#got a second degree burn on my finger yesterday

[zoomiezz]

Rdr2 kitties!!! Because I can't draw ppl rn

Arthur - Tabby moggie, Charles - Seal solid Norwegian Forest

Josiah - Tuxedo Cornish Rex, Dutch - Bombay

+ extra doodles (ignore how ugly the second one is, that's supposed to be Arthur lmao)

[starry-bi-sky]

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in. 

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.) 

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.) 

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.) 

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air. 

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?) 

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears. 

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again? 

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate. 

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already. 

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are? 

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?  

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.) 

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire. 

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again. 

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape. 

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

-

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks. 

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized. 

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

--

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay. 

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about? 

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny. 

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”) 

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself? 

He’ll never know, he supposes. 

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back. 

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it. 

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better. 

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.” 

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!” 

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff. 

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up. 

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.” 

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?” 

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh. 

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing. 

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

What was that?

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?  

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were. 

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused. 

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning. 

He didn’t think. He did. He did. 

What did he see? 

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.” 

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off. 

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there. 

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to. 

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves. 

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops. 

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream. 

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.  

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts. 

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is. 

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves. 

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe. 

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up. 

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies? 

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.) 

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face. 

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.) 

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way. 

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.” 

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.” 

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it. 

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.” 

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse. 

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny. 

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight? 

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.” 

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh. 

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents. 

He probably had nightmares about that. 

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.  

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.” 

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.” 

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.” 

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.” 

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.” 

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.) 

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.) 

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.) 

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?) 

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.) 

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor. 

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room. 

“Yes, Danny?” 

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks. 

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.” 

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind. 

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes. 

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned. 

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go. 

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again. 

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.” 

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?” 

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious. 

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs. 

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him. 

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?” 

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.” 

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.” 

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library. 

His appetite’s been ruined. 

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded. 

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare. 

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently. 

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?) 

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him. 

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t. 

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out. 

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.) 

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious. 

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle. 

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder. 

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.” 

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.” 

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do. 

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood. 

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly. 

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed. 

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows. 

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce. 

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.  

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.  

[mthollowell-writes]

It's Sunday again! Happy Snippet Sunday!

Below is a more plot relevant autopsy scene from my Festival WIP. September is called in to examine a body and he has lots of thoughts.

In late January of 2012, September got a call from Detective Hakeem James to help identify a monster. He knew the call was coming. Based on the initial reports that trickled out of the police department, it was clear that what happened in the Grimwell Woods went beyond a simple wildfire. Cameron Acre, his crime correspondent at the time, relayed to him some rumors of an animal attack and suspected cult activity from his contacts on the inside. September was haunted by a vague sense of doom up until that fateful call. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on. Due to his affliction, this feeling wasn’t uncommon. He had a Rolodex in his mind filled with snatches of the future that he couldn’t make sense of. Most were mundane. Others had details that were so outside his perception that he struggled to recall them. Most of his early visions in those dark, confusing days were like that. A series of images he couldn’t make sense of. The more he tried to grasp them, the less he was able to. Even with the benefit of hindsight. He feared what happened at Grimwell laid in the latter camp. His memory was long and nonlinear. That sense of doom never left. It ebbed and flowed like the rising tide. Now the water was up to his neck and he was seconds from drowning. Maybe there was something he missed. He contemplated this as he stood over the body of Tamara Hawkins in the cold wash of the morgue. From all who knew her in her early life, Hawkins was bubbly and friendly girl set to make her mark on the world. She was captain of her cheer squad and set to go to Michigan State for engineering. Then she met her first husband, Ryan, and got swept into Hallow Path upon graduation. Both of their parents stuck with Holtzman even after the Basement Murder controversy, firmly believing in his divinity. Ryan eventually left with their two kids. Tamara stayed and it all went downhill from there. She was 36 when she died. The body on the table bore little resemblance to the woman she was before. Second- and third-degree burns covered every inch of exposed skin. The smell of charred flesh filled his nose even though she had been on ice for more than a week. Her characteristic thick blond hair was reduced to mere strands on her burned scalp. September narrowed in on the less typical injuries, circling the table as Detective James loomed over him. Being broad at 6’5, it was what the man did best. And September was making a nuisance of himself. The official overview with the Medical Examiner concluded 30 minutes ago. Dr. Welts grew more nervous with each passing minute, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. If he had to guess, he was probably eating into the doctor’s lunch hour. They were just about to lock Hawkins back in the freezer when he was brought back to this moment. “Have any more insights you’d like to share?” the detective grumbled irritably. He was wary of him. Wary about this whole arrangement. He and September didn’t know each other that well yet having met in person only yesterday over lunch. September should’ve been just as wary at the time, but such observations could only be learned in hindsight.

Festival of Shadows WIP Intro

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[wrightingwithalex]

I got something for joel...okay imagine this...

Joel's got their hands burned and they usually wear braids/ponytails/a hairstyle that requires some work.. but due to their injury they cant do it so they ask Joel for help....

Do u think Joel would deal with some memories of Sarah due to this interaction? And if so, think you could write a scenario that shows his reaction to it?

A/N: Okay so I'm in love with this. I really hope this writing is what you expected because this idea is so good I don't wanna disappoint😭 tears were shed while making this

Words: 1,019

Joel Miller braiding GN!readers hair

Warnings: a twinge of angst because of Joel's past, overall bittersweet, platonic, this is set to be a little after they got settled in Jackson

Banner by leoleo on Pinterest, and divider by @cafekitsune!

"Ow, fuck!" you groaned, your voice echoing throughout the bathroom.

You were getting ready to go on patrol and had to tie your hair up, since life cursed you to have goddamn Repunzel-like locks. You could usually make a quick braid and wrap it in a bun with almost no effort, but you have an obstacle to deal with this time.

The second-degree burns on your palms.

You were cooking dinner for everybody in the house the other day. Something distracted you, and your clumsy self went to grab a hot pot without oven mittens. You were screaming in pain as if you were getting attacked by a bunch of clickers. Yeah, that's how it felt.

So now you were unable to tie your hair up properly. Great.

You began thinking of other possible options. Going out on patrol with your hair down or even just in a ponytail is an absolute NO. It would be way too distracting, and would probably get caught in a branch.

You walked out of the bathroom and headed towards Joel's bedroom. Why were you expecting a man in his 50s to know how to do your hair? Well, there was nobody else home, and you were really hopeless at that point.

Joel was lying in bed, back against the headboard with a book in his hands. That was until you knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called out, not taking his eyes off the page. He saw you enter from the corner of his eye and he immediately looked up, peering over the edge of the book.

Your hair was ever so slightly tousled from struggling, and the sight made him let out a breathy chuckle.

"What's with that nest on your head?" he asked jokingly, making your brows furrow.

"Ha ha. Very funny," you retorted sarcastically, "Can you help me braid this shit? My hands still hurt like hell from yesterday," you asked.

"What am I, yer personal hairdresser?" he teased—though he wouldn't mind becoming one for you.

"Well, as of today, yes, actually," you quipped back. He merely rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Alright, alright, just c'mere."

He gestures for you to turn around. You gave him your hair ties before following his gesture, your back facing him as you sit down cross-legged on his bed.

His calloused fingers began working through your hair, gently brushing out the knots. Your hair was soft. It reminded him of his late daughter, Sarah.

Sarah.

His hands slowed at the sudden rememberance of his daughter, his heart aching. Once his pride and joy, his baby girl, now only a bittersweet memory. You noticed the hesitation in his movements, confusion finding your features.

"...If you don't know how to do a braid, it's okay, I'll tell you," you suggested, bringing him back to the present for a second.

"No, no, it's alright, I got it," he responded, getting back to doing your hair. However, Sarah took over his mind. His hands went on auto-pilot as he reminisced about her.

He thought about all the times she would come home from school excited about a good grade she had gotten. How warm her smile was, her enthusiasm contagious. The sound of her voice. All the times they would cuddle on the couch under a soft blanket as they watched a movie, his hand running through her silky hair exactly how it did with yours.

Joel's face softened into a small smile at the specific memory of how he had her just like this, doing her hair for the last day of 5th grade. Coincidentally, Sarah also asked for braids, except it was two small ones on each side. To say the least, she got a ton of compliments from her friends and schoolmates.

This rememberance, unlike his other ones, didn't feel... heavy. He didn't know if it was because of you or because he had finally started letting go of his past, nor does he care. All that mattered was that he could think of his baby girl without being haunted by that day 25 years ago. It was as if a colossal weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

With a final tug, he was done with your hair, pulling back to admire his work.

"You done?" you asked, moving your hand to feel the braid bun.

"Yeah. That'll be 20 bucks," Joel responded matter-of-factly. You turned around with a scoff, pretending to be annoyed, but couldn't help the smile creeping up to your face.

"Such a comedian."

[radiant-reid]

Hope you are doing well! Missed you seeing you on my dashboard. I’m doing much better than yesterday. I accidentally burned my hand when dumping hot water out of the baby bottle warmer at the children’s museum yesterday 🤦🏻‍♀️. I got hot water on my left middle finger and my right thumb. Luckily I’m fine with no blistering or anything. Definitely not fun though. Can’t wait you see more of you on the timeline soon!

omg that sounds awful !! I got a second degree hot water burn a long time ago and it was so sore

[bratkook]

girls like you. (m) kth

‘swear to god she's a blessing and a curse, should’ve learned from you’

pairing. taehyung x reader genre. smut, some plot (not really) word count. 26k warnings. three separate smut scenes: masturbation in a public bathroom, handjob, exhibitionism on a bus, tae creeps on oc’s nudes, brief mentions of oc being a sex worker, dirty talk, messy sex, praising, grinding, pussy job, cum swallowing, overstimulation, forced orgasms, oral (m. receiving), fingering, begging, use of sex toys (hitachi), color system, use of safe word (yellow not red), crying, edging, choking, cockwarming, oc is very much straight forward and ‘in charge’ but def not a dom summary. girls like you were the ones he desired from afar. girls like you weren’t the girls you take home to mother. girls like you knew the power they had over a boy like him and fuck, did he love it. note. this is a reupload of an older story that i took down to be re-edited. it’s essentially pure filth with some plot and it’s mostly an excuse to write something where Taehyung is a little submissive compared to the reader. also 100% inspired by the song girls like u by blackbear. please let me know your thoughts on this thank u ilysm !!

The daily commute from his home to university was always long and boring to put it simply. The monotonous routine was something he could do with his eyes closed. It started the same every morning, waking up with sleep still heavy on his lids, grabbing a quick bite to eat from the convenience store by the bus stop, and waiting in the differing degrees of weather until the hunk of metal creeped up the street. 

There was one plus to dragging himself out of bed at the ungodly hour of five am in order to catch the bus on time—really why did he ever think choosing morning classes was the way to go—regardless, the blessing came in the form of a near empty bus the second he stepped on.

Considering he was one of the first stops for this route, he’s lucky enough to always snag a seat. It's the same seat every time and he’s almost positive the regular riders knew this by now. Snagging a seat meant he could tuck his headphones in, rest his head against the window of the bus and pretend the way his head bounced back from the potholes wasn’t killing the last remaining brain cells he had.

