they both know that. their lips meet gently in a brief kiss.

“you know...” one hand dips below the sheets to curl over the tattoo below his hip. “it’s not so bad.”

the laugh he gives is closer to a scoff than anything else. “it’s pretty bad.”

“yeah, but it’s part of you,” she argues, expression warm, eyes bright. the look on his face lightens, and something like tenderness creeps into raleigh’s eyes. “and i love every part.”

“corny,” he mumbles, just before he pushes her back down flat for kisses again.

the best tattoo 

“are you sure about this?”

raleigh grins at her from where he’s already shrugging out of his shirt, buttons undone and fabric falling to the floor. “positive, babe. i’ve been saving the perfect spot for it.”

“you’re out of your mind,” she mutters, shaking her head good-naturedly as he settles into the tattoo chair, chest pressed to its front. raleigh waves her over while the artist finishes setting up behind him, and she goes, slipping her hand into his.

he thumbs at the engagement ring taking up a majority of the real estate on her hand, his eyes suspiciously soft in the studio lighting. 

“nervous?” she asks, squeezing his fingers. 

“nah. i’ve done this a thousand times. bet you i won’t even flinch.”

“big talk from someone who hasn’t had blood work in five years because of the needles,” cadence hums, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from her fiance.

behind raleigh, the tattoo artist holds the cocktail napkin with the design printed on it aloft. “we’re still going with this, right?”

“right,” raleigh chirps, “smack dab on the shoulder.”

cadence peeks around and sees the sketch already in place. her chest feels tight with affection, her stomach doing happy backflips. “it looks sick,” she admits, teeth digging into her bottom lip to stifle a smile. 

“how could it not?” he asks, his mouth twisting into that familiar smirk that’s had her heart racing since day one. “you’re looking at art, right there. that’s the world’s most perfect set of lips.”

“oh my god,” she laughs, as even the tattoo artist chuckles, “shut up.” 

her gaze flits down to the napkin, sitting innocently on the table. her own lip print, stark red when she’d first kissed the napkin last night but now a little faded, stares back at her. 

they’d been at some dumb, boring industry party when it came to him. there were plenty of people who tried talking to them, but raleigh led her around the room by the hand until they’d dodged every last one of them and found a corner of the space to be alone in, grabbing a tiny table by the kitchen where no one would bother them.

he’d ignored the food and drinks in favor of kissing her for what could have been hours, until her mouth felt sore and her jaw was tender from the repeated scratch of his stubble. still, she sighed wistfully when he pulled away to let her breathe, just as dumbstruck by what an amazing kisser he was as she had been that very first time their lips had met backstage.

“i can’t wait to kiss you for the rest of my life,” raleigh had murmured with his hands cupping her face, pressing first into her jaw and then the corner of her mouth, trailing his thumb along her lipstick-smudged bottom lip. “you have the most perfect mouth.”

“raleigh,” she’d breathed, so overcome with love and affection for what felt like the most perfect man that she had to kiss him again, eagerly, until the rest of the room melted away. 

“seriously, though,” he’d said, staring at her in fascination as the tip of his thumb disappeared into her mouth when they broke apart again, “i have an idea.”

and that was how they found themselves here, with her squeezing his hand and smiling sweetly at him while her exact kiss print was inked onto his back, right in the little spot on his shoulder where the rest of his tattoos ended and she so loved to press her lips, in the mornings when she found him in the kitchen making coffee or in the shower when she slipped in behind him or even above his jacket, if there were other people around, and her arms folded around his waist from behind, just because she wanted to say hello and couldn’t resist the temptation.

“check it out,” the artist declares finally, when the buzzing has stopped and the ink is wiped away, just before she’s about to tape him up. “it looks great.”

she steps around to get a good look at it, and, yeah -- those are her lips, stuck on raleigh carrera’s body forever. smudged-lipstick imperfections and all. “holy shit.”

“lemme see,” he demands, shifting in front of the mirror and twisting around eagerly. “oh, dude. it looks awesome.”

she stands around dazed as raleigh gets dressed and exchanges fist bumps with anyone in the studio who will offer them, signing everything puts in front of him and passing over a stack of cash so fat no one will ever know they were here.

it’s only when they’re back at their penthouse that she says, “i seriously can’t believe you did that. this is, like, the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

she knows he’s about to say something hopelessly cheesy by the goofy grin that takes over his face, at odds with the way the adrenaline from the tattoo still has his pupils blown wide. “fitting,” raleigh replies, tugging her towards their bedroom before she’s even got her shoes and jacket off, “that’s exactly how i feel about you.”

[itsdingdong]

Define Us - pjm

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: smut, angst, roommate au, slice of life, some fluff

Warnings: explicit language, smut

Word count:3792

18+

Synopsis: The day you enroll the university Jungkook is there to help you. When you have difficulties with the place you move in, Jungkook asks if you’d like to be his and his friend, Jimin’s roommate. The tension between you two is undeniable but you’re not certain of your feelings. How will things turn out with Jimin after a night out?

⌜Hope you’ll enjoy…💜⌟

You’ve met Jungkook on the day you enrolled to the university. He was in charge of helping the newcomers. There was a document missing and he was signed to help you. It was the last day of the enrollments and the guy that was supposed to be renting you the house you were going to move in turned out a fraud. That was the reason you got there the last minute. You found a place but it was too expensive and located way too far away from the school.

Having to spend the half of the day running here and there for signatures, you’ve become familiar with one another. After the term began, he would always call you over during breaks and you’d join him and his friends. You were so grateful that your breaks coincided with the only person you knew there.

Eventually you two ended up becoming good friends. One day, he was appalled to see your puffy red eyes as he was leaving the school. You ended up explaining him that you were having problems with your place. Right away he told you that him and his roommate were looking for a roommate and asked you if you’d like to move in with them. You didn’t take the offer right away since it’d be relatively odd to stay in a boys, let alone a person you’ve never met in person’s house but you finally gave in and decided to give it a shot.

 The highly anticipated weekend was finally here after an exhausting week. You going from place to place for job interviews to be able to pay the rent for Jungkook’s place which you now shared with his other friend Jimin.

With Jimin things were different. You were here now for almost 2 months and you got along very well. There was a chemistry. You couldn’t quite tell if it was a romantic or more of a sexual one, either way whenever he was around, your body somehow reacted to him.

It wasn’t obvious whether if he liked you or just wanted to fuck your brains out. On the other hand the attraction you felt towards him was something tad different than just lust. You wouldn’t hate going into bed with him but it was really likely for you to feel hurt afterwards to act as if nothing had happened. You guess you actually really did like him.

 It has been two weeks since you started looking up for a job and you finally landed in one. Part-time but enough to pay for your part of the rent. You were in front of the condo waiting for boys to let you in.  “What’s the password?” You could feel Jungkook smiling now through entry phone.

 “Let me in.”

 “Oh wrong address.”

 “I’ll be going then.” You pretend to leave and he chuckled and granted the entrance. You slowly made your way up.

“Come on in.”

You open the door and let yourself in.

 “Boys?”

 Jungkook and Jimin were both sat on the couch looking intently at the phone in Jungkook hands.

“You received a dick pick? Congrats!” You cooed at Jungkook as you closed the door behind you.

“You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?” Commented Jimin as he smirked at you. You smiled and shook your head disapprovingly as you start untying your shoes. “Fuck off.”

Jimin chuckled and motioned you hello with his free hand while Jungkook was still scrolling through something. “Hey.” You mouthed back. You went to your room to drop off your stuff and went back to the living room just before they stood up.

“Hey boys. How has your day been?”

 “Not bad really. How about yourself?” Jungkook spoke as poured himself some water from the counter.

 “Tiring but now I have a job!” You said shrugging.

 “Oh congratulations!”

 “Thank you. Thank you.”

 You did a little dance and took a bow.

 “How about we go out to celebrate? And this way you won’t be able to have an excuse.” You asked and looked at him expectantly. Jungkook stopped and thought quickly before nodding.

 “Why not? You coming too Jimin.” He nudged him.

 “Can’t let two ladies go out by themselves.” Jimin joked and came to you put his elbow on your shoulder and leaned on you. This made your heart skip a beat but you remained cool.

“Pfft. True.” Scoffed Jungkook. “Let me see if the boys will tag along.” And he left the room leaving you and Jimin alone. He moved away from you without breaking the eye contact. “Let’s have some fun tonight.”

 It took you approximately an hour to leave. Despite the common belief, boys took longer to get ready, defying the odds. Boys were going to meet you at the club.

As you were headed there you caught his eyes on you multiple times. The night was going to be interesting. Maybe tonight was going to be the one to define you. What you were to one another.

The boys were already here, encircling a table in the back of the club. Typical night out for them, or just whenever they were together it was all laughter and jokes, pretty much enjoying themselves no matter what. Jimin offered his arm to support you in your heels as you got to where the guys were.

“Finally! I was going to call the cops.”

“I swear this isn’t on me this time.” You put your hands up laughing.

“Well you look great love.” Hoseok complimented.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him humbly.

“The night has only begun, keep the flirting for later on.” Spoke Jin out of nowhere, making everything go absolutely awkward.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably next to you. “I’ll get the drinks. Jungkook, soju yeah?” Jungkook was in the middle of a saying something before briefly nodding at Jimin he went back to talking to Taehyung. “I’ll have a-” Your sentence was cut right in the middle because he already was headed to the bar. “Cheongju?” You stare after him slightly stupefied.

You stood there waiting for him to comeback as the guys were long gone into a conversation about God knew what. You felt like you’ve done something like you were responsible for his odd behavior but the thing was that there was nothing to be acting the way he did. A sigh escaped your lips catching Namjoon’s attention.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Just a little tired.”

“Oh come on the night haven’t even started yet.” He was right you’ve been here for only 15 minutes and here you were being a Debbie Downer for no reason. “Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled at him, trying to lighten up your mood. A moment later Jimin joined you with two beers and a Cheongju in his hands. Handed Jungkook his beer and you, your drink. “Thanks.” He looked away as he took a sip from his beer. This was starting to get on your nerves. Why was he acting like this? What was the point?

After two drinks you were starting to feel them oozing into your mind and weakening your mind and body. Your limit was 3, beyond that was blackout. It had the effect of a 3 on you. This drink was already strong as it was but since your stupid ass decided it was okay to do shots when they weren’t even half way empty, you were somewhere in between drunk and tipsy at this point.

The rhythm was bringing your hidden careless self out. Along with the drink as well. As you were dancing it felt like nothing mattered. You felt sexy. Shortly after showing off some of your dance moves you stole off of some stuff you’ve watched online, you were pulled in for a dance off with Hoseok. You were going from competing to dancing together and so on. Mixture of cheers and laughter erupted between you as you enjoyed each other’s company.

Your mind wandered off to Jimin for a second. Wondered what he was up to during all the dancing. You knew he wasn’t particularly a dancer unless he was truly drunk. You tried to find him in the club as the lights danced on the zombie like bodies that were dancing off tempo to the beat.

At first your eyes missed him but the second time you saw him the picture finally sank in. There was a girl. Dancing on him. Literally she was on him grinding and was holding onto him as if her dear life was depended on this. This girl was all over him. She attempted to kiss him but he didn’t let her. That very moment his eyes met yours.

This wasn’t right. Your chest filled up with pain. What was this? Jealousy? You diverted your gaze and attempted to focus on the sweaty bodies away from where he was stood. “At least someone is enjoying themselves.” Stated Jungkook coming up to you with a bottle of soju in his hand, pointing at Jimin. “Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked attempting to shrug off the stabbing pain in your chest. “Yeah. You?”

“Well, I will.” You smirk as a not so smart but good enough for an intoxicated state of mind kind of an idea came to your mind. You let your body loosen up and leave yourself into the hands of the music. Your hips started to sway to the beat, earning a cheer from Jungkook before him going back to where the other lads were. Your hands go up and down on your torso as you give a quick suggestive glance at Jimin. He wasn’t looking. You ignored and continued the process. Just before you were about to hit the ground you felt someone’s hand on your arm.

“Mind if I join you?” Asked a stranger. His breath smelled of gin and cigarettes. He wasn’t going to remember tonight. Heck like you were. “Please.” You turned your back to him and kept swaying your ass. The dress slightly going up with every courageous move you make. You did make a daring fashion choice but the person you made it for was too busy with someone else.

As you kept dancing, more like grinding at this point the stranger started to get rougher with you. At first you let it be but slowly it was becoming aggravating. You were trying to get away from his arms without making it look like it but he pulled you even tighter and you felt a bulge poking your back, you truly hated everything. Hated yourself. Hated Jimin for making you doing stupid things like this. You hated Jimin because he drove you crazy and he chose that slut. You attempted to escape his grip one more time. This time you were being obvious. You didn’t want him or his stupid dick. You just wanted to leave.

“We’re not done yet sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?” He leaned for a kiss but you pushed his face away. “Let the girl go.” Jimin’s hand was on the guys shoulder in a threatening manner. The guy let go of you and raised his hands in surrender. Jimin’s physique must’ve intimidated him. Compared to Jimin, he in no shape to win a fight against him.

After the guy left our sight, it was you and Jimin. You staring anywhere but him. His eyes on nowhere but you. “I’m going home.” Your voice came out weak but you were surprised it did after all. You doubted he heard you in this loud place. You glanced at him before moving away from him. His facial expression told you that he was mad, fuming really but he wasn’t likely to show aggression. He wasn’t that kind of a person. Not because he was a softy or anything but because he was too chill for that jazz.

You managed to find your table then took your purse avoiding any possible eye contact from the boys then left. It only took you about 15-20 minutes to get home. You were already sober with the adrenaline. Way to ruin a night out. The heels were killing you by now so you took them off in the elevator and waited to reach our floor. With the beep sound, the elevator reached your floor and the doors opened. The feeling of familiarity was all you needed right now and as soon as you were a step away from the main door, your wish was granted.

The night was supposed to be great and yet here you were by yourself feeling worse than ever. If it weren’t for Jimin, you could’ve ended up in this guy’s house and God knows what would’ve happened then. You hated that you owed him that now. You gently put the key to the key hole, shortly after realizing it’s the wrong key. Just you were about to look for the next one someone grabbed you from the wrist and spun you over, pinned you to the door and forced a kiss on you. His cologne was familiar enough to knock you out of your senses. This wasn’t the familiarity you were asking for. Or was it? As much as you wanted to kiss him, more than anything in the world you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. It didn’t take him long to get that. He stepped away to look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Honestly? Everything.”

“Is it because of that guy?”

“Yes.” A big fat lie.

“Or is it the girl?” You rolled your eyes before kneeling down to get the keys.

“Why are you even here?” You spoke, your voice harsher than you intended it to be. You put the right key in this time and managed to open the door.

