#forgot to stretch my hand before drawing and now my hand aches </3

[mangostar]

my try at a moonpaw design :3

[slightlymore]

green (aka ‘red’ part 2)

slytherin doyoung x ravenclaw fem reader

genre: hogwarts au but all different, romance, smut, established relationship (read ‘red’ if you’re into enemies to lovers), fluff

warnings: sexy times (69, bodies connected by slytherin magic idk, little rough, mention of saliva and all that jazz, mention of overstimulation, swallowing, use of magic during sexy times, solo m, solo f, fingering, raw, phone sex, spanking, short istance of subby dy, light bondage dy receiving, dry humping, mention of safe word, borderline sexy times in public), mention of natural events such as thunder, lightning, fire, water, rocks etc lmao, swearing, teasing

words: 9k

huge thanks to @spookyhyuck​ and @sunflowerforhaechan​ for helping me out with this fic!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

____________

Previously, in Red

“It’s just– it’s unfair. So I– also want to know.”

“You want to own my cock?” he chuckled in the crook of your neck.

“Why do you really have to use such words?!”

“You can do it. You just need to go down on me too.”

“Even if I’m not a slytherin?”

“If you’re in love with your slytherin partner, you don’t need to be one to be tied to them like that.”

“Pants off then. Now.”

Doyoung inhaled once, eyes darting from your face to your hands already trying to unbuckle his belt. 

"Are you-- are you sure about this?" 

Your eyes lit up with mischief, causing the young man to bite his lower lip. "Are you perhaps stuttering now, Kim Doyoung?" 

"I just--you'll legit feel it every time I'll-" 

"So what? Does that make you nervous?" 

You leaned down and cupped his cheek. He let his head fall on the mattress at your gentle push and he closed his eyes when he felt your lips gently kissing his neck. Your fingers started to draw patterns on his collar bones; while the other hand slipped past the restriction of his trousers, touch gentle above his boxers.

Doyoung's breath stopped for a moment before he released it, his cock twitching under your fingertips, so eager to be touched without the layer of fabric of his underwear. 

"I'd love to be able to feel it every time you fucked your fists," you whispered into his open lips, “bet it would make me so wet." 

You dragged the last word out while your hand palmed him and you loved to see him strain his neck to the side, his pulsing artery inviting you to just bite into it. 

And you were about to do it; if Doyoung hadn't of grabbed your wrists and smiled wickedly all of sudden. 

“Alright. But turn around,” he instructed. His fingers intertwined with yours and for a moment it felt fuzzy and warm. But the dying sun and its shadows made him look dangerous instead of aethereal.

“Huh?” you tried to move away but his grip was iron. 

“Turn around? Oh,” You blinked, finally making a sense of his words. 

He smirked again and let go of your arms, sliding his warm hands under your shirt instead until reaching your breasts. Your breath quivered and you straightened your back, letting your head fall as he cupped them, squeezing their softness harshly until you gasped. 

And then he became the one to rise and connect his teeth to your neck after discarding your upper garment with an aggressive pull. 

You closed your eyes - mind imagining just how badly your Ravenclaw bed was going to creak in a moment when the two of you made contact with the ancient bedframe - Doyoung reaching the swell of your breasts with the tip of his tongue.

 You felt your bra slowly descending off your torso as well. Doyoung grabbed it roughly and threw it somewhere in the room as if unable to wait a single moment. Just as roughly, he pulled you down on top of him and pushed your pyjama bottoms off your ass in one fatal swoop. 

"Come here," he murmured, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth; the thought of you sitting on top of that making shivers travel all across your body. Your chest was pressed on his but the fabric of his shirt bothered you too much, so hungry to feel his skin instead. 

So you leaned down and took his tongue inside your mouth, dancing with it and making him taste yours whilst your fingers gathered his top until feeling his abdomen and pecs defined, beneath the shirt. Then you forced it off, ruffling his fluffy dark hair playfully, before finally biting into his neck just as you had been dying to do. He chuckled, his throat moving accordingly to the vibrations of his deep voice but it soon transformed into an airy panting as you moved the biting down across his collarbones; placing wet kisses all across his chest, flicking his nipples and biting on the soft skin of his abs. Doyoung gulped when you reached the most prominent veins of his navel and you smiled, tracing one with the tip of your tongue until reaching the waistband of his boxers. 

"Ah shit, just-," he choked. You froze; keeping your hot breath close to his twitching cock just to make him gasp. 

You didn't go any further though and just smiled, putting on a short show for him, namely taking off your bottoms and underwear before sitting on top of his legs again. 

He admired you from underneath his hooded eyelids, but before you could tease him as you intended to, he flicked his wrist and your body moved the other way accompanied by your high pitched yelp. 

"Doyoung!" You leaned forward to steady yourself, as your ass was already being kneaded by his impatient hands. 

He chuckled once and pulled you by the waist until you could feel his breath between your legs. 

"Be a good girl," he murmured and dove in, the movement of his tongue around your clit making you moan too loudly for the university campus. 

"We need--to soundproof--the room-" you tried to speak with a broken voice as Doyoung spread you out with his hands, fingers pressed into the softness of your ass. 

"You can be silent with my cock inside that mouth." 

Mind clouded as you moved your hips to ride his tongue, you almost forgot about Doyoung's painfully hard cock poking out of his boxers. 

So you leaned down, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible and watched it spring out of the underwear on the lower stomach. Doyoung's hiss didn't go unnoticed by your ears as you pumped it, so you eagerly licked a strip up on it and felt his slight shudder. The you let out a trail of saliva past your lips and you watched it coat his tip. 

"Shit," he breathed on your clit as you pursed your lips on it and when you actually took it inside your wet mouth, hand working the base, his fingers pulled you even lower on his face. 

You moaned as his tongue fucked inside of you quickly, the vibrations of your throat causing him to get even more eager. With your cheeks sucked in to take as much as you could and one hand held steady to work the rest, you bobbed your head quickly, matching his pace. Then you finally took it all in until you felt it inside your throat, making him groan as he moved his hips upwards for more. You gasped for air as you let his cock slide out, glistening with your saliva, and you pumped it with your fist, moaning a second time when you felt Doyoung's fingers stretching you out. 

It was already too much. Your mind was hazy and your muscles aching. And when you felt another finger being added, making you squeeze your thighs together and curl your toes, your own fingers never letting his cock go, you moaned loudly. 

"Shh," He warned you, amused at you getting louder and louder as your orgasm approached. So you leaned down again, forehead resting on his thigh for a moment before starting to resume sucking on his cock again. 

Doyoung's legs twitched imperceptibly at your sudden touch and the movement of his tongue, back on your clit, got too erratic, showing you how close he was himself. 

"Babe, ah--fuck," he mumbled with broken breaths, his fingers digging into your sides, until he thrust inside your mouth a few times uncontrollaby and then went limp moments before you could feel his seed shoot on your tongue. You kept still as much as you could before letting it out, slowly working the length as it sprouted a few times on your breasts as well, descending on your nipples and his abdomen. 

Doyoung groaned a few more times and right after you finished swallowing you arched your back, his mouth sucking on you so needily as if he was still trying to reach his own high. 

Your nails dug into his thighs and your hips started to move on their own on his face, riding his tongue and trying to keep as quiet as possible. 

"Cumming!" you mumbled, mind hazy and muscles aching. 

Doyoung hummed pleased and didn't stop even when you started to uncontrollably shake in his hold, fucking you through your orgasm until you had to beg him to stop. 

__________

“What were you doing when this happened?” 

The man stated in a monotone voice, in full concentration as he was staring at his device connected to Doyoung’s room. He was standing in the middle of it, the only spot without any burnt patches or open flames.

The latter's mind went to last night, the feeling of his cock inside his desperate palm as the image of your mouth roamed his imagination; so he let out a short “heh” before clearing his throat. 

“So I was in bed.” 

“With someone?” The man mumbled. 

“Alone.” Doyoung replied. 

And it wasn’t a lie. He came inside your mouth that day and when he got to his room again all he could think of was cumming inside of it again. 

The man didn't reply for a moment. 

“And you said that it was as if an explosion happened that made your whole room catch fire?” 

“Yep.” Doyoung slid his hands in the sweatpants pockets, fighting the urge to swing back and forth on his heels. 

“Well, the room is not malfunctioning or anything. I just think your emotions were too strong."

The man raised his eyes to stare at Doyoung’s face. “Whatever they were," he added. 

The lack of emotions on the dude’s face was making things even more awkward. 

“Uhm yeah, I think I was having a nightmare or something…” Doyoung scratched the back of his head. 

The man hummed and with one last click, he sighed and twisted his wrist once. Doyoung inhaled relieved to see his burnt walls turn to their original state. He had never experienced a rub so good it made his room burn like hell itself before. 

“Thank you, sir," Doyoung addressed the man that was already walking towards the door. 

“Next time this happens-” The stiff man said, turning around once, feet in the corridor, “-just imagine water or something.” 

“And what if my room gets flooded?”

The man straightened his jacket with a short tug. “Well, just don’t jack off then.” 

With a little smile, Doyoung was ready to see him off and hide under the covers. 

__________

“What do you mean by an explosion?” 

You leaned closer to Doyoung, who was sitting across the table from you in the study room, to hear his whispers better. 

“Like a real ka-boom?” A curious voice asked as well. 

Doyoung and you both turned your heads towards Haechan, standing and resting with his elbows on the desk as close to you as possible. 

“This is a private conversation!” You gently whisper-yelled, pushing Haechan back. 

"I'm just curious to know more about the rooms!” He whined, straightening his back. 

“Well, didn’t you feel it?” Doyoung’s words were directed towards you and you gulped, remembering the sensation you felt the previous night. 

It did feel like an explosion inside your whole body. If that was what your connection was going to feel like in the future, you were surely going to lose your mind with each orgasm. 

“Of course I did! But my room didn’t catch fire.”

Doyoung’s adam apple travelled up and down in his throat. “Lee. Can you please just fuck off for a second?” 

Haechan, face almost touching Doyoung’s one, opened his palms and took a few steps back again. 

“I think,” you waited a moment, eyes darting around as if trying to gather more courage, “it happened because I was doing it too.” 

Doyoung’s jaw fell open and Haechan whistled. 

“Well, shit. If I blow up my room while I think of my cute girlfriend then what’s going to happen when I actually fuck my cute girlfriend?” 

You bit your lower lip, trying to not giggle at his words but it was impossible.

 Doyoung's gaze caressed your face and his expression relaxed into a smile.

“You like that? Me calling you my girlfriend?” He touched your hand and you intertwined your fingers soon after. 

“Uhm, guys, I think you should take this to the bedroom now...” Haechan trailed off, seeing you imperceptibly lean into each other. 

“Maybe we should just not masturbate at the same time,” you whispered. 

“Maybe we should just blow up the entire university.” Doyoung whispered back, before your lips inevitably clashed together making Haechan groan and a few other nosey people in the vicinity look away too. 

__________

It was a sunny day and the grass outside never felt softer as you sat down crossed legged. Doyoung’s hand was still intertwined with yours and you giggled when instead of letting it go as you tugged away, he just pulled you towards himself. 

“I just can’t get enough of you,” his breath caressed your lips. The kiss was slow and soft and you melted in his arms. 

You hummed teasingly then watched as Doyoung indicated towards you and a sandwich gently breezed inside your hand from the basket he carried. 

“Stop boasting your object moving skills,” you smiled before taking a bite. Your knees touched as he sat down as well and he smirked seeing your uniform skirt slide up your thigh a bit. 

“My room still reflects my mood even when I’m outside of it,” he continued as you munched on the food. “Perhaps I should keep the distance.”

“Can’t you just turn it off?” 

Doyoung snickered. “Yeah. I’m on my way to ask the principal to turn off my room because I want to have mad sex and I end up destroying it.” 

You tilted your head to the side as if thinking for a moment. Then you noticed Doyoung’s gaze. 

“What?” 

“That turned you on just now,” he smiled. 

You gulped. “No.”

He sighed knowingly. “Yes.” 

You exchanged a look. 

“Can you feel it?” 

“Can you not?” 

“I thought it was just my feeling. Is this you being horny right now?”

“I think it’s both mixed.” 

“You said that I would only know when you orgasm.” 

“Well, that’s what I thought too.” 

You both stared at each other for a moment as if doomed. 

Then Doyoung’s eyes twinkled and the heat inside of your gut intensified. 

“Doyoung! Stop it.” 

“Hmm, can you resist this though?” he leaned in like a snake trying to catch your lips. 

“We’re outside,” you whispered, placing your hands on his chest. 

“We’re hidden. No one’s looking.” 

The burning sensation inside your gut intensified even more and when you felt completely wet Doyoung exhaled. 

"Oh, I know," he whispered on your lips when you tried to tell him. "I think--," he licked his lower lip, looking at you twitching in front of him. "I can make you cum with only my words." 

You whined closing your eyes and trying to calm your quick breath whilst your hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. 

"Please, this is torture."

You squeezed your legs together and Doyoung was quick to slide one hand between them just enough to keep them apart, kneading the soft flesh in the meantime. 

His lips brushed yours and you let go, diving in desperately, sucking on his tongue as if only that alone could make you go over the edge. His hums were deep and rough and you wondered how he managed to keep it together. 

"Hold tight," he ordered and you gasped, unable to breathe for a moment before blinking hard and seeing new trees adorning Doyoung's figure. 

"Wait," you furrowed your eyebrows. He smiled hovering on top of you. The breeze felt different and there were no more screaming students in the background. 

Then you realized. 

"Is this your room?" you tried to look around above his shoulder. 

The green moss under your back was soft to the touch and the campus surely didn't have any waterfalls like the one shining under the setting sun. 

"Doyoung, did you really just transport us in your room as if it was nothing?" 

"Perks of being a Prefect," his soft breath caressed your ear as he outlined it with his lips. 

"I’m a Prefect too but I can't do this!" 

"Then, perks of being a horny Slytherin," he chuckled and you felt his tongue gently drawing patterns on your neck. The breath you took in was sharky and you tightened your hold around his torso, pulling him towards you even more with your legs. 

"Just fuck me already," you whined and Doyoung was quick to unzip his pants, pupils so big that you could see your own reflection in his eyes. 

"I think this is going to be very quick," he grunted, pushing your panties to the side and pressing his tip into your clit. 

You threw your head back and opened your mouth in a soundless moan, choking when he pushed inside slowly. 

"I don't need much either," you managed to speak before you both started to pant in unison. Your fingers got tangled in his luscious hair, wrapping his neck with your arms and lungs filled with his scent. Your mouths were open against each other as if starved and you wondered why it took you so long to fuck again. 

The moans were quick to invade the room and when your body started to shift back and forth under his weight, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down around your head. 

Doyoung kissed you once and bit on your lower lip, stretching it out as his hips slowed down, making you feel every inch so very well. 

“I can feel the way you like it when I’m like this,” he murmured amused. 

You inhaled deeply as he hit it hard a few times then slowed down again. The waterfall burst in sync and you felt a few drops of water on your skin. 

“And I guess you can also feel the way you’re torturing me right now,” you breathed out, clenching around him as if begging for release.

“Yeah,” he outlined your lips with the tip of his tongue, “and it’s so fun.” 

Your hips moved upwards, needing more and he chuckled once, lifting himself on the knees and lifting one of your legs to his shoulder.

“I think I need some magical words now, baby.” 

You tried to roll your eyes to the side and move your arms but he clicked his tongue and you realized the amount of control he had on you. 

“I can’t believe you’re balls deep inside of me and still have the strength to keep my wrists down with magic.”

“Oh, you want me to lose control?” 

You looked around the room, or better, the dark green forest, and imagined it on fire but your lucid thoughts lost any meaning the moment Doyoung started to move again, the sound of his hips hitting the underside of your thighs becoming too overwhelming. Your spinning head got you whining and moaning his name, again and again, each time louder until he actually lost control and your fingers were free for you to dig them into his chest, palming his stomach and going up to reach his face. He kissed your fingertips leaning down again as you started to twitch in his hold. 

“Shit,” he cursed through his teeth, your approaching orgasm making him unable to distinguish between his one and yours. 

You gasped, lips forming the words and he grunted. “I know, baby, I know.” 

And when it came crashing down on you, it felt so right yet so terrifying that you thought you were about to pass out. 

The waterfall moved its course right above you and you screamed while Doyoung laughed loudly, his hair getting all wet and dripping above you. 

You tried to open your eyes, passing your hands on your face. 

“We’re all wet now!” 

“You were wet way before this,” he chuckled, his cool skin so smooth to the touch that you pulled him down until he was able to rest his face on your chest. 

He wrapped your torso with his arms, caging you under his weight and you sighed relieved, still dizzy from the mind-blowing experience. 

"I can't believe this just happened."

You looked up at the calm waterfall and its pink water that reflected the sunset. A few birds you didn't notice before were chirping. 

“Can you get rid of my clothes without touching me?” you wondered. 

Doyoung chuckled and his breath warmed your bosom. 

“Yes.” 

You gasped. “Who have you been practising with?” 

He lifted his head to rest his chin on you. “It’s second-year magic.” 

“They don’t teach us to undress people.” 

“They teach us to move stuff. I can move it from your body to the floor. Same thing.” 

“Then do it. Wet clothes feel aw-” you tried to complete the sentence but didn’t manage to as you suddenly felt his wet body on yours instead of the fabric. 

“What are we? Like Adam and Eve?” you laughed at the image of you both naked and lying on a patch of moss. 

He kissed your lips slowly. “Perhaps we were. Like in a past life or something.” 

You hummed, pushing his dripping hair back. “So the room it’s better flooded than burnt?” 

“The soil will absorb everything so when I'll turn it back, abracadabra, no water left.” 

“Why are you so smart?” you smiled. 

“Actually, I dropped out of the top 10.” 

Your smile died. 

“What?” 

“You too.” 

“What?!” 

__________

“Oh shit.” 

You were standing in the corridor, one hand on your mouth and eyes wide looking at that month’s academic ranking sheet. 

“How is this possible?” you asked Doyoung who sighed near you. 

"I thought you were aware."

“Well, when was the last time you folks handed in homework?” Haechan stopped by, head shaking like a disappointed parent. You both turned your heads towards him. 

“We’ve been-” you started to speak but drifted off, unsure on how to continue. 

“Busy,” Doyoung concluded with a nod. 

“Oh yeah,” Haechan eyed Doyoung’s bright hickey on the side of the neck. “I can see that. Keep up the good work then,” he patted both of your shoulders. "Also, you have leaves in your hair."

It was your turn to sigh. Doyoung reached the top of your head and retrieved a small leaf. 

“I think we need to schedule our meetings-” you started but Doyoung interrupted you, alarmed. 

“What? No way!”

You crossed your arms on your chest and faced your boyfriend. 

“We’re not going to graduate if we keep fucking all day.” 

And Kim Doyoung actually pouted. “I don’t care.” 

“You’ve been fighting for first place all of this time!” 

“It’s because I was trying to win over you. Now it’s not important, is it? Because you're mine."

You had to close your eyes to gather your shit. 

“Doyoung, our future-” 

“My future is you.” 

“Oh my God, stop being cringy for a second."

He hummed amused and pulled you towards his chest. You reluctantly let him do it and wrapped his torso. He smelled like forest and well - like Doyoung. 

“We can study and fuck,” he murmured in the crook of your neck. 

“What are you? A bunny?” 

“We can study together,” he looked at you as you lifted your gaze on his face. 

“You already know how bad of an idea that is, Doyoung.” 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Okay. Knowing you, there's already a plan."

You let him go and lifted one finger as you started to announce the rules. “We can meet once a day.” 

“Oh my God," he rubbed his forehead. 

“When we meet, we can fuck only if we’ve already finished our assignments,” you added a second finger. 

Doyoung passed one hand through his hair annoyed. “Alright.” 

“Three. If you try some weird shit while I’m busy, I’ll beat your ass.” 

He smirked. 

“Do you understand?” 

“Yes. You’ll beat my ass. Understood.” 

“You don’t want that,” you warned him.

“I absolutely do not want that,” he kissed your lips once. 

__________

Doyoung turned around and around. 

His bed felt cold and uncomfortable that night and everything he desired was having you warm it up. He thought he loved studying but while working on his homework he realized that he has been in love with you instead all of that time. 

The wall clock ticked slowly until Doyoung groaned and broke it with a twist of his wrist. Then he hated the way it looked on his wall so he sent it flying out of the window. 

With a grunt, he rolled over and tried to find his phone. 

From DY: you up? 

From You: yes, studying. as you should 

From DY: hmmm 

You sighed looking up at the screen for a second more before putting it away.

 Then you suddenly froze, hand in the air and your panties absolutely soaked. 

“Kim Doyoung. I swear I’ll-,” you’ve never called someone as quickly as him at that moment and you hated the way you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his sleepy voice. 

“Yes?” 

“Doyoung.” 

“Yeah.” 

You exhaled. “I’m mad at you.” 

“Hot,” he chuckled. 

“Stop whatever you’re doing right now.” 

“Hmm, can’t,” he gulped and his shifting on the bed synced with the feeling inside of your stomach. 

“I have a test tomorrow!” 

“I can teach you if you come over,” he murmured. 

“I can teach myself very well if-” 

“If you didn’t have your mind so clouded right now?” 

You started to pant lightly and you closed your eyes. 

“I’m just minding my own business,” he teased you. “Turn off the phone.” 

The grip on your desk went unnoticed to you until you started to lightly shake, the wet sound of his fist working himself paired with his deep and lazy voice too tempting for you to actually put the phone away. 

“Doyoung. We talked about it. Rule number three. I’ll beat your ass.” 

“Come over and do it then.” 

You sighed annoyed and let the silence fill the space for a while. 

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Just a moment. Touch yourself.” 

“You’re going to burn the room,” you tried to joke, ignoring the way your hand slowly descended between your legs. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. 

But he sighed once and his breath got louder. “Good girl,” he praised you. 

You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, listening to Doyoung’s sounds and adding some whines of your own to the orchestra. 

“Can’t you really come over? This is driving me insane,” he groaned. 

“If I come over, you’ll keep me occupied all night.” 

Doyoung chuckled once then swore silently as you slid a finger inside of yourself, pumping quickly until the wet sounds reached his ears. 

“I bet it doesn’t feel as good as my fingers.” 

The chair you were sat on fell to the ground with a loud bang as you stood up and leaned on the desk. Your arm was trembling so you bent it, resting on your forearm instead, forehead pressed hard on it as your fingers were indeed too short to give you the pleasure you were seeking. 

“Oh babe, you’re doing such a mess over there,” he had the audacity to snicker but then his voice died in a choke as you started to moan his name like a mantra, over and over. He surely could feel the way the heat growing inside your limbs were making you curl your toes and bite on your own skin. 

“Are you going to cum with me?” you mewled and Doyoung just about lost his mind. His panting filled the phone speaker and as you reached your orgasm, lulled by his swearing, his moans got engulfed by loud thuds. 

“Doyoung?” you tried to reach the phone with a trembling hand but the beep replaced his voice. 

__________

“This is very embarrassing,” he whispered to himself. 

You were both standing in his room, arms crossed on the respective chests and eyes trying to make sense of what you were looking at. 

You ran as quickly as lightning towards the Slytherin rooms, worried out of your own mind, just to see Doyoung sat on a gigantic rock instead of his bed. 

“What happened?” you walked towards him before tripping on the unstable floor. 

“Oh, careful!” he slid down and caught you in his arms before you could get yourself a free rhinoplasty. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him and his red cheeks told you that he was absolutely fine and actually still high as fuck from the mindblowing rub. 

He chuckled. “We’re in a cave!” 

You rolled your eyes and pushed his chest away. “You scared the shit out of me. Rocks started to fall down? What the hell happened?"

He sighed, looking around. “The walls and ceiling started to disintegrate.” 

“This makes absolutely no sense. I don’t believe there’s no other Slytherin with your problems. One can not have control over this. This is so much responsibility. How is this safe for school? I will go and ask-”

“Hey, hey, Y/N, shh,” he cupped your face and smiled. “It’s alright.” 

“It’s not! You burn then you get hit with rocks. And for what? Because you’re horny. I’m worried but I’m also mad!” you replied but him squishing your cheeks didn’t make your discourse aggressive at all. Doyoung smiled again and gave you a peck on your duck lips. 

“At least you’re in my room now.” 

“I’m not! I’m in a cave.” 

“I learned the spell,” he announced and took a step back like one of those muggle magicians with hats full of bunnies. “What bedding colour do we want tonight, Miss?” 

“We? I’m going back to my normal room to study.” 

Doyoung pouted. “Ah, come on. Just sleep with me. What if scary wolves start appearing from the walls this time? Or a tornado? Even worse, your father to beat my ass?”

“You’re insufferable. Also you wouldn’t want my father to see me sleeping with you, would you?” 

He chuckled delightedly as a child and with both wrists and a little wince of effort he turned his room back to normal. 

You inhaled and exhaled deeply as he let himself fall on the bed, patting the side of it for you to join him. 

“I’ve never been as empty as now. That nut almost killed me so I just want to sleep. Please.”

You sighed again and moved towards him. “Okay. But this is the last time.” 

_________

It wasn’t the last time. 

You tried to avoid Doyoung as much as possible for your own sanity and your academic well-being. And his actual survival. But it was impossibile to not bump into his firm chest at every corner. 

“Doyoung! Leave me alone!” you would announce from far away as he would walk down the corridor. “I know you have a test in ten minutes. We don’t have time for this.” 

“Just a single kiss,” he gave you The Eyes. 

Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin Prefect? Scary, intimidating, domineering. 

Kim Doyoung, your boyfriend? Clingy, soft, a complete fool. 

And you adored him. 