What difference would a few brain cells be in the grand scheme of things? He couldn’t care less, always more focused on whatever was on his phone. The brightness was dimmed to an appropriate setting to not burn his dry eyes, strands of hair covering his face as he looked down at his lap, fingers scrolling robotically through his instagram feed and then switching over to his twitter.

It must have been a sign from god that made instagram crash that morning, causing an influx of annoying ‘is instagram down for anyone else or just me’ tweets that made him roll his eyes and choose to lock his phone and lift his head up from its permanent downcast position. He was getting a mean case of tech neck anyways, rolling his head and shoulders to release the awkward tension lingering in his muscles.

That’s when he noticed the eyes staring right at him. Had he looked up more often he would have known that those exact eyes had been watching him intently for weeks now, sitting and hoping he would eventually look up. He’s half expecting you to look away, embarrassed by being caught blatantly staring at him but instead, you tilted your head slightly and gave him a sly smirk, almost as if you’re taunting him to look away. And that’s exactly what he does, his eyes darting away and apparently his whole head wanted to follow, ramming against the window with a nice whack.

Great. Good going man.

He could feel his face burning with embarrassment, refusing to look up because he could just picture you laughing at him. Hell, maybe you were recording him with the purpose to post once instagram decided to get it’s shit together. With that in mind, it didn’t take much debating before he decided that repetitive tweets were more entertaining than making eye contact with you again, unlocking his phone and beginning the endless scrolling once more.

The long ride allowed him to eventually push his embarrassment aside, eyes lazily skimming the words on his screen, not digesting anything he’s reading. It’s not until the bus jolted forward at his stop that he took a chance and looked over at you quickly, noticing you were already up by the front, waltzing out of the doors before he could even get himself up from his seat.

A double take out the window confirmed that he was in fact at the university bus stop, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket and hurrying off the bus before the driver could get annoyed at his slow pace. 

Your silhouette was slowly disappearing through the crowd of other students and he had to snap out of his small daze once he lost you entirely, shrugging his shoulders at the odd encounter before making his way towards his first class of the morning.

His university is pretty large, the amount of students here bordering on absurd and it’s the main reason he chose to take the bus to school instead of driving because the parking lot is literally hell on earth. With all that said, he still couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t seen you before this morning. Had you always taken that bus with him? Also, how long had you been staring at him? Maybe it was just today, but fuck, did that mean he had something weird on his face...or maybe his hair looked jacked up in order for you to just stare.

“You good?” The sound of Jungkook brought him out of the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, coming to a screeching halt and settling back into the dust as he came back to reality. Once his eyes finally focused back in, he realized he’s been staring at some random girl a few seats down with a zombie like expression. No wonder she was now giving him a bizarre look.

“Fuck.” Too embarrassed to even attempt to apologize to his classmate, he averted his eyes and looked to his left where Jungkook sat, a concerned expression on his face as he took a giant bite out of his oversized breakfast burrito. “I’m good.”

Jungkook gave him a once over, narrowing his eyes as he chewed his food, a bit of egg lingering by his lip. “Bullshit.”

The look of disgust on Taehyung’s face was very evident, so Jungkook could only smile before taking yet another massive bite out of his burrito, making an absolute show of chewing the meal. 

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook laughed, blowing his friend a kiss before properly chewing and taking a gulp of his water. “You sure you’re good Tae? You were staring into the fucking abyss or something earlier.”

From first glance he definitely looked like he was really thinking about some deep rooted issues. His body had been slightly hunched over his desk, eyes zoned out on that poor girl but his mind was elsewhere. An array of emotions had played out on his face, features contorted into different forms of distress as he had a mental conversation with himself. So when Jungkook walked in and saw him in that state he just had to make sure he was alright.

“I’m fine, just had a weird morning is all.”

The next morning started off the same as always. Taehyung only had two morning classes today so he stayed in his sweats and hoodie, stopping by the convenience store to grab something to eat before getting to his bus stop. 

It was routine: his feet dragging along the sidewalk and coming to a halt beside the bench, mind still heavy with sleep, until a flash of a memory pops in so quickly it made him wince. 

That’s when he was reminded about you. 

You had left his mind after his first class yesterday, the stress of assignments taking over the part of his brain that was curious–and a little embarrassed–about your interaction. All that occupied his day was finishing that essay for his biology class, facetiming Jimin who needed help deciding between shirts before his date, and now the kimbap he currently had in his hand. 

But as he sat at the bench waiting for the bus, the only thing repeating in his mind was him smacking his face against the glass so hard his brain rattled, and unfortunately, his breakfast didn’t seem as appetizing anymore.

When the familiar hunk of metal pulled up in front of him he couldn’t help the small feeling of nerves bubbling up in his stomach. He felt a little stupid, how one situation was making him overthink little things when for all he knew you’ve been riding the same bus for months.

He shuffled down the aisle after swiping his bus card, head staring at the floor because he was a little scared to look up and see you on the bus already. Thankfully his usual seat was unoccupied—the last row at the back right next to the right window—so he made a beeline right towards it. 

Crinkling from his pockets filled the quiet bus as he finally settled into his seat, setting his backpack onto the floor right between his legs. Moving slowly in order to not draw attention, his hand reached in and pulled out the kimbap from his pocket, peeling it open and taking a bite off the corner. His eyes took a peek up, cautiously drifting over the few passengers on the bus with him and noticing that you weren’t on the bus yet.

Okay, my stop is before hers.

Taehyung’s body instantly relaxed into his seat, a small sigh leaving his lips. The creeping feeling of embarrassment faded away now, allowing him to fish his phone out of his pocket as he enjoyed his breakfast, fingers tapping as he scrolled and liked the occasional picture on instagram.

Considering it was a Wednesday morning all social media was pretty dead, so once he got to the end of everything, he locked his phone and just stared at the scenery blending together. 

Before he could fully zone out, something made his nerves light up. A small burning sensation coming from his left and he had an inkling of what it could be. Carefully, he lifted his head away from against the window and let his eyes travel over to where he just knew you were sitting.

Yup. There you were. A few seats closer than last time, sat in one of the single seats facing the aisles, staring right at him. His eyes trailed down from yours and couldn’t help but stare at the small bit of cleavage you had showing in your low cut shirt. A gold charm was resting between your boobs, cursive letters spelling out what he could only assume was a nickname. 

He only realized he was blatantly staring at your tits when the sudden movement of your hand coming up brought him out of his stupid fuckboy trance.

To be honest, he was expecting you to move your hand to lift your shirt up or flip him off, he wasn’t expecting you to tug your shirt down a bit further and lean over, placing your chin on the hand that was resting on your crossed leg. His wide eyes drifted up to your lips, seeing the gloss shining off of them, showcasing the little smirk you had on.

You were taunting him, seeing if he would look away this time or not, and surprisingly he hadn’t. He wasn’t looking at your boobs now though, his eyes were zoned in on your lips and the occasional pink bubble you would blow with your gum.

Deciding to take it a small step further, you leaned back a tiny bit and let your fingertips graze the top of your chest while maintaining your gaze on him. That was when his eyes shot down to your chest once more, seeing the heart outline tattoo on your pinky before quickly looking around the bus at the other riders who weren’t paying you any attention. 

When he finally got the courage to look directly at your eyes you just gave him a wink before leaning all the way back in your seat and deciding you were done with whatever the hell that was, leaving Taehyung sitting in his seat, slightly sexually frustrated and a little confused at how something so simple could rile him up.

When the bus jolted to a stop in front of the university you hopped up from your seat and headed off to your class with a hop in your step, satisfied with your little game. Taehyung could simply watch with a dumbfounded expression, immediately standing up from his seat and awkwardly holding his bag in front of him to try to hide his junk as discreetly as he could. 

This was embarrassing. Why was every encounter he’d had with you this far ended in him feeling embarrassed and you feeling accomplished?

Little did he know that’s how the majority of your encounters would go. The bus ride to school was now the leading cause of his blue balls and the highlight of your rather boring morning. He had now started to see you around school more often, whether that was because he was now looking out for you or purely coincidental, he wasn’t sure but he was certain you were taunting him. Especially with the outfits you would wear. They weren’t vastly inappropriate, but it seemed like every pair of shorts got a little shorter and every skirt a little tighter.

Obviously he knew he probably wasn’t the only dude who was on your radar, so it was a little self centered to assume you were doing this just to him, but it was definitely affecting him to the extent of his friends asking him what the hell was on his mind.

“Honestly dude, what’s your deal?”

“Hm?” he questioned, one hand on the lid of his coffee cup while his eyes stared at the table they were currently sitting around in the nearby coffee shop. Taehyung had been zoned out the entire time his friends had been talking about the upcoming party at Seokjin’s fraternity later this week. His mind just kept repeating the scene that unfolded on the bus earlier that morning with you, a skirt that was too short, and the way you let him catch a glance of your underwear when you accidentally opened your legs too wide when you went to cross them over.

“Like, what porn are you watching that constantly has you in a daze?”

“Yeah, send us a link or something!”

Taehyung frowned at his friends' comments, although they weren’t really too far off. He might not be thinking about porn exactly, but his thoughts were far from pure regarding you.

Jungkook was cackling obnoxiously as the rest of his friends cracked jokes about Taehyung being a porn addict, and honestly it was a shocker they hadn’t been asked to leave from the sheer volume coming from the group. Add the vulgar topic of porn to the mix and it was only a matter of minutes before the cute barista who had a huge crush on Yoongi would come over and shyly ask them to keep it down.

“Shut up,” Tae grumbled out, hand abandoning his coffee cup and aggressively rubbing his eyes. It was almost like he was trying to scrub the thought of you out of his mind like a dirty stain on his clothes.

Namjoon was the one who suddenly gasped like a child finding change on the floor. “Fuck, it’s not porn is it?”

That caused a couple of confused grunts to come from around him, choruses of ‘well if not porn then what’ and ‘no way don’t you see the difference in buffness between his arms he’s totally addicted to some weird shit.’

Taehyung sat up a little straighter, a small look of curiosity on his face as he glanced at Namjoon. Yes, his friend was the genius of the group in every sense of the word but he couldn’t have possibly figured it ou— “Who’s the girl you’ve been literally fantasizing over for weeks?”

Fuck.

Whoops and hollers were the next sound of choice from his immature friends, Hoseok going as far as violently shaking his shoulder while everyone teased him and that’s when Eunha finally walked over very timidly.  

“Hey Yoongi.”

Yoongi glanced up at the sound of his name, his smile growing a little softer when he noticed who it was coming from. Everyone knew she had a crush on him—including Yoongi himself—so they always tried to be as nice as possible to her. “Hey Eunha.”

She tucked a piece of her short hair behind her ear, her eyes drifting to everyone around the table before landing back on Yoongi. “Sorry, my boss is just saying you guys are being a little too loud and I don’t want him to kick you guys out so,” she pressed her palms together gently. “Could you guys just bring it down a tiny bit?”

“Shit, yeah. Sorry about that. We’ll keep it down, thanks babe.” A small blush tinted her cheeks at the pet name and she was only able to mumble out a meek okay before she scurried off with a giant smile on her face.

All of them watched her round the corner and slip into the employee only backroom, smiles on all of their faces until the door swung shut, and then they were back to all eyes on Taehyung. 