“I followed you.” He entered after you then closed the door behind him.

“Creepy.” You mock and put the keys on the key holder. You rush to your room that ironically happens to be right next to his. Just you were about to close the door he came in.

“You can’t deny what we have.” He leaned on the wall, blocking your way.

“What is it that we have?” You asked slowly losing your temper.

He took a step toward you, closing the distance. Just before he could you moved away from him.

“Look. Maybe we did have something. But now, it doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

Why did your chest hurt so badly?

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re not meant to be.”

“But we are. Look you’re the only one in my mind. Every minute, every fucking second.”

 “Bullshit.” You sat yourself down on your bed to take a breath. The argument was getting heated up and you didn’t want that, not that you didn’t want to argue with him but to give him that. He felt important but was he really that important?

“If you want to address to what happened tonight, it was all your fault.” He said coldly.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him offended, your voice raised slightly. He sighed and sat next to you.

“If you weren’t wagging your tail at Hoseok like that nothing would’ve happened. The girl. That jerk. This, right now.”

“I wagged my tail at Hoseok? He’s my friend! You should’ve known that by now. Your stupid misunderstanding led to this. It caused a chain reaction and now I feel more defeated than you I have.”

“How about we stop blaming each other and enjoy each other’s company? It’s just you and me at last.”

“Jimin I-“ you tried to protest. He cut you off by putting his thumb on your lip then moved it on your cheek as he intently watched you.

“I’m going to show you what it is that we have.” He leaned in and waited for you for a second to see whether if you liked it or not. You didn’t hate it but you were butt hurt and you wanted to rant but he was making it impossible. It was as impossible as resisting to him.

Once he made sure it was okay to kiss you, he slowly pecked you. Your heart fluttered with the warm feeling taking over your body. His eyes met yours briefly. There was hunger, lust and a little bit of innocence hidden. Was it perhaps love? You gulped on your thought right before he connected our lips for a longer kiss. You were no longer mad. You wanted him. You wanted him right there and then. You put your hands on each side of his cheeks deepening the kiss turning it into a full on make out session. He broke the kiss to look at you.

“Holy shit.”

You pulled him to continue from where you were left off only for him to pull back again. Disappointed in the loss of his soft lips on yours, you let out a grunt and gave him an annoyed look.

“If you won’t stop me now, you won’t be able to.”

“I don’t want you to.” You spoke as moving a stray hair out of his face, giving him a smile. His mouth dropped a little to say something. His face was redder than you could ever imagine him possible be. His lips once more found yours much more forcefully. With the impact of the kiss you were now lying on your bed. He easily turned you around and you were now on top. You could feel his growing member underneath you making you more aroused than you already were. His hand found the hem of your little dress, removing it with one swift move leaving you in your purposefully picked lacy underwear. He admired your body for a second and seemed pleased with the choice you’ve made.

“Mm. Somebody was prepared.” He grinned. You felt the blood rushing up to your cheeks so you leaned in for a kiss. You didn’t want him to see the affect he had on you.

“That’s cute.” He smiled in between the kiss. Well shit.

“Shit baby.” He spoke breathlessly as he admired your breasts and pulled you closer to him as he gently palmed them. You moved your hips a little to rub his manhood. A moan escaped his plump lips. Then you pushed him off with a smirk on your face before tugging on his shirt signaling for him to strip down.

“Your wish is my command.”

He quickly took off his shirt and his pants. You licked your lips and admired the view. He was like a Greek statue. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Like what you see huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” You smile and give him a kiss as you climb back on him. After giving one last peck on his lips you slowly started going down on his body. He exhaled loudly then tilted his head back. You kept leaving trails of sloppy kisses until you stop on his V-line just before you got to his manhood. You sucked on him little through the fabric of his boxers making him shiver with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down and took his member in your hand and stroked him up and down. He gave you a vulnerable look as you brought your lips closer to him; he gulped right before gave him a little peck. Then you started to lick him from his base to the tip of his shaft. You tease him by making delicate circles with your tongue on his tip before wrapping your lips around his member. His hands almost immediately found the back of your head and pushed you further down to your surprise. You gagged a little before readjusting yourself to take him deeper.

“Sorry.” He breathed chuckling. “Jesus.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes then gave his now rock hard member another kiss before taking him back in.

“Damn you’re good.”

You giggled then shrugged with a smug look on your face.

“Your turn now. I want to taste you baby.” He brought you back up and gently placed you on the mattress and kneeled down before the area you craved him the most. He teased your entrance with his tongue then swirled it around your clit. Every spot his lips touched was aching for his touch.

“So this is the affect I have on you?” He whispered turning you on more than you already were. You didn’t think that was even possible.

A moan escaped your arched lips causing him to smile with amusement and victory.

“I’m almost there.” You breathed heavily feeling the throbbing sensation taking over your lower abdomen.

“Wait for me baby.” He said before standing up, motioning you to scoot further so he could join you in the bed. He climbed on top of you then placed himself in between your legs. He rubbed his dick along your entrance teasing you mercilessly.

“Stop teasing.” You said through gritted teeth. He smirked at your hastiness and licked his lips as if you hadn’t suffered enough.

Hasty or not you couldn’t wait any longer so you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him to you startling him with your sudden action.

He collided his lips with yours as finally slid himself in. Your bodies became one. You pulled him closer with your arms leaving you chest to chest. His warmth on you sent an ecstatic feeling into each pore existing on your body. With each thrust you were again getting closer and closer to your climax this time to be able to let it go. He planted brief kisses now and then on your lips as he continued to penetrate you.

“I’m-.” You moaned and tensed around him before you could let him know your body was trembling with your climax.

His breathing increased and his thrusts became erratic indicating he was also close. He pulled out and jerked off and spilled himself all over your belly.

“You made a big mess big boy.” You teased playfully. He laughed and stood up to get a towel.

“Let’s take a shower instead.” You offered.

“One condition.” He jumped back on the back looking dead serious.

“Uh...yeah, okay what is it?”

“Be my girlfriend.” He spoke softly nuzzling into your neck leaving small traces of kisses here and there.

“Oh. OH. Well I thought it would be like a one night stand kind of a thing.” You pushed his face away.

His face fell almost immediately. He looked down and gulped and you truly felt bad at the sight. Yet it was definitely worth it.

“I’m just messing with you.” You smacked his arm and leaned in for a peck.

“You, are the worst.” He put his hand on his chest sighing in relief.

“Seriously though. Let’s get it done before Jungkook gets back.”

“After you girlfriend.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 184 prt 1

184

Three wolves were a nightmare on his household budget. Not feeling particularly like cooking, they’d lived off the extra food Hunk had brought over until that’d run out and Lance had left the shopping to Rieva and Matt. Matt acting as if vegetables had insulted his family, Rieva not buying him a few big blocks of chocolate because too much sugar was bad for the twins. They were both banned now and Lance was having to get creative with stretching every meal as far as he could make it go with rice until he was both apologised to and bribed with chocolate.

Keith had taken over their bedroom. Not that Lance minded, things were still shaky and Keith still getting used to his ego, but their bed was now back to how it was. Blankets upon blankets with more blankets that Keith wasn’t allowed to tamper with because they made it easier for Lance to sleep. He was officially in his third trimester. The idea of giving birth more daunting than ever. Getting out of bed involved a three point turn, and there wasn’t a moment that his hips didn’t hurt with the weight of their foot and a half long subs. In some ways it felt to Lance that he was back at the start of his pregnancy. All he wanted to do was nap. He came out of a nap to pee, then straight back into the next nap. His hours now more nighttime, sleep rhythm out the window. How normal humans coped marvelled him.

It’d been a week and a half since the full moon. Keith had broken three forks, two knives, a cup, a bowl, and a plate, all by accident as he tried to help with the washing up only to use too much strength. His boyfriend felt bad. Insisting he’d replace everything, though Lance had countered that politely. What was the point of getting new things until Keith could control his strength. Currently Keith and Matt were hanging out the washing, while Lance was avoiding Rieva. She’d gone and put ideas in his head, that he now couldn’t get out of his head and seemed to haunt his dreams.

She thought he and Keith should have sex. Lance wanted to wait. But the sexual tension only seemed to be growing. He’d snuck off into the shower in the middle of the night with a vibrator just to keep a level head come morning. Usually he was the one oozing pheromones, yet lately all he smelt was Keith. The second things looked as if they were going to get heated, Lance would pull away, not wanting to force himself on his boyfriend. It was hard. So damn hard. Waking up wet and horny, aching for Keith, only to slip off to the bathroom and take matters into his own hands. Sometimes he couldn’t come, making him feel infinitely worse. If he talked to Keith about things, he felt like he’d be forcing their relationship. Plus Keith was still learning that privacy was a thing of the past now he could hear everything.

All he wanted was to be able to wait until Keith was ready.

“Lance?”

Hearing Keith call his name, Lance shocked himself as he moaned in response. There was nothing sexy about the sandwich he was currently making to satisfy his cravings. Coughing fakely to clear his throat, he knew he couldn’t take back the sound, but didn’t want to acknowledge it either

“W-what’s up?”

“Matt and Rieva are going for a run. They asked if I want to go with them”

Lance’s silly horny hopes soared, then in the same heartbeat crashed back to reality. Keith needed to be off doing wolf things and getting used to that side of himself.

Slicing through the tomato he’d been working on, the vampire tried to keep his voice level

“You should go if you want to. It’ll be good for you”

“Are you okay? Your scent is all over the place”

Fuck his scent. Pressing his lips together, Lance hummed instead of replying

“Mhmm...”

“If you don’t want me to go...”

“No! No... shit...”

He didn’t want to limit Keith. He didn’t want to bind him either... though he kind of did... Angry with himself, he nicked his finger on the knife.

Striding into the kitchen, Keith took him by the wrist, pulling him over to the tap to wash the wound

“Are you okay?! What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m a bit distracted, but you should go. It’ll do you good”

“If you really mean that, why won’t you look at me?”

Lance knew the moment he looked Keith in the eyes he’d be well and truly fucked

“It’s nothing”

“You can tell me. I’m not going to get mad. If I’ve done something...”

Stupid Keith and his stupid considerate feelings. The question hurt more than his cut finger and he’d done a pretty good job on that

“It’s not... it’s fine. I’ve got this, it’s healing already”

“Lance... Please... I want to know what I did”

God give him strength

“You haven’t done anything wrong”

“Then why are you acting like this”

“Because I’m mad at myself. It’s not you. It’s me. Can you please just let me clean this up myself?”

Krolia had asked him if he’d had sex with Keith. Lance choking on air. The question coming out of nowhere, making Keith snap as the others laughed. He could feel the warmth of Keith soaking in through where he held his wrist. His damn dick twitching. He knew how good their sex life had been and now he... he wanted to jump Keith’s bones. For no apparent reason, Keith moved behind. His breath tickling Lance’s ear

“Could it be something else... like maybe your horny?”

Lance shuddered as Keith rutted against him

“Keeeeith... don’t...”

“Why not?”

“Because... I’m... trying to be... respectful”

“Matt and Rieva won’t care. They’ve already taken Kosmo ahead”

“So you knew... and you were testing me?”

“I heard you and Rieva talking. You could have talked to me”

Turning the tap off, Keith placed his hand on Lance’s belly. Nipping on his ear, Lance closed his eyes as he tried not to be swept alone

“You’re still healing... we don’t... don’t know... if... Keith...”

“I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you until your fingers break the wood”

Jesus Christ. Werewolf Keith was as much of a slut as drunk Keith. Lance’s ego was all for having attention lavished on him. Some days it was on edge about Keith, but for a vampire, it seemed okay with Keith now the moon had passed and Keith was settling nicely. Sliding his hand down the front of Lance’s yoga pants, Lance’s head lolled back as he moaned

“Fuuuuck... babe...”

“Like that?”

“Mmm... feels... good”

“Then you’ll like what comes next even more”

Before Lance could ask what came next, Keith pulled his hand away. One moment he’d been at the sink, the next he was laid out on the kitchen table with Keith pulling his pants down. Bent as much as he could be thanks to his belly, the kisses they shared were frantic. Teeth gnashing painfully against teeth. Canines and fangs cutting each other’s lips as Lance moaned. Fuck. He needed this so much. He needed Keith so much. He wanted to feel their bond. He wanted to feel connected. More so then he wanted to be respectful. His overthinking went out the window. He wanted Keith to blow his mind. Nearly a full month without sex left him starved. Fucking Rieva was right, not that he’d tell her.

Keith didn’t seem to care about being patient and taking things slowly. Unable to stop himself, he tore at Lance’s shirt, Lance taking over to strip himself as Keith got the message and pulled his own off

“Fuck... I want to be in you already”

Shirts were thrown somewhere. Lance eager for more kisses as Keith fought with his jeans. It frustrated him that he couldn’t help, but his frustrations were rewarded by the strong mind numbing scent of Keith’s arousal. How one man could be so damn sexy annoyed him. Keith’s teeth poked over his lips, hair already mussed...

“You smell so fucking good. Look at you... I can smell your wetness...”

“Babe, I get you want to talk sexy, but less talking and more fucking...”

Keith grabbed him by the hips, yanking him to the edge of the table, before Lance was seeing stars. Legs up on Keith’s shoulders, the kisses he’d wanted went out the window as Keith buried his face down there. Fucking hell... the position couldn’t be comfortable for Keith, but his tongue... oh god the things Keith had done with that tongue... now he was... there was no hesitation. No asking. Keith seemed to see right through him and knew what he wanted. Slow and tender could wait for later. Now was about being in the now

“Keeeith...”

Gripping Keith’s hair, his boyfriend alternated between tonguing him and sucking him off. Lance lasted all of three seconds thrusting thirstily into Keith’s mouth, Keith growling as he swallowed what he could, before pulling back and catching the last pulse on his tongue. They’d barely begun and Lance was wrecked. They definitely shouldn’t be doing this on the kitchen table, but he was definitely going to hit Keith if he suddenly stopped before burying himself balls deep.

“Babe, you ready?”

Lance opened his eyes. Chest heaving. Legs shaking. Wrecked. But for all the passion, his boyfriend had stopped to ask...

“Yeah... God, yes. Please, babe. I want to feel you”

Keith smiled at him. A smile just for him. A smile that he appreciated yet frustrated him because he totally needed Keith to hurry up here

“You’re so damn pretty”

Lance deflected. He didn’t want to think about he looked like an already stuffed turkey with his bits and pieces up in the air for further stuffing

“And you’re horny”

“My pretty mate... fuck... I don’t know if I can last”

“I don’t care...”