His friend laughed and walked away, leaving Doyoung behind to bother you further. 

“A hug?” he tried again as you shook your head. 

“Okay, okay. A handshake,” he smiled and you rolled your eyes amused, extending your hand. 

Doyoung grabbed it and kissed your knuckles slowly, then gently kissed one of your fingertips, his dark eyes not letting your figure go for a moment. Your pupils shook as he would kiss another fingertip, then another, and before you could realize you were in his arms, mouths on each other, his body pressing into yours and pushing you towards the first classroom available. 

“Doyoung. Rule number 2,” your voice was a tiny choked breath. 

“I don’t care.”

“What if someone’s going to see?” you whispered alarmed as he lifted you with a thud on the professor’s desk. 

“Let them watch. Are you up to give them a hot show?” 

“Stop joking! We can be expelled!” 

“You won’t care about that in a second,” he announced, falling on his knees and pushing your panties to the side. 

You inhaled sharply and slid your fingers into his hair, mouth open in a silent moan as Doyoung’s tongue actually made you forget whatever concern you had. 

“Doyoung, I said, you have a test,” you mumbled, fingers gripping his hair and pulling. 

He stood up, hands placed on each side of you and his gaze made you immediately regret your tone. 

“Is this how you talk to me?” he lifted one eyebrow. 

“Is your little Slytherin ego hurt?” you tried to imitate him but failed as he pulled you down from the desk and turned you around. 

“I see that you miss our fights,” he growled inside your ear before bending you over. 

The first slap to your ass made you bite your lower lip. The second made you moan and the third got your panties even wetter than before. 

“If you’re going to whine so much about it then you just deserve to not cum at all.” 

“You are not leaving me here like this now,” you warned him, hearing him fumbling behind you. 

“Hmm, and if I do?” 

“I will edge myself until you burst yourself.” 

“Let’s see,” he took a step back and dusted his jacket, ready to leave. 

You let out a whine of protest. 

"What?" 

You wiggled your butt. "Come on."

Doyoung raked your skirt up again slowly. 

"Come on, what?" 

It was a long and cruel battle and you secretly enjoyed every bit of it. He waited for you to talk again, running his fingers all over your ass as if bored but his thoughts were not hidden to your gut. 

You tried to turn around but his palms pinned you down again with a soft thud. 

You turned your wrists and he let out a surprised chuckle, quick to shield it. 

"Is this a Defense against the dark arts class?" 

You smiled. "Yes. You're the dark arts." 

He hummed and got closer until you felt the fabric of his pants brush against the underside of your nude thighs. And when he raked his hand through your hair you moaned, letting him open your lips with his tongue as you arched your back.

It was a slow and sinful kiss, and you melted into it as he fucked your mouth with his. 

You were both panting when he broke it off and turned you around. Quick to hook your legs around his waist, you kissed again as if for the first time. 

You pushed his hair back and he tugged at your lower lip with his teeth. He ran his tongue along with it and you dove in again, sucking on it. Nails digging and palms pressing on the desk loudly, you begged him without words as he breathed heavily into your neck. 

Shifting and rocking together, murmuring incoherently, you set his room on fire for the second time. 

__________

“I’m calm today. It’s fine,” Doyoung looked at you with wide innocent eyes. 

You were both sitting on his room’s fluffy rug (“Do you like the green? I made it appear only for you”), your books all scattered around you and your nerves thin, expecting your boyfriend to jump on you anytime now. 

The lighting in his room as he was rearranging your guts just days before attracted half of the Slytherin people to the door. Doyoung had some explaining to do as soon as he got back, shirt out of his pants and swollen lips. 

"Are you perhaps going through a rough time?" the gentle Nurse that came to assist eventual injuries asked, timidly entering the smoky room. "You know you can talk to me whenever. Your father and I-," 

"Oh no, Ma'am. I'm doing well actually," Doyoung was quick to interrupt her after dismissing all kids polluting the corridor. 

"This happens when one's mad though."

He chuckled once. "I am definitely not mad. I'm--happy actually," Doyoung explained and coughed a few times, hand swatting around his face. It would take him more than a few wrists turns to make his room look decent again. 

"Doyoung-," 

"Ma'am, I have a girlfriend."

She blinked at him then suddenly blushed. 

"Oh!" she then smiled. "Oh. Well," she took a napkin out of her coat and gently patted her neck. "I know married couples that never managed to change the colour of the lights. Imagine turning it on fire," she laughed slowly and Doyoung hummed, hand resting on the debris of his bed, waiting for her to finally leave. 

"I'll send your father a letter to congratulate myself for the nice couple-,”

"Oh no no no no" he sprinted in front of her, hands on both of her shoulders. "My father would surely appreciate it but he's-uh- currently- hm- out of the country."

Her eyes twinkled with malice. "Then you'll have to be cute with your girlfriend for a while and keep your room intact."

“I swear. I’m cute. Just a calm studying date. Promise,” he actually lifted his pinky and you smiled, wrapping it with yours and touching thumbs. 

Then you sighed turning your computer on. 

“I’m glad. I missed our fluffy moments and I can’t believe the actual Nurse threatened you- Doyoung!” you interrupted yourself as you eyed his hand on your ankle. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he blinked at you. You hummed as a warning. 

“Come on. You would have felt it.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him and resumed your fumbling. He didn't look away though and you could actually see his movements in your peripheral vision. 

"Doyoung."

"What? I'm just getting comfortable."

"Leaning towards me?" 

"Oh, come on. I missed you," he got as close as to touch shoulders with you and place a hand on your thigh. 

"Had no idea Slytherins were so cuddly," you looked at it, worried. 

"Hm? Is this-," he squeezed your leg, "making you feel some type of way?" 

You pursed your lips. "Not at all."

"Not at all you say?" his voice was getting dangerously lower as he started to play with the hem. 

"Doyoung, the studying-," you tried to speak but he placed a single kiss on your jaw, interrupting you. 

"The what?" he murmured. 

You gulped. "We-," 

"Go on," he kissed your neck, stealing a real moan from your chest. 

He chuckled. "So easy."

“Okay, you know what? That’s it. You deserve to be punished,” you announced, grabbing his green Slytherin tie and pulling it towards you. Doyoung exhaled and almost lost his balance, his eyes wide open at your actions. 

“What are you doing?” he stared at your hand. 

You ignored him. “Hmm, let’s see. What safeword should we use?” you wondered, deep in thoughts. 

“Eh? Safeword?” 

“What about ‘green’?” 

“What about it?” 

“Say it when it’s too much, honey,” you explained and got up, starting to walk and dragging your boyfriend by the tie. He followed you quickly towards the bed, almost tripping on his feet, and he let you push him roughly on it. 

It’s not that he didn’t have any strength, but he was so shocked that he couldn’t move a single limb. 

“You know what Ravenclaws are good at?” 

He shook his head. 

“Wit, originality and winning,” you recited, lifting his chin with your nail. 

“You’re also good at sucking cock,” he murmured, the little smile blooming on his lips showing his senses coming back to his body. 

You tsked and slid his tie off his shirt making his hiss at the harsh movement. Then you touched each button on that shirt and they fell to his lap, slowly exposing his collarbones and chest. 

Doyoung kept his eyes on you like two dark fires and you knew he was waiting for you to hesitate for a single moment so he could attack instead. 

“Can I play too or is this a one-sided fight?” he wondered, leaning down on his elbows, his tongue slowly wetting his lips. His bed was a dark green velvet this time and his figure on it made your mouth water. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. 

He hummed lazily and looked at you as if unsure of what to do first. 

Then your buttons popped too. 

All of them and at the same time. 

You closed your eyes briefly at the sound and breathed out shakily. 

“Really? Copying me?” 

Doyoung shrugged and indicated to you that it was your turn. 

So you put on a brave smirk and walked towards him slowly, letting your uniform shirt fall on the ground at his feet. T

hen you climbed on his lap. 

He followed your movements and you were pleased to see the little breaths coming out of his open lips as you leaned down as if to kiss him but twisted your wrists instead. 

His arms moved towards you and unsupported, his back hit the mattress. 

Doyoung chuckled once but the smile disappeared as his tie slowly wrapped his hands like a snake. 

“Babe?” 

“I’ve been honing my skills too,” you explained and got off him right at the same moment his body slid quickly on the sheets until meeting the bed board with a soft thud. 

He groaned once, trying to move his arms but they didn’t budge, tightly secured above his head. 

You giggled and straddled his thighs again, palming his nude stomach in the meantime. 

“Hmm, what should I do with you now?” you wondered. 

Doyoung bit his lower lip and whispered a spell. Your bra slid down your arms and you pouted. 

“Poor baby. With your wrists tied like that you can’t do mental spells? This is all you can do now?” you discarded the item of clothing to the side. "Hmm, not even horny Slytherins can perform magic with tied arms, can they?”

He let his head fall down on the pillow, the annoyed smile adorning his pretty face making you weak in the knees. 

“I don’t need magic to get you begging,” he retorted, his dark gaze adding to the discourse. 

“Alright,” you gave it to him with a shrug. “But what are you going to do when I do this-” you slid your fingers between your legs, “and you can only watch?” you finished right when your fingertips touched your wet clit. 

You inhaled at the sensation and Doyoung swore silently, his arms tugging at the restraints. The moans escaping your lips were little and soft as you went gently on yourself and you didn’t need any Slytherin connection to know what the view of you half-naked on top of Doyoung did to him. 

“Take your skirt off too,” he murmured, eyes trained on your hand hidden by the fabric. 

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in a position to give orders now,” you replied but did as he suggested, slowly unzipping the skirt on your hip. Then you moved to the side and slid it off your legs. When you tried to get your panties off too, you huffed feeling them move on your thighs by themselves. 

“You’re going to lose all of your strength with your little tricks,” you turned your head to face him. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To have me all weak for you to play with me?”

The dying lights in his room were flickering on his skin and with his black strands of hair on the white pillows and his open shirt, he looked like some sort of powerful count. 

No, he didn’t look weak to you at all. 

“Okay, stop playing along now,” you returned on his thighs and sat on his hard cock. 

He bit his lower lip at the sensation and lifted his hip a few times to make you bounce on it. 

“I am not,” he turned his head to the side, teasingly, like a little bird. 

“You’re enjoying yourself right now," you whispered. 

Doyoung took in the sight of you slowly grinding on his pants and breathed out. “Damn right I am. You wanted me to suffer?” 

“Yes.” 

Your fingers softly pressed on his chest as you moved on top of him, his dress pants luscious on your skin. 

"I'm going to cum all over you then leave you like this. What do you think?" 

"Oh, so this is all about revenge."

You didn't reply and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation. Doyoung's abs kept twitching under your fingertips as you tried to reach your high and edging him at the same time. 

You really wondered how long he would last without begging and just imagining his pretty lips forming those pleas just added to the overwhelming sensation inside of you. 

"There's no risk of you destroying this room again and it's also an opportunity for you to learn a lesson," you tried to sound coherent but his dark smirk made you stutter. 

"Yeah," his voice was husky and you gulped. "You look so pretty like this, desperately riding my cock." His eyes danced on your bouncing breasts and for a moment you realized that you were not winning at all. 

You were losing so badly that you didn't have enough strength to keep his hands tied anymore. You fell onto his chest, so close to climax that your head got full of static. Dizzy and whimpering, mouth open on his, breathing his air and rolling your hips, you cried out, legs shaking and muscles twitching, loving the way defeat tasted like. 

__________

Doyoung was sitting in front of you during the Debate class both of your houses shared. It has been weeks since you didn’t actually debate with him and the hours went on very boringly. 

“Since you’ve both been, you know,” Haechan did an obscene gesture with his hands so you lightly slapped them down from the professor’s eyes, “the class lost its spark. Not gonna lie.” 

You smiled a bit and resumed your previous position, chin on the palm of your hand and eyes on Doyoung’s shoulders. 

“He’s saying smart things lately. Nothing to add to it.” 

“He was saying smart things before as well. You were just blinded by hatred. And now you’re blinded by love.” 

You sighed, watching the way the warm rays of sun danced on your boyfriend’s skin. 

Then you straightened your back. 

Haechan blinked at your sudden reaction and waited for you to say something. 

“I have an idea on how to make the class funny again.” Your eyes twinkled with malice and Haechan made a face. 

“Hmm. Sounds like a bad idea.” 

You ignored him and bit your lower lip, eyes piercing Doyoung’s back, not moving even when Haechan waved his hand in front of your face. 

“Are you trying to bewitch him or something?” 

“Or something,” you murmured. 

And to Haechan’s surprise Doyoung actually jolted in his seat. It went unnoticed to others but it was obvious to whom stared. 

And you were staring. 

“What did you do?” Haechan inquiried, eyes darting from you to him and back to you. 

You hummed amused and waited a few more moments. 

Doyoung leaned back in his seat and exhaled. 

“What’s going on?” Haechan whispered again. 

“I’m thinking of him eating me out.” 

“What??” Your friend asked too loudly, making a few people turn around. 

Doyoung also turned and his gaze could have made you get up and run away if you weren’t in class. 

Careful, it was saying but unfortunately it just added to the sensation in both of your bodies, making him close his eyes for a second. 

Then you gasped as well. 

Haechan got the gist of it and clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Yall nasty.” 

_________

"Where do you think you're going?" 

Doyoung pressed his palm on the wall behind you, caging you with his arms soon after. 

"Hey, boo," you smiled nonchalantly. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, the hand near your face moving to trace your cheekbone then jaw. It stopped on your lower lip, his thumb dragging it a bit, slowly touching your skin. 

"So you want war," he murmured. “Refusing me, then fucking yourself on me. Now, thinking who knows what dirty things in class just to get me all worked up. What’s up with the rules you made?”

Your throat twitched as you gulped, his palm now hovering over the softness of it. 

The little whine that came out of your lips made Doyoung smirk, but then he straightened his back and took a few steps back. 

Touch me touch me touch me touch me

"Let there be war," he loosened up his tie and turned around, the sound of his shoes clicking on the shiny corridor pavement poignant as your heartbeat. 

__________

It was late and the night was darker than usual. 

You came back from your last exam of the semester and you were fuming. Dizzy and unable to concentrate on the paper, you could only think of Doyoung’s long and slender fingers slowly pumping inside of you.

Fuck. 

You could almost see his annoying smirk, somewhere on campus, getting himself horny just to get you horny too. And when you thought he’d let you rest for the day while untying the knot of your robe, ready to slip under the covers, you felt a weird sensation vibrating through your body. 

Looking down, you noticed your pyjama move as if an invisible wind haunted your room. It gently nudged you towards the door and you tried to resist for a second. Then the sudden burst of heat inside your core made you inhale sharply. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled and grabbed your robe, trying to wear it again to not show the entire campus your thin nightgown. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you whispered to no one, feeling your feet being dragged on the pavement. Like a Russian ballet dancer, you slid across the corridors and hoped no one would see you as you secretly exited the Ravenclaw chambers. 

“Just--a moment!” you whispered again, hands grabbing the side of the door to see if the outside corridor was empty. 

The pull stopped for a second but then it got impatient and you rolled your eyes, letting it move you around the university like a ghost. 

When you noticed the open Slytherin doors you sighed, the sensation inside your guts growing at an alarming speed, almost as quickly as the pull Doyoung applied to your body. 

And when you entered his room, the lecturing you wanted to give your horny boyfriend died in your throat. 

“Woah, Doyoung,” you looked around. 

The young man was resting on the bed, one hand to support his head. “Hi, baby.” 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, the moss under your feet caressing your skin as the dark, angry sky, illuminated by lightning, danced on your figure. “But are you perhaps mad?”

At the same moment, a loud thunder made you close your eyes and Doyoung pulled you on the bed. You yelped as you landed on it and he wrapped your body with his arms.

“I just want you on top of me, let's test this fucking room to its fullest capacity,” he whispered. His voice was low and it made your hairs rise. 

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” you tried to ask but he shut you up with his mouth in a deep kiss. You whined and placed your hands on the pillow around his head, tugging lightly at his hair spread on it. Doyoung gathered your silky nightgown on your thighs until reaching the hot skin underneath it and when he slapped your ass you bit his lower lip. 

"Of course I'm mad. I'm so mad at you that I might use that cute idea of the safe word of yours." 

“You’re mad? I should be mad! I barely got the exam right while you were probably rubbing one out!” 

He hummed, pleased. “So we’re both mad. What should we do with all of this energy?” 

You wanted to roll your eyes but he spoke again. “Oh. I think I have an idea.” 

“You could have called. I was floating through the campus almost naked.” Doyoung looked down at the way your nipples poked through your thin nightgown and in a second you were on your side, Doyoung’s hair tickling your neck as his lips kissed your chest. He places warm and soft kissed all over it until reaching the hard nubs. You whined silently and wrapped his head with your arms, fingers slowly gripping his firm shoulders. He was about to slide his hand on your stomach too, dancing on your inner thigh when you opened your eyes and gasped loudly. 

He chuckled. 

"Look up," he whispered. 

At the same moment, new lights burst in the room and the walls disappeared.

You were on a hill, tall grass gently waved as you stood on your feet. Above you, the moon looked huge and the stars flickered like a symphony. The horizon was infinite and you felt grounded yet as if about to fall. 

"What is this?" you giggled. 

Doyoung reached behind his back and you noticed that he was sitting on a white blanket in the middle of the field instead of the bed. A few light brown rabbits hopped around and he gave them a cracker. 

"A date," he replied. 

You laughed again and got closer, slowly descending on your knees in front of him. 

"A date,” you repeated. “I might even kiss you." 

"Bet you will do even more after a glass of this," he finally retrieved the bottle of wine he was looking for. 

"Oh?" you tried to read the label. 

He looked at it too. "Haechan said a dear friend of his made it."

"Haechan has a friend that makes wine?" 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. "Yeah. He said she has a winery."

"That's so cool. I'd love to have a winery too,” you rested your head on the knees, wrapping them with your arms and watching your boyfriend pour it in two tall chalices. "In my next life."

"Cheers to that."

"You will have a boring desk job,” you sipped on your wine slowly after he handed you the glass. 

"I can just be hot in my next life and bother you."

"You're already doing it in this life-,”

Doyoung ventured on top of you in a deathly hug and your glasses were thrown on the side. 

“I remind you that we’re mad at each other and I still need to do something with that energy,” he chuckled in the crook of your neck. You wanted to reply but his hands reached your sides in a deathly tickling session. 

The echoes of your laughter slowly descended the valley as the moonlight kept you company. 

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Dog fight! Dee vs B (part 1)

Oki so me and the wonderful @what-a-whump had our two baby’s B and Dee meet each other at the dog-fights. Thank you so so much for proposing this idea, it was so much fun to write this with you <3

I love our boys together. :3

B and Scott are her baby's and Dee and Sam mine :3

taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @thefancydoughnut @outofangband

CW: boxboy universe; institutionalized slavery; illegal fighting rings; brief mention of heavy injuries; pet whump

B is dragged up cold metal stairs by multiple handlers. They hold him at a safe distance by catchpoles, thick cords wind around his neck and press into his throat. He bares his teeth at them, bristling with fury as they force him into the kennel blocks

They’d taken his collar and replaced it with a flimsy strip of plastic with a numbered tag attached to it.

“Put it next to the other one.” The order is snapped, a sharp jab of a baton in his spine to keep him moving. He wants his bonded back. He wants Scott. His owner promised he wouldn’t separate them.

Liar, liar, LIAR!

B snarls and lunges at the nearest handler, snapping titanium canines at the air.

“Stupid fucking dog! Get in there!” It takes all of them to shove him into the small kennel run, his feet hitting smooth cold concrete as he stumbles into it. The catch poles are yanked off him. He whirls around to attack and the chain link gate slams in his face.

He roars with frustration, kicking the gate.

“Bring him back!” He growls, pacing back and forth.

Dee pauses mid stretch, watching the newcomer lunge at the gate in a blind fury. That guy will be spent before his fight even begins if he keeps raging like that.

The chain fence’s sharp rattle grates at Dee’s already fraying nerves. Abandoning his warm up, he stands to his full height, all 2 meter 18 of heavy bones and hard muscle.

“First time?” he rumbles, keeping his voice low, almost soft. “Your master will get you after the fight. No need to panic.”

B startles at the voice, jerking his head in its direction. Another guard dog like him. He narrows his eyes, uttering a warning rumble from the back of his throat.

“Who… who are you? I don’t want this… I was being good!”

A wistful sigh escapes Dee’s lips. “It’s not about that here. You fight. You win. Or- “ He pauses, unwilling to think about the consequences of his failure. Of the punishment his bonded would have to endure for his shortcoming. Dee shakes his head, knocking the thought loose. “Just make sure to win. It’s what I’m gonna do.”

B reaches up to push his fingers through the chain link and looks inquiringly at the other guard dog.

“You’ve been here before…” He murmurs. “I… I just want to get my… my bonded back.” He presses his head against the fence. He couldn’t be away from Scott for so long. He needed him close.

“How do I win?”

“Is your bonded gonna watch? Mine is. Master makes him every time. Has him patch me back up, after.” Dee turned to the other man, catching wild frightened eyes with his. “If you're down there, you have to forget that he’s close. Forget all the things you don’t want him to see. Don’t want to be. Just fight. It’s the only thing that counts.”

After a moment's hesitation Dee grabs his shirt hem and pulls it up, revealing a long twisted scar roping up his torso. Countless scars wind their ways through his skin, twisting him into a grotesque caricature of the man he once was. He still feels shy about every single one of them. Even after all this time, they’ve never stopped aching. “Got pushed against a broken fence my first time. Down there is no place for hesitation. Or mercy.”

B blinks, horrified at the sight. He had defended his master, he had been loyal to him and he had protected Scott, just like he wanted. So why had he put him here?

He didn’t want Scott to see him like this.

“I don’t know…” He murmurs, restless panicked energy burning through him. He pushes off the fence and starts to pace up and down again.

“Gotta fight… and win… Then I can see Scott again…” He looks up at the other guard dog.

“You… said you have a bonded too?”

“Yeah.” Dee’s voice grows soft, warmth tinging his vowels and shining from behind his mismatched eyes. A spider spins its delicate web between the fence links and Dee's eyes linger without truly seeing her. Not really. Not when all he can think about is his bonded. His sparkling green eyes, only ever truly tender when looking at him, wild blond locks shining under the warm sun, the dimples appearing on soft round cheeks whenever he smiles. It was Dee’s sole purpose to protect that smile. “His name’s Sam.”

Dee’s eyes flit back to B. “What’s your bonded’s name?”

B watches the faraway look in the other guard dog’s eyes. He could almost smile, knowing that feeling. He thought the world of Scott too.

“He’s… well the master calls him Pet… But… But his name is Scott.” B’s voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s his true name, I keep it safe for him.”

Breath halting Dee steps closer to the fence, lifting his hand to touch it but thinking better of it at the last moment, he had seen other guard dogs maim one another before the official fights had even begun. His voice drops into a whisper: “What do you mean? Like, his name from... from before?”

The thought is dizzying and Dee takes another step forward. Drawn in by the irresistible pull of the longing for his own name, his past, his truth. Dee’s whole attention zeroed in on B. “He can remember? How?”

B pauses for a moment, wondering whether he had said too much. He should be more careful… Guard Scott’s name like the treasure it was.

“We… he knows my name too. We remembered our names together during training… We know…” He leans closer to the fence, eying the other one. He had never met another guard dog like him before.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

A gentle smile splits Dee’s lips. He shakes his head. “I won’t. You have my word.”

The smile widens into a conspiratory grin. “Nothing compared to remembering, but my bonded gave me a name. Said I needed a proper one. Other than dog.”

He grimaces as the memories of training flood in. Cold white cells and never ending beatings. Shaking that thought off too, he sticks his hand out in imitation of a greeting while keeping the distance of safety between them. “I’m Dean. Or Dee, for short. And you?”

“Dean.” B repeats, his lips twitching into a smile and warmth rising up through his chest. In the low light of the kennels, he watches Dee extend a hand. He imitates them, holding a hand out too but noting the distance between them.

“I like your name… My owner calls me B… I can’t say my real name or my head will hurt.” He says, wincing at the thought of it. “They found us out during training… tried to make us forget. We only forgot our names, not the other’s.”

Dee winces in sympathy but his eye lights up with pride at B’s praise. Sam had picked a wonderful name, he already knows that but hearing it from somebody else sends a warm flutter through his chest. He wonders if Scott was just as precious to B as Sam was to him.

“Like holding the heart of the other.” Dee murmurs. “Take good care of that.”

The crunch of heavy footsteps over concrete cuts B off just as he opens his mouth to reply. Both guard dogs whirl around, eyes fixed on the handlers entering the kennel room. Dee’s eyes snap to the empty catchpoles in their hands. They didn’t come to bring another guard dog in, but to take one of them away.

“230.” One handler barks. “Time to get you ready. Now let’s do this nice and easy, hands behind your back and head down.”

B immediately falls into a defensive posture, bristling and growling at the sight of those damn catchpoles.

The other handler snorts, drawing their baton to slam against B’s kennel. The guard dog lunges forward, slamming against the gate.

“Hey! No baiting the dogs, Marcus!”

“Whatever.”

Dee moves into position without complaint. It was easier to just obey, get this over with and save his energy for the upcoming fight.

Hinges screeching softly, his kennel opens. The handlers storm in and the catchpole's snare draws tight around his neck a second later.

Glancing down at B, Dee wheezes out: “Good luck.”

B utters a low whine, clutching the chain link and shaking it furiously. But it’s useless, they’ve left him alone.

He resumes his restless pacing, up and down the fence line. 5 tiles up, 5 tiles down. Just as he used to during his training. In the cold white room where all he had was Scott.