“So, who is she?” They all inched in a little closer at Jimin’s question, acting like fucking vultures, desperate for any bit of gossip Tae was willing to spill. They couldn’t be blamed though, they had witnessed their usual charismatic friend go from flirting with random girls and throwing jokes here and there to basically sitting in class in a weird zombie-like trance. But those were only the days where he had morning classes, so they just needed to find the connection between it all.

“Just some girl I ride the bus with to school.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi spoke up. “Okay, so ask her out?”

Now how was he supposed to come out and say that you and him had never really spoken, and he didn’t even know your name and you didn’t know his, and the only interactions you’ve had were very sexual in nature, but you’ve also never physically touched each other? He was stuck, only able to chew on his lips in thought, but luckily his friends took that as a cue to encourage him.

“Yeah man, ask her out or something! Especially if she’s got you this strung up.”

He wanted to laugh, really he did, but he also realized that he really didn’t have anything to lose when it came to approaching you. If he approached you and it didn’t go in his favor then he could just move on with his life. Pretty simple right?

That was how he found himself bolting up the second you did the next morning on the bus, standing a few feet behind you as the bus pulled up to the stop. You had chosen to simply stare at him every now and then during this particular morning, extremely PG compared to the other rides, so he thankfully didn’t have the majority of his blood rushing to his dick today. Because of this, he was hopeful he could actually say some words to you that didn’t make him seem like an asshole.

You stepped off the bus quickly, your heeled booties clicking against the steps and landing on the concrete smoothly, whereas his vans thumped the whole way down with a lot less grace in his haste, but he was able to catch up to you nonetheless.

He didn’t want to shout out your name because well, he didn’t actually know your full name aside from the cute charmed necklace you constantly wore, and what better way to garner more creepy points than to make it clear he stared at your tits. So he chose to jog up to you and place a hand on your shoulder, making your body come to a halt, but it was almost like you were expecting it with the half smile that graced your face.

“Hey, what’s your deal?”

Nice first words Taehyung.

You raised a brow at his remark, arms coming to cross under your chest as you watched him with clear amusement on your features. “My deal?” Your voice had him pausing momentarily, he was half expecting it to sound high and sweet but there was a slight edge to it, the sound a little lower in tone than he had mentally imagined.

“Uh yeah.” He let go of your shoulder and chose to fidget with the black beanie on his head instead, his palms going clammy. “You’ve been staring at me for weeks on the bus.”

You were staring at him intently, watching how nervous he was to even speak to you, not an ounce of shame on your face at being called out. The fact that he was even talking to you had caught you off guard. You weren’t really expecting him to ever say anything at this point since most men would have pounced for a chance to get a word in after the first time they had caught you staring at them.

“Does that bug you?”

“No!” He instantly shouted out, hands outstretched almost as if he was scared of offending you. “I just wanted to know why you…stare?”

You nodded along, your lips turning up at the corners slyly, tongue gently running along the bottom of your teeth as you smiled. “You’re nice to stare at.” His eyes widened at that and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked in that moment. Why did he seem like he was so out of his element? 

“And,” you started as you pulled a slip of paper and a pen out of your small side bag, quickly jotting something down before folding it in half. “I’ve just been thinking about how cute you’d look between my thighs for the past couple of weeks, so message me whenever you want.” You reached down and picked up the hand that was resting by his side, your fingers opening his palm and sliding the paper into it before closing it and just walking away without a second glance.

How could you just waltz away as if you hadn’t made him combust internally, calling him cute while slipping in a filthy thought. You hadn’t even cared to get his name before you admitted to wanting to sleep with him, and if this were a frat party and Taehyung was absolutely wasted that’s exactly how he would approach a girl too, but being on the receiving end made him a little unsure of himself.

The tiny folded paper in his palm was spread apart and that’s when he finally learned your actual name, along with your number which was written beside it in black ink and finished off with a heart.

He never got the courage to text you.

Well, not until he saw you on the bus the following morning with a damn lollipop in between your lips. The way you slowly trailed it up towards your lips was just asking for dirty thought to cross his mind. 

That was exactly your reason for doing it though, this was like a game for you, he just didn’t realize it and that’s what enticed you to continue it, torturing him slightly since he had failed to reach out to you.

You let the green lollipop rest on your tongue momentarily before gliding it down and letting the tip of your tongue circle around it, seeing his eyes widen slightly at the provocative action.

Taehyung looked around at the lingering passengers to see if anyone was watching whatever this was going down but there was no audience, there never seemed to be one. The only passengers were gathered towards the front, all engrossed in their books or phones so they don’t see the way you swirl your tongue around the candy.

You clearly had the art of seduction down by how quickly he could feel his pants tightening but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were glued on your mouth, the way you were enjoying that stupid sucker was way too sexual and it didn’t help that your eyes were piercing into him. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. With how fixated his eyes were you could tell what thoughts were floating in his mind, especially by the way he shifted in his seat.

Taehyung was currently hating his life with all he had in him for wearing sweats, gray sweats to top it off. Those are surely going to show the nice outline of his half hard dick when he gets up.

He really should look away from you but every time he tried, flashes of you between his legs would entice him to keep staring. There has never been a moment where he felt more like a pervert than right now and he almost felt ashamed to be watching you. Almost.

This was just fun for you, you weren’t dwelling on this as much as Taehyung was. You only ever thought of him when you woke up for class and wondered how you were going to subtly torture him on the commute to school. You wanted to see how far you could take it before he reacted differently, whether that be him approaching you in person once more or finally shooting you a text.

Would he ever make a move on you? It was hard to tell considering he never reached out and what man would turn down an invite for casual sex if he was semi interested. Would he ever tell you to stop? You obviously would, but the way he denied being bothered by you giving him attention just led you to believe he was very much into it.

The subtle shift in his seat also showed you how much he was into the little show you had for him. He had pulled his phone out, tapping on a new message with your name being typed in.

Why are you doing this– he quickly deleted that, the little line flashing as it waited for the next words to be typed out.

Do you enjoy giving me random boners this early– nope delete that too.

The feeling of the bus coming to a stop made him lift his gaze from his phone and back to you, a small wink was shot in his direction before you were standing up and walking your way towards the front of the bus, your lollipop making your cheek bulge out as you let it rest on the side of your mouth. Taehyung just watched you standing there, one hand gripping the metal railing above you as the bus approached the stop. You gave one last glance over your shoulder to see if he had moved before you stepped off the bus, taking the sucker out of your mouth and giving him a wicked smirk before popping it back in and sauntering off to your first class of the day.

Taehyung once again had a boner pressing against the fabric of his pants and he couldn’t help the groan that left him because dammit, this was happening too often. He was tired of having to daydream about nasty shit to get it to go away while you just pranced off satisfied with how you left him.

He hesitated in his seat for a moment, debating whether he should hop off and head back home so he could calmly deal with the current situation in his pants or if he could suck it up and actually focus enough during his first class.

The bus driver looked at his rear mirror and gave him an irritated look, and with that his decision was made for him. Well a compromise actually, he wouldn’t be able to focus in class when all he was thinking about was your lips around his cock and the fact that you admitted to wanting to fuck him, but he also couldn’t leave school entirely because he had a test his next class and the bus ride back to his house and back to school was too troublesome to bother with.

So he was currently headed to the boys restroom in the building his first class was in, a little more pep in his step because he was finally going to fix one of the problems you caused. Did he feel a little shame in him? Yes. He did. But he was currently blocking that out entirely. All he was thinking about was how great the feeling of his hand around his dick was going to be, and that alone was enough to get him to walk just a little bit faster.

He entered the building and climbed up the stairs two at a time, clearly in a hurry but who could blame him. Luckily most classes were currently in session and if someone didn’t have a class they were usually lounging outside or getting coffee nearby so he knew the bathroom would be free of people, proven right when he swung the door open and saw no one inside.

Taehyung walked to the stall the furthest away from the door and deemed it worthy enough before stepping in and locking it behind him. He took a deep breath as he stared at the wall in front of him, having somewhat of a mental debate. Had he really gotten to this point where he had to resort to jacking off in a bathroom stall?

He let one of his palms rub down his face for a moment, but only a moment because he had a problem to fix and right now his throbbing dick was way more important than his morals. So he shrugged off his backpack and hung it behind him on the hook and slid his sweats down along with his boxers, the material bunching together around his thighs.

Taehyung shut his eyes, not being able to stare at the porcelain toilet in front of him as he wrapped his hand around his cock, the feeling making a shudder run up his back. A gentle tug started his motions, his shoulders dropping from finally feeling some sort of relief after the show you had put on for him. The way your pink lips were wet from sucking on your candy made it easy to picture you between his legs, your lips coated in saliva from giving him what he’s sure would be the best blowjob of his life, chin messy as you stuck your tongue out for him.

He could almost feel his hands in between your hair, tugging on your strands as you picked up the pace, so he mimicked it himself, stopping momentarily to spit into his palm to make the glide a little smoother. 

Fuck, he really should have texted you, maybe then he wouldn’t be doing something as filthy as this. Maybe—no he definitely would know what this would feel like in real life, but his hand would just have to do.

A groan left his mouth as he tugged on his cock faster now, eyes squeezing shut as he pictured you sucking on the tip of it, your eyes looking up at him in the same piercing way they always did. He’d like to think that you’d deepthroat him, or tease him, maybe even edge him because you definitely liked to torture him. His mind was flipping through a million and one scenarios as his pace sped up, now hunched over the toilet, the hand that wasn’t pushing him over the edge of an orgasm pressed against the wall in front of him.

His hips started thrusting into his hand, joining in on the motion, a whine felt at the back of his throat begging to come out because of how desperate he felt for his release. The pent up frustration he had for himself, and how badly he wanted to fuck you, paired up with his thumb focusing on his tip every time he stroked up brought him to his orgasm. A choked groan left his mouth as his hips stuttered, his hand continuing to stroke himself rather quickly as ribbons of white shot into the toilet. His groans turned into soft whines as he kept up the pace, the tingles he felt on his dick from the oversensitivity felt too good for him to stop, he was way too desperate for this and it was disappointing that it was over. It wasn’t until his hips and stomach continued to twitch that he finally pulled his hand away from his softening dick.

Taehyung leaned his back against the door, feeling the material of his backpack against him as he slumped down. His forehead was sweaty and his chest was heaving from his orgasm but he was content with himself now, mind no longer whirling with thoughts of you and that damn lollipop. He grabbed toilet paper and cleaned himself up before wiping down the toilet seat as clean as he could and flushing the evidence down the toilet.

He secured the strings to his sweatpants once again and stepped out of the stall, standing a little taller, glancing from side to side and letting out a breath of relief that no one was occupying the urinals or stalls. After washing his hands he stepped back out into the halls of his university and headed down the stairs to go sit in the quad to wait for his next class.

You were going to be the death of him. How was it that you had this much power over him and were so unaffected by it? He needed to do something about this, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Taehyung ignored the notifications on his screen from his friends and opened up a new message, typing in your name before staring at the blank thread waiting to be filled.

Taehyung 9:40am : I hope you’re happy with the problem you gave me.

Was that the best message to send? Probably not, but he wasn’t letting himself think about it too much before the spark of courage left him so he tapped send and immediately backed out of the message, choosing to pretend to occupy his mind by reading the texts he got from Jungkook. The typical ‘are you dead’ texts he would send him if he ever missed class, along with a random text from Namjoon asking if he’d made a move on the mystery girl yet.