With Keith being werewolf, Lance let himself feel absolutely everything. Not that he hadn’t before, but each and every time he’d marked Keith he’d felt guilty later. He’d fist the sheets to avoid scratching up Keith’s back... His nails scratched the wood of his table as Keith drove into him enough force that if his hands hadn’t been on Lance’s hips keeping him in place, he probably would have ended up falling off the table backwards. When Keith noticed, he’d made him grab him by the arms, Lance nearly wailing from the relief he felt as he came around Keith. Their bond was still there. That feeling that they were going to be okay. It wasn’t the same. Not in a bad way... just... a different way. But it lacked none of the warmth or glowy feelings that’d been there before. Keith lasting twice as long before he finally came, Lance clenching hard, feeling as if Keith was coming way too much yet didn’t want to waste any of it... not that it would do any good. Keith had long since knocked him up with his wonder sperm.

Carefully pulling out, Keith went into awkward mode. Lance knowing it was because they couldn’t cuddle with his stomach in the way and with him still sprawled across the kitchen table. Reaching a hand out, Lance could definitely go for cuddles and a nap, once they’d cleaned up. He had pretty much no energy left for anything other than being in Keith’s arms

“Help me up...”

His boyfriend looked conflicted

“Keith?”

“You look tired”

Yep. He’d called it

“I am... but I know a certain dark haired man who wants cuddles right now”

“I should have waited until...”

“Babe... don’t. That felt amazing... but now I’m stuck and I’m sticky”

Spinning around, it was almost comical as Keith searched for the tea towel beside the sink. Once he’d found it, he turned the taps on too hard, spraying water from the force against the bottom of the sink. Keith clearly couldn’t do the brain... which pleased Lance’s ego. Getting the tea towel damp, Keith then nearly dropped it

“Babe... I’m okay”

“I... uh...”

“Fucked me senseless?”

“Uh... um... yeah, that”

Lance hadn’t pointed it out, but since waking from his coma, Keith had started using the word “um” a lot more than he’d used to. He didn’t want to worry him by bringing it up. The brain was a complicated thing. The blood could only do so much...

“I... um... got carried away”

Struggling to sit himself up, Lance held his arms out, uncomfortable as heck over the cum between his belly and dick. He felt all squishy

“Hey, come here for a moment”

There was hesitation in Keith as he came into arms reach. Lance pulling him as close he could with his arms over his shoulders and his feet against the backs of Keith’s knees

“I’m okay... and you’re okay...”

“I just realised I didn’t think about the twins... what if I hurt them?”

“I’m built tougher than that... they’re okay... we’re okay”

“But... I... um... didn’t think. It felt so good that I...”

His arse was amazing. Keith had told him that many, many times

“Babe. Hey, no. Whatever you’re thinking, no. I didn’t... tell you I was feeling so pent up because I didn’t want to make you feel rushed or that I wanted anything more than you. Our sex life has always felt good. I like feeling like you wanted me as much as I wanted you”

Keith sighed softly, almost sounding regretful

“I’m still horny”

“Well, it has been a long time since we... did the do... and I’m pretty sure Rieva is currently laughing with Matt about us being horny idiots. I’m sleepy, but I think maybe we could... fool around a little more? In our bed?”

“You’re sleepy”

“Slow lazy sex isn’t so bad... especially when my big bad boyfriend is here to carry me up the stairs”

“Who says I’m carrying you upstairs?”

Lance shrugged

“Me. Now. I don’t think I can walk”

“Are you sure...?”

“I’m very sure. I’m very sure that you should listen to your pregnant mate and help me clean up before you carry me upstairs and give me so many kisses that I never want to leave our bed again... after I’ve peed”

Keith snorted at his comment. At last. He’d succeed in his mission to drive away Keith’s annoying overthinking

“You do pee, a lot”

“I know. It’s like my routine. Nap. Pee. Nap again. Remember to eat. Try to do the right thing. I’ve a very busy vampire”

“I can tell. Did... did you feel...”

“Amazing. Our bond felt a little different but I still feel like you’re the only one I could ever be like this with”

“It felt... warm... and... you felt... amazing. My ego... is happy”

Given Keith had most likely been horny since the full moon, his ego probably felt great satisfaction in being intimate with their mate

“It can’t be easy. Having so many new sensations to get used to. But we’re going to be okay”

“Are you sure I really didn’t hurt the twins?”

“Babe, they’re fine. Me on the other hand, I’m getting all crusty”

Keith wrinkled his nose

“I am too... can we take a bath? I want to take a bath”

“Can I wash your hair?”

He missed washing Keith’s hair. He missed the little things like that which all added up to a whole lot of small affectionate moments

“I’d like that”

*

Keith felt a Pringle’s ad. He’d popped and he couldn’t stop. His ego relished wrecking Lance. He’d tried to slow himself down when they’d had sex in the kitchen... tried and failed. Lance felt made to fit around him. Not that he hadn’t before, but he’d felt so damn much... a twinge of sadness did come with it. He’d loved Lance so completely as a human. He’d wanted to monopolise him. Now he had to share with his ego that was telling him that he had to take better care of Lance. He didn’t know how to take better care of Lance.

When Lance washed his hair, Keith couldn’t describe the new way he felt about. He’d enjoyed it before, but like with sex, it felt different now. He hadn’t been able to keep himself, reacting that mental fantasy he’d had as he’d first started drying Lance off, only to end up bending him over the bathroom counter and... well... it still hadn’t felt enough. In a lot of ways it felt like when Lance was in heat. His body so willing, and his scent screaming for more... only now, his scent was telling Lance kind of the same things and it felt weird.

He’d noticed Lance slipping out of bed. Then he’d been unable to not hear what he got up to. When Lance would cry, he’d wanted to go to him, his ego telling him he was a bad person for not going to their boyfriend. He just didn’t know how to settle himself... especially when he’d come twice and felt no signs of fatigue. He didn’t... know what to do with that. It left him with feelings that hurt to try and sort out. That he was being greedy. That he was making Lance feel used without knowing he was being used, even though Keith didn’t really get why he thought Lance was being used when he himself wanted to be intimate with Lance and wasn’t simply going there because Lance was convenient.

Even when they climbed into bed together, Keith couldn’t help but rut against Lance. Lance who desperately needed sleep and cuddles, not another orgasm and a good jabbing. Was he meant to be this horny? Lance was heavily pregnant. He looked ready to give birth as it was. His hips had widened and his stomach sat lower. When Keith watched his love’s stomach, he could see the way the skin moved as their twins moved. Plus Lance had been extra tired lately. Had he been pushing Lance too far and not noticed? Was this why Shiro wanted him home? Because he was bad for his mate? He couldn’t shut his brain up. He didn’t get the whole “mates thing” and Google hadn’t been kind. Werewolf porn was an actual thing. He didn’t want to... be like the wolves in the things online. He cherished Lance. He wasn’t just... someone to sex.

Sighing against him, Lance had placed Keith’s hand on his stomach, with his own over the top. Keith couldn’t help but squirm. From how hard he’d come, there shouldn’t be anything left down there, but still he wanted Lance so badly he found himself pressing forward to bury himself the best he could into his boyfriend. Lance had moaned. Lance had moaned and his body seemed to think it okay. His boyfriend felt so damn good that it was hard not to hard and rough as he slowly rocked against him. When he’d come, he hadn’t known what to say... Lance sleepily murming not to pull out as he wriggled back against him, falling asleep within moments... without having come. He felt like he belonged in a jail for horny werewolves. His ego would be quite happy if this was how things remained for the foreseeable future, and Lance seemed okay with it, but did that mean he was the only one freaking out here?

*

Thank god Matt and Rieva had work, and Lance was down for a nap. That’s all Keith could think about as he shut himself in Lance’s office. He’d wanted to go see Coran, but Platt was out of the question for now, so he’d been waiting most of the morning for the house to be clear. He was still unsure that being horny was okay. Lance seemed okay. Very okay seeing he’d woken up to Lance sliding into his lap and a very vigorous round of sex. While Lance might be okay with things, and he’d been very okay with things, he still wanted to know if having sex was okay.

Three cups of coffee and a trip to bathroom later, he’d had the courage to finally call. Using Lance’s landline, he kind of felt weirdly official, kind of like he was ringing up to order one dose of sexual advice. Being Coran, the phone had barely started ringing before it was picked up and dread flooded Keith’s stomach

“Lance! How are you my boy?! How’s our twins?! How’s our Keith?!”

Right. Coran was expecting Lance

“Um... Hey, Coran. It’s Keith...”

“Keith, my lad! How are you?!”

Keith moved the phone away from his ear. It didn’t matter how many kilometres were between them, Coran was loud

“I’m sorry to disturb you... I, um... have a question”

“Pish-posh, disturb away”

“Okay. I... guess... I was wondering if it’s okay for me to have sex with Lance?”

Someone shoot him. If the floor could swallow him right now, that’d be great

“This is not the conversation I expected. Has something happened between the pair of you? Don’t tell me you failed to preform”

Fuck. Of course Coran had no discretion talking about sex. If he started a trip down memory lane, Keith was going to hang up

“Um... think the other way”

“You can’t keep your hands off?”

“Kind of... yeah. My ego wants him all the time and I feel guilty”

“Keith, you’re a young wolf in your prime! You have a lovely mate, who’s highly compatible with you. These things are to be expected...”

“That doesn’t make it okay. Lance barely does anything but sleep. He’s exhausted. And I’m not okay with wanting to jump him when he needs his rest!”

There was a pause. Keith praying the pause didn’t lead to a story

“Ah. Yes. Perhaps I misspoke. What I meant was if Lance was happy and it was consensual...”

“Lance is too exhausted. I ended up jumping him in the kitchen. Even when he fell asleep, I wanted to keep touching him and I hate it. He needs to rest. How do I curb this?! I don’t want him to feel used but I feel like me not being able to control this is kind of the same as using him. I love him. I don’t want him to just roll over and cater to my needs!”

“Might I ask how long you’ve been feeling this way?”

“Yesterday was the first time... since... well...”

“Ah. Well I do have some idea. It could possibly be because you scent other wolves in the air and wish to stake your claim. It may also be due to this all being very new to you. You were rather horny on your first night of the moon without your mate there”

Keith looked to the ground. No convenient chasm opening to swallow him up

“I was?”

“You were. You howled the first night, not at all happy. Now I’m thinking about it, I suspect your ego is trying to bond with Lance as it missed its chance with the moon. Your compatibility is against you here. Vampires don’t naturally bond with werewolves. Lance isn’t a common vampire. His scent is appealing to both vampires and werewolves. You’re trying to appease your mate as your ego thinks it’s done something wrong by not being with him under the moon. Yes. It all makes sense now”

“I don’t care if it makes sense. I love him. I don’t want to be some kind of rabid animal”

“You’re not rabid. Your ego is still learning and it’s trying to make it up to Lance. There are plenty of things you can do that will help with the bonding between your egos”

“Other than sex?”

He wasn’t getting a story? Oh thank god. Lance would have laughed if he’d known he was sitting there listening to Coran’s sex life

“Other than sex. Grooming. Werewolves have a love of being groomed by their mate. Try small things like massage or brushing his hair. Vampires are quite the divas. The enjoy looking and feeling good. Though it may not be your thing, Lance does enjoy face masks. He and Allura had quite the time relaxing with face masks. Allura was talking for days over how he styled her hair for her”

“When did that happen?”

He hadn’t heard about this... or had he and he’d forgotten?

“Lance had... quite a hard time accepting your anger upon waking. Allura finally able to get through to him. He stubbornly refused to leave you side. That’s not to say he was alone. Pidge and Hunk visited as often as they could... You were quite upset. Accusing him of “shacking up with Allura the moment you were out of the picture”...”

Keith groaned. Recovering Keith was an arsehole

“He left that out. Coran, I don’t know how to face mask”

“Ahhh, but you have access to that amazing invention called the internet. Technology these days is truly amazing, back in my youth we’d never have dreamed such a thing. You could try making dinner for him. I suspect he’s working hard to feed the three of you well”

Keith loved Lance’s cooking, but if he had to have rice again he might murder the two other wolves in the house

“Rieva and Matt doomed us to rice. They didn’t buy the right amount of chocolate Lance wanted. If I cook, they’ll want me to cook for them. Plus, I think Lance is worried about our finances right now”

“That boy of ours does have a habit of worrying. If you’d like, I can transfer you through to Allura”

And have Allura knowing he was calling up to discuss his sex life? That was a hard pass

“No. I... um... guess I was getting too impatient”

“The most important thing to remember is that Lance loves you. He chose you. If you’re having doubts or urges, you should talk to him. He’s always been a bit uptight about his own urges. I’m sure he understands that right now you’re frisky. He won’t hate you for talking to him”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. I just didn’t want to worry him...”

“Is he really that bad?”

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 11 is a doozy

This one ends with what I thiiink may be the first scene I envisioned. Probably need an “angst” tag on there, but I still dun really know how the tags work. Are they a good thing to cram in, @lostmypotatoes? 

Link is here. I’m going to bed

The child lay face down in the flower bed, too stunned to cry. When she lifted her head, the world spun in circles; when she tried to get up, her leg hurt so much that she gasped. She sniffled, hiccuped, and waited for someone to come help her. But no one came. It was too much: she finally gave a long wail, working herself up to sob so hard that tears and snot started dripping all over the golden petals.

Something was coming down the stone passage. She stopped and huddled into the flowers, but they weren't tall enough to hide in, and a patch of sunlight shining from above lit her up clearly.

He walked out of the darkness with a sword in each hand. His eyes glittered; when they met hers, she froze, too scared to breathe.

The...man? It must have been a monster, because it looked like a person, if a person could also be a goat: white fur, horns, and golden eyes, with a muzzle and a pointy black stripe on each cheek. But it walked on two feet and wore a long black robe with a symbol on it...like a person.

To her surprise, the monster didn't eat her, or breathe fire, or chop her up. He watched her for a moment. With a flick of each wrist, the swords vanished. "Hello there," he said in a soft, deep voice, squatting down a few feet away. "Where did you come from? Are you hurt?"

She couldn't answer. To her even bigger surprise, the monster sat down with his legs crossed and took hold of his floppy white ears, one in each hand. He flopped them over his eyes and looked around, as if surprised. "Oh, no! I thought there was a human in here! Who turned out the lights?"

Now she was puzzled, and slightly insulted. What was he doing? She wasn't a baby!

But as the goat-man kept it up, calling, "Hellooo, huuuuman?" and turning this way and that, her fear ebbed away until she started giggling. He scooched closer and peeked out from under his ear. "Aaah, no, it's the human," he said in very fake terror. "You've caught me. Please, human, if you let me go, I'll take you somewhere safe. I'll even heal you—have you ever been healed before?"