Voices travel up from the stairwell and B immediately turns to face them, fists raised and posed with the weight through the balls of his feet.

The handlers size him up.

“Get on your knees, hands behind your back like a good dog.”

B doesn’t move, the sound of his snarls reverberating around the walls. He holds his fists up higher. He’s not going without a fight.

“The hard way, then.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solavellan (Modern AU)

Ch Rating: T

Ch WC: 2169

AO3

Chapter 7

Another day at the office. Editing, emails and the ever elusive caller that enables equal opportunities for playing phone tag. A game Solas never enjoys participating in. The morning slides by and Varric is at his desk, twirling his keys around his finger.

“Lunch?”

Solas glances up and sighs. “I’m trying to get a hold of Seeker Pentaghast. Sera said she had more info on an agent that might have a lead on Crystal Red.”

“That sounds like a lot of maybes and probablys and a whole lot of I don’t give a fuck. You’re allowed to take a break and get some lunch.”

“What if they call while I’m away?”

“They can leave a message. Now let’s get out of here before we don’t have any time at all for food.”

Solas shoves back his chair and follows Varric. “I did pack a lunch today,” he mentions.

“Save it for tomorrow then. I’m craving some street tacos and there’s a truck just up the road. I’ll buy so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“I am less concerned about finances and more concerned about getting food from a truck.”

“Ah, live a little Chuckles,” Varric says as he gives Solas a whack on the back.

“If living a little, as you say, means spending two days on the toilet. Perhaps I do not wish to live a little.”

“Well come with me and grab something else. I’m sure there’s something you’d find worthy of your tastes nearby.”

A half hour later and Solas is holding a taco that’s worth the regret he’ll experience from his future self. Some chipotle mayo dribbles down his chin and he swipes it away while pulling out his phone.

He checks his messages. One from Sarya and one from Veda. He taps on the one from Veda first.

Connor went home sick. Pick me up after school today?

He checks the time and swears. How did he not realize he took such a late lunch? She needs to be picked up right now. He dials her number as he stuffs his arms into his coat.

“Veda needs to be picked up,” he tells Varric as he shoves the remainder of his taco in his mouth.

“Got you covered,” Varric replies.

He mumbles a garbled, “thanks” then takes off down the street. Solas is just a block away from his car in the parking garage when she picks up.

“Hey papae!”

“Hello. I apologize. I just now saw your text. I will be late.”

“No worries. I can always watch the band practice until you get here.”

“I will be there soon.”

“Okie doke.”

He says he loves her and hangs up. Sprints the rest of the way down the street, half choking and wishing he’d at least drank some water but makes his way to his little car without incident. He hops inside. Starts it and zooms out of the garage. He’s speeding which has him checking his rear view mirror constantly. But of course, the city has a million stop lights and he hits every red one. He gets to her school later than he ever intended.

He parks, shoving his glasses all the way up his nose, and searches for Veda at the stadium. He spots her in the bleachers, chin resting in her hands and her copper braids coming undone in the breeze. He takes the stairs to meet her two at a time.

“I am so sorry to make you wait,” he says as he wraps her in his arms.

“Seriously, papae. It’s not a problem at all.”

“But what if it had rained? Or stormed like yesterday?”

“I would’ve just stayed inside. Besides, that didn’t happen.”

He sighs, berating himself a little internally. Then he walks with her back to the car. Slides in and clicks his seatbelt in place.

“What’s this?” Veda asks.

Solas glances over at her. She has Sarya’s camera in her hands. He hadn’t even noticed it there. He calmly says, “a camera.”

“Pssh, obviously. But I don’t remember you having a camera.”

“It’s a friend’s,” he says. “We went out for lunch and they must’ve left it.”

“Oh,” she says. “How was work today?” She’s still fiddling with the camera.

“It was work,” he says. Thankfully she easily dropped the subject. “Not much was accomplished.”

She gasps. “Your friend is so pretty. You’ve never mentioned her before. New coworker?”

“No. Just a new friend I met.”

“She looks familiar—and she’s a wonderful photographer. Maybe we should have her take some pictures of us. We haven’t updated our family photos since I was ten.”

“That’s a wonderful idea Veda. However, my friend is only visiting for a short while. I’m not sure there would be enough time to squeeze some family photos in.”

“Bummer. You look so happy around her.”

“I don’t always look happy?”

“You look a different kind of happy with her. It’s nice.”

He takes her words and holds them close to her chest. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

“Yeah,” she says, then she unloads a multitude of stories. How one of her friends got their tooth knocked out by a basketball in gym. How she accidentally used Elvhen in her Tevene class and didn’t notice until the whole class was just staring at her.

“Did you feel embarrassed?” he asks as they pull into the garage.

“A little. But I mostly found it funny. The way the other kids looked so confused.”

“Does anyone treat you differently when you speak Elvhen?”

She shrugs. “There’s a couple of kids who say stupid things but I don’t hang around them.”

“Veda, I’m happy to speak with the administration if your having trouble with other students—“

“While I appreciate that, I can handle a couple of kids who are jerks.”

“Very well but if you ever—“

“I know.” She slings her backpack in her back then kisses his cheek. “Can I go to Varric’s house? I want to see the cats and hang out with Cole for a bit.”

“Yes, so long as you check with—“

“Already did.” She steps out of the car. “Going to drop my stuff off inside then I’ll see you later.”

“Text me when you want to leave. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. See you later, papae.”

Solas sighs. He’s glad she still talks to him and he still gets to see her but there’s also this tiny ache in his chest that misses her always being around the house. But he reminds himself that this is a good thing. It’s just new and he pulls out his phone to read his messages from Sarya.

Hey I’m going to try and stop by your work around 3:15 today.

I stopped by your work but you weren’t there. Saw Varric though! He introduced me to everyone and it was fun! I really like Sera. She’s hilarious! And Merrill was so sweet! Anyway, hopefully I’ll see you sometime soon. 😉

—

“I fold,” Sarya says, she takes a drag from her cigarillo. Then throws her cards face up on the table.

“Already?” Han asks. “What a shame.”

“Your mind must be elsewhere, Sarya. I’ve never known you to throw a game,” Vilanti says as she shows her cards.

Han takes the game and lets out a whoop as he gathers them all to shuffle.

“I still can’t believe Dallen just up and left us. Did he say anything to either of you? About his plans.”

Both of them shake their heads.

“It’s really odd.”

“I don’t know why you care. Easier to keep yourself from using him. Easier for him to be happy this way,” Han says.

“Ouch,” Vilanti grimaces, then gestures for all the cards to be handed over. She shuffles.

“I do agree with that actually. It’s just that most who move on from our happy little family tend to give us more of a notice. We didn’t get to give him a proper goodbye.”

“I don’t mean to sound callous here Sarya, but you were the only one who cared about the guy. Makes sense why he moved on.” Vilanti deals.

Sarya picks up her hand and stares straight through the cards. “That’s not true.”

“Basically,” Han argues. He draws a card.

“Sometimes you both are mean.”

“Not mean. Just honest,” Han says.

Vilanti draws. “On another note, I heard Makon made a new friend today.”

“What?” Sarya nearly drops her cards. “Our Makon? Makon—stoic, quiet, unsociable Makon?”

“Yep. Met her at the gas station. She was passing through on her way to Wycome and her motorcycle broke down. He fixed it up for her on the spot and they exchanged numbers I guess.”

“What the fuck?”

“Good for him,” Han says.

Sarya draws a card. “Yeah, seriously. I hope that works out.”

“Our next gig is in Wycome and he plans to see her then.”

“Was it love at first sight or something?” Sarya asks. She folds and picks her cigarillo back up. Her interest in cards declining by the second.

Vilanti shrugs and plays her cards, taking the game. “By the way he keeps talking about her, I’d say yes.”

“What’s her name,” Han asks, gathering all the cards into a pile.

“Athi. Athi Lavellan.”

“Another Lavellan huh?”

“Guess so. Maybe she’s related to you two,” Vilanti says.

“Doubt it. Or if she is, it’s very distant,” Han says.

In the distance they hear yelling and smashing bottles. They all exchange looks.

“Wonder who the hell set Deshanna off—“

“Let’s go see if we can smooth things over,” Han says with a sigh.

“You two can go. I’ll probably make things worse. I don’t think he likes me much.”

“That’s because you push his buttons. Definitely better for you to stay here,” Han tells her.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Then she waves at them as they slip out the door and finishes off her cigarillo.

—

It’s dark and quiet and Sarya gazes longingly out the window at a small patch of stars. The only patch not hidden by the clouds. She sighs and startles at the sound of knocking. Straightening herself out, she rubs the redness from her elbows and opens the door.

“Solas,” she says it like she’s expecting him but she’s truly surprised. She steps out with him, shutting the door behind her.

“You forgot your camera,” he tells her, holding it out in his hands.

She takes it from him, hanging it around her neck. “Thank you. I should really start keeping better track of my things or you’re going to start thinking I’m trying to bait you or something.”

“I would bite every time,” he says, his hands clasped behind his back. There’s a certain sparkle in his eye and she can’t read him. But she knows she wants to kiss him. So without another thought, she stretches up on her toes and takes him by surprise. He is frigid and she panics, certain she has misstepped. After all, friends don’t kiss like that.

“I’m sorry,” she says, a little out of breath. “I don’t know what…”

Her words are caught on the edge of his lips as he captures her mouth again. His kiss is unreserved but not what she’d call passionate. Like the kiss of a long time lover. A kiss of promise. Of commitment. Her mind screams at her to let go while simultaneously wishing and longing for more. His leg is pressed into her inner thigh and despite the chill of the air, she’s certain she is on fire. Her nails are in his shoulder, the camera even hurts just a little as it presses into her chest, and she doesn’t mean to let out a moan but it’s too late for regrets as he pushes her against the side of her trailer. One hand above her and the other in her hair. With each breath she steals between kisses, she studies his face. Memorizes it and stores it for always. Freckles for days and the tiniest scar above his brow. The only sign of his age lies in the lines of crows feet near the edges of his eyes and she tells herself to ask if he has a skincare routine. He certainly seems the type.

She studies his closed eyelids, there’s two freckles on the right and a singular small one on the left and she notices that there’s even some red in his brows and wonders if they’d have red headed babies.

She gasps then. Pulls away. Why in the hell is she thinking of babies?

“Perhaps I should…”

“Kiss me again,” she says to him. She won’t let one ridiculous thought ruin the moment. She knows that she’s falling for him. Too fast, too soon but she’s holding on for another day.

When they break apart she doesn’t want him to go. But it’s too much to ask him to stay. So she waves goodbye then clicks her camera, saving the image of him walking away.

[unokins]

No Truth Left - part 3

CW: Violence, body malformation

Link to Archive

Not even a second of deliberation and Chie ran for the caves. The collapsing house was a certain dead end. At least she could hope for safety in the twisting tunnels. Her lungs burned and legs ached as she stumbled past the cave's mouth.

A jutting rock caught her foot. Chie fell with a hard thud, hands scraping on the black stone. The squelching pattering and inhuman grunting grew louder. 

The ground in front of her dropped away to a steep, almost vertical slope. Darkness veiled the descent. If she jumped and broke her leg- or worse, her back- Chie glanced behind her, and a thick shadow stretched across the ground outside. 

"Oh God, oh God." Chie pulled herself behind a box, drawing her knees up. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, as if that would protect her.

It's following your footprints. The masculine derision rang in her ears and Chie's eyes snapped open. Who kept talking!?

No one else hid nearby, but the mud from her shoes stamped the ground, advertising her position like a giant, pointing arrow. The stench of rotting fish rolled off the figure as it approached. 

Even if you ran deeper into the caves, it'll follow. It knows your smell.

"Please, help me," Chie tried to say but the words stuck in her throat. All that escaped was a feeble whimper. Tears stung her eyes. She was going to die.

If we want to survive, you need to act. See that bottle? To your left?

Chie's head twitched, eyes alighting on an empty beer bottle. Its bottom had broken off in jagged pieces. Slowly, she nodded.

Pick it up by the neck. And get ready.

"I- I can't." Fear gripped Chie with icy fingers, nails digging into her muscles and freezing her to the spot. Her arm twitched uselessly.

Foreign frustration hit her like a sucker punch. Chie squirmed against it. If you don't fight back, the best you can hope for is a quick death. The voice growled animalistically, words reverberating in Chie's head. And I'm not letting your ineptitude kill me. Now pick up the fucking bottle. And get. Ready.

The shock of the rage, of feeling it like a writhing parasite from within, jolted Chie into grabbing the bottle and lifting it up, holding it awkwardly like a club. The alien emotion faded, leaving Chie with her own fear.

There you go, it purred sardonically. When I say go, jump up and attack it.

"How? What do I-" A foot slapped down in front of Chie.

It didn't look like something out of a horror movie. The horror movies she watched with her roommate didn't come close to capturing the grotesque- had never elicited such a visceral fear response from her. 

The foot was bloated like a corpse's, mottled blue and green scales bulging at irregular intervals. The skin under was a ghastly gray, dark purple veins threading across it. Instead of nails, chipped, black claws adorned the webbed foot and scraped the ground. As the thing shifted its weight, water oozed from between the cloudy scales like puss.

Go!

She forgot how to breathe, couldn’t pull her eyes from the horrific foot. Even as it loomed over her. Closer. A long, webbed hand reached for her.

Damn you, girl!

Chie's legs reacted without her. Her knees snapped straight, rocketing her up. Gripping the bottle tight, she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as she swung it. Shattering glass filled her ears, echoing through the cave, and the creature screeched in pain. A crack, a thump. Chie stood there, arm raised, entire body shaking. She gripped the broken bottle like a drowning woman held a piece of driftwood. Something wet dripped down her arm.

You need to open your eyes.

"Just-" hoarse, caught in her throat. Chie coughed. "Just tell me what happened."

I can't if your eyes are closed.

That made no sense. Chie didn't move.

Open your eyes now. Whoever was talking was losing their patience. And try not to faint.

Chie opened one eye a fraction of an inch and immediately turned her back to the creature, head spinning. "Oh my god, oh my god." Her body shook uncontrollably. "What is that? What- what's-"

A nice hit. Think you got it across the jaw.

Staggering to the crate, Chie placed the broken bottle on top and sank to the ground, back to the monster. She gripped her arms, trying to stop the shaking. Black stone. Mundane. Normal. She stared at it blankly, ignoring the purple blood that stained her hand. Breathe. Breathe. Calm down.

What are you doing? Move.

"I-" Chie clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. "I don't know- I mean." She took another breath. "Who are you? And where are you? I-"

One thing at a time. The voice stopped yelling, at least. I only remember two things about myself. My name is Maverick Hunter, and I'm being chased.

"By who? Or... what?"

I just told you. That perpetual annoyance seeped into the words. That's all I know. Can't tell you who or why.

“Sure.” Calmer now, Chie stood and turned to search the cavern, purposefully avoiding the fish-like thing lying on the ground. "So where are you?"

I'm in your head.

"Excuse me." That was ridiculous. Telepathy, seriously? Was this an elaborate prank? Was some LARPer wearing a super realistic fish costume? Chie scoured the cave for hidden cameras. 

I was attacked by whoever is chasing me. When I came to, I was looking out from your body and your eyes.

"This is insane," Chie said, hand to her forehead. "I'm going- I've had a breakdown. That's it." She didn't think she had a family history of Schizoaffective disorder, but work had been super busy lately and combined with the memory loss, maybe she just needed a good psychiatrist and some medical leave.

You're not crazy. You can't explain what's lying on the ground with crazy.

Chie's weak excuses soured in her stomach. 

"I'm leaving," she said, shaking her head as if to clear the voice from her. "It was not nice meeting you, Maverick."

Chie took one step forward and froze. The feeling in her legs vanished and she was numb from the waist down. Her legs shook, muscles expending extraneous effort. But try as she might, Chie could not move forward.

Now you listen to me, you stupid little bitch. Maverick's voice was low, straining, and hinted towards boiling anger. I have come too far for you to turn back now. I may not have the energy to control you fully right now, but I sure as fuck can stop you.

Chie strained her back, forcing herself to move. Her shoulders twisted and her arms reached forward, but her legs remained petrified. "Why can't I move?!"

Because I'm here! Stuck inside your weak little body, and it's time you accept that. Now do as I say, or I'm going to hold you here until that thing wakes up. And whatever horror you're subjected to? I will happily watch. 

"How are you- Why are you-?!" Chie cried. This was impossible. This was impossible! 

Because I need to know why I'm like this, why I'm being pursued. And as long as we're stuck together? They're after you by association. Your friends. Your family.

Chie flinched. Who were these people to do this? She- this couldn't be real. She couldn't-

The monster on the floor gurgled. Chie's resolve faltered.

Maverick was gentler when he spoke next. We can't afford to turn back. There are answers here we need to find. Okay?

Chie nodded numbly. "Okay. Okay- I- I can. I can do this." Like a rubber band snapping, Chie's legs jolted. She fell forward, twisting to regain her balance. The thought of falling on that thing was horrendous. 

Maverick sighed, energy spent. Go through the crates over there. 

Why, Chie wondered, did a disembodied voice need to sigh? Thoughts whirled together incoherently but Maverick was right: unexplainable things were happening to her. They needed answers.

She removed the crate's lid and dug around inside. Flashlight, rope, beer, snacks, pocket knife, a small backpack, more beer. What kind of person had bagged cookies and peanuts but no water?

Oh, that's perfect! Maverick's glee when Chie picked up a large army knife was worrisome. She set it aside as she filled the backpack with food and supplies. Once done, she slid it free from the sheath, and held it up for Maverick.

Okay, take that knife and kill the fish monster.

"Excuse me?!"

It's the only one that knows we're here. Killing it will buy us time until the others-

"There are more?!"

-find its body. If it's alive- Maverick's voice grew low again, and Chie could almost feel hands on her shoulders as if he held her still. -it won't be long before it warns the others and the Devil's Reef is swarming with them. I won't tell you again. Kill it.

Chie couldn't bring herself to look at it. And Maverick expected her to kill it? She had sobbed when she accidentally ran over a squirrel last year. To deliberately kill a living thing? One that was unconscious? Even if it had attacked her-

Chie. Maverick said sharply. 

>Kill it >Spare it

[phoenix-downer]

Autumn Mending Chapter 3: Firelight Confessions

~1650 words. Romance, Angst, Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Comfort, Healing, Making Up. For SoKai Day 2021.

Sequel to Kisses and Lies because I couldn’t just leave Sora and Kairi hanging, now could I?

Happy SoKai Day!

Summary: Sora and Kairi are still broken up, but with the help of old friends and Twilight Town’s fall festival, the spark between them just might be rekindled.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Sora felt lightheaded from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside his heart. So much had happened today. Kairi had shown up here on Twilight Town and had apologized for breaking up with him. Was it possible she still loved him? That she still cared? 

The way he kept catching her looking at him sure made it seem like she did. And now this hayride. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted her to be snuggled up next to him, holding his hand, for the rest of his life. 

But while his heart and body cried out for joy and begged him to be closer to the one he loved, his brain was yelling at him to put on the brakes, to slow down, to be cautious. What about that guy he’d seen her with? What about the past year and a half of anguish and torment? Could all of that really be forgotten in a single day? 

He wanted to forget. He wanted to put it all behind them. He wanted to forgive and move on and mend things with her. Even if it meant risking getting hurt again. The chance of being with her for good was worth it.

So all that kept his mind occupied to the point he was barely listening to the ghost stories. Before he knew it, the hayride was over and it was time to pile out of the wagon. A pang went through him when Kairi had to let go of his hand, and he wondered if she was as starved for his touch as he was for hers.

Hopefully they’d get to talk about it soon. Hayner, Pence, and Olette had rented one of the campfires nearby for the evening, and that was enough to temporarily distract him. Their little group spent the next couple of hours hanging out, cooking hot dogs and roasting apples and making s’mores. Sora loved sitting by the crackling campfire and spending time with his friends, but as the minutes ticked by, his eyes kept wandering to Kairi. She was seated across from him, and she looked really beautiful in the flickering firelight. Their eyes met, and she smiled and looked at him the way she always used to look at him. 

“Oh gosh, I almost forgot!” Olette said, clasping her hands together. “Our pumpkins! We should grab them so we can light the tea candles in them.” She stood and stretched. “Hayner, Pence, come with me so we can grab everyone’s pumpkins and bring them back.” 

Hayner and Pence finally got the hint and followed after Olette, leaving Sora and Kairi alone. He stood under the pretense of roasting another marshmallow, but really, he just wanted an excuse to sit next to her. He loved being close to her, and her natural scent mingled with the campfire’s smell in a way that reminded him of all the times they’d gone camping as kids back home. 

“The embers are best here,” he said to explain his sudden change in position, and she smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Oh are they now.” 

“Yeah.” A few seconds passed, and he added, “Listen, Kairi, about earlier—”

“I’m still in love with you,” she blurted out, and he dropped the marshmallow and stake into the fire. Didn’t even care about them anymore. Something far more important was at stake here. 

“But—I saw you, with that guy—It’s why I left again—”

Kairi shook her head, and her eyes watered. “After our mission, I was hoping you and I could work things out, but I felt like you were avoiding me. I figured you didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t blame you. So when that guy asked me out, I thought, why not give it a shot. Why not try to move on and give you your space. But then he tried to kiss me, and I just… I couldn’t.” Her voice broke and she was crying in earnest now. “All I could think about was you,” she sobbed. “How badly you’d be hurt if you knew. How wonderful it feels when you kiss me. And I knew I was still in love with you. I knew my heart would always be yours. I knew it was pointless to try to move on.” 

Sora stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Kairi still loved him? Kairi still wanted to be with him? That guy he saw her with was nothing more than a quick fling that made her realize the one she truly wanted to be with was him? 

She wiped her teary eyes. “Say something, please.” 

He gently caught her hand and tugged it away from her face. She searched his eyes, and he smiled and cupped her cheek. 

“I love you too, Kairi,” he said, softly, tenderly, then brought his lips to hers. He kissed her with all the pain and homesickness he’d felt the past year and a half, all the pining and aching and longing, hoping she’d realize just how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her. And she kissed him back, so unguarded and wild and joyful that his pain started to fade away. What had happened couldn’t be undone, but it could be mended and healed, could be turned into something beautiful and good, could become another part of their love story. 

When it was over, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She leaned against his heart and gently touched where his scar was hidden under several layers of clothes. She knew it so well that she didn’t even have to look to know where it was. And he didn’t have to look to know where Xehanort had struck her down either; his hands had held the very spot countless times before and remembered exactly how to comfort her.

“I love you,” he said, his voice full of emotion. 

“I love you too.”  

He kissed her head and stroked her hair. “I’m gonna make you a new promise,” he said. “You mean everything to me, and I want to settle down with you, get married, start a family. The past several years, I’ve been saving up munny so we can do just that. Maybe we should go to college first though, that would probably be good. We’ve gotta provide for our family and for each other somehow. And I know it’ll be an adjustment for me. I’m not naive enough to think it won’t be. But you’re more than worth it.”

She sniffled and clutched his hoodie. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

“It’s okay. You had a lot of reasons to be concerned. I’ve left you behind too many times before.” 

“But you always come back to me,” she said as she looked up and searched his eyes. 

“That’s right. I made you a promise, to always return.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. 

She teared up again and curled his fingers around it. “Keep it till we get home. For good, I mean. Then, and only then, will I take it back.” 

“Deal.” 

He tucked it back into his pocket and held her and kissed her and comforted her. He shared his hoodie with her too because even with the campfire nearby, she was getting a little cold. Plus it was just nice to be this close to her. He’d missed her, so much. And something about the fire was cozy and calming and enchanting. He could hold her like this and stare into it forever. 

Well, until Hayner, Pence, and Olette returned with the pumpkins. They had big smiles on their faces, and Olette told them to close their eyes. Sora heard the lighter flicking a couple of times as their friends lit the pumpkins, and then when he and Kairi opened their eyes, he could see why Olette had wanted this to be a big surprise. 

Kairi had carved the same drawing of him that she’d drawn in the Secret Place when they were kids, complete with the paopu fruit she’d added to it years later. It matched perfectly with his pumpkin because he’d carved the drawing he’d made of her with the paopu fruit too. A big smile lit up her face as she saw the two pumpkins side-by-side, and he grinned and kissed her cheek, only for her to kiss him properly on the lips. There was much whooping and hollering from Hayner, Pence, and Olette, much to he and Kairi’s amusement. 

“Operation-get-the-lovebirds-back-together is a success!” Hayner crowed, high-fiving Pence. 

Sora raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you guys planned this?” 

“Maybe,” Olette said with a teasing lilt to her voice, and Hayner and Pence both had triumphant smirks on their faces. 

“I can believe you did,” Sora said to Olette, “but these two interrupted Kairi and I so much tonight I was convinced they were trying to keep us apart,” he finished, jabbing his finger at Hayner and Pence.

“Reverse psychology, it works wonders,” Pence said. “We figured it would get you more desperate to talk to each other.” 

“I guess it worked then,” Sora said wryly. “Because as great as that hayride was, it was not worth all the interruptions.” 

Hayner, Pence, and Olette laughed, and Kairi giggled and nuzzled his cheek. Sora soon joined in with the merriment. He couldn’t hold the scheming against his friends, especially because it had worked. He and Kairi were together again, and while it would take time to mend all the hurt between them and forge a path forward, he knew they would. Tonight was a good start, and he was determined to make this work and so was she. 