Taehyung jumped so hard his phone almost fell out of his grasp when it buzzed with a new text from you. His fingers couldn’t move fast enough to open the notification but his smile dropped instantly when he saw your response.

Y/N  9:51am : Who is this?

How should he respond to this? Were you joking? 

His lips were pursed as he stared at his screen, waiting to see the three little dots indicating that you were still typing, maybe saying it was a joke but they never popped up so Taehyung decided to be rational and realize that he literally never gave you his name.

Taehyung 9:53am : It’s Taehyung.

Stupid. You wouldn’t know who that was so he went back and started typing another response only stopping when another one of your messages popped up.

Y/N 9:54am :???

Taehyung 9:55am : Boy on bus

He left the messages open, staring at the screen and grinning to himself when he saw the notification pop up under his text, letting him know you had read the message. But when you never replied as the minutes went on, he started to feel a little dejected, so he locked his phone and shoved it deep into his pocket as he tried to go about the rest of his day.

Taehyung liked to think he was a very easy going guy, someone who doesn’t let little things get to him, but that was just him lying to himself. He was relatively chill about 70 percent of the time, but that remaining 30 percent? Oh boy, that was the over thinking, over analyzing, Taehyung.

“Are you okay?” Solji, the girl who sat next to him in his environmental science class asked him. They hardly ever spoke unless they were exchanging notes for upcoming quizzes, but with the way his face currently looked she just had to make sure he wasn’t going through something serious. She tried once more but when he didn’t answer she just shrugged and decided it wasn’t her business.

He had his brows furrowed so deeply there was a small little indent in between them, his eyes focused on the corner of his desk while his mind was trying to think of every reason you hadn’t responded. You could have lost your phone, or better yet maybe somebody had snatched it from you the very second you had read his message. Or maybe, your phone—or his—glitched and you never got the message at all.

Little did he know you were currently sitting in your economics class, tucked away in the back corner with your phone in your hand as the professor lectured with the projector screen on in the dark room. You were purposely ignoring Taehyung’s message, turning your read receipts on just to torture him further.

He had finally messaged you and unfortunately it was not with a invitation to fuck. It did however paint a smile on your face because you knew he was very affected by you from the message he sent.

All you wanted was for him to be more forward. You knew he had jacked off at school, he had to, so why couldn’t he just go ahead and say that. Spice shit up a little and talk about what he was thinking about when he did it. It’s the little things really.

You clicked back onto his thread in your messages, choosing now to respond to him. Your fingernails lightly clicked on your screen as you typed out a response and snickered before hitting send.

Y/N  11:37am : Oh? okay.

Taehyung felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and his heart stopped, eyes widening to the point where poor Solji was once again concerned about his well being. She was gonna ask him one more time if he was okay but his sudden movement had her flinching back and avoiding eye contact as he shoved his hands into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Oh fuck she responded. He thought to himself as he unlocked his phone to see the notification, he opened the thread and read the message, scrolling up and back down almost as if he was trying to refresh the page for more of the message to load because there was no way in fucking hell that’s all you sent him.

But it was. That much was made very clear after a few minutes passed and you didn’t send anything else.

It was almost like Taehyung’s mind was on autopilot. He had finished his test minutes prior, so he shoved his pencil and extra scantron into his backpack before he stood up and practically stomped his way out of the classroom.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle the mystery that was you. It would be very easy for him to just text back and get to know you but this was the 30 percent, over thinking, over analyzing, not chill Taehyung, and that was just not the way he did things.

Not chill Taehyung decided it was appropriate to bail out on his current class as well as bail out on the plans his friends had all made after classes. He decided it was perfectly fine to hop his merry self onto the bus and head on home. The plan was not very thought out, at all, but as he rode the bus home he just knew he would have to do some lurking to find something about you. 

While he was doing that driving his mind into the gutter, you were leaving your current class, heading out to meet your friends for a late lunch.

You had your phone held in your hand, almost hoping Taehyung would text back with something a little exciting, but he didn’t. That was fine by you though, he was right in assuming he wasn’t the only guy on your radar and although something about him made you want to pounce on him, if he wasn’t going to act on it then you weren’t going to dwell on it.

“Alright girls so what’s the plan for tomorrow night?” Hani spoke up, rubbing her hands together evilly.

“Be a child of god and go to sleep on time because I have a test the following day.” A chorus of boos followed all around, Sunmi even going as far as tossing a crumpled up napkin at Chungha who only rolled her eyes.

“C’mon Chungha. Just come out for a little bit,” you pleaded, grabbing her hands in yours and giving her the saddest puppy eyes you could muster.

“Ahh, no! You always do this Y/N!” she whined, throwing her head back in frustration. “But fine, only for two hours and I can’t get wasted.”

The three of you cheered obnoxiously, knowing very well that she would end up as trashed as all of you were, but that was a problem for tomorrow night. A problem for tonight however just occurred in the form of a notification on your phone.

You stared at it curiously, it was a notification from your blog that you used on occasion so you opened it up and smirked at what you discovered.

Not chill Taehyung had obviously gone home and did his lurking on you. Nowadays it really wasn’t hard to find anything on anyone considering how open people were on their socials so Taehyung was able to find your instagram with ease, especially now that he had your phone number.

He had scrolled through your feed carefully, seeing group photos with your girlfriends at parties, and an abundance of slightly suggestive selfies. There was one thing that was clear, you definitely had confidence in your body and he admired that.

Instagram only showed him a glimpse of your life and it wasn’t enough for him. Considering Taehyung had an account for every social media made, he knew you probably did too. So he took to a generic search, and even a reverse image search because he was so desperate it was pathetic. But it worked, because one certain photo you had uploaded on your instagram of you in a bikini with your face cut off was also uploaded onto a blog online.

At first glance he assumed it was just a generic porn blog that had reposted your photo, but upon further scrolling he noticed all the photos on there were of the same girl. You. 

His first instinct was to exit out of the site and act like he never found it, feeling slightly creepy at what his lurking had uncovered. But the curiosity was eating him alive, so he continued to scroll, seeing simple photos of you in lingerie; never revealing your face or anything else besides your ass and boobs. Along with that were some questions you would answer and with that he gathered that you had quite a bit of fans online.

There was one photo in particular that really caught his attention. The image was a little low quality, showing you with a black heart choker on and a stringy caged bralette that let your boobs pop out, your fingers slicked with something he could only imagine as they pinched your pebbled nipples. The heart outline tattoo on your pinky is what confirmed that it was in fact you in that photo, and that was enough for him to click the heart button on the bottom right to save into his likes for later.

What he didn’t know was that you checked your activity quite often. He also didn’t know that his blog, unlike yours, was not anonymous and had a stupid selfie of him as the icon.

So as he sat in his room and jerked off while thinking about you for the second time that day, you sat in the restaurant and giggled to yourself a little every time he liked a new photo, letting you know exactly what he was up to.

“Are you on that money pile blog of yours again?” Sunmi asked as she chewed on a chunk of butter soaked bread.

“Yes,” you responded simply, taking a sip of your drink and smiling when your friends cheered you on.

“How much have you made with it?” Hani asked curiously, pulling her shirt's neckline out to inspect her boobs. 

You thought about it for a moment; you started that blog to help you pay for school and have some left over for yourself and with luck on your side, it took off pretty quickly. While you did post provocative pictures online, they were all pretty timid in nature, so it was only a matter of time before you started getting messages of people interested in purchasing personal pictures or videos.

There were quite a few older men willing to send you hundreds of dollars for simple photos or videos, but the majority of your buyers were people around your age who chose to purchase access to your private account for a monthly fee. It was always funny to you how some of these people went to your school and either had no idea it was you, or chose to pretend they didn’t know you.

“Enough to pay off my tuition this semester and put some away.”

Chungha nodded to herself, thinking it was impressive. “Get your coin girl.”

The following morning Taehyung hopped onto the bus with a feeling of guilt settling into the pit of his stomach, a nasty churning sensation that had plagued him in his sleep. It made him forgo his usual kimbap breakfast, afraid he’d hurl it up the second he made eye contact with you on this ride and the last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment to add to the list. 

He shouldn’t have touched himself to those photos that you hadn’t sent to him exclusively, and he definitely shouldn’t have saved them in his likes. Sure they were on a public domain, but still, it made him feel wrong.

He slid into his seat of choice and shoved his earbuds in, drowning out the small hum that filled the vehicle. Taehyung was so focused on trying to fry out the memory of your boobs from his mind by blasting music that he hadn’t noticed the bus stop and the sound of chunky platforms making their way up the aisle.

You sat down a few rows closer than normal, analyzing him for a moment; his dark hair was covering his eyes partially, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his grey windbreaker, and his jean clad legs bouncing rapidly made it so clear he was nervous.

Perfect.

A smile graced your lips as you slipped your phone out, opening up the thread you had with Taehyung, with your very uninterested message being the last thing you had sent him. It’s almost as if the tiny devil on his shoulder called his attention, convincing him to peer over, almost jumping in his seat when he realized you were on the bus and a lot closer than before.

When he saw your attention on your phone instead of him for once, he couldn’t help but think that maybe you had lost interest in this little game. Maybe he had taken it a bit too far and knowing he had jacked off at school to the thought of you had turned you off.

That is until his phone buzzed in his pocket. Sharp eyes darting up and locking onto his right after, a knowing smirk on your face as you raised your hand and waved your fingers at him.

Y/N 8:09am : Hi bus boy.

Oh god.

Why was he so fucking nervous to talk to you god dammit. His eyes drifted back over to you, seeing you still staring at him, your head tilted in curiosity at why he still hadn’t responded.

With slightly trembling hands he begins to type out a response.

Taehyung 8:11am : Hey bu—

His fingers stop when a new message slides up on the screen.

Y/N 8:11am : Thanks for liking my pictures on my blog.

Y/N 8:11am : Saving them for later?

His stomach drops, mind playing a nice little montage of him scrolling through your blog and pressing that damn heart button as fast as he could. How could he be so stupid in thinking he was being discreet?

Taehyung 8:13am : Fuck im so sorry

He couldn’t look back up, his eyes focused on the three dots indicating your typing. It seemed endless. Were you gonna send him a giant paragraph calling him a pig or some other insult, tell him you had blocked his IP address and would be filing a restraining order on him?

Y/N 8:16am : No, it’s my pleasure.

He stared at the text in mild shock, the kissy face emoji at the end taunting him. Were you fucking with him? It honestly seemed like it considering you had hopped up off your seat and walked off the bus, your hips swaying in the small skirt you wore which only taunted him some more.

Taehyung let out a groan as he rubbed his palms into his face in frustration. What the hell was his deal? He felt like a prepubescent boy who had never spoken to a girl let alone slept with one. Maybe he was losing his edge. Regardless, he was done suffering through this alone so he was going to suck up his pride and seek out the help of his friends.

That was how he found himself once again sitting around the table in the small cafe they all frequented. The six of his friends gave him intent stares at he finished off his story, “And my dumbass didn’t think to maybe not like the pictures for later and she sent me this text the next morning.” He paused to slide his phone into the middle of the table with the message thread lighting up the screen, “And now I don’t know what the hell to do.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together as he shook his head, fingers adjusting the olive green beanie that he had on. “You’re a dumbass.”