The human shook her head, leaning over to wipe her face on some of the bigger flowers. He let go of his ears, moved closer, and extended his white paw—a hand with five fingers, but sharp nails and fur, still a paw. "It's easy. All you have to do is touch the green light. See?" His palm glowed, and the child poked at it, fascinated.

After a few seconds, her leg didn't hurt anymore. She sat up, and she wasn't dizzy. The goat-man smiled at her, only the very tips of his fangs showing. "All better?"

Monsters were supposed to be bad, but he had the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. He held his paw – hand – out again, and she took it, delighted at how soft his fur was. "It's very nice to meet you," he said. "My name is Asriel. What's yours?"

She had to think for a second. "My name is—"

 ~

 Sans jerked awake. Someone was banging on the door. He tried to stand up, but the floor wouldn't stay still: it dumped him right off his feet. "Fu' you, too," he told it. Dammit, his head hurt.

The banging didn't stop. With a more concerted effort, his body got off the floor and carried itself all the way to the front door. He wrenched at the knob and shoved it open.

Dr. Serif moved back exactly in time to avoid a broken nose. "Good morning," he said coolly, and pushed past Sans. "Close the door. Do not break it."

The boss monster tried, he really did, but the knob kept jumping out of the way. With a quietly profane expression, the doctor used a series of hands to shut the door, pull Sans into position, and grab the back of his head. "Holy fucknuts, that's better," the giant skeleton mumbled a moment later. "Thank—ow!"

"You and your foul mouth are welcome." Gaster surveyed the front room. "This is a lovely house. I hope you've treated it well." He sniffed the air several times. "Whatever did you do? What have you had to drink?"

"Water! Mostly. A little cider, no liquor in it." Now that Sans was sober, he was chagrined to follow Gaster to the kitchen and see a huge heap of brownish apple cores on the table. "They were sellin' a bunch on my way back here last night," he mumbled. "I was hungry."

Gaster pointed at the cores, and the wastebin. Sans obediently lifted the pile and dumped it into the bin with a touch of magic. Gaster then pointed at the compost heap outside, and Sans heaved a huge sigh as he picked up the bin to take it outside.

The older skeleton gave him an odd look as he came back in. "Do you mean you were on your way back here last night from the Underground?" Gaster inquired.

"Well, yeah. Where else'd I be comin' from?" Sans stuck his head in the sink, opened his mouth, and turned the faucet on.

"Apparently, a place where you can be drunk enough to lose an entire day."

The boss monster coughed violently, turning the water off before he drowned himself. "Where I what?"

"You set out with Snowdrake two days ago. The High Priestess expected you back at some point yesterday. It is Sunday, and she had to attend matins, or else she would have come with me to check if you were dead or merely sleeping off your overconsumption of...hmm." A pair of hands took hold of Sans' skull and pulled it down for closer inspection. "You still smell like apples. The priestess also said she smelled it the other morning." Sigh. "At least you spent the missing day here, judging by the age of those apple cores, and not out gallivanting after poachers." Gaster released him. "By any chance, did you stay in human shape for a long time, then eat, and then remove your device before you went to sleep?"

Sans couldn't remember anything. "...Yes? I think?"

"I would call you names, but as I did not figure it out, either, I will call you only one: idiot." The doctor sighed again. "Apples ferment fairly easily. I've never heard of fluctuating magic levels and shifts in internal chemistry rendering them an intoxicant after consumption, and there's no reason for such a weak form of alcohol to affect you this badly, but it's a viable hypothesis. No more cider or apples for you, young skeleton, until we can test the theory in a more controlled setting. Till then, we'll need to check the rest of the house before we can leave in good conscience."

The forensic evidence was not difficult to unravel. Most of the house was fine, but little puddles led from the wet patch in the living room where Sans had fallen asleep all the way into the bathroom, where every single towel was wet, either from being thrown on the wet floor or folded up and placed inside the tub...which was full of water. Without being told, Sans sheepishly set to work unplugging the tub, wringing things out, and draping them over surfaces where they could drip dry. His drunk self must have been experimenting with his human form, taking several baths and...

Oh. Oh, wow. Now he sort of knew what he'd been doing yesterday. It wasn't his fault that he'd gotten so worked up from snuggling Frisk; when he awoke, he'd had the idea to put the chain back on and see if that one thing down there would happen again, and it had. The little he knew of male human physiology and its parallels to monster reproduction had finally coalesced; he'd realized was going on and what he could do about it, and did it. It'd been really fun for a while, but then he...had he had to stop for some reason? Had his hands gotten tired, or was it something else that wasn't working? He couldn't remember.

As for what had been working, damn. He still loathed humans, but this explained a lot.

He had some questions, though. He'd have to peruse Frisk's textbooks when he got back, or ask the doctor, in the event the books failed to cover the finer points of magic boners.

Gaster watched him tidy up in silence. When the bathroom was back in order, he said crisply, "Find your device and come with me. Frisk has been working very hard and sleeping very poorly, and she needs moral support."

That sounded about right. Sans found his silver chain tied to a light fixture in an empty bedroom, put it on, and followed Gaster out of the house, stopping long enough to lock the not-quite-damaged front door.

It was a cold enough morning to see their breath; they passed several children pretending to hold cigars and exhale smoke. "Nice day," Sans complained, huddling deeper into his overcoat. "D'ya mind if I just go somewhere no one can see an' take a shortcut back?"

"She made her decision," said Dr. Serif.

Sans came up alongside him, sure he'd misheard. "She did what?"

"She decided to throw the box away yesterday morning. I disposed of it myself. It's gone."

They walked. It was cold. "Huh," said Sans.

"Indeed."

Five minutes passed. They kept walking. It was still cold.

The doctor looked sidelong at him. "Are you all right?" he asked delicately.

Sans shrugged. "Is she all right?"

Dr. Serif looked this way and that as they stopped at a crosswalk. Several heavily laden wagons were trundling by, drivers and horses alike shivering in the relentless wind. "Not entirely," he said over the noise of wheels crunching on pavement. "She's no longer uncertain of herself, but she has been writing letters nonstop instead of sleeping. Lord Owen has departed to visit his sister for a few days, just in time to miss the news. Did the first fortune have any sort of timetable attached?"

Sans shook his head a little. There was nothing to say, so he didn't bother trying.

One of the wagons was stopped because a horse had decided to take a break in the middle of the street; the driver was climbing down to convince it otherwise. "I'd like you to attend a discussion with my colleagues this afternoon," said Dr. Serif. "Most of them are excited about the possibilities of solar energy conversion, but several are requesting more details before they will support the project."

"Sure," Sans mumbled.

The wagoners behind the recalcitrant horse were getting impatient. If the doctor felt the same way, he didn't show it. "Two weeks," he said, as if to himself. "It's been approximately that long since you were captured, hasn't it? It feels much longer."

No answer. Dr. Serif shifted around until he was facing Sans and took a look at his chest. He grimaced. "Sans, may I just say—"

"Ya think she'll let me come back?"

The doctor blinked. "Beg pardon?"

Under the sounds of the drivers cursing and other pedestrians complaining, Sans said, "Even if she marries that fu—friggin' dork, it's not like she's gonna be locked up fer the rest of 'er life. An' it's not like I'm gonna learn every damn thing she knows in one month. If she can't come to the Underground, I'll just hafta drag my bony ass back here for more lessons. Right?"

"More or less," said the royal sorcerer.

"But..." Sans rubbed his chapped lips, which made them hurt more. "Remember when I talked about killin' someone if they bugged me, and Frisk said I was just doin' what I wanted, 'n not ta come back if I did? What if I run into poachers again and I have to kill 'em?"

"...Because of a life-and-death situation, or because you personally cannot stop yourself?"

"I dunno! Both?"

Dr. Serif discreetly wiped his nose on a handkerchief. "I suspect her definition of 'life-and-death' differs from yours, but I believe she was more concerned with your self-restraint. Let me ask you this: have you ever killed a human purely for enjoyment, or found an excuse to kill one who was not an immediate threat? Even if eliminating someone was fully justified, have you ever deliberately used a slow or painful method to inflict more suffering?"

For the first time since he'd become a boss monster, the thought of slaughtering humans made Sans uncomfortable. "I only ever fight 'em where they're not s'posed ta be," he pointed out. "The only ones ya see out that far are lookin' ta catch monsters. I'm not goin' to their villages or anythin'."

"You're not answering me. I repeat, have you ever—"

"What am I s'posed t'do?! Sit down everyone I see carryin' a buncha chains an' explain that it hurts our feelin's when they're mean to us?"

"I think you'd be better off asking yourself these things instead of trying to argue with me. I also think you know what Frisk would say if you were to ask her directly."

Sans shuffled his feet, wiggling his toes inside his leather boots. The stubborn horse and its wagon had finally started moving down the street. "Here's another question," said the doctor. "Have you ever successfully restrained your temper around the High Priestess?"

The human-ish boss monster glared at him. "Are you kiddin'? Ya think I wanna worry about breakin' 'er like a twig every time I get pissed off?"

"I do not." Dr. Serif employed his handkerchief again. "Have you ever fully lost your temper with her, or in her presence?"

"Well..." He thought guiltily of the time he'd badgered her about singing till she damn near whistled a hole through his skull, and he smiled at how she'd climbed on the table to get in his face afterward. Man, he'd deserved that. Then there was the dent he'd bashed in the tabletop that other time... "I was just bein' a dick. I didn't even think about hurtin' 'er."

"Really? You've made it sound as if it is not possible to restrain yourself in moments of duress. The High Priestess is a remarkable young woman, but she is a human being, just like the ones you—"

"She's not like them, an' I'll break yer fuckin' neck if you say that again."

The people standing near them inched away as Dr. Serif looked at Sans. Sans stared at him, unblinking, until the doctor sighed. "If I have to put literally everything in a Frisk-centric context to get through to you, I will," he said testily. "Do you think she would be pleased to hear you threaten to kill someone for insulting her, which I was not?"

Sans bit the inside of his weird, fleshy cheek. "No," he admitted.

"You will not be with her all day, every day for very much longer. Do you really think she would allow you to return if she had reason to believe you'd killed or needlessly injured anyone in the interim?"

Sans tapped one foot, then the other. "Dunno how she'd even know if I did. S'not like I'd be strollin' up t'her with blood 'n guts all over...my..."

He trailed off as a memory prodded him: that dream recounting his very first encounter with poachers, how he'd crunched the sorcerer's spine and then slammed the other humans into each other until they stopped screaming. He'd enjoyed it immensely till he heard that familiar whistle behind him and realized that Frisk was standing there, seeing him in all his murderous glory.

The moment he heard that sound, before he even turned, he'd instantly gone from elation to abject terror. He thought she would run away from him, or demand some kind of justification he couldn't give, or tell him never to come near her again; she could have accused him of tricking her, pretending to be the kind of person who wouldn't do something like this, much less enjoy it.

She hadn't. She didn't even flinch when she saw the literal blood on his hands. She'd just been herself—said she wanted to see him, apologized for hurting his feelings, and opened up to him about her fears and frustration, as though he hadn't just slaughtered a bunch of people and laughed about it. When was the last time anyone had asked him for help with anything, period? Had anyone ever asked him for touchy-feely advice? In the last few months, he'd spent so much time away from the Underground that even Pap had pretty much stopped bugging him about puzzles or picking up his socks whenever he was home.

...Damn. What if he enjoyed killing stuff so much because it was the only thing he was good for anymore? If he could somehow stop, what would he have left?

And the worst part was that after all that, she'd still wound up hugging him again, and even now, his SOUL was still a little mushy around the edges.

He didn't understand. Frisk wasn't blind or stupid; how could anyone with half a brain see what he was capable of and still care about him that much?

And why was he getting aroused again?!

The last wagon had trundled out of the way. "It's very simple," the doctor remarked, pulling Sans along by the elbow as the backed-up crowd surged forward around them. "What would you rather have? Freedom to be as horrible as you wish, or the right to ever see Frisk again?"

"But—"

"But what, Sans?"

But what, indeed. All this moralizing was background noise compared to the fact that she'd chosen her "adequate" future, and the only thing he could control was whether he'd be allowed to drop by from time to time. He had no right to pout – or be a complete fucking wreck – because she'd taken his advice and stopped agonizing over her decision. It wasn't as if anything had really changed, as far as he was concerned; she wasn't going to stop being his friend or teacher just because she was getting married to some human moron. Was it her fault that his deep-down, germ-sized hope of somehow fitting into her second fortune had been crushed like it deserved?

Stupid Gaster. If he hadn't given Sans that stupid chain, the idea of fathering her kid would never have been so cruelly plausible. Sans remembered how he'd found out he could make a tongue for himself when he wanted: he'd been curious about Toriel's famous pies a few years back and wanted to see if he could taste them somehow. In the same vein, the chain hadn't given him brand-new powers of smell or touch or boners, just shown him how he could've done it at any time.

Then Gaster had gone and told him for a fact that skeletons and humans could have children together, which meant sex, which brought it all full circle: he should be capable of manifesting and fully employing the relevant equipment, just like his tongue. Of course, there was that awkward size difference between him and the average human, and Frisk was even smaller than average, but if he could conjure a thing with magic, wouldn't it be logical to assume he could adjust it as needed? Hell, why couldn't he temporarily downsize his overall structure long enough to—

"—ans? Sans!"

The boss monster twitched. Dr. Serif had tugged him down a side street and looked ready to slap him to get his attention. Sans raised his hands. "What? Whaddya want?"

"I want to ascertain how you're going to behave before we arrive." The doctor somberly folded his arms, then spoiled the effect by getting the handkerchief out to blow his nose. "Are you going to be a friend, or a problem?"

There was that painfully accurate summation again. He needed to remember that he was operating under different rules than human males, or even other monsters: his actual parts weren't the biggest issue, no pun intended for once. He had to accept that it wasn't gonna happen. "I'm her friend," answered Sans. "Not like I can be much else. She's not a boss monster, so..."

"No...no, she is not." The doctor paused, as if in thought, then took Sans' elbow again. "To the castle, please, the stairwell outside her quarters. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing my ass off."

 ~

 Sans was so nervous to face Frisk again that it was both a relief and a letdown to find out she wasn't in her rooms. "I did wonder," he remarked to Gaster as they threw off their disguises. The boss monster stacked some logs in the fireplace and tossed a handful of flame on them. "Right after I came here, she said her mom was sick, but I never heard anythin' else about it. This's the first time I know of that she's gone t'see 'er."

"Rosa doesn't do well with most visitors," Gaster explained. "She suffers from a degenerative neurological disorder. Frisk ensures she has the best possible care, but there is little to be done except keep her comfortable."