When their eyes met, he knew something else, too. He loved her and she loved him, and that was more than enough for them to make their own storybook ending and happily-ever-after.

~~~

A/N: Last year I wrote nine kiss prompts for SoKai based on this list, and I wanted to write one more to hit ten, so, this story fits... 

11. ...in joy, 

30. ...as comfort, and 

50. ...out of love.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.  

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated  Reblog if you wish to read more

[tmae3114]

IT MAY HAVE GONE MIDNIGHT MY TIME BUT IT’S STILL HERO APPRECIATION DAY IN SOME TIMEZONE AND THEREFORE YOU GET THIS FIC I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED AFTER WORKING ON IT FOR A WHILE ON THE BEST DAY FOR POSTING IT

The position of this in the Book 3 timeline is ~nebulous~ but it’s sometime after the hero sees Warlic again for the first and before Warlic and Alexander started working together

trust in me (and I’ll trust you too)

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

Or: a hero and a mage have a conversation, trauma sucks, and actual age differences mean nothing in the face of Big Sister Instincts™

[AO3]

-

There is, for some yet-to-be-determined reason, an adventurer asleep on his couch.

Warlic pauses mid-step to contemplate this fact for a few moments, then realises that the cup of tea he forgot in the kitchen is going to keep going cold if he doesn’t return to hurrying to fetch it.

One severe disappointment in the form of a stone cold cup of tea and the necessary subsequent brewing of a replacement later, there continues to be an adventurer asleep on his couch. In full armour, no less. Even after all these years, he is no closer to understanding how that can possibly be comfortable, for all it never seems to bother her.

He sips his tea contemplatively, then clears his throat pointedly.

That prompts a stirring. Ro blinks up at him, looking for all the world like there is no reason at all to question her napping on his couch. She yawns widely, her jaw audibly popping, and stretches languidly in a very catlike way.

Then, in a movement that is all seal, she twists and flops sideways off of the couch.

“Hi, Warlic,” she greets from the floor, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hello, Ro,” he replies, taking another sip of his tea. “I assume that Cysero let you in?”

“Mmhmm.”

There is no elaboration on that. She seems perfectly content to simply lie on the floor and wait for him to say or do something else.

He drinks more of his tea.

She tilts her head slightly.

His sigh is fonder than he’d care to admit.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you,” he says, arching his visible eyebrow “But are you here for a reason?”

She clicks her tongue and twists in a way that is probably supposed to help her get upright but more strongly resembles a seal in the banana pose than anything else.

“I needed a nap and your tower is always so nice and quiet,” she says, voice cheerful and dry.

In the distance, something – hopefully on Cysero’s side of the tower – explodes.

Ro giggle-snorts as she leverages herself upright using the arm of the couch she rolled off of.

“Aye, awright, point taken!” she calls in the general direction of the explosion.

“A social visit, then?” Warlic prompts, hiding his smile behind the rim of his teacup. “You usually give advance warning for those.”

“Ehhh,” Ro replies, making a wobbly see-saw motion with one hand, halfway sitting on the arm of the couch now “Social with a purpose?”

“Do tell.”

“Artix is wanting to dae a thing,” she says, twirling one hand in a circle as though to encompass the incredibly vague concept of ‘a thing’ “Away out at the keep? Hanging out and having a meal and stuff, ‘cept he doesnae know who’ll be up for it. I-” here, she makes an overly dramatic gesture to herself, the fingers of one hand splayed over her heart “-volunteered tae come see if you lot-” a wide sweeping gesture, clearly meant to encompass the tower and its inhabitants “-were free and when, seeing as I’m popping ‘round t’see Cysero aw the time anyways,”

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

“I mean…” Ro leans back, one arm braced against the back, one ankle loosely slung over the other, casual and so, so at ease “Less a party and more just dinner wi’ friends but aye, thereabouts.”

Are you mad?

The words stick in his throat. His stomach twists painfully. Just as he vaguely begins to hope that it isn’t showing outwardly, that he’ll be able to excuse himself quickly and without a fuss, his tea betrays him by sloshing loudly over the side of the cup.

Ro is by his side in an instant, one hand whisking the cup away from him and the other winding around his back to support him by the opposite elbow, gently but firmly steering him to the couch. He is vaguely aware of a quiet narrative litany – “Woah, ‘kay, c’mere, let’s just-” – accompanying these actions, then he blinks and is sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, knuckles white and chest tight. He blinks again, once, twice, staring down at his hands, then up to look at the adventurer sitting at his side. The way that she meets and holds eye contact with him for a few moments more than gives away the worry lurking underneath the calm on her face. His cup of tea is no longer in her hands. A quick glance reveals it to be set down on a coaster on a side table.

“So,” Ro says, pulling his attention back to her “That was a reaction.”

The noise he makes in response to that is somewhere between a snort and a gasp.

“Do you realise,” he asks, voice trembling despite his best efforts “how dangerous what you suggested is?”

She leans a bit closer and rests one of her hands over his clasped ones. The cool metal of her gauntlet is almost grounding.

“It’s not,” she says. Just like the way she guided him to sit, her voice is both gentle and firm. Kind but unyielding. It’s the voice she uses for Heroics.

“It is, how can you not-”

“Ah, of course, silly me,” she interrupts, voice now completely flat. “How could I not have foreseen the incredible danger inherent in you leaving this tower for a few hours to spend some time with your friends. You’re right, that’s an absolutely mental idea. Whatever was I thinking.”

His breath shudders. A distant part of him notes that she seems to have switched from the casual mix of Common and her native tongue she favours in the company of friends to the – as she puts it, with air quotes, rolled eyes, and disdain – “more proper” Greenguardian dialect of Common that she uses for everything from strangers to snotty nobles; the one she uses to ensure she’ll be understood, for better or for worse. She almost certainly doesn’t realise that she’s done it. That distant part of him aches.

He takes another hitching breath.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

She sighs and shifts to face him more fully, tucking one leg up underneath herself as she sits sideways, and moving her other hand so that both of hers are covering both of his. It helps stop the shaking, a little bit.

“You’re scared. I get it. You’ve told me it wasn’t safe for you to leave before and I believe you. But it’s been years now, Warlic, and if it’s safe for me to come here, why isn’t it safe for you to leave, just for a little bit?”

Because it’s different. Because he could lose control at any moment but maybe here it could be contained. Because it’s his fault, all of it, Alex and Jaania and the Rose and-

Because that monster was a part of him, is inside of him still, and what if I-

Because-

“-I’m dangerous.”

Ah.

Oops.

The look that she gives him somehow manages to be drier than the Sandsea and utterly sympathetic at the same time. He has a feeling that he knows what she’s going to say next, can practically already hear it – So am I. We’re all dangerous, it comes with the territory.

He can see it in her face, begins preparing his counterargument.

“You’re not a threat, Warlic.”

Crystallised disbelief is, apparently, a noise and his vocal cords are capable of making it.

“You’re not.” She squeezes his hands. “You’re in control. You’re not Wargoth-” He flinches at the name, the one he’s only heard in his own thoughts for some time now “-and you’re in control. You are exactly as dangerous as you choose to be and not a whit more and I think I know you well enough to say that that amount is minimal.”

“You didn’t see,” he replies, quietly, staring past her head to trace the grain of the wooden beams in the wall behind her with his eyes “What it was like in the early days. What I was like when I was only just recovering.”

It’s a statement, not an accusation. They both know she would have been there, given the remotest choice. They both know she couldn’t be there. They both know why and who is to blame for it.

She flinches anyways.

It’s the Wargoth in him, Warlic thinks, that makes him be so cruel to a friend who is only trying to help.

Ro breaths in, holds it for a few seconds, then breathes out. She flexes her fingers where they rest across his clasped hands. The motion draws his focus back from the wall just in time to see something in her eyes go firm.

“Right,” she says, with the air of a decision made. “Palms up, in your lap.”

Before he can respond to that non-sequitur, she has swiftly, methodically, somehow still gently, pried his interlocking fingers apart and arranged his hands so that they are resting in his lap, one arm to a leg, palms up. He twitches his fingers a little, wincing at the stiffness in his knuckles after clasping them so tightly for so long.

“Now, close your eyes.”

“Ro, I-”

“Wheesht and dae it, Warlic.”

He closes his eyes.

There are several long moments filled with the sound of rummaging and rustling. She grumbles under her breath a couple of times – at one point, he hears a distinct “why do I even have that?” – and then makes a distinctly satisfied rumble that would be much more suited to her seal vocal cords than her human ones.

A beat after that, something heavy and so very soft is settled into his arms.

“’kay, you can open your eyes now.”

He doesn’t want to. His heart is pounding so wildly he half wonders if it’s visible from the outside. A part of him is desperately hoping that she’s just handed him a blanket, some sentimental symbol of comfort she hopes to share, maybe even something with childhood importance. Something, anything, like that.

The rest of him knows better.

Definitely not a blanket.

The noise he makes isn’t so much a vocalisation of her name as it is a plaintive cry made of vaguely similar sounds. His eyes snap to her in panic and-

-she’s smiling. He can tell not just by the way the outer corners of her eyes have tilted up but by the way he can just barely see her teeth because her mask is pooled around her neck and she’s smiling and she looks absolutely, utterly at ease and-

-and her sealskin is in his hands.

“I trust you,” she says, as thought that isn’t a completely redundant thing to say, as though she hasn’t just made herself impossibly vulnerable, hasn’t just- “I trust you, Warlic. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? Trust my faith in you?”

The sealskin in his lap is thick and soft and warm. He’s bunched his hands in it, pulled his arms in a bit to hold it closer, without even realising he was doing so and he can’t quite convince himself to let go. He’s never seen it close enough to realise just how much the white-on-blue markings look like clouds before.

His heart pounds and his mind races. There are a million and one things that a mage of his strength and knowledge could do with a selkie’s coat and almost none of them are good. I trust you she says but how can she be anything but terrified in this moment, this moment where she has all but put herself into the worst horror stories of her people, how could she just hand this to him-

Wargoth enslaved people. He’d stolen them from themselves, reached in to grab the fire in their souls and twisted to chain them to his will, to turn them into puppets in his hands-

-and his friend has just unhesitatingly handed him the power to do it again. To do it to her.

“Warlic, hey, Warlic, look at me.”

Her hand is on his shoulder now and he turns to look, a million repetitions of the same question on his tongue – how can you…- and then she stands up.

She stands up and takes one step backwards.

A second.

A third.

She stops there, three paces away, smiling all the while.

“I trust you,” she repeats for the third time.

As his vision first blurs, then swims, Warlic finds himself thinking it’s a good thing that selkies live in the sea, it would be incredibly rude of me to give her coat water stains after a gesture like that. He takes one breath, then two, and then lets go.

Warlic bawls like a baby.

Ro returns to the couch, sitting close enough that their legs are pressed together, and starts rubbing circles on his back, between his shoulder blades.

It should feel ridiculous, with how much younger than him she is. He remembers when she had to look up just to look him in the face while he tried to convince her to take a nap, assuring her that the world wouldn’t end when she wasn’t looking if she took some time to rest. She’s grown a lot since then, he knows, but the number of years is such a drop in the ocean of those he’s lived that it feels like she must have barely aged at all. And yet, somehow, the rhythm of her comforting him as though he’s the child in the room doesn’t feel out of place at all. It just feels…

…safe.

Inevitably, he runs out of tears to cry. Ro wordlessly passes him a tissue to blow his nose, then another to wipe his eyes. He has no idea where she got them from, as there aren’t any nearby. He can’t remember the last time he cried like that. It feels… good, in a way, to have let it out.

When his breathing settles into a more sedate pace, Ro pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay to be scared, Warlic,” she says, voice quiet “You know that I know what it’s like to be scared of yourself. I get it. Just… don’t go letting your fear control you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out “Yeah, okay.”

She shuffles aside a bit, giving him some space, but makes no movement to take her coat back. Not even an aborted grasp towards it, though he can see a line of tension beginning to form in her shoulders that she is clearly fighting.

…oh.

Oh. Of course. Trust. The whole point is trust.

He gathers her coat up in his arms, allowing himself just a moment to appreciate all that just being allowed to touch it would represent, let alone having the entire thing dropped in his lap, and passes it over to her.

“Thanks,” she says as she takes it from him, as though this is in any way a casual exchange. She slings it up and over her shoulders, settling it against her neck where the fur will rest against the few uncovered parts of her skin.

He nods, not entirely trusting his voice.

They sit in silence for a few moments and then she tilts her head to the side.

“So,” she says, drawing the vowel out, deliberately light-hearted, testing the waters “Artix’s thing?”

He thinks it over for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Considers all of his reasons for saying no; considers the possibilities for saying yes. Thinks about keeping himself locked away where it’s safe; thinks about spending time with people again.

He takes a deep breath in, feels his lungs expand. He thinks about a time when, despite everything, he had trusted himself. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? He breathes out.

He knows his answer.

“No,” he says, letting the syllable hang in the air for just a moment before turning to face Ro with a small smile “But tell him… maybe next time.”

[wolveria]

Buttons - Ch. 3

Pairing: Therapist!Connor x f!Reader

Summary: Connor knew he shouldn’t be so attracted to his patient. It wasn’t right, especially when she had been nothing but sweet to him.

But when the opportunity presented itself to finally get a taste of her, he couldn’t help himself.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit dubcon

Word Count: 3.4k

Co-authors: @uh-kitty-got-wet​, @groovylabrat​, @technohumanlation​

AO3

(Moodboard created by @uh-kitty-got-wet​)

“I would tell you if something was wrong, of course,” you said, trying not to shiver as the hand remained where it was, heavy and hot on your shoulder.

“Not having nightmares again, are you?”

The question was perfectly reasonable, so there was no reason for your cheeks to be on fire or for you to clutch the couch cushions as tightly as you did.

“N-no. No nightmares.” Oh, definitely no nightmares.

He hummed thoughtfully, and then he slightly squeezed your shoulder, making you jump.

“You’re incredibly tense,” he said, repeating the motion. “You shouldn’t hold so much tension in your muscles, especially here. It increases the chance of cluster headaches and neck injury.”

You couldn’t breathe, or think, or function at all as he moved his hand closer to your neck and pressed the pad of his thumb against the top of your spine.

“You’ve got a knot. Right… here.” He rubbed the spot harder, digging into the sore muscle.

You moaned, and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth.

He stopped moving his thumb.

Fuck, you thought, panicking. Fuck, fuck.

“Sorry,” he said with a little laugh, as if you hadn’t done the most embarrassing thing in the world. “Forgot to warn you this might hurt a little. If it gets to be too much, please tell me.”

Oh. He thought you’d moaned in pain.

You lowered your hand from your mouth, nodded and gave a strangled, “Okay.”

Connor placed his hand on your other shoulder, effectively doubling your heart rate as you pressed your thighs together. You felt like you were going to explode or catch fire on the spot.

He began to rub both of your shoulders, long and deft fingers working through your muscles. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, your nipples were painfully hard, and you ached between your legs.

All from a simple massage that probably meant nothing to him. It wasn’t fair.

“Is this all right?” His voice had dropped to a low murmur that was sinful enough to short-circuit your brain. “If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me to stop.”

“No,” you rushed out, immediately flushing. “It’s-it’s fine. Great, really. I… think I needed this.”

He gave a low chuckle. You were pretty sure you could come from his voice alone.

“Really? I couldn’t tell at all,” he teased, fingers pressing into an especially stubborn muscle. “But honestly, someone as young as you shouldn’t be so tense. It’s unhealthy. Are you practicing any muscle-relaxing techniques at home?”

“I don’t think so. Unless drinking counts,” you sheepishly added.

“No, drinking does not count,” he reprimanded you, even as you could hear the smile in his voice. “I have a few suggestions, if that’s all right?”

“Sure,” you said, head hanging forward as you continued to relax. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t care. It felt so insanely good, better than any massage you’d ever had, and those fingers and his voice were better than any porn.

You really needed to stop lusting over your therapist. It was wrong, pathetic, and clearly pointless. This wasn’t going anywhere except to give you another broken heart.

“Well…” He moved his hands back up to your neck, the tips of his fingers gently cradling the columns of your throat as his thumb worked against your spine. You thought you had died and gone to heaven. “Lying down and reading is a good one. Stretching your muscles everyday also helps. Relaxing in a hot bath.

“And, of course, there’s masturbation.”

You stopped breathing. Went stock-still like a frightened rabbit before a hunter.

“Really?” you asked faintly, on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up. Did he know what you had done just before your session? Was he just teasing you some more?

“Yes, absolutely,” he said, still massaging your muscles as he had a whole bunch of tensed up ones to work through. “It even helps bolster the immune system. I recommend it to all my patients.”

“Oh.”

All his patients. It didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good therapist. Of course he was. He was a professional and you were a pathetic lowlife who let your innocent crush run wild until it had become totally perverted and—

Connor’s hands went still as he leaned down, put his mouth close to your ear and murmured, “I can show you the best technique, if you like.”

This couldn’t be happening. Surely, you were still dreaming. There was no way—

“Okay.”

He seemed surprised, going by the short breath he sucked it, but it was nothing compared to your own shock. Had you just really agreed to let Connor show you how to masturbate “properly”?

He removed his hands from your shoulders, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh at you, tell you it was a joke and you really were pathetic to fall for it.

Instead, he stood before you, peering down so intently that you felt he could see right through you. Hear each beat of your heart and listen to each shallow, pulled breath.

Normally, the glasses perched on his nose gave Connor a soft, endearing look. Now he looked almost predatory as his analytical gaze roved over every inch of you. And then he reached up, pulled at the knot of his tie, and tugged it off in one swift motion.

You gripped the edge of the couch. Holy shit.

Connor sat down next to you on the couch, and the parts of you that felt they were on fire burned even brighter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice raspy and low as he looked you in the eye. “If we have to stop later, you’ll be even tenser than before, which will make this entire exercise ineffective. So once I start… I plan to not stop until it’s finished.”

This was really happening. You nodded, licking your dry lips and swallowing the lump in your throat, voice shaky but the words clear.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He gave a little smile, so faint you almost didn’t catch it, and then he took your hand, holding the back of it against his palm.

“Good. Then let us begin.”

Connor sounded so formal it was almost funny, as if this really was some kind of legitimate therapist practice, but there was nothing professional about the way he gripped your hand, placed it on your thigh, and pushed it up your skirt.

“I’m glad you wore this today,” he said, almost conversational except for the hoarse quality of his voice. “Makes it easier for the both of us.”

A small whimper escaped before you could tamp it down, the tips of your fingers against your inner thigh combined with Connor’s low praise already too much. How were you going to do this and survive with your mind intact?

“It’s all right,” he breathed against your cheek. “Don’t hold anything back. This is all about making you feel good.”

You couldn’t hold back, even if you’d wanted to. Connor pressing your own fingers against your clothed sex was enough to pull another noise from you, a stifled, strained whine.

“That’s it,” he instructed sweetly, guiding your fingers into a slow, circling motion over your clit. “Just like that.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to be quiet despite what he’d said, and Connor gave a sigh.

“You’re not relaxing.”

He didn’t give you an opportunity to respond; Connor pushed your hand harder against the fabric barrier over your clit just as he gently wrapped his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to the side so he could press his nose against the side of your neck.

“Relax.”

He said the word against your skin, moving lips forcing a shudder out of you, and just as if he had you under a spell, you began to relax, muscles becoming loose and pliant under his control.

“That’s my girl.”

Between the guide of his skillful fingers, his lips teasing your neck, and his low, murmured praises, you were already well on your way to reaching that peak. He felt so warm, his voice more raspy than usual, and that hint of cologne you’d always thought smelled nice was now intoxicating.

But just as you started to feel your walls tightened, Connor pulled your hands away, and you gave a pitiful moan.

“Impatient, aren’t you,” he teased, drawing your hand up your mound and to the waistband of your panties. “Insatiable little thing.”

You were beyond speaking at this point; all that was left to you were needy whines and breathy, strangled groans.

Connor, meanwhile, seemed as composed as ever, even with his tie removed and the top button of his collar undone, leaving a delicious swath of pale, smooth skin. You wanted to reach out and suck on it, leave a hickey he would have to hide from his next patients, and the thought made you wild with need but your hands remained next to your legs, clutching the cushions for dear life. You didn’t know if he would let you touch him, but you wanted to, desperately.

Still leading your hand, he dipped your fingers under your waistband, moved them down, and guided them over your folds. Your face was on fire, made worse when you both felt how drenched you were.

“It seems to me you really needed this.” Was it your imagination, or did Connor’s breath hitch and nearly stutter? “How long have you been… wound so tight?”

As he said the words, he pressed your fingers inward, teasing and prodding your entrance. You rolled your hips and arched against the back of the couch, unable to keep still or quiet as you released a muffled cry.

“You’re holding back again.” You felt something warm and wet against your skin, and belatedly realized he was dragging his tongue along your neck. You whimpered and tried to squeeze your thighs together over his hand. The stimulation was too much and not enough.

With his free hand, he grabbed your knee and forced your legs apart.

“What did I say about relaxing?” he nearly growled, sending a shiver up your spine. “Even now, you’re still fighting it. You have to trust me.”

You nodded, eyes still shut down, because you couldn’t look at him without dying on the spot. It was purely self-preservation at this point. “I trust you,” you managed to breathe out.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Connor nibbled at your earlobe, gentle but the scrape of his teeth still forced out your moan. “Now for this part… you have to make sure you’re properly lubricated.”

As if to make his point, he swirled your fingers between your folds, coating them with your slick. “If you do this technique dry, it’ll be uncomfortable. Painful, even. We don’t want that.”

You were barely able to follow his words, enjoying the lull of his voice more than anything. It was better than in all your fantasies combined.

He moved your fingers upward, placed them directly on your clit, and began to move them. A counterclockwise motion that was slow and methodical but already threatened to break you to pieces.

“The key is to set a steady, rhythmic pace,” he said, his tone ridiculously formal again except for the hoarseness. “Another tactic that people overlook is to keep your body relaxed, but to keep this area taut.”

Connor slid your fingers down again to your entrance, teasing against it before returning to your clit. He continued to speak, ignoring your choked cry as if he hadn’t heard it.

“Tensing and flexing your pelvic muscles is key to achieving a satisfying orgasm. So in this case, I do want you to tense up here. Can you do that?”

Oh, fuck, was about the most coherent response you could come up with, but you managed to choke out a, “Yes.”

You really did try to follow Connor’s instructions. Relax your muscles except for between your legs. Easy. Except you were a giant stress-ball of horny and you wanted to jump into Connor’s lap, unzip his pants, and sit on his dick.

The thought made you moan and arch your back again, desperate to move your fingers faster, but Connor wouldn’t let you, forcing your fingers to remain at the slow, torturous pace.

It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough, and Connor was keeping you just short of reaching your peak. He might actually succeed in driving you crazy.

Fuck it. If he was going to keep torturing you, you were going to enjoy it was much as possible. With your free hand, you slipped it under your shirt, pulled your bra down, and rubbed your thumb harshly over the nipple. The additional stimulation made you almost sob with relief, unable to be still as you squirmed and pushed up against his hand.

You heard Connor suck in a breath, his hand suddenly still, and without thinking you grabbed his lax fingers and forced them back onto your clit. Directly. His hand remained frozen, even when you tried to move it. Despite his lanky limbs and slim body, he was very strong.

You finally opened your eyes, met his warm brown ones, and desperately begged.

“Please…”

He chewed the corner of his lip as if conflicted, even with his hand down your panties.

“Please, Connor.” Your words were a choked moan, his name a sinful plea on your lips, and you saw the moment his resolve break.

Swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob, he removed his hand entirely from your panties. For a moment, you thought you’d misinterpreted, but then he lifted his fingers to his lips, glistening with your slick, and cleaned them off with his tongue before popping them into his mouth.

You just stared at him, sure your mind had just broken, especially when he pulled his fingers from his mouth with an indecent pop.

And then… he removed his glasses.

You’d never seen Connor without his glasses before. He looked… barely restrained. His eyes, normally so warm and soft, were sharp and edged like the blade of a knife. Like he wanted to take you apart and make you all his.

Apparently, that’s what he intended to do.

Connor rose to his feet and stood between your knees after kicking them apart, barely giving you any time to adjust before he knelt on the cushion between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, settling you into his lap and trapping you between him and the back of the couch.

You watched, mouth dry and chest heaving as he unbuckled his belt and harshly pulled it from its loop, tossing it aside. His eyes never left yours even as he unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out of his boxer-briefs.

You’d never thought it was possible for a cock to look so delicious, and his was mouth-wateringly gorgeous. A nice size and girth, flushed and already leaking precum at the tip.

He didn’t give you enough time to admire it; Connor looped one arm around the small of your back, lifted your hips, tugged aside the crotch of your panties, and pulled you up onto his lap. The tip of his cock pushed past your slick entrance, and he slid the rest of the way inside without much difficulty from how wet you were, but you were suddenly so full you could barely breathe.