Taehyung gave him a shocked expression, the wrinkles in his forehead only deepening when he saw the rest of the guys nodding along in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Yoongi spoke in a monotone, his eyes playfully narrowing at his friend, taunting him to try to defend himself. 

“How am I a dumbass?”

Jungkook rubbed his hands together momentarily, looking around at the others to see if they were gonna speak up or if he was gonna have to be the one to do it. “Look dude,” he started off when he realized no one was gonna put Tae out of his misery. “You have this girl throwing herself at you, straight up telling you she wants to fuck you, and instead of acting on it you chose to jack off to the thought of her?”

Now that someone had said it outloud Taehyung did feel a bit stupid. 

This was so out of character for him, he was the kind of guy who hit on girls at frat parties and didn’t bother getting more information besides their name before he was taking them upstairs, and now that you were giving him that treatment, he didn’t know what to do.

“Not only are you stupid for not sleeping with her, but who the hell lurks and gets caught? What a rookie mistake!” Hoseok hollers out, causing Jimin and Namjoon to laugh along with him, and Taehyung could only feel his face redden in embarrassment.

Jin had Tae’s phone in his hand, scrolling through the extremely underwhelming messages you two had sent each other when suddenly, it dinged and a new image popped up at the bottom. “Oh wow!”

That caught everyone's attention, all of them leaning over to try to get a glimpse at whatever Jin had seen but he had already locked the phone, the screen turning black and blocking the guys from seeing the teasing picture you had sent Taehyung out of boredom.

“Aw c’mon, what was it?” Jimin whined, staring at the still locked phone that was now in Taehyung’s hands, hands itching to grab the device. 

Taehyung sighed. Did he even want to know?

One glance from Jin told him he sure as hell should, so he dimmed the brightness of his phone before he unlocked it to open up your message. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes made out the image, almost causing him to choke on his spit and make a bigger fool out of himself in front of his friends.

There, sitting all nice and pretty in your thread of messages, was a photo of your thighs spread open, your fingers lifting up the tiny skirt you had on today to reveal a small sliver of the black lace panties you had on. Very suggestive, clearly intent to tease him. 

‘Just for you’, was the only message you had written underneath, no indication that you would send anything else. Taehyung could only stare at the photo in awe, eyes trailing down the smooth skin of your thighs, desperately wanting to zoom in, but he knew his friends would only clown him further. It was pretty timid in nature but still just as sexy.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned out, locking his phone and letting his head fall onto the wooden table like deadweight. No one had any reaction to the rattle of the table, simply stabilizing their drinks as they observed their friend having what appears to be a mental breakdown. 

“What did she send him?” Yoongi whispered to Jin.

“Something mildly NSFW.”

At that, Yoongi reached over and jostled his whole body with force. “Get the fuck up you imbecile. Respond to her!”

“What am I supposed to say?” Tae slurred, cheek smushed against the table and muffling his words.

“Fucking anything is better than the silent treatment dude. Like she just took time out of her day to send you something. You gotta at least tell her she looks hot, or that you like the picture.” Jungkook rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious response, and honestly it was, this was sexting 101. 

“You’re right, I guess.” Taehyung lifted himself back up and unlocked his phone once more, staring at the screen with a distraught expression. “The fuck do I say though?”

Hoseok hummed in thought, tapping his chin as he stared at the lid of his cup. “Depends, what kinda photo was it? Full nude or like a tease?”

“A tease.”

“Oh! Tell her something like, she’s gonna be the death of you, or something along those lines. I’m sure she hears she’s hot all the time, so that's too basic.” Jimin speaks up proudly, his smile widening when Taehyung nods and begins typing out a response with slightly shaky fingers and hits send.

The little sound of the message being sent causes the whole group to let out a sigh of relief, slumping back into their seats and taking sips of their drinks.

“Who knew we’d have to resort to coaching Kim Taehyung on how to sext.” Namjoon snorts, earning a couple of laughs in return, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh too because honestly how ridiculous. 

The conversation flows easily once Jungkook starts talking, everyone momentarily forgetting about Taehyung’s situation, which he was grateful for. The current topic at hand was the party that Jungkook and Hoseok were having in a few days at their new apartment, but his attention was taken away from that when he shockingly received another text from you.

Y/N 7:36pm :Now we can’t have you dying on me.

Y/N 7:36pm : In the mood for some drinks? A couple of friends and I are going out tonight.

Y/N 7:37pm : You should come.

He stared at his phone in thought. Fuck, he wanted to go so bad, but because he had spent all day yesterday jerking off to the thought of you he had procrastinated an assignment that was due tonight. Not chill Taehyung was going to be his downfall. 

Taehyung 7:40pm : I wish I could, I have a deadline at 11

Taehyung 7:40pm : Next time?

On the other side of the screen, you were laying in bed in the same outfit you had on earlier, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you read his response, a small smile on your face.

In all honesty you weren’t even expecting him to respond to your photo anyways, so this caught you off guard.

Y/N 7:42pm : I’m holding you to that bus boy.

So as you went out with your friends, throwing back shots and dancing your life away to the song playing at the club you guys loved, Taehyung sat at home typing out a bullshit paper as his phone watched your instagram story from time to time.

By the time he was calling it a night after he turned in his assignment you were still posting videos of your friends dancing and pouring drinks into your mouth straight from the bottle. You clearly knew how to have a good time and he couldn’t help but feel a tiny twinge of regret at not going out when you had invited him to.

That same regret seeps into the following morning, rewatching your stories and imagining how much fun he would have had if he decided to forget his assignments and go out with you. It’s safe to say that he was honestly not expecting you to hop on at your usual stop, mainly because he knew from your posts that you didn’t call it a night until 4am and it was currently 7:20am. So, when he saw you step on the bus, he was slightly shocked.

The regular attire he was used to was missing, normally styled hair now up in a messy bun, a thick pair of shades on, and an oversized flannel barely hanging over your shoulder. It was very obvious that you had just rolled out of bed. 

His reaction time was a little slow, but when he saw you continue down the aisle and getting closer to him, he tensed up and held his breath, not releasing it even as you took it upon yourself to sit down right next to him. The two of you being the only passengers at the back of the bus.

“Hi,” you spoke out, turning to look at him as he tried his best to just face forward. A sweet smile passed between you when he finally turned towards you and gave you a small hello in greeting.

That satisfies you, so you wiggle in your seat to get comfy, your hands pulling out a book from your bag and starting to read it to pass the time. Taehyung visibly relaxes at that, happy that your attention was on the book instead of him because he wasn’t sure if he could make it through a conversation this early without embarrassing himself.

You take note of his relaxed frame, his head resting against the window and one earbud in his ear playing some song you couldn’t quite make out. That was when you decided to make your move, your eyes still trained on your book as you let your right hand trail up onto his thigh, letting it rest there for a moment to gauge his reaction.

His thigh tenses instantly at the sensation. “You can tell me to stop and I will,” you whisper, your hand already retreating. You knew he was attracted to you but you weren’t gonna do something to him if he was uncomfortable.

Taehyung sits there for a moment, having an internal debate, because fuck does he want you to touch him, but he’s also on public transportation and he’s not sure what the fine is for public indecency. The inner debate is splayed on his features, but in the end the pros outweigh the cons, so he reaches out and grabs your hand, placing it higher up on his thigh.

“No, keep going.”

It was genuine curiosity to see how far you would actually go, and when you told him to put his backpack over his thighs he knew you were being serious. He listened to your instructions and waited with baited breath as he felt your fingertips trail around his crotch, ghost touches sending a small shiver down his spine.

His dick was already twitching in his pants and you had barely even touched him. Your fingers tugged on the string of his black track suits and slipped behind the waistband of them, trailing down his skin and feeling his stomach twitch at the contact. You settled with palming him over his boxers, hearing Taehyung let out a small grunt at the feeling, his dick slowly hardening under your touch.

He was very responsive to your touch, thighs tensing up as he tried to fight back the urge to buck his hips for more friction and it fueled your excitement. 

Considering this was a risky move, you decided to stop torturing him with teasing touches and finally slid your hand past the material of his boxers, wasting no time in wrapping your hand around his thick cock.

Taehyung could feel the blood pumping in his ears as he dropped his head forward with a choked gasp, resting his forehead on the seat in front of him because he knew he wouldn’t be able to disguise his facial expressions if anyone were to look back.

Every jerk of your hand made his breath hitch. Your hands felt like magic, pulling up to twist around the swollen head and gathering his precum before coming back down. God, he wanted to rip his pants down so he wouldn’t feel so confined.

In the perfect display of nonchalance, you still had the book in your left hand, eyes cast down on the page as if your right hand wasn’t focused on his sensitive tip with determination to make him break down. On occasion, you would glance over and smile to yourself at his facial expression, seeing how his eyes were screwed shut as his forehead rested on the seat, alternating between chewing on his bottom lip or just licking his lips and leaving his mouth open as he tried to suppress the moans he wanted to let out. 

“Fuck.” The first crack to his exterior had him finally mumbling out as you picked up the pace, his eyes opening up and looking over at you for a moment, needing to solidify that he wasn’t imagining this. There would be nothing worse than coming face to face with his bed sheets as he awoke from a dream instead of you actually getting him off. 

But there you were, looking so at peace, staring at him with an innocent smile like you weren’t about to make him cum in his pants embarrassingly quick. “You close?”

He let out a small whine as he nodded, finally losing the final bit of self control and bucking his hips to meet your hand, hearing the small thump of your palm against his skin. “Cum for me. I wanna feel you make a mess.”

With eyes sparkling with mischief, you tightened your grip on him as you sped up, your bottom lip being chewed on by your teeth while you watched him come undone. His eyebrows were furrowed, a small frown on his face as he opened his mouth in a silent moan, something you desperately wished you could hear. Harsh pants of breath fanned across the back of the seat as he groaned, fingers gripping the material of his backpack to stop himself from digging his nails into his palm as he neared his release. With a few more pumps, his whole body tensed up as he finally came, stomach twitching while you milked his orgasm.

Taehyung vision blanks for a moment while aftershocks filled his body, dots of light flickering across his eyes until it all came back, and as he realized you were staring at him in awe he could have sworn he was gonna cum again. Your hand was still slowly pumping him, feeling his dick twitch at the overstimulation but he couldn’t get himself to tell you to stop, enjoying the small ache of sensitivity too much. 

It wasn’t until he started to softly grunt at the pleasure that turned painful that you pulled your hand out of his pants, content smile spread across your lips. Taehyung sat there limp, his body feeling like absolute jello, thighs still shaking from his climax. He can already imagine how unsteady his legs will be once it's time to get off the bus. 

You stared at your hand, eyeing the small milky beads of cum on your fingers and you didn’t think twice before popping them in your mouth and sucking on them as you stared right at him. “That was fun. Thanks bus boy.”

He watched in a daze as you stuffed the book back into your bag and got up from your seat, giving him a wide smile while you walked up to the front of the bus. It was only then that he realized both of you had arrived at your college, the boring commute speeding by thanks to your antics. With a spared glance at the displeased bus driver, Taehyung shot up from his seat, cringing at his still sensitive dick and the uncomfortable sticky feeling in his pants.