Sans scratched his metacarpals—using fire always made him itch. It was no wonder now that Frisk hadn't wanted him to go bug her mom with questions about her visit to the Underground. No wonder she was always so stressed, either, with a dad who was somehow neglectful and nosy, and a mother physically and mentally out of commission. Poor lady—and then, when she'd just wanted a little bit of guidance from the fortune-teller, she'd gotten this fate-of-the-world shit dumped on her!

That did it. No matter how crappy and torn-up he felt, Sans vowed he wasn't going to do anything to make her life harder. He wouldn't kill that Owen guy; he could help deliver stuff, make sure no one tried to murder her before the wedding...

Fuck. He wished he'd never gotten caught, or that someone, anyone else had come to get him out of his cell that day. He'd known better than to get close to another human, he'd done it anyway, and now look what had happened!

...No, whatever he was feeling, she had to be feeling way worse, even if it was for different reasons. As things were, at least he could be here to help. He'd have to keep telling himself that.

Gaster had picked up a huge folder and was leafing through its contents, his face impassive. "She's left you some guidelines for your next set of experiments," the older skeleton said, indicating a small set of books and papers on the counter. "Completing them to the best of your ability would be an ideal apology for your absence. Let me know if you need help."

The boss monster could see the sense in that, so he read over Frisk's list of supplies and recommended recipes, each book marked conspicuously with a new bookmark. He had to smile at that. Her handwriting was cute, too, with little swirls on the ends of some letters.

The materials she'd set aside for him included a block of alfalfa hay, cubes of alfalfa meal, and pellets of various plant materials, though it was mostly alfalfa. Sans amused himself as he worked by thinking alfalfalfafalfa until the word fell apart and reading it made him snicker. Hay, he had to stay sane somehow!

It wasn't enough. Waiting for Frisk was killing him. Her lunch was delivered a couple of hours after they got back, and she wasn't there. Gaster told him not to be alarmed, that she'd probably been called to mediate something or help someone else now that she was being accompanied by humans instead of a giant skeleton, but that didn't make Sans feel any better.

Eventually, when the mixtures had all been applied to the seedlings and everything was labeled and recorded and double-checked, Sans got so antsy that he started looking through the other books on the worktable. One had a freshly dog-eared page that made him open it up to smooth it out, wondering why she'd bothered to get the damn bookmarks if she wasn't going to use them, and then why she'd been reading up on truth spells.

Huh. There was a scribbly mark at the start of one paragraph: The stronger the application, the less ambiguous a subject's words become. Sarcasm, hyperbole, and similar rhetorical devices cannot be employed to say anything the subject does not sincerely believe to be true. Sans shrugged, put a bookmark in like God intended, and set it aside.

"It's time," the royal sorcerer said presently, several hours after lunch. He put the folder away and beckoned to the younger skeleton. "This way. Please leave your device off."

Sans had forgotten about talking with the other sorcerers, and absolutely did not want to go. The doctor had to speak to him rather sternly and at great length about the importance of alternative energy, educating the highest levels of human society and allowing the best possible knowledge to be passed down therefrom, filtering out rumor and bad information before it began, all for the mutual benefit and future coexistence of monsters and humanity.

Sans still didn't wanna. Dr. Serif ended up having to shove him bodily out the doors and most of the way down the hall, unseen hands prodding him until he gave up.

Nevertheless, with his resolution to make things smoother for Frisk, Sans got through the meeting pretty well. It was held in a library with about a dozen whey-faced nerds in black robes, most of whom were too curious to be scared of him; he had to spend a half hour answering questions about monsters and letting them watch him breathe and talk and all sorts of crap first.

Then they went over Dr. Serif's notes, clarifying a few points Sans had forgotten or mixed up. The boss monster had to admit that the sorcerers were good about catching mathematical discrepancies, and one woman had some solid ideas about different alloys that could improve the solar arrays' efficiency and reduce the chance of warping or melting the panels. Her wavy hair reminded him of the High Priestess—one of her half-sisters?

Whatever. The discussion lasted a few hours, and though he did find it interesting, Sans wanted to see Frisk so badly that the moment they adjourned and Dr. Serif indicated he was going to go to his own quarters, the boss monster didn't even bother leaving the room before he teleported himself back. The guards were getting used to his sudden appearances, and informed him without much fear that Her Eminence had returned less than half an hour ago.

Sans faced the double doors and fought down his sudden nervousness. It was cowardly of him, but he couldn't bring himself to knock. Instead, he eased a few tendrils of magic through the crack in the doors – did she even realize the barrier was permeable there? – and lifted the bar very, very carefully, setting it against the wall on that side with as little noise as possible. The doors swung open on well-oiled hinges, and Sans shut them behind him just as quietly.

She wasn't in the workroom. The light outside was fading; the bedroom was dark, as was the office, and the dressing room. To his surprise, he heard faint splashing sounds from the tub—what was she doing in there so early?

At a loss, Sans wandered over to the worktable. At least he'd cleared it before they left for the meeting. The problem was that the dent was showing, the one from their argument over transitioning monsters from slavery to partnership. He still hated the idea, but there was no reason it couldn't work, maybe, eventually...in the other future where she'd opened the box.

Sans shook himself and applied his frustration to that stupid dent, hating the loss of self-control it represented. Sure enough, when he released a burst of magic over it, the damaged wood creaked, swelled, and filled itself back in like rising bread dough, leaving a solid surface with only a few fissures. I'll be damned, I fixed something on purpose, he mused, poking at it.

The splashing in the bathroom stopped. The skeleton froze, wondering if she'd heard or felt anything, but then the sounds resumed. It occurred to him for the first time that she probably didn't have clothes on, and he immediately decided to think about something else. Oh, look, there was the folder Gaster had been reading the whole afternoon. Sans reached for it—

Something shot straight through his SOUL, seizing his entire body up, magic and bones and all. It was a sweet, unearthly sound—it was Frisk.

She wasn't humming, or whistling, or tapping a rhythm on something with her hands. She was singing, very low, just loud enough to give him chills: "The years now before us, fearful and unknown—I never imagined I'd face them on my own..." A deep breath. "May these thousand winters swiftly pass, I pray—I love you, I miss you, all these miles away..."

Sans was rigid, every fiber of his being waiting for the next verse. But the voice had faltered, and the next sound was an all-too-familiar sniff, and another, till it became clear that she was, if not actively crying, too upset to continue. Well, no shit, that's the sappiest thing I've ever heard and you're already a mess, said a very tiny corner of his mind.

Meanwhile, his feet were moving, and the rest of him followed straight to the bathroom. Too bad she hadn't locked it, because he could not physically stop himself from opening the door and striding in to kneel by the tub, reach down, and drape his hand over the very startled priestess' back and shoulders, pulling her as close to him as the side of the tub would allow. "Hi," he murmured into her hair.

Nothing happened for several seconds. "...Sans?" Frisk had hunched over in alarm when he burst in, but after a moment, her hand crept up to rest on his humerus, though she remained huddled against the high enamel side. "What..."

His eyes were closed, his mind still a hazy mess of feeling. It didn't help that she smelled amazing, and she felt amazing, and...

"Sans?"

She was much warmer than before. Well, that made sense. The bathwater was very hot, and she was in the bath.

Something felt different under his hand. How had she gotten even softer? His metacarpals flexed, and she squeaked. "Sans!" she hissed.

"Hm?" How was he supposed to concentrate on anything when he was touching bare skin?

Wait. Why was he touching b—

Oh.

Shit.

...So, if she was in the tub...that meant he shouldn't move his hand down like—

"SANS!"

 ~

 The good news was that she didn't seem sad anymore. The better-than-expected news was that once the shock wore off, she wasn't really angry with him, though he didn't know that right away. The split-second he snapped out of it, Sans had been so mortified that he took a shortcut straight back to the bedroom and locked himself in, half out of fear for his personal safety and half afraid she'd be mad enough to leave again if he hung around.

But within ten minutes, she was knocking on the door and saying his name. "Nope," he muttered back.

A sigh. "Please let me in, Sans. I just want to talk."

Dammit. Sans twitched a phalange at the lock, and it clicked open.

Frisk was in her purple robe, face still flushed. Sans remained sitting on the side of bed by the opposite wall, staring at the cold fireplace, awaiting his doom.

Another sigh. She clambered onto the bed, or so he inferred from the rustling of the mattress and the scent that drifted over him a moment later. "You're not in trouble. That was my fault," she said, strangely matter-of-fact.

Blink. Blink. Blinkblink. "How."

The priestess shifted around, and he risked a peek at her. She was sitting at about his-arm's-length away, her hands and feet tucked in, legs pulled up and cheek resting on her knees. "I wasn't sure if I'd heard you come back or not. I was lonely, I wasn't thinking. I had this stupid idea to...I don't know, lure you in, if you were here?" Frisk buried her face in her fuzzy sleeve. "That didn't sound any better in my head." Squirm. "I didn't think I was using that much magic. I wasn't thinking at all. I'm so sorry."

Okay. That was unexpected. Sans was relieved, but didn't know whether to also be pleased or angry or what. He could start by kicking himself that he hadn't gotten any kind of look at her—she was so small that when she was scrunched up at one end of the tub, he'd have to be looking straight down to see anything, which he hadn't. He hadn't busted in there with any intention except to be near her.

So...should he tell her that he didn't understand many nuances of human interaction, but he was pretty sure that being lonely was the worst possible reason to call someone else in while she was in the tub? She probably didn't think that he was as functionally male as he was, which was completely understandable, but still...

Still, here she was. And it turned out that his tiny, squishy, beaten-up hope, the idea that he could somehow cram himself into a bigger role in her life than "pet project," wasn't as dead as he'd thought. It was resurging, and so was the now-familiar urge to grab her, except this time, he knew exactly what he was supposed to do with it. He knew that she'd missed him and had just admitted enticing him in while she was naked, and—

Sans didn't remember that he was a boss monster, or that she trusted him not to do anything like this, or any of the other terrible things that could happen if he got carried away. He was shifting his weight to reach over and pull her toward him when she said, with her face still buried, "Where were you yesterday?"

Oh. Right. The skeleton moved back, screaming internally and crossing his legs as hard as he could. "I—I wasn't off hurtin' anyone. I was at yer house...uh..." There was no other way to say it, was there? "I was drunk as hell, pretty much the whole day. Doc says switchin' back and forth from me ta human 'n back made some wacky chemical reaction that fermented all the apples I'd had, 'n...yeah. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear."

She raised her head, frowning. Sans wracked his brain for something to make her stop it. "At least we found the core of the problem, huh?"

Her expression lightened a little. "All right, I believe you." But then she frowned again. "Please don't do that again. You really scared me when you didn't come home yesterday."

Come home? Was she trying to fucking kill him? "Sorry." Sans forced a laugh. "You can always come check on me when we're asleep, right? Now I know ta clean up whatever I'm dreamin' in case I have company."

The young woman fidgeted, tugging a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you have a lot of those, where you're reliving things you've done?"

She didn't sound upset. Why didn't she sound upset? "Sometimes," he admitted. "Depends how I'm feelin' when I go ta sleep, what I've had to eat, how tired I am, that kinda thing."

Frisk rested her head on her knees again, looking right at him. "You weren't always like that, were you?"

It wasn't an accusation. It was a calm, non-judgmental invitation to talk about it if he wanted to, which made him feel worse. "Well, no," he said, throttling down his...everything. "I wasn't a giant psycho till I got hit 'n started growin' like this." The boss monster tapped his sternum. "It's been a little at a time, but I get bigger n' meaner every year. Back when me an' Pap first met Kris, I hated humans, but I never woulda dreamed of killin' 'em full-time. Now..."

Her gaze didn't waver. "Did King Asgore order you to guard the Underground from poachers?"

"Nope. 'Fact, 'm really not s'posed to be out there at all. No one is." Sans scratched the back of his skull. He could still feel it where she'd touched him the other night. "I started doin' it a few years ago when a kid came through Snowdin cryin' fer his mom. We all knew she'd gone t'look for her husband 'cause he left to hunt some deer 'n didn't come back. So out I went, and I found 'er pretty quick. They'd wrung all her magic out. She was still alive, but not for long."

Someone knocked on the outside doors. Frisk very quietly rose and went to open it, bringing their dinner inside and putting the heavy bar back in place. Then she returned to her spot on the bed. "So the King doesn't know what you're doing?" she asked.

Why were they talking about this depressing shit instead of hugging some more? ...Probably because he couldn't trust himself right now to stop at hugging. Besides, he'd never told anyone any of this – especially not Pap – and he'd probably never be this comfortable with anyone else. "Oh, he knows," said Sans. "He's just useless, an' scared of me."

"Asgore? What do you mean?"

Her eyes had gone wide. Sans studied them for a second, thinking vaguely nice things about the color of wine and being very lovely in general, but it wasn't enough to drag him out of the mood he was working himself into. "I mean he's no good without the Queen, and she's hunkered down in the Ruins 'cause she blames him for everythin' that happened with Chara before the accident. Meanwhile, his big dumb ass knows she's right, but he won't apologize 'cause he's still pissed that she stood up to him in fronta everyone and let the humans go, as if killin' 'em woulda brought Asriel back. It's almost worse than havin' no rulers at all." The boss monster looked at his hand, feeling his eyes light up. "There's no food, no leadership, no one knows what's gonna happen."

"Sans—"

It was too late. Now that he'd started, the words came pouring out: "It wouldn't be so bad if everythin' in the Underground wasn't made of pure magic, but when there's that much fear and anger goin' around, you can actually see it build up, like fog. No joke. It's this shit-awful funk just kinda hangin' over everything. A couple years after the humans left, it got so bad that it even started infectin' Papyrus. The first time he yelled at me – I mean, screamin' at me outta nowhere, when I wasn't even buggin' him – I went out an' I saw this cloud over our house, and I just kinda snapped."

His hand opened and closed. Frisk stayed quiet. "I was so pissed that I tried ta pull some of that crap out of the air with my magic, just t'see what'd happen," Sans continued, "an' it actually worked. It came down, and it vanished. So I grabbed all the rest of it I could find, 'n it stayed gone. 'Fore I knew it, Pap was his old self again, 'n everyone seemed a little happier."

She shook her head. "When you say that it vanished, do you mean it evaporated, or did you absorb it?"

"Yep! Turns out when my magic touches any of it, I can't get it out again. It's just...in me. An' I hafta siphon more it off every couple of years, or everyone starts gettin' screwy again." He chuckled, a hollow sound that made her wince. "Gotta say, it's powerful as hell. The more I take, the stronger I get, an' now look at me." Sans shrugged. "I dunno. It's like gettin' hit with that explosion opened a hole in me I could fill with whatever I wanted, an' I didn't have anything else ta put in it."