“Fuck,” he gasped against your ear. It was the first time you’d ever heard him curse. “You’re so… tight.”

You held onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, fingers digging into his dress shirt and whimpering as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist.

“Connor,” you nearly sobbed from relief and the almost-painful fullness. You didn’t care if it would hurt, you needed this. Needed him. “Please… fuck me.”

With a low growl, he thrust forward, crushing you between the couch and his chest, half-holding you up as he thrust into you again. Each drag of his cock inside you made you moan, or cry, and you buried your face into his neck as your walls already started to tighten around him.

He felt better than a dream, hitting the spots you could never reach yourself, the sound of his hips slamming into yours wet and obscene in his small office. You could feel yourself dripping, making a mess of both of you, but neither of you cared.

“Connor.” You repeated his name, over and over, voice rising in pitch the tighter you became. “Connor.”

“I know,” he gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as he increased the brutal, merciless pace. “You’re doing… so well, baby girl. You’re… almost there.”

You half-sobbed at the praise, wanting to come so badly, but at the same time, conflicted. Never wanting it to stop. Not wanting this fantasy to be over.

Maybe Connor sensed it, because he latched onto your throat with his mouth, nipping and sucking and kissing your skin as if he could live on that alone.

“Come for me,” he growled, and you did, unable to do anything but obey.

You gripped him so tightly you must have left bruises, arched your back, and cried out sharply, your whole body shuddering as you pulsed and throbbed around him. Stars exploded behind your eyes as pleasure sparked through every nerve and inch of your skin, and all you could do was cling to him tightly so you wouldn’t drown beneath the waves.

Connor gave a choked curse, his pace staggering into shallow, uneven thrusts, before he pushed all the way inside and shivered hard. He held you tightly against his chest as he groaned into your hair, panting and holding you on his lap as his cock twitched and throbbed inside you.

Only when you felt his cum start to leak out of you did you remember you hadn’t used a condom.

Shit.

You expected him to pull out of you, to tell you to get out now that he was done with you. Instead, Connor kept his arms around you as he shifted over, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap, still embedded deep inside you.

And then he did something you never would have expected; he took your head between his hands and drew you forward, pressing his soft lips against yours. Tender, warm, and inviting, the tip of his tongue licked against your lips. You gasped and shivered and he pulled back, a small, satisfied smile pulling at his lips.

“So…” His smile fell and he looked almost nervous. You almost missed it because he had lowered his hands to your hips and begun tracing distracting circles on them with his thumbs. Even through the cloth of your skirt his touch was warm and electric. “I don’t know if you would be interested… but…”

He faltered again and you weren’t imagining the shyness there, which was crazy because he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life. What could he possibly have to be bashful about?

“Yes?” you asked, surprised at how raw you sounded. You curled your finger into his hair, liking the softness of it, and needed to do something with your hands before you decided to start riding him again. His cock, even though it had softened, was still very distracting inside you.

Connor’s cheeks a pretty pink, so endearing and awkward as he leaned into your touch. “I was wondering if you’d… maybe want to come over to my house tonight?”

You blinked at him. Probably the fifth time he’d broken your brain in so many minutes.

“I mean,” he flushed a deeper pink, “I feel like I at least owe you dinner. I’ve been told I’m a decent cook, and… that is, if you don’t want to sue me for… for malpractice—“

You surged forward and pressed your lips against his, forcing him to stop talking.

Connor gave a startled gasp, giving you the opportunity to lick into his mouth. You could feel his dick give an interested twitch inside you. You groaned, shifting your hips a little. You knew your time was almost up, so there was no possible way for a round two, but…

Going to Connor’s house? Having him cook you dinner? Maybe even stay the night in his bed?

You broke the kiss, took a steadying breath of air, and smiled down at him.

“Yes,” you said. “I’d love to.”

[cosmiclatte28]

Secret Love Song (ten x you)

here we go!

ps. Ten is a WayV and SuperM idol here, while Yuta, Jaehyun, and Johnny are not idols! Thanks

Song : Secret Love Song from little mix and Jason Durelo lol Derulo xD

warning : tiny bit of insecurities, lots of fluff, happy end.

CHITTAPON IS JUST SO SWEET!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You make your way slowly back to your small studio apartment. You rush from the nearest bus stop, walk through the cold winter night, reach the front door and then take the lift to your room. Today has been tiring, your neck and lower back are aching from sitting on stools for hours and reaching your clients body as you inject safe permanent inks into their skin. Yes, you are a tattoo artist, working in a superior tattoo parlor, where hygiene levels are guaranteed safe and the drawings are not regrettable. Well, your clients paid a hundreds of dollars to have a 4 inch tattoo! You have to admit, being a tattoo artist in a high-class studio gave a fair amount to pay your rents, eat decent foods, and spend some money for your happiness. You sigh when you remember that the flat fee for this month has been raised, and you know you will need to either find a new living space or work extra hours to pay for the extra cost.

You stretch your neck for a while as your fingers type in a six digit combination to open the door to your heaven: the bed. Once you close the door behind you, you take off your coat, carelessly toss your bag to the sofa, and free yourself from your boots. You make a quick attempt to untangle your scarf and dive belly first to your soft mattress. A sigh of great relieve escapes your mouth and you find your eyelids super heavy. You would totally fall  asleep within five seconds if your bizarre phone did not disturb you.

Your hand blindly searches for the rectangular noisy object and when you find it, the ring has ended. You groan in frustration, but your fatigue drowns you back to slumber. This time there was a short beep five times in a row, and you know that is your boyfriend messaging you. Your mind fights over waking up to call him back, or just drive your tired eyes to sleep and deal with him later when you're fresh. You decided to do the latter, but today must not be your day. Your phone rings again and your finger slides to pick up his call.

"What?!" You snapped.

"Woah, easy... Did I call the wrong number?" the man on the other hand takes his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. He shakes his head when he ensures this is the right number.

"Sorry... I-"you yawn and he stays silence until you continue, "I just got home, and your calls postpone my -so needed- sleep..."

He smiles to himself when he heard your yawns and slurs.

"Okay, I'll just tell you I'm busy for the next three days. I'll call you back, I need to do my make up now. Bye!"

You did not reply him, your brain didn't actually understand anything he said, you've lost yourself into the dreamland after finishing your sentence. You sleep through your dinner time, only to snore deeper as the night darkens.

__

One man sits stiffly on his chair in the powder room. He is waiting for his stylist to come and do his make up before he steps into the stage filled with a crowd dedicating their life, money, and time to support him and his group. He shakes his shoulder a bit to throw the pressure away, why did he feel like he committed a great sin for calling his girl just to disturb  her from sleeping.

"Who is that Ten hyung?" Yang-yang who happens to catch a few of Ten's surprised action earlier asked.

Ten turns his head to face the youngest boy, he's about to open his mouth before the tallest and loudest man cuts his answer "It's (y/n) of course," Lucas offers his big smile while slapping Ten's shoulder.

"Stop it Lucas, I might poke his eye because of your sudden slap when I am drawing this eyeliner." The stylist who has been working hard to polish this pretty eyes of Ten, scowls at Lucas.

"Sorry, but it's true right?? It's (Y/n)???" Lucas takes a seat on one of the free chairs in the powder room. He's ready to go on stage already.

Ten shakes his head in disbelief and nods, "Yes it's her. Happy?"

Yang-yang smiles and drags his chair closer, "So... what happened? Spill the tea!"

Lucas also has his eyes bigger twice as much in size and his back is straightened, he is ready for the gossip!

Ten smacks his lips when the last stroke of light lipstick was applied; he checks himself on the mirror and nods an approval for the stylist to go. "Thank you!"

Now when nobody else is in the room, Ten finally opens his mouth.

"I called her at the wrong time I think... She snapped at me because she said I disturb her sleep?"

The two younger men pretend to understand though really they don't have a single idea why Ten must look this nervous just because his girlfriend snapped. Hey, every person has a bad day right?

Ten stares into the two soul across him and he face palms himself mentally when he realize there was no way Lucas nor Yang-yang understands his worry.

"Forget it, both of you are not helping." Ten pushes himself from the chair to put on his golden jacket.

"We're putting on mikes and in 7 minutes, you're going Live." The stage director opens the door right in time and a swarm of crew help the members put on their mikes.

Ten glances at his phone for the last time, there his smile rises when one notification pops from none other than you.

From: mon petit cœur

"Burn the stage,love! Bad Alive deserves the spotlight. <3"

Ten knows he doesn't have to reply that message, but the heavy weight in his heart is gone as he takes a deep breath and joins his other brothers to the side of the stage. They chant their group cheers and soon take over the stage.

--

You're awakened by your alarm clock around seven at night. Your head feels dizzy and you know that's probably because you skipped dinner. You force yourself to open your eyes. Your fingers expertly open the messenger application and through your squinting eyes, you type a short message to your boyfriend. Well, you promised him you won't miss their first stage of Bad Alive, and so here you are! seated on your worn-off sofa, an apple on one hand and the small TV provides you music and pictures. You focus yourself on the screen when you can see your boy and his team already shown for the interview at the screen. You fix your position, increase the volume, and you're totally awake when the stage shows your favorite group of all time.

The three minutes performance was over. You get up from your position, walk to throw the apple core away, and you grab your phone back.

To : Ten

"Amazing job you did there, my body's burning,

Guess I can save money from not using any more heaters.

Going home? <3"

You want to meet Ten so bad, it's already one month since you two didn't see each other. He has intensive practices for the comeback. Not that you're not understanding or selfish; You just wish he can make some time to come tonight, because you need someone to listen to you.

Your phone bleeped after an hour. Ten must've finished all of his works and probably already seated in the van, ready to leave the venue.

From: Ten

"Glad the song kept you warm. Sadly I've told you earlier in the call I cannot make it home these three days. Next week I also have another stage performance. I'll let you know when we can meet. How's today?"

Your shoulder slumped, you ghost you finger over the call button. You want to call him right now, but dating an idol is not that simple. If some manager or stylist caught you in the act, they might tell this to the director board and you know how this will end. Yes forced break up!

You left him on read. You glance at the clock on the dining room. It's already nine, you have some place to go. You dress yourself in a warm jacket and you leave the empty room. You hail a cab and direct an address. Your phone vibrated and you picked up a call.

"Hey! Where are you now?" Ten asks

"I'm going out for a while, why?"

"Oh, where are you headed to?"

"Ummm Johnny's, I forgot he invited me over for wine and cheese. Wanna join?"

"Is this Saturday Night already?"

You chuckled, "Yes Mr. busy, this is a Saturday Night."

"I'll see how the meeting with SuperM goes, til then have fun and be safe, Love you!"

"He's a nice brother, don't worry I'll be okay. Wait I have to get off the bus."

Ten waited for you on the other side of the line. He likes to make sure you're okay on the road. He busies himself with a strand of loose thread on his jacket and holds the phone close to his ear. His smile returns when your breathy voice greets him back.

"Woah, sorry there were several people going down too.

I'm only 3 minutes away! Are you in the office yet?"

"I'm entering the lobby, need to rush to the lift and see if everyone's there already."

"Okay, guess I'll end the call here. I can see his house already."

"No, I'll wait until you are in his house. Besides my notification just notifies me Taemin hyung is late."

"Well, I'm here already. Johnny's by my side."

"Alright, trust you. Tell him I miss him! Okay then, enjoy your night.

Call me whenever you need my help. Love you!"

You smile at his small attention, "Thanks Ten, Love you too! Good luck with the meeting."

The phone call ended

You enter the kitchen of the small house your brother and his fiancée bought. Johnny is five years older than you, and that's why he has been able to take care of you ever since the two of you were young. Johnny's wife happened to be staying in her mother's house because she had to look after her younger cousins. Johnny cannot join her because he needs to supervise his office. So here you are, the two of you meet one another for a siblings quality time.

"Tonight's special is Cabernet Franc," Johnny said after examining the bottle and taking the cork off.

I push him my empty glass and he fills in both glasses with the red liquid.

"Cheers," You both chime and clank the glass.

Moving on to sit on the comfortable L-sofa, you make yourself comfortable before finally starting to chat and talk about life. A soft music was played on the background, some classics because both of you felt like it.

"So, how is your day?" asked Johnny.

You gulp down the rest of the wine and roll your eyes, "Bad. Worst!"

Johnny straightens his back, "Ten? Or Work?"

You run your eyes right and left, taking a moment to think which one of them is bothering your mind. You smile when you know the answer, "Both!"

Johnny only raises his brow and you know the queue to spill everything out. Your mind went back to earlier this morning, where you woke up late and missed the bus to your office. You had to take the cab, since Ten was busy with his performance schedule today. You had to spend a good $20 to make it on time. You did arrive on schedule; the shop was opening as per usual. You greeted your co-workers, Yuta and Jaehyun.

The three of you have been working together since this parlor opened, there were no other worker here because we don't need that much! The people who step through the door were usually a regular or have made an appointment. However, today was totally irregular!

You remember the horror of Jaehyun's face when he entered the employee room with terror. Yuta was working on a customer's drawing and you were washing and cleaning the pen.

"We sorta have a problem here, there were three girls wanting to get a tattoo done without any appointments."

Yuta raised his brow, there must be something next that will surprise them both.

"They're minors. I've told them to come back when they're older, but they insisted."

"Let me talk," You place your pen down on a table and take the queue to talk to the girls. Well, Jaehyun is a softie, he cannot be strict especially to high-school girls.

You caught the three girls giggling over a picture on their phone, and you quickly snatched it away from her hand. They gasped and protested on your action, but you were taller than them.

"Sorry, but it was not appropriate for you to secretly take pictures of another person. This, I'm sure you took them secretly earlier. You're violating someone's privacy." You said as you deleted the pictures of a candid Jaehyun.

"If you're here only to take inappropriate pictures of my co-worker, leave immediately and don't ever come back. And you're clearly not 18 yet, the law stated you must be 18 to have a tattoo. Til then, let's wait patiently. Come back only when you are 18 and permitted to have ink on your body. Good bye." You returned the phone and shrugged your shoulder to the exit door.

The three girls have fires in their eyes and they were clearly killing you in their heads, but you're not afraid of babies like them.

"You're mean! Just wait for our revenge!" One of the girl stomped her feet in anger and ordered the other two to follow her and they left the parlor.

You let go a breath you held back earlier, then you decided to take the welcome desk for a while.

Just when you thought nothing else will go wrong, that's where you were fucked. Across you stood your nightmare. The enormous man across you smiled secretly when he found you greeting him.

"Well, welcome back Sir Dimitry, I believe you're here for a touch up?" You ran your eyes through today's schedule. Sadly his name was not there, but he was a regular and he's the Russian gang leader here, who roamed around Incheon at night. You knew better not to mess up with him, but that was not what bothers you.

He Is big and scary, the first time you saw him was when Yuta has to do a big dragon on his well built arm. That day you were occupied with another client, but although you were focused on doing your work, you can't help but feel his gaze on your body. Yuta and Jaehyun were aware of this, and since then they always try their best to take his project and they always lied you're busy or occupied. You're thankful for them. The two men were not so pleased to work on his skin too, for his drawings were always big, disturbing, and scary. However, he was the most generous tipper, and that made them close their mouth and ears (because he used to answer calls and believe me your ears won't stay cold listening to his choices of bad words).

"I haven't made an appointment yet, and I came here for a new drawing. I've had one in my mind and I believe you can finish tracing it in a couple of minute." The big guy leaned forward on the table.

There were two other people coming in and Yuta happened to pass by. You threw him a "help" sign and Yuta bit his lips, "My client is here already... I'm sorry, try Jaehyun."

Yuta took his customer to the studio and Jaehyun appeared beside you.

Jaehyun glanced at the clock, then looked into the Russian man's blue eyes "I'm sorry sir, but today we're a bit tight. You can come back here tomorrow say around one? I'll take your order, do you want a new drawing or retouch?"

The man hit the table, "I believe this lady over here is free right now, I don't see any client waiting for her. That guy is clearly your job Jae, I saw his tattoos those were definitely yours."He smiled winningly.

You cursed in your heart, well today you happened to have no appointments, you're only making templates. You closed your eyes, inhaled, and looked at Jaehyun. You nodded your head to tell him you'll be okay and you'll take him. Jae could lost his eyes from the shock when you sighed and told the big man, "Alright, I am free for two hours. Before that let me remind you I cannot do strong and big inks."

The Russian man smirked like a cat who won a fish, you took him to the processing room and he explained you what he want. You went to your professional mode and focused clearly on making his dream comes true. You were bargaining with him to make the designs smaller and less bold, he finally gave in. You worked your drawing quickly and after he agreed, you prepared your tools.

To make it short, it was the longest two hours in your life. He was clearly stealing views of you concentrating, and he was throwing so many offensive and disturbing flirts. You almost lost your cool when he joked about how hot you would look like on bed. You promised you held yourself from not forcing the word "bastard" to his neck and you clearly knew Yuta and Jaehyun were both busy keeping eyes on you. You're focused on making a word out of Russian alphabet you didn't know.

"I am attached, so please stop. You're going over the line already." You exhaled when he tried to touch your lap. You quickly pushed his hand away and you rushed your work.

"I said stop! You're harassing me!" You tossed the pen to your metal tray, and you pushed your chair back. He was not totally harassing you physically, but he was mentally fucking you. You saw his tent and you decided you'll stop your work. Well you finished it right on time though.

"I can file a report and you can be trialed." You stood up from your stool, but he held you back faster.

"Let go off her," Yuta threw him a deadly gaze and swatted the man's hand.

"You won't, they wouldn't care. Look this tattoo's amazing. I'm leaving you 500! Take the change." He forced the bills in my hand and made his way out.

You stood there surprised and petrified. You're ashamed of yourself, but what would your boss say if he found out a client was not satisfied because the girl artist did not want to work on his body. You'll lose your favorite job, and no you don't want that to happen yet.

Yuta and Jaehyun comforted you and ensured that you were not assaulted physically or even harmed. You shook your head and a tear fell on your cheeks. "I am embarrassed of myself, I feel bad for Ten... and Fuck I blew up my relationship."

Yuta ensured nobody will know, or you hope so. The day continued and after some more picky madams with boring gossips, you went home with....well an extra $300. You actually hated the money, but 300 is a big number, you can either put it on donation or pay your rent. You decided to put it in the cashier box though, let your boss decide. Usually a 100 bucks is already a big tip, this is triple! But thinking back of his actions, you hate everything.

"You sure you're okay?" Johnny reaches for your hand and takes a good look on your body.

You giggle, "It's fine, he almost reached for my lap but I was faster! But his mind, I can't control that..."

Johnny nods, "Just avoid him okay, or tell your boss you cannot take him. Moving on, tell me about Ten!"

"About Ten, I just hope dating an idol can be more public." You swirl your wine that had been refilled.

Your mind one again brought you into a daze, you remembered two years ago when Ten knew you from his tattoo appointment. You were responsible for his temporary tattoo for a comeback. He knew you from Taeyong, fellow SuperM member who made the 'UNDER STAND' tattoo with your help. Ten likes the result and he asked Taeyong where he got it done.

To make it short, you frequently see one another from discussion, drawing, and planning. Ten and you learned about one another quickly while he was on his ink bed, and you're focused on drawing his perfect sketch on his arm. The meeting became frequent after three months where he needed another tattoo for a comeback.

After returning about ten times to have a retouch or a new design, Ten finally earned your number. From there, everything was so fast and you're suddenly on your third year of dating an international famous idol! You thought you were ready for everything, not going public, staying home most of the time for dates, wearing masks and keep being undercover, even having sleepless nights while waiting for his message when he's away on a world tour. You can go on with the list, but you decided to focus on the good things more.

You were okay with Ten being away from his phone most of the time. He always did his best to send you an update about him, be it one emoji, a selfie, or a whole long ass paragraph of how his day went. He couldn't call you that much because someone might eavesdrop.

So far, no one thought Ten is having a secret love relationship. There were small fights, but both of you can talk it out together with cool heads and bonded stronger after the fight. Ten could see you and him being a family in the future, he even boldly told you his parents can't wait to meet you.

You were okay with all of the relationship, you were okay with his fans, you supported him on concerts and voting, you basically love him too with all your heart. Only one thing actually made you sad.

"What is that one thing? Not posting it in social media?" your brother teases you.

You lean on the soft cushions; your finger carelessly fiddles with the tassels hanging around the blanket Johnny had wrapped around you. You toss your look to his curious face.

"I want to walk under the cold winter air beneath the romantic lights, hand in hand, warmth shared from I don't know his heat pack in his pocket maybe... Then imagine the Christmas Carols are softly whispering in the night, mistletoe is everywhere. It doesn't have to wait until Christmas... I just want it whenever we can." You plop a cheese into your mouth. Your eyes were glassy when they look into Johnny's

Johnny pulls you closer and you instinctively lean in and let him caresses your back.

"You're tipsy, can you still walk?"

You shot your eyes open, the hell did your brother just kicked you out? Hey it's night already! Shouldn't he let you sleep in??

"I am not going home! It's dangerous! What kind of brother are you? Telling your little sister to go home at this time." You hit him repeatedly.

Johnny rolls his eyes, you clearly had too much!

"WALK TO THE BED SIS, WALK TO MY ROOM AND SLEEP PROPERLY." Johnny stresses each of the word in case my ears did not caught them.

You look at him blankly and Johnny knew you're gone already. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bed. Nicely he tucks you in and he cleans up the mess in the living room.

He notices his phone vibrating; noticing it was Ten, he picks up the call.

"She's sleeping in tonight, you're on the dorm right?" Johnny asks.

Ten answers him his schedule for the week and how he's not going home. He also told Johnny what happened earlier this afternoon. Johnny smirks as he whispers a code to Ten.

__

Two weeks passed by, you already forgot your grudges to Ten. You try to be considerate to his hectic schedules. One cold afternoon, just after you finished working on your last client for today, you take your time cleaning the tools and sterilizing them. While humming to Love Talk, your favorite song, Jaehyun peeks from the curtain door.

"(Y/n), someone's looking for you." Jaehyun drags the curtain open. You pause your activity, for a moment; your eye brows quirked. You focus your mind to see if you missed an appointment, but no you're positive no one called you for a session this afternoon.

"Hmm, we still have time before closing time, so okay I'll take it."

You leave the room to see your client and you're surprised to see your boyfriend sitting on the waiting room.

"Ten!" You squeal out of surprise and joy. You run to hug him, well it has been three weeks since you last saw him in tangible state. Three weeks of video-calls and texts were quite satisfying, nevertheless.

Your boyfriend hugs you back and engulfs your smaller figure. He inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo he missed and how he wished the time can stop here right now.

"You're here for a new tat?" You ask after breaking the hug.

Ten shakes his head, "No, I got dismissed earlier and I want to pick you up!"

You blushed, hey that's so sweet of him. Unlike other boyfriends, having Ten walking in the sidewalk without his manager and body guards is a rare occurrence. Ten was always in the van or swarmed by fans! This afternoon however, here he is standing with a long winter coat, face hidden under a cap and a mask. He did not wear anything eye catching to avoid the media and saesangs. He did it! He made it here in your office without any missing piece or a trending twitter hashtag!

"Well we have another 20 minutes before my shift ends; do you need any help for a tattoo?" You smile at him. Hey planning a tattoo with Ten is always wonderful.

"You know we can always draw them together at home." He smirks and brushes my hair away from my face.

"Okay then, wait for a moment as we're tidying up." A big smile erupts from your lips and your heart is full of flowers!

--

"Good bye Jae, Yuta!" You wave your hand as the two men let you leave first while they close the doors.

Ten is already waiting for you on the front porch with his hidden face. You place your mask over your face too. You stick yourself next to Ten to hug his arm, his heart softens at the sight, how a soft girl like you can work as a tattoo artist with Yuta and Jaehyun (who both have enormous prints on their bodies).

Without any warning, Ten takes one of your hand into his, he holds yours tightly and slips them to his jacket pocket."It's a bit cold right? Now where should we go?"

Your eyes widen, usually he always brings you home directly since he cannot be in public for too long.

"Shall we just go home? I can cook dinner." You sound confused by his offer tonight.

Ten shakes his head, and drags you without any clue where are we headed.

You are so stunned when you find yourself finishing a nice dinner course at a new restaurant. Luckily it was not crowded yet and no one seems to notice Ten, but dinner was not the end of the surprise.

You stand frozen under the dazzling disco ball, beneath your feet are colorful light up tiles, surrounding you are the moving body of half-conscious people, and your ears are slowly aching from the loud music.

"Ten, can we go somewhere quiet, I can't talk." You lean in closer to scream into his ear and your boyfriend pulls you out of the crowded space.He brings you to the bar and helps you sit on one of the stool.

"One bourbon for me, and a vodka for this pretty lady." Ten smiles to the bartender.

After he takes his sit next to you, you raise your brow. He knows that code and he quickly reaches for your hands.