You were absolutely going to be the death of him

Taehyung was weak, bottom-of-the-food-chain, top tier simp material for you. All it took was one handjob for him to be stuck on you, constantly waiting for any form of interaction you would give him. It was pure infatuation—and a little pathetic—but he wasn’t sure how he felt about you. It was like his brain was torn between trying to get to know you in a more personal way, or just going with the flow and fucking you like you had originally offered. It just made him feel more confused, and a little naive, because it was so clear that you had no romantic feelings for him.

This experience had filled Taehyung with a small sense of guilt, he now knew how the girls he treated this way felt. The constant stringing along and nonchalant carefree aura he would have when he would hook up with girls who clearly wanted more, it was fucking frustrating being on the receiving end and even more frustrating because he knew if he really wanted it to stop all he had to do was ask.

But Taehyung couldn’t get himself to ask you to stop. You had a grasp on him, and you did it so easily, which is why when he didn’t see you on the bus the following day he felt his heart drop a little. 

Sure, he hadn’t noticed you prior but considering it had been a few weeks of constant contact in one form or another, he just found it a little odd now. His hand was twitching with the urge to send you a text and ask if you were feeling okay but he stopped himself in fear of sounding like a clingy mess. 

“Any progress on the mystery babe?” Jungkook asked as they waited in line at the fast food joint near school. 

Taehyung smirked a little at that, memories of yesterday's random handjob coming back to mind. “Sort of.”

Jungkook scoffed, “Sort of? Dude c’mon, just shoot her a text and tell her you wanna hang out, or be blunt and ask her to fuck.”

In retrospect that would be the typical route Taehyung would take, but there was something about you being so in control of this dynamic that had him so unsure of himself. “Look man, she’s different.”

“Oh no—“ And immediately Taehyung knew how that had come out. “Do not say you like her. You barely know her.”

He raised his hands in front of him, “No! Not like that Kook! I just mean that I don’t know how to act.” He let out a sigh, feeling annoyed with himself with this entire situation. “I hope I don’t sound like a total douchebag saying this, but I’m used to girls who let me take charge in situations you know?”

Jungkook nodded, staring at his friend as he spoke, “Girls that basically follow me around and let me decide if I wanna keep them around—and I hate how I sound speaking like that—but it’s the only way I can explain it.” He let out another defeated sigh, definitely something that had become a common form of expression for him. “She doesn’t do that shit, and I don’t know how to act like myself because of it.”

The younger man nodded again, knowing exactly what he meant. “I knew a girl like that, honestly the best two months of my life. Look dude, if she's making it clear that she doesn’t want anything serious then what's the dilemma? She’s confident in herself and you shouldn’t feel intimidated by that.”

Taehyung hummed at that, he was right as Jungkook continued, “And who knows, maybe she’ll help you realize that chains and whips excite you.”

And there was typical Jeon Jungkook. “I fucking hate you.”

Jungkook let out a cackle before turning his attention to the poor cashier who unfortunately had to hear the end of his statement. As he ordered for himself and Taehyung, the latter felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He was half expecting it to be a message from Hoseok asking him some dumb question, so when he saw your name on his screen he thought he was hallucinating. 

Y/N 12:17pm : Hope you didn’t miss me too much today

Y/N 12:17pm : Come to this

Y/N 12:17pm : You promised me next time bus boy

Attached to the messages was a photo of a party flyer he was very familiar with. It was the silly flyer Jungkook had spent around 5 minutes making to promote their party tomorrow night, and the fact that you had come across it either meant it really got around or you had a mutual friend. 

He looked up momentarily as Jungkook tapped him, motioning for him to follow to an empty table as they waited for the food. Taehyung blindly walked behind him, eyes downcast on his screen as he typed a response. 

Taehyung 12:19pm : I’ll be there

Your response was instant and it caught him off guard because you usually lagged on messages. 

Y/N 12:19pm : I’ll be waiting

But it seemed like Taehyung would be the one waiting. He was standing at the corner of the living room with a drink in his hand and his phone in the other, waiting for you to text him as his eyes scanned the current room. 

Jungkook stood beside him, animatedly talking to a cute girl who had grabbed his interest, too busy to notice his friend eyeing the room like a hawk. Taehyung wanted to wander off and find someone for himself, but the idea that you would eventually be here kept him glued to one spot. 

It was nearing midnight and people were already making messes of themselves, passed out on the couch and some even on the front lawn. Jungkook and Hoseok’s new place was more spacious than their last, but it was definitely overcrowding so people were coming in and out frequently from the front to the backyard to get some fresh air.

“I'm gonna go get another drink.” He told Jungkook, who waved him off and continued his conversation while Taehyung made his way to the kitchen. 

He used the same cup he had in his hand and filled it up with vodka and cranberry juice, his favorite drink of choice right next to drinking it straight. Then suddenly, it was like a magnet forced him to look up and over his shoulder, and that's when he spotted you and your group of friends. 

You all walked in with big smiles on your faces, one of your friends walking over to Hoseok and giving him a hug, and that's who he assumed the mutual friend was. Your hair was flipped over your shoulder as you played with it with your hands, small crop top showing just enough cleavage and your stomach, and Taehyung could just feel himself staring. 

That's when your eyes met his, and they glinted with something he couldn’t pinpoint. Your target had been acquired, and as he saw you making your way over to him he choked a bit on his drink. 

“Bus boy.” Was all you told him, a smile on your face as you easily slipped beside him against the counter, elbows resting casually on the cool surface as you leaned back.

“Hey...bus girl.” he awkwardly responded, feeling like an idiot immediately after. You only giggled, your fingers wrapping around his own on the cup as you brought it from its place against Tae’s mouth over to your own for a sip. 

“Mm, vodka cranberry?” You licked your lips, and his eyes were glued on them. “How’d you know that's my drink of choice?”

“Lucky guess?” He slowly responded back, gently taking the cup back from your grasp when you handed it over, his eyes glancing at the sticky residue your gloss left on the rim of the cup.

You were analyzing him, watching him standing there with an aura of unsureness around him. You see, you knew of Taehyung, had a couple of friends who had hooked up with him, and this is not what they described him as. They always told you he was assertive, the first to make a move and once he had he was aggressive in bed in the best way. That’s why he had caught your attention, you wanted to see how hard it would be to crack him, break him down until he was begging and pleading since he was so used to taking charge. The possibility of having him on his knees, holding on to your every word, made this sick sense of pleasure creep up your spine.

Taehyung was handsome, that wasn’t up for debate, but you could see him biting his lips almost like he had a million things he wanted to say to you but was afraid they wouldn’t come out right. Cracking him might be easier than you thought.

“Did I miss all the fun?” The question hung in the air for a moment as flashes from the night played through his head. Jungkook kicking out some dude for trying to piss in the kitchen sink, Hoseok doing a line of who knows what off some girls boobs and her boyfriend trying to fight him, among a plethora of incidents in the span of a few hours. 

“No, definitely not. The night is still young.”

You only stared at him, waiting for his eyes to finally look at yours instead of pretending like he didn't notice you. And finally, they did, narrowing a bit in suspicion as he wondered what you were thinking in your head. 

“So,” you began, confidently grabbing his drink again. “Have you taken my offer into consideration?”

He was so focused seeing your tongue lick your lips to catch the remaining moisture of the drink that he almost didn't hear your question. “I’m sorry, what offer?”

A small laugh left your lips at his question. “You really forgot already?” You only gave him a moment of silence before you continued, “The offer that involves you fucking me, or are you turning it down?”

Taehyung froze, taking in your facial expression before answering. Your mouth held the same sinfully evil smirk it always had, head tilted slightly as you handed his drink back to him and shot him a wink before you sauntered off towards your friends who had watched the entire exchange go down.

They instantly tugged your wrist and yanked you towards the sliding doors that lead to the backyard where a game of beer pong was going down. Chungha was all giggles, not being able to believe the new person of interest in your eyes was Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung on the other hand just let his eyes follow your body until the sliding door was shut once more. He had taken too long to respond to your question, his mind had been shouting at him to just blurt out that yes, he had taken your offer into consideration and he one hundred percent wanted to fuck you. Too bad his mouth decided to sew itself shut. 

He took another swig of his drink, swallowing harshly with a bit of determination set on his mind. By the end of the night he had to make a move on you, that much was for sure. He was tired of you always having the upper hand with every interaction you had. This party was his element for fucks sake, he was a seasoned pro when it came to sleeping with random girls at house parties. The only difference this time was that none of them had come on to him as boldly as you had, but that wasn’t a problem at all.

Jungkook slapped a palm on his shoulder, making his drink slosh in the cup and catching him by surprise. When Tae looked away from the sliding door and over to his left, he could see Jungkook was also looking in the same direction with a knowing smile on his face. “Oh man, she’s trouble.”

Tae’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “Wait, who?”

“Y/N, man. Who else?” He released his grip on the older one's shoulder, taking a sip of the beer in his other hand while he nodded his head in thought.

Taehyung was clearly out of the loop here, “How do you know her?” He mentally sorted through the girls he had seen Jungkook with in the past, even trying hard to remember any girls he had mentioned in passing and you had never come up.

Jungkook took another drink of his beer, wondering how to go about this carefully. He could be honest with Tae and tell him he had met you last semester at a club that was popular with the students at the university. How you had been the absolute best sex of his life for two steady months, and then suddenly dropped him without a care in the world—which would have absolutely crushed Jungkook if he let himself get attached but he hadn’t, he swore he hadn’t. He was kinda shocked and very amused that you had chosen his best friend as your new target, even if it was purely coincidental.

In the end, he decided being honest wasn’t necessary. “It’s not important, just know she’s pure trouble in the best way. Is she the bus girl you always talk about?”

That answer didn’t satisfy Tae but he was too busy thinking about how to make a move on you to dive deeper. “Yeah, she is.”

Jungkook nodded, hearing Jimin calling him from somewhere in the house with a very slurred voice. “Well, I hope you’re planning on making a move on her tonight or I’ll let all the guys know what a pussy you are.” He jostled Tae’s shoulders once more with a hearty laugh before running off towards Jimin who was surely drunk as fuck.

Outside of the house stood you and your friends, surrounding the beer pong game going on between Yoongi and Seulgi. Your eyes were peering behind you, staring through the glass doors as you watched Jungkook speaking to Taehyung for a brief moment. You smiled to yourself, knowing the small mess you might be causing between friends but not caring enough to stop it.

“This winning shot is for you gorgeous!” Yoongi shouted out, blowing a sloppy kiss out towards Sunmi before tossing the ping pong ball haphazardly towards the last remaining cup and somehow making it in. 

“That winning shot made me lose!” Sunmi erupted in laughter while everyone cheered at the end of the game. Seulgi rolled her eyes with a playful smile before chugging the last cup and walking back to your group.

“I don’t know how that fucker beat me considering his blood alcohol content should have his ass in a coma.” 

You laughed, throwing your arm over her shoulder and tugging her closer to you. “It’s because Sunmi told him that she’d give him her number if he got the winning cup. I guess desperation makes boys a little more sober.”

“Pigs.” She grumbled with a laugh, watching as Sunmi and Yoongi exchanged information, both of them looking like flustered children with blushing cheeks. “Anyways, are you gonna torture that poor boy inside all night?”

“Hm,” you hummed to yourself. “Is it really torture if I gave him a way in?”

“Oh please Y/N, has any boy ever taken to your advances that quickly? You’re intimidating as fuck, in the sexiest way possible. He’s probably not used to girls telling him shit like that so he doesn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, but Yuna told me he was blunt as fuck with her when they slept together.” Your eyes peered back inside, no longer being able to see Taehyung.