Frisk watched him in silence, letting Sans get the last of his thoughts out. "So here we are. Pap's stayed his cool self, I'm a big ol' grouch, an' I could probably take Asgore in a fight if I really wanted. He knows damn well what I'm doin', but as long as I'm out protectin' everyone, he doesn't hafta worry about what else I'm up to, an' I feel like a helper. Everybody wins."

"I doubt that," the priestess murmured. "If you've spent years soaking up all the negative energy in the Underground and then feeding it with constant violence..."

It was now dark outside. Sans made a careless gesture. "I'm hungry. Ya hungry? Let's—"

"I'll go back with you."

The skeleton stopped in the act of pushing himself to his feet. He slowly turned to face her. "What did you say?"

"You asked me to come with you to speak to Asgore. This is my answer," she said calmly. "We still have a little over two weeks left. I've organized a series of inspections that will probably end up with more monsters being confiscated and placed in my custody. We can have one of them bring a letter to the Underground ahead of time to let him know we're—"

"Nope." Sans got up and went into the workroom. "Time ta eat." He unloaded the trolley, got everything set out, put the trolley out in the hall, barred the doors, and sat down.

Then he sighed, and went back to the bedroom, where Frisk was still sitting on the bed, just staring at him. "Look. Frisk. I've been thinkin' it over, an' it was a bad idea. I..." He shut his eyes as tight as he could. "Asgore will kill you. Okay? You've got the most unbelievable SOUL I've ever seen, and he'll see it, too, an' he's gonna try ta take it. He's gotten so bitter since Toriel left that I don't think we could even talk to 'im. He'd kill you, or we'd hafta kill him."

Frisk stood up on the bed, so that she was only a couple feet shorter than him, several feet away. "It's true, then? A monster can steal a human SOUL to become more powerful?"

"It's true, and it wouldn't be 'more powerful.' Try 'godlike.' An' that's just a regular monster 'n human. If Asgore got ahold of your SOUL, he could kill every human in this kingdom, an' nobody could stop 'im."

Her face had grown pale. "I see," she managed. Frisk slowly sank back to the mattress. "I...go ahead and eat. Please get started without me."

Sans felt that helpless anxiety that, unbeknownst to him, was so common among males of both species—should he at least try to comfort her first? "'Kay," he rumbled. "'m really sorry, Frisk. If there was anythin' I could do ta—"

"Please get started without me!"

Crap. He should've just listened to her. "Okay, okay, I'm goin'!"

Sure enough, the moment he stepped into the workroom, the bedroom door closed, and Sans felt a fresh barrier go up. He sat down and poked at his food. It didn't look that great anymore, but he might as well be miserable, not miserable and hungry. It wasn't like she was going to be in there all night, right?

...Right?

 ~

 No sooner had they stepped out of the flowery cavern than she heard more footsteps, bigger and heavier ones. "Asriel!" It was a woman's voice echoing from far off, stern and a little scared. "Asriel, my child, where are you? They'll be here any moment!"

"Here, Mama," called her new friend. "We're coming." He tugged gently on her hand, and she let him guide her down a long, purple-tiled hallway.

"'We'?" The motherly voice was moving toward them. "What do you mean, dear? No one else should be down here unless—"

They rounded a corner, and so did Asriel's mother. She'd sounded like a normal human mom, but she was another goat monster, with short horns and a purple robe. "My goodness!" The goat-lady hurried forward and dropped to her knees in front of the child. "Where did you come from, little one? Are you hurt? Is he hurt, Asriel?"

"No, Mama," he said, smiling at the child again. "I found him in the golden flowers. He got separated from the others and fell down here."

"I see," the goat-lady said, her voice sounding funny. But then she smiled warmly at the human, who smiled right back. She'd never had a real mom, and this one seemed like everything she'd ever dreamed of, except with more fur. "Welcome to the Underground, my child. I am so very pleased to have you with us. I am Queen Toriel, and it seems you've been lucky enough to meet my son, Prince Asriel."

The little human looked up at him in terror. The prince? Had she been rude to him, or to the Queen? Should she bow, or say something royal, or—

"It's all right, Kris," said Asriel. "Mama, I'd like to take him to the house and get him cleaned up before the rest of the humans arrive. We'll be in the Great Hall as soon as we can."

"You most certainly will not! You will go tell your father that I am attending to our very first guest, and we will be there when Kris is ready." Toriel got to her feet and took the child's hand from Asriel. "Come with me, little one. Off you go, dear." She made a shooing motion at her son.

Asriel sighed, but arguing was clearly not an option. "Yes, Mama. I'll see you again soon, Kris!"

The child nodded, watching him disappear around the corner with amazing speed. Monsters could do that, couldn't they? At least some of the stories seemed to be true.

Toriel smiled down at her again. The child suddenly felt strange, but in a good way. Asriel was wonderful, and his mother looked so loving that the child wanted to throw herself into her arms right there.

And just like magic, the Queen released her hand, knelt, and opened her arms for a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug. "Poor child," Toriel murmured, the vibrations in her chest rumbling against the human's cheek. "We will take care of you for as long as you are here. I promise."

The child burrowed her face into the monster's robe, where no one could get mad at her for crying. If this was what the Underground was really like, then she wasn't scared anymore. She wouldn't run away; she'd stay as long as the others did, and fib all they wanted her to. She wished she could stay forever!

 ~

 Sans jerked awake as a fork rattled onto a plate. "Dirt," said Frisk. "Sorry about that."

He'd fallen asleep on the workroom floor. It was dark out; the clock was about to strike 2. "What're you doin' up?" The skeleton got up and sat at the table.

"Cleaning," she said pointedly, stacking the last plate onto the last tray and setting them on the neglected trolley.

There was a stack of paper and a couple of ink bottles laid out, and Sans recalled how Gaster said she'd been writing nonstop. "What's all that?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's paper." Frisk sat down and grabbed a fresh sheet. "I have arrangements to make."

Sans made a rude noise, ignoring the twinge in his SOUL. "Yeah, but isn't it kinda soon? He hasn't even asked ya." He rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. "What's the first step again with all that crap? Gettin' a ring?"

The priestess paused, face going blank. "The first...?" She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can I assume you had a talk with Dr. Serif on your way here?"

Twinge twinge. "Yep. He tol' me he threw the box out for ya." Twiiiiinge. "He wasn't lyin', was he?"

"No." She opened her eyes. "I've checked your work on the seedlings. I don't know exactly what you had in mind for that last batch of pellets, but we'll see how it goes over the next week. Do you have any questions?"

What the crap? Was that all she was going to say? Maybe she'd do some other thing when the seedlings had grown a little more. "Uh, yeah, one question. How much sleep did ya get just now? I was up fer a couple hours before I passed out."

"Hm." The priestess rummaged in a little box of writing supplies. Only two witchlights were on, just enough to show that she looked terrible: pale, red-eyed, and...resigned, as if someone had done something really awful and left her to deal with it, but it was somehow her fault, too.

"Don't 'hm' me, lady. Ya look like total crap," he said bluntly.

Frisk ignored him, fishing out a pen. He was ready to demand an explanation when she started whistling again, the same beautiful but sad song from before. This felt much more pointed than her usual soothing noises, but it was still effective; Sans could muster just enough energy to be indignant that she was putting him back to sleep, and then his head was on the table, and he was asleep.

 ~

 To Sans' surprise and frustration, the next few days followed the same pattern, but worse. There was no more hugging, or talking about feelings, or any of the things he'd grown to expect. Frisk stayed a little too busy and grew more and more tired, but she ignored his questions, saying she'd explain what she was doing once it was over; after the second day or so, it was all he could do not to blow up at her. He couldn't force her to act happier now that her decision was made, but it sucked that he'd advised her to pick something and stop being miserable, and she'd picked something, and now they were both miserable.

Not only would she not talk to him, she kept inviting Dr. Serif to the workroom to go over solar panel specifications or observe his experiments. There was no more quiet time alone together in the mornings or evenings: if they weren't studying, she was writing, or so mopey and distracted that it wasn't fun to beat her at chess anymore. The moment they were done eating dinner, she took a bath and went straight to bed, or at least to her office, leaving the light on and probably doing more goddamn work instead of sleeping.

She also started making him escort her into town in the afternoons to help her carry stuff. She'd gone instantly from no interest in shopping whatsoever to buying large quantities of the most random things imaginable: play scripts, different types of magic stones, miniature targets for archery practice, hair accessories, bath items, bolts of silk, children's toys, dance charts, expensive figurines, sheet music, a silver tea service, books on education—it couldn't be some kind of weird impulse thing, because the few times she let him peek over her shoulder as she wrote, he'd seen that she was making shopping lists. Whenever they brought another load of crap back to her rooms, she didn't unpack anything, just had him stack it clear up to the ceiling in her office.

The kicker was that Frisk didn't even seem to enjoy hoarding all that stuff, or anything else she was doing. She almost never smiled at him or made puns anymore. She just kept writing, and dodging his questions, and looked ready to cry pretty much all the time.

It would've been neat if his libido had also gotten mad and decided to grab its toys and go home...but no. Sans had now perused enough of Frisk's science and anatomy textbooks to piece together the entire picture of human reproduction; through his own hands-on experimentation – in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, sober this time – he could say with reasonable confidence that the process for humans and monsters was much more similar than he'd thought, and everything was working fine on his end. If he had his skin on, he could of course feel more, but he couldn't finish. As himself, the process took a lot of concentration, and he got weirded out if he looked down at it too long, but—

Why was he even bothering? Sure, it felt pretty great, but he wasn't a human. He was a monster, and monsters weren't designed to waste their time or magic playing with themselves. His instincts were all pointed straight at Frisk, and now that he knew what he was supposed to do, it was getting harder – ha – to content himself with alone time. He couldn't stop thinking about holding her again, and he didn't think it was that disingenuous to want to point out to her how much better she'd feel if she'd opened up to him again. And then sex.

...Damn it all to hell. Was the entire second half of his apprenticeship going to be like this?

 ~

 It was her own fault. She wasn't supposed to be there. She'd snuck in to get some chocolate from the refrigerator, and when she heard the grown-ups come in, she realized she'd taken too long to sneak back out. The best she could do was run behind Toriel's armchair in the living room and flatten herself against the back of it at an angle. Never mind how hot the fireplace was; they already sounded mad.

"For the thousandth time," she heard the King say in his big, rumbling voice, "if I had known that he could not marry you—"

"Then I still wouldn't have been welcome in my own home. Would I, Papa?" The child buried her head in her arms. It was her. Chara. She wasn't even pretending to be nice anymore. All her hatred was out in the open, aimed right at her former parents.

"My dearest child, please," Toriel said desperately.

"Your dearest child? Where? It would be so lovely to meet them! Ah, don't tell me—did you pick up another stray human?"

"Chara," protested the King.

"Is it Kris?" A short, cruel laugh. "I'm sure you'd rather have a boy this time! If they get someone pregnant, they don't have to deal with the consequences, do they? By all means, you can have him. I know you both love surprises."

The little human wished she was dead. Toriel and Asgore were both such nice people! Why was Chara saying these horrible things to them? Did she really like anyone? Was it some kind of game to her to be so pretty, act so perfect, and sing such amazing songs, then turn around and be a bigger monster than anyone with fur or horns?

"What do you want, Chara? What would you have of either of us? We cannot turn back time, but—"

"But you can do whatever you damn well please now. Don't worry, Mama, Papa. You might've thrown me out like a dog, but I made do. At least I survived."

The armchair rocked back into the child's body as Toriel sank into it. Asgore was silent; there was no sound except the Queen's sobbing.

More footsteps. Oh, no, it was Asriel. He was going to come in and see his mother crying and hear Chara, and—

"Big brother!" Light, prancing footsteps ran to meet Asriel. "I'm so sorry, Azzy, but we were talking, and I think I upset Mama," Chara said sheepishly. "Can you and I go for a walk so she can calm down?"

"Of course!" A brief pause, as if Asriel was seeing his parents' expressions. "Er...we'll be back in a bit. Is that all right?"

Asgore grunted. The child could feel Toriel shaking through the back of the armchair, though the Queen held her tears back till the front door had closed behind Asriel.

The King cleared his throat. "Tori, I—"

"Don't you 'Tori' me! Not now. Maybe not ever!"

The child hunched down even further as Asgore hurried away down the hall, slamming the bedroom door. This couldn't be happening. Maybe, if she stayed still enough, she'd wake up. If she was still...if she was good, maybe—

 ~

 Fourteen days were left of his month at the castle.

Frisk had gotten up looking as pale and worn as usual, but the moment Sans saw her leave her office, he knew something had changed. She was still unhappy, but now she also looked determined. "We're having dinner with His Majesty and Prince Gaius tonight," she announced as he unloaded breakfast onto the table.

"Oh yeah?" Sans glanced at the tray of unopened mail. "How d'ya know? You didn't mention it yesterday."

"I just decided it," she said flatly.

Sans sensed this was not the time to ask stupid questions, and he couldn't think of any smart ones, so he nodded and turned his attention to his food while Frisk wrote yet another note and put her scary-looking official seal on it. A few words at the double doors, and a guard ran off to take it straight to the King.

The course of the day itself was decided for them: before they had finished eating, someone else came to the doors with a sheaf of papers. Frisk brought them back to the table and asked, "Do you remember how I mentioned surprise inspections on how monsters are being kept?" She held up the papers. "I ordered fifteen of them for last night. These are the reports."

That explained several of the letters she'd been working on. "Didja ever get those records you wanted from the doughy guy?"

Frisk didn't crack a smile, but at least she wasn't frowning. "Yes, the Cardinal provided them the day you took Snowdrake home. I'll keep my promise to show it all to you, but I wanted to get the worst of the worst taken care of first. This way, you don't have to worry about anyone being in immediate danger. Please get started on those root measures while I go through these."

He did, and she did, and Sans could only console himself that he at least knew what she was writing this time. Of the fifteen near-simultaneous visits, five had resulted in citations and scheduled followups, while eight monsters had been found in such dangerous or unsanitary conditions that the Church agents had immediately confiscated them. That explained why she hadn't told him sooner what those letters were for—he might have gone straight out to liberate the monsters.

Frisk had prepared a dozen custody letters with blanks for monster and owner names and specific offenses, so that she had only to fill those in to get the custodial paperwork started. In the meantime, the monsters were being cared for in temporary quarters by people who knew that the High Priestess would hear of anything at all being done wrong and take swift action to correct it.

Watching her scribble her way through the pre-written letters and the documents necessary for the deposits on each monster, Sans had to reflect on the amount of time and forethought all of this had required, and congratulated himself on not going off on her for being so little fun the past few days. Granted, it was a pretty low bar, but he'd stumbled all the way over it! Even if she was going to marry some other schlub, he, Sans the skeleton, had been a helper, and he hadn't had to kill a single person to do it!