"You don't like dancing in the club? It's a Sunday Night, I thought some drinks won't hurt right?" Ten knows you're not new to these kinds of places.

You let out a free laugh, "I do love dancing in the club, I'm just surprised why you're suddenly doing this. Plus if you told me, I could have prepared for better attire!" You hit him playfully.

Ten takes your hand into his, "Well, you look great already, plus we must not catch attention right." He leans in closer to you.

Your eyes slowly move down over his nose and finally on his lips. Maybe it was the way they glistened under the dim light, or the tenderness you miss, or just simply his lip bites he always did when he's nervous! You feel gravity pulling you closer just to taste a tiny bit of it, but Ten moves back quickly when the bartender returns with two glasses of our drinks.

"Thank you!" Ten hands over the cash and offers you your glass. You found yourself stupid for almost kissing him in public. Rule number one of dating an idol is to never kiss on public.

"Sorry," You look everywhere but his eyes and gulp down your shot.

Ten just nods beside you and there was a bit of a tension between you and him. Maybe you're still embarrassed of your action, but Ten is actually enjoying your braver side.

"Let's hit the floor. I really miss dancing together." Ten easily picks you out of your stool and lands you gently on the floor. One shot of vodka won't make you drunk yet, but you spent your youth dancing on the dance floor, so this is nothing for you.

The DJ was wonderful tonight; his choices of songs are perfect and as the two of you are getting more and more heated up under the throbbing lights. The dance floor was crowded and there was not much space left. You share his body heat, you can feel his breath tickles your neck, and you can once again see his plump cherries. You drive your mind elsewhere, and move your body to the rhythm. You smile at him and he smiles back at you, with one deep glance the two of you inches closer and closer.

Your eyes grew heavy, vision dark, you let your other senses work, and you feel that warm plump lips touching yours. You caught your breath and after some time, he pulls back. The loud sound blasting through the speaker slowly disturbs your hearing again. You open your eyes slowly and stare into his deep eyes. He places his hands over your waist, pulls you into his arms, and the two of you sway to the loud slow music the DJ offers.

You're no longer thinking straight. You bury your face into his chest, you trust yourself into his lead and a single tear fell down.

When you hold me in the street

And you kiss me on the dance floor

I wish that we could be like that

Why can't we be like that, Cause I'm yours.

You know this is everything you need to face when dating an idol, and you cannot hate him for this. It was your decision to say yes to him. Your head spins, your ears deafened, your vision darkens, and you no longer feel your feet.

You lost your conscious; all of a sudden you're already lying down on your bed. Turning your head to the side, you see Ten sleeping by your side hugging you loosely while taking in calm and relaxed breath. You grit your teeth as you try your best to softly turn your body to face him.

In his warm embrace you snake your hand to ghost over his godly face to brush away the golden locks away from his eyes. You stare at his innocent face, you're overwhelmed. It's been a while since the last time you has Ten by your side when you sleep. He was always busy and thousands of miles away from you in a different time zone. You touch his cheeks and wipe a tear running down from your eye.

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

Just the sound of his relaxed breathing and the slight touch of his arms over your waist, you finally found the missing warmth and peace you've always craved for bedtime. Having Ten lying next to you tonight sparked a small fire in your chest. You feel safe and you're so emotional. You snuggle closer to him, Ten stirs in his sleep but did not wake up, instead he naturally finds your body and fixes his posture to a comfortable position. You face his chest, right where you can see the tattoo you nicely did on his left chest (where he worked so hard to get his mom's permission) you smile when you remember how happy he was when he sneaked out to meet you to deliver the happy news.

Your heart flutters, he did not need to wake up to fit you into his embrace. Your relationship fits like a puzzle where each pieces were so different that you won't make mistakes. You want to believe that Ten is the one destined for you and so are you to him!

It's obvious you're meant for me

Every piece of you just fits so perfectly on me

Your mind plays thousands of silly scenarios. Most of them were happy, but you cannot lie that the darkest corner in your brain still repeatedly tricks you with nightmares. It was not the first time you have dreams about his fans finding out your relationship, you cannot imagine their faces and you cannot imagine living with the constant fear that one of those fans might kill you out of obsession!

Your insecurities also snatch your confidence away whenever you see Ten standing on a stage with another "oh so perfect" girl idols or models or hell actresses! Not to mention the flirty look those back up dancers always toss to your man. Well, they might be throwing flirts on him because they did not know Ten is attached already; however, even when they know 90% will fight harder and the rest 10% will let go. You're living in fear, in terror that one day when you wake up Ten can no longer be beside you.

You break your own promise about always telling one another your fears and struggles. You hide them behind your cheerful smile, you blame yourself for over thinking, and you make sure Ten will never know that. You are learning every day to put the negative thoughts away and focus on the good ones. Ten needs your support, Ten loves you, and you believe that. You can sleep a bit after convincing your heart that the man hugging you here is an angel made for you!

Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep

But I'll never show it on my face

Your eyes flung open when you feel the sudden drop of temperature. Your hand reaches to your side in panic and you peek to see that it's no longer occupied. You stretch yourself to wake up, Ten might be away already for his schedule. You take your phone to see any message he probably left, but there were none. You glance to the door, it was closed. There are no traces of Ten, not his shirt, not even his phone.

Once the room door was opened, your nose is filled with a fresh smell of bacon and eggs. Your smile returns when you see Ten only in his boxer and apron. You can hear your washing machine working and when you look at the door, you smile when you see a pile of your laundry and his outfits are there.

"Morning princess, I'm sorry I have to run the laundry for my clothes...since someone happened to spill a drink over me yesterday and I'm not going back to the dorm with a smelly outfit." Ten explains while flipping an egg over. He sets the fire to a lower heat and turns his body to see you.

You can only smile like a dumb love-struck girl (which is not wrong). You make your way to jump and hug him. Ten automatically receives you in his arms and you dip your head down to greet your lover with a sweet morning kiss. In between the sweet kiss, you can see Ten smiling like he enjoys these kinds of cheesy morning things.

"You better stop kissing me," Ten speaks up on our short breaks, he kisses you one more time, "Or I will burn the eggs."

You laugh and toss your head back, you take your queue to jump off him and Ten quickly saves his egg from burning. "Just right in time," He smirks when he plates the last egg on the dish.

"Please take your seat miss, breakfast by your hottest man is ready." He sits down across you with one plate of the same menu. From your request, Ten did not take off his apron. No you do not need a distraction this early!

Your mind records every single moment Ten giggles and laughs, his wake up state is already so lovely and you cannot imagine how perfect your mornings will be if the two of you finally tie the knot and live together. You can only keep that in your small heart, a really simple dream you wish you can achieve. Living with Ten for the rest of your life, why? Because you know he is the man made for you. But are you the woman made for him?

You finish your breakfast and as the washing machine finished its job in drying the clothes too, you hear his phone rings. Ten glances at the buzzing noise. You toss him a small smile before leaning in to kiss him and walking away to take the laundries. You pick up his shirt, Ten does his duty to wash the dishes and pan he used.

"Let me iron this quickly," You disappear to at least send him off to work in a nice attire.

Ten places the last dish on the drying rack and he starts to pack all of his stuffs, he brushes his hair and teeth, puts his cap back on and his eyes soften when he sees you coming back with a neat shirt.

He finally takes off his apron and with your help, put on his tidy sweet smelled shirt. Secretly Ten loves your laundry soap and that's one reason why he used your washing machine. He wants to smell like you!

"So, when can I see you again?" You ask as you fix his collar. You're facing him and only inches away from his nose.

Ten smiles and puts his hands over your waist, he leans in to stare deeper into your eyes, "Whenever you want miss! I'm only one call away," he winks.

Both of your face are slowly erasing the gap between you two and just as you close your eyes his phone abruptly kills the mood. You pull your face back and you can see Ten cussing at the caller.

"Damn Lucas! Such a mood breaker! I told him I am coming in 10 minutes," Ten presses the red button and pockets his phone. You burst out laughing, of course it must be Lucas!

"Well, guess you will want to go before Kun calls you! Thanks for yesterday and today and everything!" You hug him and bury your face on his chest. "I wish you can come often and do my dishes!" You taunt your tongue.

Ten ruffles your hair and kisses your forehead for the last time, "Okay, I need to go now. You also need to prepare yourself for work."

You nod and note the time, it's an hour to the store opening hours, you need to get ready.

"Bye love, take care! I love you." Ten walks to the exit after putting on his coat and shoes.

"Love you more!" You stand by his side facing by the exit door.

"Love you most," he winks and finally pulls his cap to cover his face and puts his mask on. He finally turns around and walks to the lift.

You return to your room, taking a bath and getting ready for another long week. You believe if you can get through this, your dream of living with Ten will be clearer and brighter.

Your day goes on and you cannot lie whenever you see him on social media, a website, a magazine, or a music show, even from the talks from your customers, you cannot throw the disturbing insecurities away from your mind.

Is our love hopeless?

Will the world accepts me as his significant other?

Will his family love me?

Will he even stay by my side, or will he found someone new who is better than me?

Those are the things you cannot spill to him that haunt you every time he is away.

You play with the promise ring Ten gave you on your two years anniversary. The dark minds foreshadowing your mind suddenly disappear just as you remember the same words Ten always recites, "You're the puzzle that fits into me, why would I let you go? Trust me and wait for me, I love you more than anything!"

With that, your smile erupts back into your face and the rainbow in your heart plus mind is back. You know you just have to trust Ten the same way he trusts you! Life will bring you two together if it is meant to be, and fate will also play a part.

Because Trust is everything you need for an everlasting love story right?

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Experiments - Part 4

If you missed the beginning of this saga, you can catch up here:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

---

YES!

Rhett used the last bit of his self-control not to scream out his enthusiastic answer. As if it had been waiting for permission to do this, his mind immediately conjured up a vision where a naked Link was laying down on the bed in the corner, aching for Rhett to lick his way down Link’s chest and stomach until he could finally fill his mouth with Link’s mouth-wateringly hard… 

The thought almost made Rhett come on the spot. His hips tilted up, searching for something to fill. With considerable mental gymnastics, he hid the thought away for later inspection and nodded again. 

“Yeah, anything. Come on.” 

Link’s eyes widened and morphed from his usual bright blues to black and glossy pools of pure want. Rhett barely had time to acknowledge how beautiful he looked before his cock sank deep inside Link’s mouth. 

“Ah!” Rhett groaned, whipping his head back against the wall. He hit it hard but barely registered the pain. All he felt was a stomach-tingling, wet heat enveloping his cock. Link moved slowly, bobbing his head experimentally as he swirled his tongue against the most sensitive parts. Rhett was in the middle of a deep moan when suddenly, sharpness dragged along his shaft. 

“Teeth, teeth!” Rhett yelped and jerked away, his hand reaching blindly for Link. 

Link released him immediately and apologized profusely, kissing the sting away. He grabbed Rhett’s searching hand and pressed it into his hair. Rhett’s fingers threaded through the salt-and-pepper—nowadays more salt than pepper. Link’s eyes fluttered closed as he keened into Rhett’s touch and a small whimper slipped from his glistening lips. Rhett did his best to ignore the burning need to tug on Link’s hair to see if he would enjoy the pain as much as he had earlier.

“Help me out, yeah?” Link whispered, opening his eyes. With a shiver of anticipation, Rhett guided himself back inside Link’s waiting mouth. They moved slowly together, Link finding his way and Rhett showing it to him with small movements and sighs.

There were no more teeth, just unadulterated pleasure. Rhett got lost in it and couldn’t help but thrust his hips a bit, burrowing himself deeper inside Link’s eager warmth. Link sputtered and gagged and Rhett quickly pulled away.

“You okay?” Rhett asked, drawing in deep breaths, trying to tamp down his desire to throw Link on the couch, climb on top of him and fuck his mouth with all he had. 

Link dipped down again and sucked him deep, hollowing his cheeks with his tongue flattened below. Rhett groaned and squirmed, his grip on Link’s hair tightening reflexively. After a few long, slow sucks, Link popped off of him with a lewd sound and smiled. 

“I’m good. Is this… Am I doing it right?”

Rhett growled in frustration, desperate for Link to keep going. His heart was beating a rhythm so fast it was hard to think. 

“Rhett?” 

Rhett tried to concentrate on Link’s face. His cock was throbbing, ready to burst at any minute and the beat of his heart was almost deafening. Then he remembered. This wasn’t supposed to be about him. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten. This was Link’s experiment. 

“Yeah. Feels amazing. You’re doing a great job,” Rhett assured Link, petting his hair, silently praying for him to continue. Link let out a pleased giggle. 

“A great blow job,” he corrected with a wink. Rhett rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh too.

“I’m sure we can come up with more puns if that’s what you wanna keep doing,” he muttered, amused by Link’s delight. 

“Nah,” Link drawled and gave Rhett a few tight-fisted pumps that made him moan and tremble all over. “I’d rather watch you come.”

“Get on with it then,” Rhett groaned. “I’m already so close.”

“Warn me before you bust,” Link reminded with a stern look. Rhett hummed a quiet “yeah” and watched his cock slowly sink back between Link’s lips. Rhett let go of his hair and swept his hand down, brushing his fingertips over Link’s hollowed-out cheek on his way to feel how Link’s lips stretched around his thickness. 

“Fuck, so pretty,“ he murmured. Link moaned around his cock and closed his eyes. 

After that everything was a blur. It was like Rhett’s brain shut down all other functions except those keeping him alive and those keeping him feeling Link’s mouth on him. Link was a quick study. He sucked and swallowed around him, licked and used his hand to bridge the gap between his lips and Rhett’s neatly trimmed hair. He did all the things Rhett had never known he wanted Link to do. 

When Link’s mouth suddenly disappeared Rhett whimpered at the loss of the sweet heat, but it soon appeared lower, lapping on Rhett’s balls, sucking them into his mouth one by one and rubbing the spit-slicked sack gently as his mouth returned to suck on Rhett’s aching cock. 

Rhett should’ve orgasmed ages ago. He was perpetually on the edge of “almost there”. But somehow Link seemed to know or guess when Rhett was nearing his finish because every time he was about to announce the inevitable, Link pulled away, moved from a tight suck to sloppy kisses of discovery, or fully abandoned Rhett’s slippery cock in favor of acquainting himself more closely with the tender flesh of Rhett’s inner thigh or the skin stretched over his hip bones. Rhett was losing his mind and had never been so happy to go mad.

He would have gladly spent hours being edged by his best friend’s surprisingly skilled mouth, but finally, he was beyond the point of turning back. 

“I’m gonna…” Rhett warned, gasping for air. Link gave him one last slow bob and then backed up a bit. Rhett looked at him for the first time in a while and was surprised how affected Link looked. He was breathless, pulling in quick gasps of air as if he was drowning. His glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. His mouth looked so ravaged—skin around his lips rubbed raw and his lips plump and bright pink—that Rhett almost bent down and pulled him into a kiss. He longed to kiss those lips. But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Link nudged his glasses back into their place with his finger and wiped away some of the saliva that had spread on his chin. 

“Come on then,” he said, voice raspy and pleading. His body was tense, chest pushed forward and his face turned slightly up so that his chin jutted out. He braced his hands on Rhett’s thighs.

Rhett took hold of himself and grabbed a fistful of Link’s hair again. He didn’t trust his aim in his current state so he felt it was better to steady Link’s face close to his cock. Link cried out as Rhett’s hand dragged him forward and Rhett startled, loosening his grip. Link forced Rhett’s hand back into his hair and then wrapped both of his hands around Rhett’s cock and the hand holding it.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go. Wanna feel you come,” Link panted and together they worked Rhett over the edge. 

He barely made a sound. After all that build-up he came hard and fast. Relief and pleasure mixed in his gut, making him heave out a shuddering sob and one single word. 

“Link.” 

Rhett whimpered the name and spread his come over Link’s flushed cheeks, over his glasses, on his parted lips and more than few droplets straight into his mouth. Link’s hands fell from his cock and his fingers dug into Rhett’s thighs hard enough to bruise as he let out a guttural sound that settled deep inside Rhett’s stomach and turned into a pool of heat and primal want. He was only barely finished but at that moment, he felt like he could come again, just from hearing that sound. 

Link slumped to lean against Rhett’s shaking leg. He was breathing heavily, slowly licking his lips clean, tasting Rhett on his face.

Rhett fell backwards. He was beat, empty, used up and on cloud nine. A smile lingered on his lips and he wanted to laugh. He wanted to grab Link and lift him into his arms and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. He wanted to—

“Ew, you got my glasses.” Link’s annoyed words crashed through Rhett’s euphoria and he opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings in the real world. Link was gone from the floor. He’d gotten up while Rhett was flying high and was now walking towards the kitchen. Rhett’s chest tightened. Link didn’t sound happy. 

Rhett swept a few droplets of come from his fingers onto his shirt that he’d picked up from the floor. He pulled the shirt on, then his boxers. Water was running into the sink. Rhett padded to the kitchen and watched from the doorway as Link washed his face. His back was turned and when he closed the tap, he didn’t turn. He just reached for the kitchen towel, dried his face and stayed there, staring at the sink. 

Rhett’s elation was officially dead and buried.

“You okay?” he whispered, taking a few steps towards Link. Link’s shoulders jumped and he turned to look towards Rhett, eyes wide and cheeks still as flushed as they had been in the other room. 

“Fine,” he said, refusing to look Rhett in the eye. 

Rhett was pulled to him as if his body was not ready to let go of the intimacy they’d just shared. His arms wrapped around Link’s waist. Link’s eyes widened and he let out a small “what are you doing?”

“Didn’t you want me to…?” Rhett asked, terrified of how hopeful he sounded. His hand moved from Link’s waist and slipped between them, searching for something hard to wrap his fingers around. 

“Rhett, wait!” Link cried and tried to step away, but it was too late. Rhett had already felt it. His head whipped down to make sure. And there it was—the tell-tale wet spot on Link’s pants. For a few seconds, Rhett forgot how to breathe. Suddenly, it all made sense. 

He came. 

He came untouched as I did.  

Link moaned and hid his face behind his hands.

“So fucking embarrassing,” he whined. Rhett’s heart ached for him. This was supposed to be a good experience for him. Not something that made him cringe as he thought back on it.

“No, it’s not,” Rhett assured, pulling Link into a bear hug. “It’s totally fine, dude. That happens.”

“But…”

“You have a change of clothes in your office, right? Just clean up and you’re good as new.”

“Okay,” Link muttered against Rhett’s chest. Slowly, his hands wrapped around Rhett and he squeezed. They stood like that for a while, breathing the same air, wrapping their minds around what had just happened. 

“Thanks,” Link said finally and lifted his face from Rhett’s chest.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” Rhett said.

“No, I mean, thanks for being my first.”

He smiled a crooked smile and slipped past Rhett. Rhett watched him go, trying to put words to the way he felt—like he was ripped apart and put back together again all at once.

[kindest-way-to-say]

okay so. i’m just gonna rant. about some pain i’ve been experiencing for a while. like, we’re getting into it

if anyone would like to put in their two cents, feel free. im kinda just yelling about my problems into a void, but im definitely not gonna stop people who might know what this is from giving me advice.

idk. my brains shutting down a bit.

TDLR: my left arm has been in constant pain for three days. it’s probably nerves or something. i’m very addled rn. i hate the world i want to sleep for a millennia. i also have had similar, smaller pain issues over a course of 4 months. i hate it here. i would very much like this to not be a thing, please.

so this story starts the mid may. my last month of school. i’m suffering through just to end this bullshit. but i notice that p much every time i have to do some slightly more than normal walking, some random body part of mine will just be in this sort of dull pain.

and i just kinda go. huh. okay. ow. and brush it off. this continues. it’s pretty minor, (like barely a 1/10 on a scale) but enough for me to be mildly annoyed by it on occasion.

go to two weeks before my school lets out for summer.

i get appendicitis and have surgery for it. i’m fine. that situation went better than expected, i was just not the most comfortable.

appendicitis pain traditionally presents in the lower right quadrant of the abdomen. right next to a shit ton of nerves. and the pain i’m going through starts to affect my leg. can’t really walk without alarms going on.

it gets better. i’m not like. comfortable, but i’m just taking ibuprofen a few times a day and managing decently. 3.5/10 pain level average.

but then, as i start going out and living life as a teenager in the summer (hanging out with one person semi-regularly, and doing weird family lunches), i start to notice that most times i leave the house, i’ll come back home with some pretty decent pain in assorted parts of my body.

like my back will hurt, which i just blame on my shit posture. but then it’ll be a weird muscle connected to my ankle or some shit when i am very well known for hating any and all sports except for hockey. which i don’t play.

so i’m not doing things to pull muscles, but i’m feeling twinges of pain kind of a lot. which sucks.

but i brush it off, now consciously keeping an eye on it and taking ibuprofen when needed.

pain levels steadily rise over time, but it’s still at about a 4/10 for the most part. there’s the occasional spike to a 6, but that’s not frequent.

keep going on to mid-july. every time i leave the house, i’m feeling dull ache/twinges in multiple places and my knees feel really fucking off a lot of the time. almost like if your knees were crooked or something?? idk.

but it’s still 5.5 on the worst day. so i just kinda hesitantly mention this to my mom. who’s used to me complaining anyway, but i make it clear that it’s been going on for a while, and it feels like somethings wrong.

and she says “oh yeah we can think about seeing a doctor.”

and i just. okay! cool. fun. rad. sick. vague pain. that’s my favorite activity. i love everything about this.

but i just grit my teeth and bear it. still doing the ibuprofen thing when my ignore it and distract yourself strategy doesn’t work.

now, end of july. trucking along. i’m at least in mind discomfort pretty much all the time. sucks. hate it. i’m concerned.

go to the 31. i pull a crazy all-nighter because i have chemical imbalances in my brain and shit just happens. i stay up for like 44 hours. wild. i sit at my desk for a while, drawing and i notice “wow my left shoulder doesn’t feel that great. huh. i have been sitting here for a while.”

so i go do something else but it doesn’t feel fantastic. almost like a buzzing in parts of my back and my upper arm. on my left arm. i am right handed. don’t know what that’s about.

go to sleep sunday night, i wake up to it just being worse. (also i have some weird circulation problems because of genetics. just random shit. no pain whatsoever. just funky.)

like wtf that’s a 4 right as i’m waking up. what the actual fuck. don’t like that.

but i was raised catholic so none of us talk to each other. so i just joke about my body organizing a shitty coup d’état to a friend and chalk it up to a fucked up muscle. but it’s like kind of moving?? a bit?? weird as fuck. don’t like it. still dull pain, but certainly something that pops up into my conscious mind like 10 times a day.

i didn’t do anything would result in a pulled muscle (trust me. my school is really intense about theatre and show choir. hard core choreography in everything that i practice 3 times a week during school+whatever play/musical) so i’m really just making excuses to soothe my brain and i know it. full denial.

i took ibuprofen the first and second day. can still tell it’s happening, but it sucks less.

yesterday i play a shit ton of guitar, and i can feel my upper arm cramping up and shit (which. oW. 5.7/10. WHAT THE HELL.) even though there is no strain on my left arm except for pressing my fingertips into some strings. no shoulder shit going on.

so i try to stretch out. no help.

and then the adhd medication instead of sleeping medication debacle happens and i don’t go to bed even though i actively tried to multiple times. i write a poem instead.

hurts mildly the whole time. it starts kind of limiting the functions of my arm. which. what the actual fuck. stiff, a bit seized up in especially bad pain moments.

i get focused on writing a poem and shit i only 20 minutes to get ready to leave for my appointment.

i forgot to take any ibuprofen, and it was already reaching 5.85 levels from sitting in my room.

in the car and in the orthodontist office, my left arm is completely fucking useless to me. half of my brain at all times is focused on like “oW OW OW OW OW” because it’s reached a point where i can’t really ignore it. it’s just there now. moving it isn’t great, it sitting in place isn’t fun either.

i’m at 6.5 levels. from the round trip of like 20-ish minutes, it’s raised that much. a lot of internal dialogue about it.

on the way to the orthodontist, i’m talking to my mom about it. she, sounding kind of annoyed, asks “what, do you want to see a doctor?”. i say “honestly? yes. it’s been 3 days nonstop. steady rise. there’s something genuinely wrong. i’m concerned about it.”

it feels like someone is poking around inside my arm with electricity or some shit. whole arm. shifting localizations and slight fluctuation in pain level. rapid escalation even just today.

i explain what it feels like in less wordy terms. and she says “that’s sounds like it could be nerve-related.”

it’s been three days. i’m exhausted. this has already taken a pretty significant mental toll, let alone discomfort level.

i have a high pain tolerance. i only started actively complaining about appendicitis pain the night before it exploded. that shit festers longer than overnight. i had been i pain for half the week before i said shit. and i just kinda sucked it up until i felt like i couldn’t walk without needing hella support.

but it’s really fucking getting to me. shit ton of weird tension, buzzing. just. constant painful buzz moving around.

i express this. “it’s a non-stop pain bad enough to be something i am fully aware of at any given second. if i stare off, im probably thinking about my arm.” and she kinda dismisses it.

it’s been like an hour, and i’ve gone up to 6.8 levels multiple times. based on patterns, it’s not just gonna stop any time soon, and i’m really good at working around weird problems like this.

like i said. pain every time i go out.

i’m good at hiding when i’m not 100%, but this is beyond me. it’s like someone’s just stabbing me with tacs over and over again. on my entire left arm and on the rare occasion, part of my leg.

i’m so genuinely uncomfortable, and i would this to not be a thing anymore.

[lenniewip]

Unknown (A Sterek Wrong Number/Celebrity AU)

11.09 PM Unknown Number

>I’m writing songs about you again.