“Yuna? Kang Yuna?” You nodded, looking up at Seulgi and seeing a look of disbelief on her face, “Dude, she’s the most timid, shy, submissive girl I’ve ever met. Guys eat that shit up. That’s what guys like Taehyung are used to. You spicing it up has him second guessing everything, so I say you keep it up. Be two steps ahead of him.”

You knew she was right, even though this was an exciting game of cat and mouse for you, you'd be lying if you said you weren’t slightly interested in him for more than just a one night stand. 

“You gonna play?” Chunga popped in beside you, a grin on her face as she held a white ping pong ball in her hands. You smiled back and gave her a nod, letting her tug you towards the table being set up.

Yoongi stood wobbling on the other side, claiming to want to hold on to his winning title but the boy was clearly close to passing out from the amount of alcohol in his system. That was when another boy stood beside him, his frame towering over Yoongi’s and a charming smile on his plump lips as he tried to coax Yoongi into going inside to drink some water.

Chungha hummed in approval as she took his appearance in. “Wow he’s...”

“Yummy?”

She snorted out, “Oh yeah, definitely yummy.”

Yoongi was bickering with said yummy boy until Sunmi approached him again and put on her best flirtatious look to get him to follow her inside the house. He was done for after that, handing his friend the ball in his hand with a lazy wave, his half lidded eyes trailing down Sunmi’s body as she dragged him behind her. He probably thought he would be getting laid tonight but Sunmi was in mom mode, so unless he was ready to down a gallon of water and sober up, the only thing he would be doing is going straight to sleep.

“Hey, yummy guy, are you playing or not?”

He looked startled by the nickname, his hand coming up to point at his chest in confusion. When you and Chungha gave him a look that said yeah you his mouth opened up slightly before he was smiling again. “Yummy? Wow, can’t say I’m opposed to being called that.” He started to laugh at that and Chungha sighed at the sound, yup she was a sucker. 

“I don’t have a partner to play against you two.”

You stepped back from the table with a shrug. “Don’t mind me, he’s all yours Chungha.”

They instantly started chatting with each other, playful threats and possible bets being made for whoever lost this game, but you weren’t planning on staying to watch this go down. The friends you had left on the sidelines watched you saunter away and they knew exactly where you were headed.

You wandered inside the crowded home and let your eyes scan the room, the kitchen was immediately to the left of you, a group of boys huddled around the alcohol as they made drinks, but no sign of Taehyung. Grabbing the lone vodka bottle from the counter, you took a quick swig before you resumed your hunt, ignoring the nasty burn to your throat. 

A few more steps inside towards the living room didn’t reveal him either, too many bodies moving together to some random beat playing through the speakers placed around. There was a hallway to the left and another to the right, you chose to go towards the right side, side stepping random cups left on the floor. 

A few voices were at the end of the hall, coming out of the only open door so you continued near them, desperate to see a familiar face until you came to a stop in front of the bathroom. You rested your shoulder against the door frame, seeing Jungkook leaning over his friend’s hunched form as he clung to the toilet bowl. Although this was a familiar face, he was not the one you were searching for. 

As if sensing your presence, he looked up and over at you, a gentle smile gracing his face when he saw it was you. “You got the invite I see.”

You smiled back at him. “I did. So did the rest of my friends, you know, from Hoseok.” The drunken friend on the floor dry heaved for a moment, making Jungkook look back down at them and pat their back. 

“He’s probably on the front lawn smoking by the way.” He spoke again, not needing you to explain who you were looking for, and you were grateful because you weren’t in the mood to play dumb. 

You pushed off the door frame and stepped back, hearing him shout out a sarcastic ‘I know you miss me’ as you walked away. “Save it Jeon!” You playfully shouted back. You knew he missed you, he had told you plenty of times ever since you decided to stop sleeping with him. 

Of course Jeon Jungkook had been a good fuck, having been one of your favorite switches. Very true to his reputation, he could fuck you all night long with no issues, bringing you to orgasm enough times until you were crying for him to stop, while also letting you tie him up until he was the one begging—but he’d gotten attached. 

He could deny it all he wanted, but you sensed the change instantly. It creeped up in moments where he’d ask you to spend the night instead of leaving after hooking up, seeping into him asking you to hang out in day to day life instead of just 3am booty calls. And that just wasn’t something you were interested in having at the time. It wasn’t a jab at Jungkook, he was a nice guy if you were being honest, but that was old news. 

So as the music blasted in the house, sounding muffled to your ears, you walked with a purpose, weaving in between people as you crossed the living room and reached the front door. 

The fresh air met you the second you pushed the door open, loud bass spilling out of the house and into the front lawn, dimly lit up by the porch light. It allowed you to instantly spot Taehyung, a barely lit blunt between his fingers as he spoke to a taller boy beside him. At the sound of the door opening they both looked over in your direction, the taller one offering you a smile while Taehyung took a drag and gave you a nervous wave. 

You weren’t going to bother talking to him out here, he turned into a deer caught in headlights whenever you did so you just walked over to him, plucked the blunt from between his fingers and handed it to his friend before wrapping your hand around his wrist and dragging him behind you. The two of you needed to be alone, not around drunk party goers, or both of your nosey friends. 

Taehyung didn’t resist at all, looking over at Namjoon and seeing his friend had a shit eating grin on his face as he got dragged inside. You clearly had a mission, shoving your way through the sea of bodies again as you trekked to the opposite hallway this time, going for the only room on this side of the house. 

The bedroom door got thrown open and thankfully no one was inside of it. Taehyung slammed the door shut behind him and locked it as you turned to face him, inches separating you and you let out a soft breath at the close proximity. “Do you want this?”

His mind fogged over briefly as he watched your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal more skin. “Yes, I do.” 

Those were the words to set it all in motion, hands yanking your shift off your body and tossing it aside, leaving you standing in your bra for him to ogle at. 

“Better than the photos huh?” you tease with a honey-sweet voice, reminding him of his deep dive onto your blog while your hands slid behind your back to unhook your bra and let it completely slide off. 

Taehyung couldn’t help but stare as your hands came up to give your boobs a squeeze. “Fuck.”

He stepped forward, wanting to finally touch you but you tsk in disapproval, shaking your finger at him and it just made him pout. Isn’t that what you wanted from him?

His breath hitched in his throat when you stepped even closer, tips of your fingers trailing from his shoulders to his chest, down to the hem, bunching the fabric in your grasp as you tugged it up and off of him. His arms raised up with no protest as you undressed him, wide eyes just watching your every move, ready to do whatever you asked of him. It was so out of character for him, but that much could be said about every interaction he’s had with you so he goes with the flow of it all. 

Goosebumps rose up on his tan skin as you trailed your hands down to play with the button on his jeans, fiddling with it to tease him. You wanted to cover his chest and stomach in hickeys, marking every inch of him up, bruising and teasing him until he was pleading for you to suck his cock. There was just something about him that made you want to see him flushed and desperate. 

He could see you lost in thought as you stared at his body, now hyper aware of the fact that he wasn’t absolutely ripped, but you liked that. His arms came up again in an attempt to pull you in to kiss you, but you stopped him once more, finally snapping out of your daze.

“Do you deserve to touch me?” His mind blanked at your tone, the slight edge he had heard the first time you spoke was back, and something about it made his body tingle. “Hm?” you hummed when he remained quiet.

That glint in your eye returned and his head shook without him realizing, no he didn’t deserve to touch you.

“Take it all off and lay on the bed,” you spoke sternly, the smirk on your face growing when he did as you said. His body hunched over and stumbled as he stripped out of his pants and boxers, his shoes and socks long gone beside them. Taehyung followed instructions and laid on the bed, feeling a little guilty that poor Hoseok’s bed would be defiled like this, but when you slid off your own pants and underwear he couldn’t find himself to care anymore. 

His cock was already hard and twitching as it laid against his stomach, and he could feel the small pool of precum gathering under his belly button, leaving a sticky mess on his skin. You hadn’t even touched him and he was this riled up already, terrified he would cum the second you decided to touch him, so his hand came to grasp the base of his cock and gave it a firm squeeze.

That action wasn’t lost on you as you slowly approached him, your knees resting on the mattress while you shuffled towards his body. Your fingertips trailed up his thighs softly, going around his cock and up his chest where your nails lightly grazed his nipple. His body shuddered at the touch, and the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip at the reaction made him nervous.

You swung your leg over his waist, hovering above his skin but not making contact just yet. Taehyung had never been patient, his eagerness getting the best of him, and just as his hands rose up—about to touch your hips and force you to plop down on his cock—your own hands reacted, grasping his before he could touch you and bringing them above his head, successfully catching him off guard. 

“You said you don’t deserve to touch me.”

His eyes widened in realization, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of a way to take back the words that he said earlier. Fuck, he wanted to touch you, he could see your pussy hovering inches over his cock, and he bet he could slide right into you from how wet you looked, already picturing the feeling of your warmth as he sunk into you. 

Your hands grasped both of his wrists, leaving his arms pinned above his head as your other hand reached down, and he held his breath. There was a brief moment where he thought you’d show him mercy, hoping you were going to grab his dick from between your bodies, but when he saw your index and middle fingers part your lower lips he let a groan escape him. You trailed them up your slit and back down to circle around your entrance with a quiet hum, bringing your fingers back up in front of Taehyung’s eyes, watching him stare at them in awe as you separated them and your slick strung across from them.

“It’s a shame.” Your eyes trailed up to his hands again, seeing them clenched together in your grasp. “I’d love to have your hands inside me, but maybe next time.”

“No,” he croaked out, hips desperately lifting up in hopes of grinding into your pussy but he fell short. “Please, let me touch you.”

The begging satisfied the sick itch you were hoping to scratch, leaving you grinning above him. You had just started, yet his eyebrows were already furrowed, eyes locked in a trance on your fingers that were still in front of his face. 

“Not today, baby. Do you want a taste though?” He was nodding the second the proposal left your mouth. Taehyung licked his lips in desperation, mouth opening up as you brought them towards his lips, his neck craning forward and wrapping his lips around your fingers to taste the remnants of your arousal. His tongue flicked between your fingers as he sucked like his life depended on it, the urgency displayed had more wetness gushing out of you, and when Taehyung’s eyes darted towards his abdomen, he saw that some of it had dripped onto the skin below where you hovered.

You pulled your fingers out of his mouth and brought them back between your legs to tease yourself further. “Fuck, this could’ve been you doing this to me Taehyung.” You gasped out as your fingers flicked over your clit repeatedly and he whimpered, head falling back to rest on the pillows because he couldn’t take watching you get yourself off above him while his dick lay hard and leaking right below you.

You snickered to yourself, finally deciding to take some pity on the man, reaching below you to grasp his cock. His neck tensed up at the action, head whipping back up to make sure he wasn’t imaging anything. But there you were, small hands barely wrapping around his thick cock as you gave it a gentle tug. Your fingers were covered in your slick, making the glide feel delicious, spreading your arousal around his length and mixing with his own in a sinful combination. 