...Huh. He really had helped, and he really hadn't killed anyone, had he? Now all he had to do was keep his hands to himself and focus on his genuinely interesting homework for a couple more weeks, and...and he'd figure out what to do then.

Once Frisk was done and had summoned someone to whisk the papers away to their exciting new life, she had a new task for him. "When you return to the Underground," she told him, "I'll send as many seeds and herbal ingredients along with you as I can. But you also have your salary, and if you're going to use it for large quantities of foodstuffs, we need to arrange it ahead of time. I've compiled a list of current prices for wheat, barley, different kinds of beans, rice, and other nonperishables. Please look through these and make a rough estimate of what you'd like to pick up on your way back. I'll pay for the rental of a horse and wagon, or wagons, depending what you choose and how many trips we want to do."

"Neato." Sans glanced at the tray of letters, still untouched, and recognized the crest on one that had fallen slightly askew from the pile. "Hey, isn't that from yer boyfriend?"

"Don't be childish," Frisk said, so sharply that he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. She plucked the note out of the stack and ripped it open, scanning the few short lines. "Of course he heard about it already." The priestess tossed the note aside. "Before you ask, no, he's not proposing. He says he'll be there another week, and then they're both going to visit their parents."

Interesting. Sans didn't know if the guy was being overly confident that she'd wait for him, or what. Ha, maybe rich humans just took so long to set up big weddings that he was giving her a couple months' head start to get her shoes made or something.

...Actually, that could be the case. But at least it'd be a while before the guy came back! Who knew? Maybe he would choke to death on something or fall off his horse or—

Sans knew he should try to not wallow in evil thoughts, but it wasn't his fault: Frisk had bought some perfume when they were out yesterday, a light vanilla with hints of citrus that made her smell like candy. He'd had trouble focusing around her before, and now Sans found himself crunching his femurs together to help remind him that no.

Still, he had plenty else to think about; figuring out what to buy for the Underground, how much everyone would like of which food within his budget, was kind of like a puzzle. Papyrus probably wouldn't have enjoyed it, but Sans got so into it that lunch came while he was still scribbling in the margins. "We have more paper, you know," Frisk remarked at his shoulder.

That sounded more like the lady he knew. Sans didn't know what she'd been thinking, but as long as she was happy again, or on her way there...

Another good thing happened a little while after they were done with lunch. A couple of servants came puffing down the hall with two enormous boxes that turned out to be a cavernous black overcoat trimmed with white fur, a giant red shirt, and correspondingly large trousers. "Surprise," Frisk said as the men unpacked everything. "I ordered them when you were out with Snowdrake. I thought you could use more than one set of clothes. Very fancy, I know."

It was almost exactly the same outfit as his human form, but real, and exceptionally well-made. How much had the materials alone cost, never mind getting clothes this size in less than a week? "Are these slippers?" Sans demanded, lifting out a pair of enormous black slippers.

She grinned for the first time in days. "Remember the time we were arguing about whether you needed shoes? Here's a compromise. Try them on, please."

The shoemaker must have thought she was joking about his size, but the joke was on him: they fit perfectly. It was more comfortable than clacking around with bare bones. Way more. "Huh," he said.

"Excellent. There's no charge for these, by the way. Consider it hazard pay for taking me to the festival, and all that shopping." Frisk gave each of the servants a hundred-dinar piece and nodded them and the empty boxes out of the room.

Aaargh, she smelled great and she was being ludicrously generous—oh, good, she was going into the office now to let him try the new stuff on. Well, from a civilized point of view, he could see the sense in having more than one set of clothes: he'd only had his newish ones washed one time, and had worn the gross old ones while he waited. This way, he could just throw those out.

...Or he could throw out the other set, too. The black and red ensemble was warm and comfortable, it had great pockets, it looked cool, and he was never taking it off.

That resolution stayed with him all the way to their dinner with the King. When they arrived at the small dining room where King Stephin ate with his son every night, Sans remained decked out in his new stuff, including the slippers. To his absolute bemusement, not only had Frisk not argued, she'd donned a black dress with little sparkly bits and a garnet necklace and earrings. It was stupid and dumb of him to be so pleased that they matched, but, they matched.

This did not escape the King, who welcomed him with the same cordiality as their first meeting and gave Frisk a weird look as she came in. The Prince was a thin, sandy-haired, sickly-looking kid who had obviously been warned about him, because when the greetings and introductions were over, he seemed more relieved than scared. When he wouldn't stop staring, Sans ignored his own instructions and looked directly at him to say, "No worries, I don't bite."

Gaius nodded, fascinated. Frisk took a dainty spoonful of soup and, under the table, kicked Sans in the tibia. "Sans has made remarkable progress in his studies," she said pleasantly.

"Oh? How wonderful," the King said, also pleasantly.

"Yes, he'll be invaluable to his people when he returns to the Underground. I wanted to ask you, Majesty, to consider whether it may be permissible for me to accompany him there for a short time, to offer him my continued assistance."

Sans glanced at her in disbelief. Yes, he'd heard right, and she was smiling at him in open defiance. The skeleton had to force himself not to snarl at her. What the hell was this?

The King didn't seem much happier with the idea than he was. "That may not be wise, Your Eminence," he replied. "I wish relations between our nations were at a point where such a venture would be possible, but I have been made to understand that my brother monarch is no longer inclined to receive human emissaries. We must consider your personal safety."

"Of course." Frisk sipped her wine, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It's a pity you couldn't have visited with the last delegation, Majesty. I'm sure you would have enjoyed catching up with King Asgore."

From the King's stiffened back and tightened mouth, Sans guessed that it was one of those polite little conversational bitch-slaps humans were so good at. He wasn't sure about dishing one out to the actual King, but the old man seemed to recover well enough. "Indeed," he said. "I'm sure your pupil will prove capable."

Frisk inclined her head, earrings swaying. "I hope this will be the case, Your Majesty, and that the knowledge he gains from us will be useful enough to prove our good intentions to his King."

The conversation moved right along from there, but Sans was barely listening. He made the correct noises when Gaius started babbling at him about the book he was reading about people fighting each other with giant cats or swords or something; he sort of laughed at Stephin's jokes; he let the High Priestess tell them about the things they were working on. "Sans says there are magic flowers in the Underground that will repeat whatever you say back to you, and to the next person who touches their petals," she informed the young Prince.

"It'll repeat anything?" Gaius asked eagerly, no doubt plotting the sort of words he'd say.

"Any sound at all. If I ever make it to the Underground, shall I bring one back for you?"

The boy agreed so enthusiastically that he started coughing, and dinner was brought to an end by the arrival of dessert: apple turnovers. Sans took several, mind still buzzing, though he noticed that, like the rest of the food, the things were pretty damn tasty. So was she messing with him, or trying to throw him off so he would be too distracted to do something rude or scary?

No, she knew exactly what she was doing: as they bowed their way out and returned to her workroom, her head stayed high, and she carried herself to her dressing room with absolute certainty. Frisk came out in her robe and stopped in front of Sans, who was blocking the bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked rhetorically.

"Oh, nothin'. I'm just tryin' ta figure out what's wrong with my ears. It sure sounded ta me like you told His Majesty that ya don't care if my Majesty wants to rip your heart out 'n eat it."

The priestess feigned dismay. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, Sans, but...your ears, they're—"

"Not now!" Sans jammed his hands into his pockets, leaning down to look her in the face. "I already told ya, I'm not takin' you with me! Ya got that?"

"I got it." Frisk crossed her arms at the waist. On a hunch, the boss monster checked her SOUL—oh, fuck, it was already that bright? And her determination was still rising. "That's really unfortunate. It'll make getting in a lot more difficult for me, not to mention dangerous," she added.

The boss monster ground his teeth. "Ya know what's not hard or dangerous? Keepin' yer ass away from the Underground!"

She smiled, and said, "No."

Sans was at a complete loss. He had never heard anything more definite than that one word. "Why 'no'?" he asked, incredulity overtaking his anger for a moment. "Do ya really not trust me to teach the others the stuff I'm learnin'?"

"That's not it," she replied.

"Then what the hell is it? Are ya curious? Do you wanna tell everyone yer mom said hi or somethin'?!"

"No." Frisk's arms dropped to her sides. "I want to tell them that I say hi." She smiled again, but in a wistful, absolutely unyielding way. "Thank you for being so patient with me the past few days, Sans. I haven't..." Her smile disappeared, one hand brushing her hair back and the other curling into a fist. "I lied to you. I lied to everyone, but I should've told you the truth already. I..." She swallowed, her pulse racing so that he could see it in her throat. "I opened the box, Sans."

The clock ticked. The fire hissed and popped.

"No you didn't," the boss monster said blankly. "The doc threw it out for ya."

"He threw it away after I opened it," she said, enunciating each word carefully. "After our dream, I woke up, I opened the box, and I took out this little orb inside it—" Frisk made a small circle of her thumb and forefinger to illustrate its size. "I made a barrier. I stuck the orb into it, and when I pulled the barrier back in, the memories came with it."

The skeleton felt as if someone had opened the top of his skull and vigorously swished his brains around, then slammed the top back on. "So...?"

"So I gave him the box out in the hallway in front of the guards, and we acted as though I'd never opened it." Frisk swallowed again. "It's been coming back to me in bits and pieces, but now I know what happened. Mostly. And I am telling you—" Her face hardened until she was almost unrecognizable. "I am going back to the Underground, with or without you. I'm going to see everyone again or die trying. I am not exaggerating, Sans. Do you understand me?"

"Hell fucking no, I don't understand you!" Sans' foot rose and hit the floor so hard that, even with the slipper on, he felt a board crack beneath the carpeting. "Whaddya mean, 'go back'? Are ya makin' shit up 'cause you have some kind of death wish?"

She was breathing rapidly, her throat still pulsing. "A death wish? How many times has someone tried to kill me here, Sans, even in my own bedroom? If I go with you, at least I'll have someone to hide behind!"

"I'm not takin' ya anywhere more dangerous than the candy shop, or whatever other shit you wanna get next." He snorted. "'sat why you've been buyin' all that crap? Are ya gonna play Father Christmas an' bring everyone in the Underground a buncha presents?"

"Yes," she snapped. Sans was seriously considering teleporting in order to avoid wrecking something when Frisk went on, "Think about it. Who do you think the targets are for? Do you want Undyne destroying your front window again because she got carried away and forgot that Monster Kid couldn't catch any of her spears? Then Papyrus had to send her home because she treated cleanup like another challenge and kept pounding the glass instead of sweeping it up."

Cold shock poured down Sans' spine. "Wha...how—"

"The magic stones are for Alphys to study. She's probably starved for more plays to read, and she can act them out with the new figurines, but she'll have to share the scripts with Mettaton. The luxury goods are mostly for him, and a few are for Toriel. Does she still have trouble with the skin itching at the base of her horns? Either way, I also got her some books on teaching. I'll leave the tea service outside Asgore's door with a note on it—shall I go on?"

"This isn't funny!" Sans was breathing heavily, too. "What—how the fuck d'you know all that? None of the humans were there when Undyne broke the window! It was just us an'..."

"And Kris."

Sans shook his head wildly, stumbling back until he bumped into the bathroom door. "This is messed up, Frisk! Ya found Kris and didn't even tell me?! How long were you gonna sit on that?!"

"I only just found out, and I'm telling you now," she said firmly.

Sans' SOUL felt sick, and ecstatic, and so scared that he wanted to hurt something. "Okay. Great. Perfect. What are you tellin' me now, Frisk? Where is he? Is he okay? What else did he tell you?"

Frisk shut her eyes. She opened them. "We don't give Papyrus enough credit," she commented. "He figured it out before I did, and you still don't—"

"Would you fucking stop the cryptic bullshit an' spit it out already?!"

"Fine! I'm Kris!"

Another crystallized moment. Sans felt his head move back and forth, back and forth, on its own. "Shut up."

"I'm not joking."

More shaking, spreading down his frame. "What the hell, Frisk," he muttered, almost more disappointed than angry.

"They brought me along to see how the monsters would treat a child, as a guinea pig," she spat. "Why do you think I was allowed to spend so much time with you completely unsupervised?"

"Just knock it off, Frisk! Kris was a friggin' boy!"

"Kris had short hair and wore boys' clothes! It's not the same thing!"

"God damn it, Kris was, what, four or five—"

"None of you ever asked me how old I was! I was ten, thank you, but I was so malnourished that I probably looked like a toddler!"

Sans dropped to a squat, resting his elbow on his knee and his hand over his face. "I don't fuckin' believe this. Didja get brainwashed, or is this some kinda joke?"

"Why in God's name would I or anyone else joke about this, Sans?!"

"I don't fucking know!" Sans slammed his fist into his femur so hard that Frisk jumped. "Ya know what? We're done here. I'm goin' to bed." He got up, hobbling a little to move past her. "Have fun in yer little fantasy world. Lemme know when—"

"Do you want to see my stripes?"

Sans stopped as though he'd run into a brick wall. He could feel his sockets burning red-orange as his SOUL tried to yank him backwards. Sans slowly turned to look at Frisk, who hadn't moved, her back still to him.

Stripes. Sans watched, too heartsick to speak, as the young woman opened the neck of her robe and began easing it off her shoulders.

It wasn't entirely Papyrus' fault. Sans should have been keeping at least one socket on them, but it was late and he was busy on the floor with some very important dozing. A pillow came flying at him, and he caught it with his eyes still closed, sending it end over end back at Papyrus.

"NYEH HEH! WELL DONE, BROTHER! (PSST! HUMAN! LET'S HIT HIM WITH THE SPECIAL ATTACK NEXT!)"

Kris giggled. "Okay," he whispered, somehow even louder than Pap.

"ARE YOU READY TO SURPRISE HIM? VERY WELL! ONE! TWO! ...WHOOPSIE!"

Sans did not see what happened next, but he did hear the distinctive sound of a full glass of water being knocked flying, and sighed, opening his eyes.

"ACK! YOU ARE WET, HUMAN! SANS! PLEASE ASSIST KRIS BEFORE HE MELTS!"

"I'm gonna melt?!"

"probably. i dunno." Sans got up and beckoned to the child, who was holding his shirt away from his body in obvious panic. "you go get a towel, pap, and i'll find the squirt something dry to wear."