11.20 PM Unknown Number

>its stiles btw.

>in case you deleted my number

>I did.

>I mean I deleted yours.

>but I still remember it apparently

11:41 PM Unknown Number

>I only have 2 lines so far

11:57 PM Unknown Number

>I bleed you from my veins.

>I grieve you like I love you.

>alone.

>its better with the chords.

>u were always better at writing lyrics than me

12:34 AM Unknown Number

>u were better everything than me

2:00 AM Unknown Number

>I hate that I miss you

2:07 AM Unknown Number

>do u want to hook up?

>I promise not to propose again

2:15 AM Unknown Number

>im sorry.

>ignore me.

>im drinking

Derek blinked bleary eyes. His phone screen was the only source of light in his room, as he read through the flurry text messages.

What the hell is a Stiles?

2:17 AM Unknown Number

<I think you have the wrong number

>Lydia?

<no

>oh thank fuck

>I mean

>I’m sorry

>for disturbing ur sleep

>but im just glad I didn’t drunk text my ex all of this

>bullet dodged right?

>is this what near death experiences feel like?

<I wouldn’t know.

>of course

>hey

>seeming as I have you here can I ask you a quick q?

>all my friends are asleep

<probably because its 3am

<everyone’s asleep

>2.39

>and ur not

>asleep that is

>so?

>I’ll take your silence as a go ahead

>what do you think?

>of the lyrics

<im the wrong person to ask

>never experienced heartbreak?

<no

<all song lyrics just look like bad poetry to me

>oh

>yeah I guess it does

>not everyone can be Rupi Kaur tho right?

<do you want to be rupi kaur?

>sure

>not to be dramatic or anything

>but

>I want to be anyone but me

>think id rather be someone like regina spektor tho

<regina spektor?

>singer/song writer

>shes my fucking inspiration

>her lyrics are like poetry to me

>you should listen to her music

<I dont really listen to music

>what the fuck?

>are you an alien?

<no?

>nice fucking try ET

>thats exactly what an alien would say

<…you got me there

>akdjfen

>is this you admitting I was right?

<no

<but this is me going to bed

<because its now 4AM

>already?

>fuck

>ive got an early start tomorrow

>good night random stranger

>and thanks

>for listening

>or reading ig

<good night

//

“You’re late.” Laura frowned, arms crossed.

“Are you going to let me in?” Derek grumbled, still feeling the affects of having stayed up until 4AM the previous night.

Laura didn’t argue she just stepped aside to let him through into her flat. “You’re grumpier than usual.” She noted.

“Didn’t sleep well.”

Derek hated the look she gave him then.

The look that said he was broken. The look that said she wanted to fix him.

“Is…Is it the nightmares again?” Laura’s voice dipped to a whisper, like the question alone would be enough to send him over the edge.

“No.”

An awkward silence defended over the two of them, neither knowing what to say.

Derek clung to the silence like a blanket, wishing things could go back to how they used to be. Back to when they knew how to speak to one another.

But this was enough.

It was enough to know that they were both trying. Failing. But trying.

//

2:40 PM Laura

>I’m here if you need to talk.

//

Derek isn’t good at art, but sometimes it’s the only way he can express himself. Words had never been his forte.

So instead he doodles.

Shitty toddler level doodles that he never shows anyone.

Sometimes he thinks if he could bring himself to show Laura she would like it. Maybe she would even understand it.

But there was a bigger chance that she wouldn’t, and he would feel even more like a stranger to his own sister than he already was.

//

10:18 PM Unknown Number

>I don’t remember it anymore

<You have the wrong number again

>No

>This is ‘not Lydia’ right?

<right

>So here’s the thing.

>I always thought if I needed to text her I could

>And I thought maybe I got her number wrong because I was drunk

>But I can’t remember it anymore

<Oh.

>I have some of her things still

>I don’t think I’ll ever get to return it now

>Unless she messages me first

<When did you two break up?

>Last year

>and I know what you’re thinking

>’it’s October’

>and I should be over her by now

>Trust me I know

>So you don’t need to lecture me

<I wasn’t going to

>Oh

<Stiles?

>That’s weird

<what is?

>I forgot I told you my name

<You should throw away the stuff she left behind.

>you’re right

>I don’t like it.

>but you’re right

>…thanks

<What for?

>for listening

>reading**

>my friends are pretty sick of hearing me complain

>so this is nice

<sure

<anytime

>dope

>no take backsies

<am I going to regret this?

>for definite

>you’re stuck with me now

//

That night Derek saves Stiles’ number as ‘Bad Poet’.

//

Stiles keeps messaging after that.

Stiles messages like they’ve been friends for years, and Derek very determinedly does not analyse why it is he always responds.

Even when there are messages dated from Laura from three days ago that he hasn’t even been able to bring himself to open yet.

He also ignores how when he’s messaging Stiles the gaping pit that had made residence in his chest feels just a little less inescapable.

//

Derek can’t bring himself to tell Stiles his name. He can’t bring himself open up, even though there’s a large part of him that wants to.

He’s not above admitting he’s scared.

//

Derek draws Stiles sometimes.

More accurately he draws a vague pair hands texting on a phone, because he has no idea what Stiles actually looks like.

Derek refuses to let himself dwell on that though, because they are happy drawings.

The pictures of Stiles are pretty much his only happy drawings right now.

//

They don’t always talk about Lydia.

Sometimes Stiles messages Derek song lyrics he’s working on.

Other times it’s memes, or just a bunch of emojis.

Once Stiles had just messaged him what Derek could only assume was a list of everything he had eaten that day.

Sometimes Stiles messages in rambles - and Derek can’t always keep up with the boy’s run away thoughts, but even then he never feels lost the way he does when he’s trying to interact with literally anyone else.

And sometimes it’s 2AM. Those are simultaneously Derek’s favourite and least favourite texts.

//

2:02 AM Bad Poet

>sometimes I feel like too much

>and too little

>at the same time

>u ever feel like that ET?

<not really

>its like I’m infinite, and meaningless

>like a never ending echo

>or a recurring decimal

>I just stretch on and on forever but theres no point to it

>I have no depth

<youre not meaningless

<you’re a rhythm.

<like breathing

>…

>was that a regina spektor reference?

<it might have been

>I thought you didn’t listen to music?

<well someone said her lyrics were like poetry

<so I thought I would check out a few songs

>well fuck

>what did you think?

<she’s good

>you spelt ‘amazing’ wrong

<I still prefer poetry

>of course you do

Derek stared at the texts an ache filling his chest.

Derek was the opposite of infinite. Everything he touched turned to flames.

//

10:30AM Bad Poet

<my sister bought me flower seeds

>I didn’t know you had a sister?

<she’s everything I have

>oh

<and I think she’s trying to trick me into therapy somehow

>…with flower seeds?

<yes

>you sound extremely paranoid

>maybe therapy wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you?

<shut up

>noted.

>keep me posted on how your gardening goes

>also

>as a side note

>you know you have me too right?

>if you ever need to talk or anything, I’m right here for you

<thanks

>anytime

//

On Derek’s birthday Laura insists the two of them spend the day together, and Derek knows better than to argue.

She buys him a cake and they spend hours sat next to one another silently. Two strangers desperately trying to keep hold of one another but with an ocean dividing them.

Once their family had been so alive.

And it was all Derek’s fault that was gone.

They both knew it.

Sometimes Derek wondered if Laura hated him as much as he did.

He was too scared to ask.

//

That night Derek chased the ache in his chest away with a drink.

And then several more followed.

//

1:14 AM Bad Poet

<seh haars me

>sorry bud, you’re going to have to try again

>try spell checking before hitting send

<she.hates mee

>who?

<larn

>are you drunk?

<yeh

<tyongs ndrf

*Out Going Call: Bad Poet*

The phone rings twice before being picked up. “Sorry. Stupid keyboard is so small. Impossible to type.” Derek mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his cheek being pressed into the sofa cushion.

“Wow. You’re really sloshed huh?”

“No.” Derek denied. “Just tipsy.”

“Right. So what was it you were trying to tell me? Someone hates you?”

“Laura.”

“Who’s Laura?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.”

“She looks at me like she wishes she could fix me.”

“That doesn’t sound like she hates you, bud.”

“She should. I can’t be fixed.”

“You’re right, because you’re not broken.”

Hearing Stiles say that Derek could almost believe it to be true.

“I mean it. You’re not broken. You’re just a different shape than you used to be. But the shape you are now is beautiful.”

Derek closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him. “Do you sing?” He finds himself asking.

“What?”

“I know you write songs, but do you ever sing?”

“Oh…” Stiles sounds uncomfortable. “I guess… Yeah. I do.”

Derek hummed in the back of his throat. “I bet you have a nice voice.”

“Th-thanks.”

Derek tried to say something else, but all that comes out is a yawn, which makes Stiles let out a jittery laugh.

Derek tries to memorise the sound of It, but it’s so fleeting, it’s already slipping away from him.

“I think you need to go sleep, ET.”

“Yeah.” Derek agrees.

“Goodnight bud.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Could you stay on the phone? Just for a bit longer.” Derek clutched on to the phone like if he could grip tightly enough it would make Stiles stay.

I don’t want to be alone. The words die on Derek’s tongue.

“Sure.” Stiles didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Sleep pulled at Derek’s consciousness, unravelling his grip on reality.

“Stiles?”

Stiles hummed in answer.

“Your shape is beautiful too.”

A small whimper came from the other end of the phone. “Thanks.”

//

7:50 AM Bad Poet

>how are you feeling today?

<better

>good <3

Derek holds his phone tightly and wishes that he had more to say. Just to keep the conversation going.

He also wishes (not for the first time) that Stiles was more than a faceless entity on the other end of the phone.

But it’s the first time he feels the want like a physical ache in his chest.

Derek had never been good with words, but if Stiles was here in front of him Derek would probably give him a hug.

But everything Derek touches eventually dies, and a larger part of him is relieved for the distance.

//

Derek plants the seeds his sister got him that day.

//

9:48 PM Bad Poet

>would it totally weird you out if I wanted to do another phone call?

>don’t feel like you need to say yes

>I just enjoyed talking to you

>and hearing your voice

>ugh.

>why are words so hard?

<I wouldn’t be opposed to a phone call

*Incoming Call: Bad Poet*

“Hey.” Derek feels breathless as he answers the phone, anxious excitement clawing it’s way up his throat.

“Hey.” Stiles sounds equally out of breath, and that helps.

Derek chews on his lip, scrambling for something to say. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles admitted. “Anything.”

“Helpful.” Derek said sarcastically.

“I mean. There’s one thing. I didn’t want to ask when you were drunk because it felt a little like taking advantage. And I don’t want you to think you have to answer-”

“Stiles.” Derek interrupts before Stiles could break into a full blown ramble.

“Tell me your name.” Stiles breaks. “Please.”

Anxiety grips his heart. But… he couldn’t stay scared forever.

“It’s Derek.”

“Derek.” Stiles repeats his name in a reverent whisper, as if committing it to memory.

And hearing Stiles say his name makes everything worth it.

//

Phone calls become a regular thing between the two of them over the next month. Always between late in the evening and the early hours of the day.

//

The next time Derek spirals he doesn’t drink before he calls Stiles, but he does cry on the phone.

The next morning he wakes up to a text from Stiles.

6:42 AM Bad Poet

>you need to talk to your sister

And Derek knows he’s right.

//

It’s not easy confronting Laura. He has two separate anxiety attacks on the walk to her apartment alone.

But he forces himself to take the dive.

“It’s okay if you hate me.” He tells her, even though it’s not okay. Laura’s hate might be the only thing in the world that could break him beyond repair.

Laura looks horrified as she stares at him. “I don’t- Obviously I don’t hate you Derek.”

“It’s my fault that they’re gone.” Derek addresses the elephant in the room.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with Kate.

If he hadn’t broken up with her, just to try and prove a point when she refused to say ‘I love you’ back…

There never would have been a fire.

Their family would still be here if it wasn’t for him.

“Fuck that!” Laura let out a harsh noise. “Derek, none of this was ever your fault. You were a kid, and even if you weren’t… You never set the fire.”

“I might as well have.”

“No. If anyone… I was your big sister- am your big sister. But I was so fucking wrapped up in myself. I didn’t even know about Kate.”

The last time Derek had seen Laura cry it had been at the funeral, so it took a second to fully sink in what he was seeing.

He found himself crying to.

“I’m so sorry, Der.”

Derek stumbled forwards pulling Laura into a crushing hug. Laura hugs him back just as tight.

They spend hours refusing to let go of one another.

//

He realises he fell asleep on Laura’s sofa when he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. But he had no idea where it was, and he was too tired to move.

He feels Laura moving and the sound of the phone ringing gets louder before cutting off abruptly.

“Hello?”

“No - Derek’s asleep.”

“Maybe call at a more reasonable time?”

“Who is this?”

“Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Derek let sleep over take him once more.

//

2:29 AM Bad Poet

>sorry for calling so late

>you’re asleep so I’ll just take to you tomorrow

//

9:07 AM Bad Poet

<sorry, I was really tried

>no worries man

>you’re allowed to have a life outside of me

<was something wrong?

>no I was just bored, and didn’t realise how late it had gotten

>im fine

>how are you?

<im good actually

<I spoke to Laura

>yeah?

>I’m proud of you

>how’d that go?

<we both cried

<a lot

<and I ended up falling asleep on her couch

>look at you, opening up and shit.

>think I might cry now

<shut up

>literally never

>better men have tried and failed to silence me

//

2:40 PM Laura

>Want to see a movie on Friday?

<sure

//

One night Stiles calls Derek just to say his name in stupid ways, and laugh himself stupid after each one.

“Duhreek.”

“Doreck.”

“Fuck. I’m getting a stitch from laughing.”

“You’re so fucking dumb.” Derek is smiling as he said it.

“Deeruk.” Stiles wheezes out.

Derek just closes hie eyes and listens.

“I’m so fucking glad I know you, Stiles.” The words fall out of Derek’s mouth without much thought.

He only realises the weight of his words when Stile’s laughter pulls to a stop.

“I uh-” Stiles stammered. “Me too. Fuck. You’re the best thing to happen to me in…so fucking long. I’m glad I know you too Derek.”

//

Derek finally admits to himself that night that he’d fallen at least a little in love with the stranger from the unknown number.

//

He keeps trying to draw Stiles, but he can’t. Vague shapes just don’t cut it anymore.

He wants to map Stiles out with his eyes and translate it onto the page.

He wants to be able to see the smile behind the laughter.

He wants.

//

1:58 AM Bad Poet

>do you think you day we’ll actually meet?

>maybe not intentionally

>maybe one day we’d pass each other in the streets and not even know

>maybe we already have

Derek couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t notice Stiles.

<is there ever a moment when you’re not talking?

<I think id recognise your voice and know it was you

>maybe your face would make me speechless ;)

<I think id still know

<but if you want to be sure… I could send you a picture?

<of me

>dkfajd

>for reals?

>you would do that?

>you?

<well…not for free

>there’s always a catch

>what do you want?

>my soul?

>a blood debt?

>you can have whatever it is

<I meant you’d have to send me a picture too

<geez stiles

The next text takes an unnervingly long time to come through.

>I could do that

>a photo for a photo

>I kind of look like shit rn

>so no judging me

Derek spends the next two minutes fussing and fidgeting to take a good photo. No matter what angle he took it from the bags under his eyes were noticeable, and so was the week’s worth of stubble he had yet to shave off.

And maybe this was a terrible, awful, idea.

But Derek would send one hundred bad pictures if it meant getting to see one of Stiles.

He forced himself to press send on the last picture he took.

As he pressed send another photo came in.

Derek’s fingers shook as he hit the button to download the image.

His heart stopped.

Stiles was beautiful in every sense of the word, and Derek found himself unable to look away. Even when he heard the small dings of incoming messages.

But he couldn’t ignore them for long, because it was Stiles. And when ever Stiles messaged Derek had to answer.

>Fucking hell

>are you for real?

>you gave me a heart attack

>am I being catfished right now?

>when do you think you were going to tell me you’re the most fucking beautiful man to exist ever?

>how the hell to you look like that as 2AM!?

>Derek

>oh my god

>you gotta respond my dude because I’m freaking out a little bit

>still there?

>did my selfie scare you away?

>I would have tried harder for a nice photo if I knew I was talking to an adonis

>Derek?

<still here

>of thank fuck

>so…

<so?

>come on

>your going to give me a complex

>the selfie…was it okay?

>I know it’s not much

>but we can’t all be greek gods

<its beautiful

<you’re beautiful, stiles

>oh

>thanks

//

Derek is so far gone that he makes the picture of Stiles the home screen on his phone.

//

9:49 AM Bad Poet

<Laura wants me to meet her boyfriend

<this is all your fault

>how is this my fault?

<because she never wanted to introduce us before

<and then you got me to talk to my sister

<and now she wants me to meet him

>…and this is a bad thing?

<yes

>because?

<I don’t make good first impressions

<it’s going to be awkward

>yeah probably

<you’re not helpful

>I wasn’t trying to be ;)

>have fun, Derek!

//

Meeting Laura’s boyfriend wasn’t as awkward as Derek thought it was going to be. But it was strange.

Derek hadn’t been expecting to meet someone so soft and kind. He was nothing like any one that Laura had dated before.

But he also wasn’t used to seeing Laura smile as much as she did around him.

Maybe not all change was bad.

//

Derek tells Laura about Stiles by accident. Or more accurately he mentions Stiles once by accident (not even by name) and Laura had badgered him until he admitted that he had made a friend through a wrong number.

“There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”

“I know.”

God did Derek ever know.

But Stiles is different.

“Just…be careful.”

“I am being. I promise.”

Laura reluctantly lets it go after that. “So…what’s he like?”

“He’s…he’s like bad poetry.”

“Oh god. You’re in love with him aren’t you?”

Derek can’t bring himself to deny it, but he does tell Laura to shut up.

//

Derek fully embraces being in love with Stiles on the day he tells Stiles about his drawings. He’d never told anyone about them before - not even Laura. But telling Stiles had been easy.

‘It reminds me of line art’ Stiles had said when Derek had sent him a photo of the doodle he had been working on. “I love it’.

A warmth flutters through Derek’s veins.

//

It all goes sideways on the day Laura goes on Derek’s phone to check the time.

She’d raised one eyebrow at him looking amused.

“I thought you didn’t listen to music?” She said, a teasing note to her voice.

“I don’t.” Derek shrugged.

“A huh. So why do you have a picture of Stiles Stilinski as your wallpaper?” She asks.

It’s so startling to hear Stiles name coming out of Laura’s mouth that Derek’s brain refuses to function properly. “How do you know Stiles?” He asks weakly.

Laura laughs. “He’s not exactly a niche celebrity Der. He was a really famous YouTuber before he started selling albums.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that. He blinks as his world slowly unravels before him.

No.

She had to be wrong, because Derek couldn’t be in love with a celebrity. Stiles couldn’t be…

“Hey are you okay? You look really sick?”

“He’s famous?” His throat is dry.

“Yes? Are you okay? What’s wrong? You’ve got to speak to me Der. Use your words.”

Derek just shakes his head because he can’t.

“It’s him.” He manages to get out.

“What are you talking about?”

“Laura. It’s him.”

It takes a moment to click but Derek knows when it does because a look of thunderous wrath takes over Laura’s face.

“I’ll kill him.” She seethes, shaking with anger. “What kind of fucking punk thinks that this is a good prank to play?”

“What?”

“No one is getting away with catfishing you, Der. I’m going to hunt this fucker down, and then I’ll rip him so many new ones that he going to look like SpongeBob when I’m done with him.”

And god, Derek hadn’t even considered the thought that Stiles might not even be Stiles. The thought of Stiles being a liar…

The gape in his heart grows a little bit bigger.

And it all falls apart.

//

It takes hours before Derek can convince himself to confront Stiles.

11:08 PM Bad Poet

<you’re stiles stilinki

>fuck

(And yeah, it was really him).

>how did you find out?

<Laura

>I was going to tell you

<Were you?

>Yes

>I’ve wanted to for ages

>It just never felt like the right time to bring it up

<I wish you had decided on the right time was sooner

>Me too

>I’m sorry

>Please don’t hate me

Derek did not think it was possible for him to hate any part of Stiles.

<I don’t

>Thank fuck

>seriously

>can I call you?

<sure

Derek closed his eyes after sending the text and waited for Stiles to ring. A heartbeat later his ringtone sounded off.

“Hey.”

“You believe me right?” And Stiles sounds more frantic than Derek had ever heard him before.

“I believe you, Stiles.”

“Are you sure, because I can prove it if you want? I can do a video call? Or I can tweet literally anythi-”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Stiles lets out a small whine, that reaches through the phone line and yanks at Derek’s already tattered heart, unraveling him just a little more.

“Meet me.” Stiles said, taking Derek by surprise.

“What?”

“Please. I meant to throw a please in there, I’m just really fucking nervous right now. Meet me please. In real life. I uh- I was going to ask when I finally told you about the whole being a celebrity thing. It’s still weird to say that out loud. That’s part of why it was so hard to tell you. But the point was you beat me to the punch with the whole reveal thing, but I still wanted to ask.”

“Stiles…”

“And it’s not that I was trying to use my influence or fame to pressure you into meeting me. I just wanted to be in a space where we were one hundred per cent honest with one another before I asked you. You can still say no. Of course you can, I don’t know why I’m- my point is I hope you don’t say no.”

Derek feels his heart break in two.

“Stiles…I can’t.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t fully realised just how many worlds apart the two of them were when he had fallen in love with Stiles. It felt even more impossible than it had before.

“I’m sorry.” The words leave him feeling hollow.

“No. Don’t apologise. This is just me getting carried away. It’s okay.”

I love you. The words never leave Derek. They can’t leave him.

There was no way this could work, and he was far too scared of breaking the tentative connection they had with his useless words.

It was better for him to just… fall out of love.

//

6:17AM Laura

<it’s really him

>are you sure

<I’m sure

>what are you going to do?

<nothing

>Derek you’re in love with him

<I’m aware

<it doesn’t matter

<it wouldn’t ever work

>I’m sorry

<don’t be

<I’m going to be fine

>Im coming over with wine

//

That night Derek fills pages and pages of his notebook with drawings of Stiles.

When he gets a message from Stiles at 11PM- for the first time since they started messaging- Derek leaves it unopened.

//

He never ignores a message again after that, and life moves on. Stiles still messages him all the time, but he never asks to call anymore.

Derek misses his voice so much that he goes onto youtube and listens to his music.

He buys all three albums Stiles released and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

//

He fills an entire notebook with doodles of Stiles.

It’s still not enough.

//

1:11 PM Bad Poet

>I wrote you a song

>I know you don’t listen to music

>but it felt weird to not a least send you a link

>bad poetry at 2:00am

The link leads Derek to a youtube video of Stiles holding a ukulele and staring with a soft smile at the camera.

“Hey guys. It’s been a while, huh? But I guess I finally found inspiration. So here we go.”

The song is beautiful, but even more beautiful than that was Stiles.

When the song reached the end Derek doesn’t hesitate to hit replay.

He listens to the song ten times before he realises he’s crying - and he knows that he’s never going to ‘get over’ Stiles because he doesn’t want to.

//

3:00 PM Laura

>have you seen the video?

<he sent me a link

<he wrote a song for me Laura

<I love him so fucking much and he wrote a song for me

>fuck

<what do I do?

>what do you want to do?

<I don’t know

>I think you should look at his twitter

<?

>I wasn’t going to say anything because you said you wanted to get over him

>but I think you need to see it

>@stilesstilinki

//

@stilesstilinski

I want to hug him

@stilesstilinski

Get you a guy that will stay up with you until 4AM talking about literally anything

@stilesstilinski

Why do I alway fall for people so far out of my league? rip me I guess.

@stilesstilinski

He makes me want to write poetry

Derek spends hours scrolling through Stiles’ twitter.

He scrolls far enough back that he gets to the part of his timeline where his twitter is littered with pictures of Lydia, which causes the ache in Derek’s chest to grow. But he can’t stop looking because Stiles looks so happy.

And Derek falls impossibly more in love.

He lets himself acknowledge for the first time that Stiles might love him back.

And everything else?

It’s worth it.

Because Stiles is worth everything to Derek.

//

2:00 AM Bad Poet

<so I looked at your twitter

>fuck.

>how much did you see?

<all of it

>tight

>please excuse me while I go die now

>bye

<don’t leave yet

<I had something I wanted to ask you

>did you want me to delete the tweets?

>I can do that

>I’ll just delete the whole account

>I am my own worst enemy so this won’t be a problem

>actually Jackson Whittemore is my worst enemy

>but I’m a close second

<stiles?

>yup?

<Will you go on a date with me?

>alkdjf

>yes?

>Ofc yes?

>are you being serious?

>because this would be a cruel prank if you’re not serious

<I’m serious

>yes.

>yes. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes.

>holy shit

>theres no fucking universe where I say ‘no’ to that question from you

>im so fucking in love with you

>is it too soon to say that?

>I don’t even care

>I’m speaking my truth

>you obviously don’t have to say it back

>im going to woo you so hard Derek

>you’ll have to love me back eventually

>I’m going to write you poetry

>hell I’ll even read poetry for you

>ill give the whole fucking moon to you

<why would I want the moon?

<im not gru?

>despicable me

>that was a despicable me reference.

>you don’t listen to music, but you watch despicable me?

>you’re such an enigma to me Derek

>god I love you so much

<stiles?

>too much?

<no

<I don’t think I could ever have too much of you

<I love you too stiles

<so much

<I just don’t want you to get your hopes up

<I might not be able to live up to it in real life

>impossible

<seriously stiles

>I am being serious

>I’m already in love with you Der

>you don’t have to do anything more than you’ve already done

>you could wear a potato sack, and spend the whole night not saying anything at all

>and I would still be in love with you

>all you have to do now is show up

<…I can do that

>perfect

//

TWO YEARS LATER

@stilesstilinski

Hey @JacksonWhittemore, remember when you told me I would die alone? Well I just got engaged to the love of my life. So checkmate fucker.

[kristaloohoo]

Birthday Surprise

:// Hello all! Here is my first post here. I know it’s not great. I’m working on improving my writing. My A03 account is kristaminamino and I would love if you looked at my other works there :D This was a late birthday fic for the Choi Brothers. Hope you enjoy <3

________________________________________________________________

             I had never been good at surprises. I could barely keep my mouth shut around my sister when my parents were planning a surprise birthday party at the age of twelve. Again I almost spilled the beans when my friend was getting engaged while we were both finishing college. And now, here I sat in the bedroom I shared with Saeyoung, busily scribbling certain details in a notebook. Laying on the bed I mumbled to myself as I sketched out an image of a cake, marking certain details in the decorations and flavor. I was so into my notes that I jumped when I heard Saeyoung’s voice at the doorway. “My love! Join me as I attend a tour of the Naro Space Center!” I slowly sat up, the notebook clutched tightly to my chest in fear that he would see the crudely draw cake design. “When? Right now?” “Well not right now…” He paused to glance at his watch, giving his wrist a little shake to adjust the position, before happily cheering, “In thirty minutes! We gotta move!” I froze on the bedsheet, trying to rack my brain for a believable excuse.          