That got him a smile. Sans led the way to his own room, where he probably had a clean shirt somewhere. He switched the light on and selected a likely suspect from the top of the laundry pile. "here we go. survival of the fittest, amirite, kiddo? heh. gimme your shirt, and we'll put it over—"

Kris had already pulled his shirt off. He was painfully thin compared to the other humans Sans had seen, but as the kid turned to wring the wet shirt out – all over the carpet, sigh – it wasn't his protruding ribs or spine that brought Sans up short. It was the livid pink and too-white lines criss-crossing each other in the middle and lower parts of the little human's back, with one or two errant marks near his shoulders.

Scars. Those were scars. Someone had hurt the kid so badly that it'd messed up his skin for the rest of his life. How could—

Sans didn't mean to stare, but Kris looked up and caught his gaze, and the absolute worst part was that he smiled, and laughed a little. "You're lucky. None of your stripes probably show."

"stripes?" the skeleton repeated.

"Yeah." The child's tone was so casual that Sans' SOUL hurt. "It's okay. Mama told Cook to stop leaving so many marks."

Sans gestured, almost mechanically, for Kris to raise his arms. The child did so, and Sans pulled the dry shirt down over his head, tugging it down until the hem almost reached Kris' knobby knees. Then the monster did something that confused the human quite a bit: he leaned forward and put his arms around the child, resting his hand on Kris' head. "no one gets stripes around here, pal," he said into the human's fleshy ear.

Pause. "They don't?" queried Kris.

"nah. it's a very important monster rule: no stripes. if anyone tries to give you any more, you just send 'em to me and pap. we'll explain the rule for you." Very, very thoroughly, he thought, gritting his teeth.

"Oh. Okay." Kris dutifully put his arms around Sans, with a slightly puzzled air. "Thanks, Sans."

Holy moly, did the poor kid not know how hugs worked? What the actual hell was wrong with humans? The skeleton stood up and held his hand out. "c'mon, kiddo. let's go tell pap your skin melted."

"Okay!" Back on familiar ground, Kris hopped up and down. "Can we tell Toriel my skin melted?"

"haaa ha ha ha no."

And they'd gone back to Pap's room, and Pap had immediately bought it, and they'd snickered while he lost his mind about what Toriel was going to say and whether they could make some new skin for him out of paper. Sans had pointed out that that would make bathtime problematic, and—

And Sans had never, ever told anyone about the "stripes."

And now he was watching a beautiful young woman ease her robe all the way down to the small of her back, and there was the same pattern of scars, the same long, thin pink and white lines he'd seen on Kris twelve years ago. "It's not a trick," she said, her voice a little too calm and steady. "You can touch them if you still don't believe me."

"I believe you," he said roughly, but he couldn't help himself: a second later, Frisk jumped as his phalange grazed the spot where the most lines intersected. "Shit! Sorry. Sorry!" Sans snatched his hand away. "I...I believe ya, I swear. I just—"

"It's all right. Go ahead." She turned her head enough for him to see her attempt a smile. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Liar. Sans sat down and crossed his legs, accepting the pain where he'd hit himself. He turned his hand and very gently ran the side of his forefinger down her back, starting at the velvety, unbroken skin below her neck and across the bumpy scar tissue. Then he did what he'd seen her do too many times and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, where the red wouldn't show. "So...Kris, huh?"

"That's me." Frisk's voice cracked. She was clutching the robe against her front, so that he could only see the graceful lines of her shoulders, and the marks someone had put on the sweetest kid, the best person anyone could ever meet.

"They had to remove my memories at St. Brigid's," she continued. "My father didn't go with the delegation because his wife was about to deliver and had already been sick. She died while we were on our way to the Underground, and he started checking on all of his illegitimate children. After they made me leave with the others, I was sent to the convent to be educated, and I was a mess." She swallowed twice. "All I wanted was to go back to the Underground. It didn't matter how many times they told me the monsters didn't want another human down there. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I just kept—"

"What the fuck! Of course we wanted ya there!" Sans slammed his fist into the floor. "Do you have any idea how much everyone missed you?!"

"Yes! And I wanted to go back just as much!" Frisk's facade was crumbling rapidly. She hadn't pulled up her robe yet, possibly because her hands were clenched too tightly. "I didn't know if everyone was all right after the accident! No one would tell me anything!"

"No. They tore it all outta your head instead." Sans ground his eye sockets into his sleeve again. "An' ya got it back, and you've keepin' it to yerself?"

"I'm sorry!" The pain in her voice was so raw that Sans flinched. "I'm sorry! Kris wasn't real, it was just me! And no, I didn't tell you any of this! I was so scared of what you'd say, if you'd believe me or not—"

He hadn't. He hadn't believed her. She'd had to get half naked to prove it. If Sans could have ripped his SOUL out and punched it, he would have done so right then and there. "Whaddya mean, it's 'just you'?" he demanded, rougher than he meant to.

Her head drooped, leaving a long curve of neck and shoulder that the stupider parts of him couldn't stop staring at. His instincts were starting to kick in: she was hurting, she needed him, she'd already showed him this much skin and let him touch her—

Sans' whole body twitched as another thought crashed in: the fortune. Her second fortune.

The pain of that sorrow and regret will be unbearable for a time, and they will not be yours alone.

But the rest of it, the joy and power, and a child—

Frisk buried her face in her hands, shaking her head harder and harder. "I have to go back, Sans. I have to! Please, Sans, take me home with you! I just want to go home! Please—"

Sans didn't think, he acted. Frisk gasped as he turned her around and opened his overcoat to sweep her under it before he put his arms around her, holding her as tight as he dared. "Okay," he said, swiping at his eyes again. "Okay, kitten. I'll take you with me. We'll both go, and we'll tell everyone you're back." After all, the monsters – especially the King – would never accept the humans' High Priestess trying to cozy up to them, but they just might listen to Kris, especially when she was returning Sans to them safe, bringing food and gifts. They wouldn't let Asgore hurt her.

That was the difference in her fortunes. The other humans had done too good a job of erasing "Kris" and turning Frisk into the ideal High Priestess. If she hadn't been brave enough to remember everything—

This wasn't fair! He already loved her so much, and now this? What was he supposed to do?

Right now, he just held her as she buried her face in his new shirt and gave vent to huge, racking, wailing sobs, finally letting out years of grief. He allowed her to cry until she started hiccuping, and then he started petting her hair and just a little down her neck and shoulders, nothing objectionable—all he needed to do to quash his sex drive was think of Kris smiling ruefully about his "stripes." The bones of his face itched where the red kept trickling down, but the sky could have started falling, and he wouldn't have moved before she was ready.

[antialiasis]

Dave and His Memories Discuss Mia (and Jean)

Back in 2007, when I was writing The Fall of a Leader for NaNo, there was one particular chapter that stuck out. In it, Shadowdart sat down contemplating the roots of his moral system. While I was writing this particular chapter, for whatever reason, I got so intensely into his head that I genuinely felt like I was discovering something legitimately profound and important. By the time I was editing the story in January and got to that part again, it felt pretty unremarkable as a chapter. But the experience of writing it had been something unique. I’d never really felt like that writing before, and never felt it again... until this Saturday, that is.

It's a bit of a long story how that happened. For the past few months I've been participating in the Blacklight RPG on Thousand Roads, as Dave from Morphic, only as a Poochyena (because this is a PMD RP, where any participating humans are turned into Pokémon). Without getting into too much in the way of explanations, the other day on spur of the moment @unrepentantauthor and I started to privately roleplay an imagined interaction between Poochyena Dave and their character's father, a Delphox named Jesse Stranger, where they argue about which of them is less of a terrible father and are both being giant hypocrites going "NO U" at each other and it's great.

Anyway, at a certain point in the argument Jesse the Delphox uses Miracle Eye to mind-probe Dave about whether he's ever had 'violent thoughts' about his kids, and I sat down to write what he'd find. And it happened again! I spent three hours so in his head that I was full-on crying about his feelings and was shaking afterwards and everything. Like thirteen years ago, reading over it again afterwards it's like okay, this is not all that remarkable. But since this stands largely on its own and doesn't require any background knowledge of the RP, here it is anyway, for anyone interested in Morphic extras.

The formatting here is a bit unusual; I originally used Discord spoilers for some of the thoughts in the memories that he refuses to consciously acknowledge, the stuff that wouldn't show up in the narration of his POV of these scenes but is there anyway for a psychic to pick up on. Since Tumblr can't do those, I've replaced them with strikethroughs, which is not quite the same effect, but oh well.

What... what was he doing. Dave's ears flattened back against his head. Miracle Eye? What was that? Was he supposed to have any fucking idea what--

Everything fell in on itself, the Delphox's mind pressing against his own, finding faults, piercing them. He yelled out a panicked string of curses he couldn't hear. Fuck, fuck, what was happening--

--and then, suddenly, a memory. The echoing slam of a door, the unbearable screeching cry of an infant in his arms. she was gone, for good this time, and he knew it, fuck, he fucked it up every time, of course he fucking did Blinking rapidly and standing there and listening to the fucking interminable howls of this freak he never wanted and was somehow stuck with, thanks to these clownish fucking abortion activists. because he'd gotten drunk and fucking bragged about it at a bar, what the fuck was wrong with him A fleeting, angry thought as he looked at the baby, this flailing little bundle: Maybe Jane had the right idea. The mental image of just grabbing her by the ankle and tossing her off the balcony, watching her sail over the trees as the wailing receded into the night, or even just slamming her into the wall, a crack followed by heavenly silence. he didn't want this, he didn't want this, how was he supposed to take care of a fucking baby alone, he couldn't do this, fuck, maybe the police wouldn't even care when the baby wasn't fucking human, or he could just jump after her and get it over with--

His stomach clenched in revulsion, nausea crawling up his throat. What the fuck was this? He barely even remembered that night, hadn't thought of it in fucking years. He wanted to reach out and tear Jean away from this creep, just hold her and keep her safe and make sure nobody could hurt her, ever. Fuck, he just wanted to go home.

--and then a sudden unexpected yank into a series of other memories. Mia, four years old, no idea why she shouldn't hurt people; the abstract realization she was disturbed, weird, but also fascinating. She wasn't a monster; she was just different. Smart. She could figure it out, if he just explained in the right way if he failed that was a problem for later--

--watching the new game Mia and Lucy had invented for the first time a year later, the predatory glint in Mia's eyes as she pounced: it's a game, honestly it's just pretty cute, it's just the same as the little violent impulses they all have this might be more concerning when she has scythes but it's nothing to worry about--

--Mia, seven years old, little scythes beginning to poke out of her arms. Feeling almost giddy analyzing the X-rays: he'd been right, they were growing exactly as he'd predicted. Cheryl taking him aside, asking if she should be worried. No, of course not, she won't do anything, Lucy can stay insubstantial what if -- she won't, she's brilliant, she gets it--

--getting a call from the school, about how Mia, nine, had swiped and cut a girl's hair. Showing up to the principal's office, trying to placate the horrified parents. "She could've killed her!" "Of course she wouldn't have. She knows her own limits. It was just a game, like the games she plays with her sister. We'll talk to her about why she can't do that and that'll be the end of it." the hair's very close to the neck, fuck, Mia, what--

--looking at her in his car one day after one of their weird talks to offer her hotdogs, only to find her staring at him in the sort of way she stared at Lucy during their games, and when he asked what she was thinking she said she was hungry. "Just so we're clear here, when you say 'hungry' you mean 'let's get hotdogs', not 'I want to tear Dave's throat out and eat him', right?" "Both." Fear congealing in his stomach, blood running cold in his veins. She wasn't actually going to, and he knew it -- she was annoyed to even have to explain: "I like talking to you more than I'd like eating you." "That's great, but you can't eat people you don't like either." "I know." "Tell me why." -- but in his mind's eye he saw her lashing out, scythe through his throat, her sharpened fangs tearing at his windpipe, and felt so sick he couldn't breathe. Telling her to please not let him down please before exiting the car, extending his hand towards her and imagining her lunging again and every primal instinct in his brain telling him to get away, but no, she wouldn't, he knew that, and instead holding his hand firm until she took it if she attacked it'd be on him anyway--

--another call. She'd attacked a boy, put a pretty deep cut in his arm. His heart pounding in the office. Mia please don't fucking do this Somehow persuading the principal and the parents that it's a matter of childish impulse control, it's not like she wants to hurt anyone, she knows she shouldn't, they were thinking about making some sheaths for her scythes anyway kind of, maybe, he'd thought about it once and once that happened it wouldn't be a problem. Asking her about it in the car afterwards. Apparently it was this group of kids that kept harassing her about religion, of course it all came down to fucking religion, and she was just defending herself. Like she didn't have that fucking right -- but they talked about it anyway and it'd be fine and they'd make the sheaths Mia please--

--a pang of dread every time he got a call for a while, until at last the third one, when it was clear the principal had already made up his mind when he arrived at the office, and he argued fiercely anyway, they were provoking her, who even does that -- but then she expertly executed a fly on the wall and he couldn't even disagree anymore, she was probably better off homeschooled, and he took her home and they talked about religion on the way and he was glad he'd not have to get any more of these fucking phone calls, and then even fucking Howard was acting like it was all her fucking fault but it wasn't, she wasn't a monster, she was just Mia and she was weird but she was a fucking person and she was his best friend, taking her for hotdogs was like the best part of his week, he couldn't fucking lose her and it wasn't her fault, he'd made her this way and he'd figure it out--

--that horrible day of waking up to all of them gone but Lucy, off on a fucking suicide mission to rescue Gabriel, begging Jean to come home, realizing he'd fucking told them about the trap laid out for them, pacing around the house drinking whatever he could get his hands on trying to imagine they'd all be all right only all he could think was that they were all dying and he should go out there and do something except there was nothing he could do, he'd just be getting himself killed, and fuck, that was fine, fucking bring it, but they'd kill Gabriel too. The utilitarian calculus that rationally they should have just let them kill Gabriel so nobody else would die, they'd all fucking hate him forever but at least they'd be okay, but even then he just fucking couldn't, he was pretty sure Gabriel hated him already but Dave's heart still sank into a bottomless pit at the thought, and all he could do was cling to the fantasy that somehow everyone would be okay and try to drink enough to not remember the rest it'd be his fault, his fucking fault, he told them where to go--

--learning, from Jack's strained recollection of that day, that Mia had died with some kind of psycho fucking grin on her face after slitting somebody's throat, and feeling sick and pressing his lips together as he sat there, but it wasn't her fault, it wasn't her fault, it wasn't her fault, she was fucking unique and he loved her and if they hadn't shot her three times in the head he'd be fucking taking her and driving off, getting her out of the country, he didn't care, they couldn't take Mia he'd made her that way and he hadn't said the right things to her and he'd fucking told them where to go like a fucking idiot--

See, Dave thought, fiercely, in the middle of it, she wasn't a fucking monster, I never thought she was a fucking monster, all I ever wanted was to keep her fucking safe.