        I opened my mouth to speak, and popped it back shut. “Sae…I’m not sure if I can…” His face fell immediately, slowly walking over to me. To remove any suspicion I closed the notebook and set it on the floor on my side. He kneeled on the bed as he stared at me, but he murmured, “You okay?” I nodded quickly, and soon an idea popped into my head. My hand immediately covered my stomach, giving a small rub. “I haven’t been feeling too well since last night. I’m not feeling too hot…” His brow furrowed and his hand instinctively reached to my forehead, testing the temperature of my skin. After a moment he spoke softly, “You don’t have a fever…” I chewed on the inside of my cheek before I whispered, “I’m not sure…  I’ve just been feeling run down since yesterday…do you think I can sit this one out?” His expression fell as he watched me, but slowly a smile replaced the sadness on his face. “I suppose…but I hate to leave you here while you aren’t feeling well.” I shook my head and gave my own smile. “No, you’re fine. I’ll rest here and you can take Saeran with you.” His eyes lit up at the mention of his brother and his smile became larger. “Right you are!” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, but whispered, “Get some rest yeah? Hopefully, you feel better when we get back.” I gave a slight nod as he planted another kiss to my forehead before stepping out and shutting the door. As I picked up the notebook I heard a yell from Saeran’s room. “No! Idiot leave me!” “Saeran love me! Go with me please!?” I giggled as I rolled the front of the notebook back, continuing to sketch things out.            Once the front door shut and the noise from Saeyoung’s car echoed away, I slid out the bedroom to complete my preparations. I first began with straightening the living room and kitchen area. Vanderwood had been absent the past few days and with that left a small clutter of potato chip bags, empty cans, and takeout trays to scatter the area. I quickly cleaned it all and settled into the kitchen to begin the cake. This cake wasn’t just for Saeyoung, it was for Saeran. Of course, they shared the same birthday, and I couldn’t leave one out of the celebrations. Carefully I mixed the cake and poured it into three separate molds. Saeyoung was my everything, but Saeran…Saeran was different. We weren’t romantically involved, but we bonded over so many things. Before he was apprehensive of me moving into the bunker, and in the beginning, our conversations were few and far between. Now after a year of being together, we had bonded over so many things. Saeran had come to rely on me for my, as he worded it, famous ice cream recipe. And in return, he offered a shoulder whenever Saeyoung was gone and nightmares plagued my mind. It was a mutual acceptance, one bound on silence and sweets, and I was completely content with the situation. I knew Saeran trusted and cared about me, even if he didn’t use any words. I placed all three molds in the oven and set the timer, closing the door cautiously. Now I found time to prepare the main dish. Of course, Saeyoung’s favorite food was his sacred Honey Buddha Chips, but even I draw the line at serving it for the main course. I quickly opened a bag and poured them into a ziplock bag. That fact didn’t stop me from attempting a recipe for him. I quickly found my rolling pin and smashed the chips in the bag, turning them into a crumbly mess. I poured them into a separate bowl and moved them into line with my other ingredients. My idea was to crust chicken breast in the chip mix, creating a nice crust to bread them with. As I went behind myself and cleaned up, I heard a few beeps from the door. I froze suddenly, staring at the front door. They couldn’t be back so soon could they? Shit, how do I explain this? I bit my lip but soon the image of Vanderwood stepped in, carrying a bag in one hand. As he shut the door he turned to see my doe-eyed face, and he stopped. His eyes glanced around the kitchen but he muttered dully, “I’m not cleaning this up.” I shrugged and meekly said, “I don’t expect you to.” He gave a nod and walked to the spare bedroom, and I quickly continued to prep my foods. He walked back into the kitchen, and I glanced up from my procedure to see him dressed casually. He wore dark jeans, slack against his legs with a long sleeve purple button up. He crossed his arms to see me studying him, but he muttered, “What are you planning?” I looked up at his face to see his intrigued gaze, and before I could say anything his phone rang. I stared as he pulled it out, glancing at the screen before putting it to his ear. “Yes?”

I could hear a quiet mumble on the other end, and his eyes caught mine. “Check on Marlee for you?” I immediately dropped the pair of tongs and waved my hands, cutting across my throat. He made a face and mumbled, “She’s not feeling well? I suppose I can check on her.” I took a deep breath, covering my chest in relief. I continued cooking as Vanderwood hung up his phone, but he glanced at me and muttered, “So you’re planning something.” “Just a quick birthday party.” I gave a small smile as I continued to stir the egg mix. From the corner of my eye, I could see him eyeing my set up before sighing and pushing his sleeves up. “Okay, where can I step in?” I glanced around before pulling the chicken breasts from their packaging. “Just maybe keep an eye on the cake?” He nodded and stepped into the kitchen space as I made a process as breading the chicken. We were quiet for a moment as I worked in silence, but he spoke quickly, “I do care about Luciel you know…” I turned my head with a smile. “I know.” He crossed his arms as I continued with the chicken, but I spoke lowly, “I understand your line of work asks you to hide your emotions, but Saeyoung is special to you.” He gave a slight nod but soon a timer beeped from my phone. “Cake,” I ordered, and he opened the oven to pull the pans out.

        Saeyoung had texted me to let me know they were on their way back home, and Vanderwood and I busily finished our preparations. I busily iced the cake while he set up streamers and balloons. Soon I set up the pans to fry the chicken as he moved the cake to the side. He even helped me decorate the cake, complete with bright blues and greens. In the last stretch, he prepared a salad while I made a mixed veggie bowl. I took a breath as I set everything out on the counter, and I eyed our accomplishments. “Okay…seems good,” I whispered, mentally counting everything in front of me. I jumped however as Vanderwood snapped a conical hat onto my head, and I turned to see him already situated with one. I smiled at him, but he threatened, “You tell Luciel I helped and I will end you.” “Understood ma’am.” I saluted quickly and he rolled his eyes, understanding immediately that I had taken on Saeyoung’s mannerisms. Soon we both heard a loud engine pull up into the garage and I ran behind the counter. My fingers tapped impatiently on the surface as my ears strained to hear the doors shut, as well as the twins arguing about a topic. I glanced at Vanderwood and he nodded as we both ducked out of sight. I held a breath as I heard the door beep and then mumbled speaking outside the door. Once it cracked open my gaze turned to Vanderwood who nodded. We both jumped up from our hiding spots, crying, “Happy Birthday!!” I grinned as I noticed a stunned Saeran and a very excited Saeyoung. My cheeks started to ache with how hard I was smiling, but as Saeran slowly walked in Saeyoung ran up to me and took me into his arms. “Oh, Marlee? I thought you weren’t feeling well?” I squealed as he held me, but as he brought me back down I spoke quickly, “All a ploy my dear.” He grinned and took my face in his hands, kissing me gently.

        The rest of the night was full of birthday festivities. Saeran seemed uninterested until I mentioned cake and ice cream, to which he perked up and suddenly seemed invested in the celebrations. After our meal and dessert, it was time for presents. I froze suddenly, gripping my legs tightly. With all the thought going into the dinner I completely forgot about gifts. As a line of obscenities ran through my head Saeyoung looked at me with a grin. I looked up and bashfully said, “I, uh…forgot…” His face fell immediately and I felt guilt flood my mind. But to my surprise, his face changed into a sweet smile. “Marlee, this dinner is our gift.” My head jerked towards him as he continued. “I can’t tell you how happy for my brother and me to celebrate a home-cooked meal on our birthday. And cake?” He happily wiggled in his chair as I glanced at Saeran, to see him peeking up at me from a forkful of cake. He pulled it from his mouth and nodded quickly, but we turned to see Vanderwood walk out of the spare bedroom with two bags. “Since Marlee’s gift was dinner and dessert, I brought gifts.” My eyebrow perked as I watched him sit a bag in front of each of the brothers. Both of the brothers stared at their gifts, then at each other, but both jumping to Vanderwood exclaiming, “Well come on! We don’t have all day!” I watched as Saeyoung ripped open a box, while Saeran carefully pulled tissue paper from a bag. Saeyoung was first as he pulled a box from a mess of tissue paper. I recognized the box immediately, but he cooed, “Oh Vandy you shouldn’t have…” His present was a new processor, ready for a desktop. Now just any processor; this was a rumored processor that was supposed to release in the Fall. Saeyoung cradled it gently, but I glanced over to Saeran as he pulled a potted plant from a bag. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at Vanderwood. “This is…this is a mimosa pudica…” Vanderwood spoke as he gave a bashful look to the side, but I turned back to Saeran. “Oh Sae, that’s the bashful plant right?” He gave a slight nod and I watched as his finger gingerly touched a stem. Suddenly the tiny leaves folded in, and my eyes widened to see him give a wide smile.

        I sat on the bed as Saeyoung assembled the processor to a motherboard, engrossed in his project. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but the second part of his present sat under the sheets in the form of baby pink lingerie. I shifted slightly as I watched his brow furrow, but I questioned, “Was this birthday good Sae?” He turned to look at me with a grin, but he spoke softly, “Are you kidding me? This has been the best birthday ever!” My lips creased into a soft smile as he turned back to his work, focusing on the computer open in front of him. After a few more minutes I grew impatient and sat up in the bed with the covers tossed back. “Saeyoung Choi!” He turned and his eyes widened at my lingerie, and his gaze slowly turned towards my face. I pouted but spoke, “Your second birthday present might expire if you don’t hurry up and get over here.” I stared at his frozen form for a moment before he gave his computer a second glance and then dropped the hardware, pulling his +shirt over his head as he climbed onto the bed. I giggled as he pushed me back into the mattress, and my arms wrapped around his neck. “I mean, you can work on your computer a little more,” I cooed, but he leaned in and kissed my collarbone, and replied, “No ma’am. This present has all of my attention…and I can’t wait to unwrap it.”

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 3

Third chapter of the untitled (now titled) pirate whump series!

Series Masterlist

Content warnings: creepy/intimate whumper, choking/strangulation, collar whump

————————————

She could only hope and pray despite herself that Floyd was still aboard, that what she’d seen really had been wrong, but she knew that was just too good to be true.

(Golden Felucca, hours later)

He must have passed out. How and when, Floyd had no idea, but the lingering fatigue suggested it hadn’t lasted nearly as long as he needed. His neck was stiff from leaning against his arm, and his wrists and shoulders already ached from being shackled above his head. 

He stretched his hands, stiff as if they’d been left out in the cold. Pain prickled through them with each movement but it got more bearable the longer he tried. 

It only took a few minutes for the fear and panic to seep back in and replace the numbness of slumber. Floyd was still in Percival’s clutches. He’d been here for hours with no sign of his own crew. He’d surely traveled far from his original location by now, and whether or not they were in pursuit was still to be seen.

With the iron shackles still secure around his wrists, Floyd could only observe the small room he’d been shoved into and prepare himself for an opportunity to escape, whenever that would arise. 

The more he noticed about the room, though, the more frightened he became. Along with the chains and metal loops scattered about, there was a table just a few meters away from him with leather straps dangling off the side and a multitude of metal implements on it he couldn’t quite make out from the floor. He tried his best to explain it away--a workbench, it could be a workbench--but he couldn’t ignore sinking feeling in his stomach.

Floyd had no more time to dwell on the issue once the door slammed open. He flinched away in shock and a scream made it halfway to his lips before he locked it down, instead fixing wide eyes on the man making his entrance. Percival, in turn, peered down with a cold stare, only his bright eyes betraying his amusement. He stalked over in three large strides and crouched down to eye level. 

“Sleep well?” The lilt in his voice was far too cheerful for the dismal air of the cell. He could obviously tell how the uncomfortable rest had affected Floyd, and must have found some sick kind of satisfaction in teasing him over it. 

“No. Not really.” He meant to be casual, but the words came out tight from the back of his throat. At least he was being honest, but it wasn’t as if his bloodshot eyes and fatigue put him in any position to tell a suitable lie. The captain fixed a stare on him for a few seconds before he nodded, clicking his tongue. 

“Ah, a shame. You’re really going to need your strength today,” Percival smiled, and Floyd went rigid. Memories of hard labor and overwhelming exhaustion from so many years past flooded his mind, still so fresh after all his efforts to bury them. If he needed to save his strength then he was going to be worked hard, paid little, so so hungry- never again. He couldn’t take that again. 

But when Percival went to detach his shackles from the wall, he walked his captive to the other side of the room, away from the door, nearing what was very clearly not a workbench now that Floyd caught a glimpse of the dark stains on its surface. He couldn’t be used for labor in here, so...

His captor guided him to a spot near the wall with a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. Floyd knelt dazedly with his hips resting on his heels, trying to figure out what Percival wanted. At the same time, though, his eyes flitted over to the door. The room was only about three times his height across, the door was unlocked, but the ship after that was another matter.

Oh. The ship. Damn it all, he was on a ship! How did he expect to escape? Jump off the side and drown?! Tears welled up as frustration, despair, and helplessness all reached a breaking point, and threatened to spill when Percival crouched down in front of him. He turned his wet lashes to the floor to avoid the fiery gaze looking down at him, holding far too much pity for a kidnapper.

“Oh come on, what’s that look for? You aren’t even hurting yet, dear.” he laughed. Floyd refused to even look at him, trying so hard to ignore the sharp pang in his chest and corresponding hiccup in his breath at Percival’s blunt word choice. He knew full well that his emotional dam would break with the slightest pressure and he couldn’t lose his composure yet when there was surely worse to come. So when Percival held an item out to him, he let his eyes unfocus and ignore it.

Something long and fairly thin dangled there for several long seconds, expectantly. Floyd didn’t dare raise a hand to take it. 

“Well, don’t say I never let you choose, then.” Percival shrugged, leaning closer. “If I put it on too tight, please do tell me.”

A hand caught the underside of his chin, pushing to tilt it up. Floyd leaned away, raising his shackled hands on instinct. His fingers barely brushed against his captor’s arm before a rough grip took his wrists and slammed them into the floor. Percival’s knee landed on the chain between them, pinning them there. 

A gasped sob escaped as he grasped Floyd’s jaw, firmly this time, jerking it up and slid the band around his neck. It cinched tightly and Floyd realized far too late that he was being collared. It tightened, pinching skin and pressing metal rings hard into his neck until it sat comfortably and made its presence known with every breath. Then Percival sat back, the collar remained, and Floyd could only struggle mindlessly against what had already been done. A hand buried itself in his hair, pulling back and knocking his head into the wall, a splitting pain stopping his movements and drawing the tears from his eyes. 

He heard muffled commentary—something chilling about being more complacent, enduring future discipline, training—amid the ringing in his ears before Percival stepped behind him. Floyd craned his neck to see what he was doing, but Percival forced him to look forward with a hand in his hair, and he had no choice but to do so with a small, strangled noise of pain.

There was a sharp tug on the loop at the back of his neck before some kind of metal clasp clicked shut, pulling up on the collar. Floyd imagined that it must be a leash and immediately wished he hadn’t made that connection at all as his breath hitched with a repressed sob. Then he was gagging when the collar slid up under his chin, having nowhere left to go but into his windpipe, and pulled until it blocked his breath completely. 

Floyd knelt up as far as he could and gasped before the leash caught up to him again. This time, it was left just loose enough to breathe if he raised his chin and broadened his shoulders. He reached up to adjust the collar where it bit painfully into his skin, but Percival was back in front of him, pulling his arms down again. 

“If you can’t keep everything where it’s supposed to be then you’re only going to make this worse for yourself,” he chided, swiftly detaching the chain and binding Floyd’s arms behind his back instead. He stopped, seeming to reconsider his previous statement as he assessed his captive. “...not that I would mind, of course, but I've found that an easier start is often appreciated.”

Floyd so desperately wanted to shrink away at those words, but the bindings kept his shoulders back in pristine posture, and the collar held his head high through the degradation. He could do nothing but flinch as Percival leaned closer, smoothing a hand over his neck, touching his skittering pulse, and sliding across the stubble on his chin, leaving an involuntary shiver in his wake. Gently, reverently, he wiped drying tear stains with the pad of his thumb.

“How does it feel? The collar, I mean,” Percival asked, other hand almost absentmindedly resting on Floyd’s shoulder. 

“I-it’s tight,” he stammered back through a cough, voice hoarse, “and it’s hard to, hard to breathe. You know, with the l- the- holding it up-” That earned a deep laugh from Percival, the hand on his cheek moving down to cup it in the perverse imitation of a lover. 

“I’m glad, I really am. And don’t be afraid to say what these really are. Your collar, your leash... treasure them, sweetheart, because they’re the only things you’ll be able to call your own here. Now just wait until you’re good enough to go out on a walk…” Seeing Floyd’s horror, he seemed to backtrack. “...but I’m getting ahead of myself. After all, work comes first. Then play.”

“I-I, I don’t-”

“Ah-ah, shhh…” He pressed a finger to the lips he’d interrupted, voice turning dark, “I’d save my breath if I were you. While I’m out leading my crew today, you’re going to be in here strung up just like so. And I expect you to be fully conscious when I get back, or there will be consequences. Am I understood?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Floyd’s voice shook. 

“Wonderful. Well, until then. Make me proud, buttercup.” 

The door shut, and the waiting game began. 

Next part

———————————— 

Tag list: @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, and @castielamigos-whump-side-blog (If I forgot someone or you would like to be added or removed, please let me know)

[seokoloqy]

(1) Missed Call | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, idol!au

➳ WORD COUNT: 1.8k

➳ WARNINGS: the use of the word slut twice, dirty talk, masturbation

➳ SUMMARY: He never has time to pick up his phone while on tour, so you leave him innocent voicemails instead. But, when did your mundane voicemails suddenly get so interesting?

➳ A/N: the title sounds angsty but I swear it’s not angst also I wrote this at 3 am if there are any mistakes I’m sorry I write smut while sleep deprived

“Hey, are you doing alright? Hope you’re doing well.”

“How‘s it going, babe? Are you eating?”

“I miss you. Bye.”

“J-Jungkook, please… I need you. I want your cock buried inside me so badly—filling me up. I want you to fuck me raw and hold me down until I can’t walk in the morning. Fuck, it hurts. I want your fingers and your tongue on me until I’m shaking. Come home sooner, baby.”

Jungkook slowly lowers his phone, tense and feeling a pulse of heat shooting straight down to his rising cock from your breathy voicemail.

He never has his ringer on so you mostly catch his answering machine because he’s so busy these days, but maybe you’d get lucky enough for him to see the call. All the times you’ve been stuck with a cheery voicemail, you’ve never sent him anything like this before, sticking to the usual ‘hey’ and ‘call me back’ for the past month he has been on tour.

Jungkook’s fingers itch to press your ID and call you back, but he’s supposed to be on stage in five minutes. He only wanted to hear your voice beforehand, not expecting such a needy voicemail waiting for him. He curses the distance between you and tries to forget the image of you laid out in bed, using your fingers to get yourself off while calling his name.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, shaking off the images.

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin puts a hand on his shoulder, curiously peeking over at Jungkook’s twisted expression.

“Yeah, I’m fine...”

You sigh, relaxing in a bed that’s too big for just one person. You miss the warmth that Jungkook brought to bed every night as he lay beside you. You miss seeing him before you shut your eyes and you miss feeling his arms wrap securely around you.

He hasn’t returned your call yet. It’s been three hours since you left him that voice message and you were hoping it would get him on the next flight back home, or at least a phone call back.

You were desperate and needy, trying your best to entice him. You’re sure it worked, he can’t resist the sound of your whines and moans. Just thinking about how horny you were earlier have you rubbing your thighs together for a semblance of relief between your throbbing core.

Counting down the days and nights until you see him again only make you impatient. Fourteen days and thirteen nights sound like forever when your body aches for him night after night.

Imagining him thrusting into you, knuckles turning white as he grabs the headboard, and the sloppy sounds of your bodies connecting—you groan. Two weeks is painful.

Maybe you should call him again. It should be around midnight where he is right now, and usually, he’s messing around on his phone and playing video games before bed.

Just as you roll over to grab your cellphone it begins to ring, the caller ID of Jungkook glows and illuminates the dark room. You lurch to grab and answer the call, holding the phone to your ear with an eager, “Hello?”

“What the hell were you trying to accomplish, babygirl?”

The chilling growl through your receiver sends shivers through you and shoots straight to your core. The sounds of water running in the background tell you he’s standing in the bathroom trying to conceal the filth he’s speaking from the others.

“What do you mean?” You ask, playing innocent to get him even more riled up.

“You leaving me a voicemail begging for my cock like a fucking slut,” he rasps.

Your lips quirk and you put your phone on speaker, leaving it on his pillow as you lay back down. Finding a comfortable position, your hand begins to wander down your body. Replacing your smaller hands with his, you think of them groping your breasts, kneading and toying with your sensitive nipples.

“Keep talking,” you moan, encouraging him further. Your fingers pinch the hardened buds, rolling them gently between your fingertips.

“When did my girl get so naughty, huh? Do you miss my cock that badly, baby?”

Jungkook’s teasing tone makes you groan, unable to formulate words, as his voice shoots straight to your core. The sticky wetness that leaks out of you dampens your underwear and you quickly move your hands down to slide them off, discarding it on to the floor.

“Rub your clit for me,” he orders, a rasp in his voice, parched and thirsting for you. “And don’t hold back your moans. You know I like hearing you whine.”

“Mhm,” you hum, hand trailing across your abdomen, tickling heat scorching a path down to your center. Your index finger presses against your clit as he ordered, slowly moving in circles and figure eights, electricity coursing through your body. A moan escapes your mouth as your stomach clenches, the spasm of pleasure floods your system.

“I bet you could slide a finger right in—fuck—even two. You’re probably soaking just thinking about my fingers fucking your tight cunt,” he says proudly.

“Yes, I’m so wet, Jungkook. Want your fingers in me,” you moan, taking your other hand to drag a finger up your slit, gathering the slick he already knew was there. He gets you wet easily, and he doesn’t even need to touch you before you’re already a sopping mess for him.

“Two fingers, babygirl. Now.”

He doesn’t have to ask again before your index and middle finger plunge into your pussy, knuckles deep and buried to the hilt. It has you gasping for breath, chanting his name loud enough for the phone to pick up on it and your neighbors to file a complaint.

“J-Jungkook, ah!”

Your back arches off the sheets, feet struggling to find a firm footing on the mattress and sliding down until you’re left spread out flat, legs splayed out with your fingers desperately pushing into your soaking heat. Your chest heaves, breaths of air come in shallow pants.

“Bring the phone down. I wanna hear you—wanna hear you making a mess of yourself for me,” he groans. You hear the phone being set onto the counter, along with the sound of his pants unzipping. And you can just imagine him pulling his thick cock out of the confines of his pants, an angry red color with precum leaking from the tip.

The hand previously rubbing your clit moves to bring the phone down between your thighs where your other hand is beginning to steadily move in and out. Your fingers pull back, coated in slick and leaving your core aching to be filled again.

You hear Jungkook’s heavy, ragged breath on the other end of the line as he begins to pleasure himself. The sloppy sounds of his hand moving feverishly against his cock echoes in the receiver.

“What are you waiting for?” His words are strained, trying to keep himself together for you. “I wanna hear you too.”

That jump starts you again to push your fingers back in, enjoying the stretch of your fingers that aren’t as perfect as Jungkook’s. Keeping in rhythm with Jungkook’s movements heard over the phone, your hand moves rapidly, drilling into your core to keep up with him.

Your legs prop up, toes curling around the sheets as your hips move against your hand. All you can hear are the lewd noises of your soaking pussy meeting the thrusts of your fingers mingled with your uneven breaths.

“Fuck, you sound so wet.”

Your eyes screw shut, thinking of Jungkook hovering over you, glistening with sweat dripping down the expanse of his chest as he thrusts into you roughly. He’d lean down, capturing your lips into a passionate kiss as his hand knots through your hair, the sting of his hand on your scalp. The sounds of his ragged breath in your ear as he whispers how much he loves the way you feel around him—how much he wants to watch you unravel beneath him.

“Would you beg for my tongue too?” He growls, “God, I wanna taste you.”

Pinning your hips down to the mattress so you’re unable to buck your hips against his mouth, his tongue lapping up your pussy while his thumb draws harsh circles around your clit. He could eat you out for hours, spending the majority savoring your taste and making you come three times in a row until your legs can barely move. You feel your walls clench around your fingers, signaling you that you’re close.

“J-Jungkook-” You pant, but it comes out more like a whine, needy and desperate for your high to come soon.

“Hmm? What’s that, babygirl?” He sounds distracted, busy with himself he nearly forgot you were on the phone with him.

“I’m- I’m gonna come, Jungkook. I wanna come.” Your finger starts tracing circles on your clit again, feeling the rush of pleasure flood your senses.

“Wait,” he grunts, still commanding you as he pleases from oceans away.

You want to disobey and seek your release before him, unable to hold out any longer. Punishment, when he comes home, will be expected and you’re willing to risk whatever he has in store. You want it—for him to bend you over his knee and spank you raw while calling you his disobedient little slut.

The thought of punishment sends your orgasm crashing in waves upon you as your hips come to a halt and you ride your high, clenching around your fingers as they milk you. The stars behind your eyelids fade, your legs collapse on to the bed as your body goes limp, fingers still resting inside your sensitive core.

Your obvious cry of pleasure has him coming right after you. His halted breaths and choked gasp over the line comes to a stop and goes quiet.

You think he’s hung up on you.

After removing your hand and wiping your messy fingers against your thigh, you reach down for your phone to find the call still connected. The seconds still counting—one, two, three—and then he tisks, “When I get home I’m going to fuck you until-”

His menacing voice halts as there’s a knock on his door.

“Kook? You’ve been taking a shower forever! It’s my turn!” You hear Jimin’s muffled whine through the receiver.

The shower in the background shuts off and Jungkook calls back, clearing his throat, “One second.”

You roll over to Jungkook’s untouched side of the bed, inhaling his lingering scent. Nestling beneath the covers you turn off the speaker and put the phone to your ear.

“We’re not done yet, babygirl,” he promises, zipping up his pants. His voice gets closer, then adds in a much softer voice, “I love you. See you in two weeks.”

You smile, picking at the corner of his pillow, “I love you too.”