Taehyung’s chest heaved slightly as you picked up your pace, your fingers coming up to play with his pink tip before going back down quickly, hands set to tease him. He was trying to stop himself from moaning, you already had his arms restrained, he didn't want to give you this much power over him, but when your hands came down to fondle his balls he couldn’t hold back the needy whine that left him. The desperation behind him just made your pussy clench, and you really wish he could fuck you, but you weren’t going to let him get his way this easily, not when he hadn’t worked for it.

“Keep your hands there.” You spoke firmly as you released your grasp on them, smirking at his obedience when his fingers chose to wrap around the poles of the headboard behind him instead. He wasn’t sure what you were going to do, but he was hoping your next move would be sinking onto his cock. 

“Wait,” he spoke up as you placed both your hands on his chest. “I don’t have a condom,” he admitted, face scrunching up when he saw you freeze in your action of dropping down on top of him.

“Oh,” you cooed, left hand coming up to cup his cheek tenderly. “Don’t worry about that.” His heart was torn because although he loved going without a condom, he didn’t know you enough to trust continuing without one. “You’re not fucking me.”

And now his heart was shredded, thrown into a dumpster, and set on fire. “What?”

Your fingers traced his cheek softly as you smiled at him. “Only good boys get to fuck me and you—“ you patted his skin in a gentle, yet firm, slap. “—haven’t been good.” 

A pout forms on his lips because now he’s desperate, and also confused. Why would you strip out of all your clothes just to tease him like this? Were you going to finish yourself off on top of him and just leave? He wasn’t entirely against that scenario because he’s sure it would be hot as fuck, but his dick was literally throbbing.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you had shuffled down a bit and rested your dripping pussy right on top of his cock, your lips parting slightly as you rocked your hips forward. And then he was gasping, his hands detaching from the headboard and instinctively wanting to grab your hips, but they stopped an inch or so away, catching his own mistake. His fingers remained trembling in the air, a moan finally leaving his lips at the feeling of you grinding on his cock, the relief of you not leaving him high and dry taking over.

Keeping your palms on his chest, you used them as leverage to help you move, a wicked smile on your face when you saw the internal debate he was having. He could touch you if he really wanted to, he could say fuck your rules and grip your hips so hard they’d bruise, but he didn’t. He listened to you, his shaking hands retreating back to the headboard with a groan of restraint.

“Good boy,” you spoke softly, his cock twitching at the praise. He liked this, the foreign feeling of being pliant underneath you, letting you call all of the shots, it was igniting a warmth inside of him that he never expected. 

Taehyung could feel his stomach becoming a sticky mess from his precum and your wetness dripping down from his cock, but he didn’t care, he loved when it was messy, loved hearing the squelching sound filling the room every time you rocked your hips. The fact that you were this drenched from teasing him just turned him on more, and he really wanted to say fuck it and ask you to sink onto his cock, but you told him to be a good boy so that’s what he would do.

“Feel good?”

“S-so good,” he whined out, breathy and strained, almost as if he didn’t want to admit to it. 

His thighs were tense and aching, forcing himself to not thrust forward in fear that you’d stop what you were doing, small moans leaving his lips when the tip of his cock would brush against your clit. He looked fucked out underneath you, eyes blown open as he locked onto the spot between you two, watching his messy cock peek out between your legs when you’d grind your hips back.

Taehyung had never cum from doing this, it was something he had never tried before; he was used to the quickness of fucking at parties, some fingering being involved before he slid in from behind. But he could feel himself edging closer to his release embarrassingly fast, the sinful moans leaving your mouth only aiding in pushing him over faster.

You had a good rhythm going, his cock trapped between his stomach and your pussy, and even though he was trying his best not to be vocal, you could see he was close to falling apart. His hands were clenching the headboard so hard they were paling, and if that wasn’t enough of an indication his face surely said it all. 

Leaning over his body, you let your face inch closer to his as you sped up your hips. At your proximity Taehyung finally spoke up, “Can I-fuc—” he shuddered, “—can I please kiss you?”

Your eyebrow cocked up at his request, not expecting that to be what he wanted from you. “You want to kiss me?”

Taehyung's dark hair bounced on his head as he nodded frantically. “Yes,” he gasped out, squirming underneath you as you bucked harder on top of him.

He wanted to kiss you, your lips looked so soft and shiny, and he wanted to feel them on top of his. Honestly what he really wanted was to flip you over and fuck you senseless—he had the power to—the weight of you on him was nothing he couldn’t overpower, but something about you being in control of his pleasure was doing things to him.

When your hair grazed his chest from you dropping down, his heart skipped but your lips chose to kiss his neck instead, small traces and licks on his skin as you trailed up towards his jaw until finally you reached his lips. They were tacky from your lip gloss but he didn’t care, they felt as soft as he imagined, and when you snuck your tongue into the mix Taehyung whimpered into your mouth. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, pleasure rolling over him in waves that only intensified when you wrapped your lips around his tongue and sucked. 

You could feel his body tensing up from underneath you, his climax creeping up on him, so you rocked faster, sinking your teeth into his plump bottom lip and tugging back. That was the final push before he was cumming, face screwed up the same way it was on the bus and a rough groan that you swallowed with another kiss.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

Another moan spilled out as you continued your movements, feeling his cum splashing up towards his chest from the force, some of it dribbling down his cock and settling onto your pussy. “Wow,” you mused, lips pulling back from his and looking down to see the mess he had made, his breathing continuing to shudder until you came to a stop.

Taehyung kept his grip on the headboard, a lot more limp than before, vision hazy from his orgasm and entire body tingling. You lifted up from him and shuffled further down, licking the trail of cum on his stomach with a grin when you noticed how his sensitive cock twitched at the visual. 

Trying to save face, he turned his head into his upper arm to shield himself, the small burn of embarrassment felt at the fact that he had just blown his load from you grinding on him in record time.

You weren’t finished with him yet though, your body still slowly sliding down him, fingers leaving feather-like touches on his skin that he mistook as you soothing his shuddering body, until they grasped his cock.

“Oh,” he winced, feeling your fingers grazing his sensitive dick, your mouth quickly enveloping it, making his back arch from the sudden sensation. It was no secret that Taehyung had a love for overstimulation, constantly toeing the line between pain and pleasure when he continued to jack off after cumming, but your warm mouth was new.

His sore fingers released the headboard, elbows straightening up because he had to watch this, had to burn this point of view into his mind forever. You were crouched at the bottom of the bed on your knees, ass up in the air as you swallowed his cock, your tongue swirling around it when you felt it start to harden again.

“H-hurts,” he admitted with his hips twitching, not sure if he wanted to thrust into your mouth or back away. Your hands rested on his hips to stop them from moving as his dick slipped out of your mouth with a pop.

“You want me to stop?” One hand was lazily jerking him as you spoke, his dick twitching in your grasp once more. 

No, no he was loving this. The pleasure was sharp but it was spreading a warmth throughout his body. Could he cum again?

He was clearly having a hard time deciding if he wanted you to stop or not, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as he moaned softly, but Taehyung liked the pain, you could tell.

When your mouth took him in again he gasped lewdly, his elbows giving out and letting him flop back on the bed with a thump, fingers gripping the crumpled sheets beneath him. “No, no,” he whimpered again when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. “Don’t stop, god.”

He could feel you smirking around his cock, your tongue coming out to flick the tip of his dick, red and swollen and once again dripping. One of your hands wrapped around the part you couldn’t reach, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth; the other was dipped between your own thighs, fingers sinking into your cunt and thrusting them to match your motions.

Taehyung had his hands gripping onto the bed sheets to stop them from tangling into your hair and forcing you to take all of him, but his head peeked up, and when he saw you playing with yourself he sat back up, hips finally coming up to thrust into your mouth. Whimpers of pain and pleasure filled the room, the muscles in his neck pulled taut as he felt pressure start to bloom in his lower stomach. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle having another orgasm, every time he’d hit the back of your throat he felt the wind get knocked out of him, knees acting on reflex and shooting up to try to squirm away from your grasp.

The want to scold him was strong but you were getting closer to cumming, and seeing him losing control only made you moan around his cock. You pulled your fingers out of yourself, and with a few more flicks on your clit you were cumming. Taehyung watched in awe as your hips stuttered, and the moan you let out just urged him to keep thrusting into your mouth. 

His fingers were sore from the grip he had on the sheets and when he saw the drool leaking out of your mouth as you sunk all the way down, he finally felt the band snap, a throaty moan leaving his lips as he bowed his back into the mattress, the pain and pleasure blending together beautifully and bringing him to one of the best orgasms of his life. This load was a lot smaller than the last, but he was completely spent now, body lying limp on the bed as he tried to catch his breath.

Swallowing the cum on your tongue with a smirk, you took him in your mouth once more to tease, pulling back and placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his soft cock. 

“Such a good boy.” You teased as you made your way back up to him with a genuine smile on your face. Your soft lips pressed against his again, mouth opening up and he could taste himself on your tongue but he didn’t mind it. With a little hesitance, his hand came up to finally touch you, fingers tangling into your hair as he deepened the kiss, your teeth clashing together a few times because he couldn’t get enough. 

He watched as you pulled back from him, your tongue tracing your lips while you flipped your hair behind you again. “You know, you’re pretty when you cum.” And he doesn’t know why, but the statement made him blush. No one had ever told him he looked pretty when he came.

“Thank you?”

You giggled, still on top of him. “You’re welcome. I’ll be thinking of it when I touch myself later.” You gave him another quick peck before you got off of him and started putting your clothes back on. Taehyung was in a state of shock as he observed you, he had cum twice and still hadn’t fucked you, and you were very clearly getting a kick out of it. 

A final adjustment was done to your skirt before running your fingers through your hair, looking back at him still limp on his friend's bed, limbs resembling jello. It was cute, but you knew you had to trail him along further so you shot him a wink, opening up the bedroom door and waltzing out like you hadn’t just ruined him.

The haze that surrounded him whenever you were around him faded as you left and Taehyung sprung into action with a yelp, wrapping Hoseok's comforter around his naked body when he saw that you left the door open. Luckily no one was around, but he still rushed up with the sheets to close the door, legs feeling a little wobbly. With the door securely locked, he rested his weight against it, letting Hoseok’s ruined sheets fall from his body into a heap on the floor, his hand coming up to run through his messy hair.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he groaned in disbelief, balling up the sheets and stuffing them into the small hamper by the closet, they barely fit but it didn’t matter. Taehyung felt lost and a little unsatisfied, he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel completely satisfied until he actually fucked you. All he had to do was say it, you were dangling it right in front of him and he was too tongue tied to tell you how he actually felt. It was like all vocabulary and sense of communication was wiped clean whenever you were within a certain radius of him.

He slid back into his clothes, grabbing the tissues Hoseok conveniently had next to his bed, and wiped the small residue that was still on his stomach before he put his shirt back on. When his heart stopped pounding and he thought he was decent, he exited the room. Taehyung was set on finding you and speaking to you like a normal human being, his mind now cleared after those orgasms, so he felt sort of confident that he’d be able to get out a coherent sentence without sounding like an insecure loser.

Jungkook spotted him as he emerged from the hallway, his bunny smile spreading across his face when he saw how disheveled his friend looked, and considering he had seen you exit from that same spot minutes prior he knew what had gone down.

“Hey buddy.” Jungkook cooed obnoxiously, hands coming up to squeeze Taehyung's cheek, his fingers rubbing off the leftover residue of your lipgloss from his skin. He was drunk, breath smelling like vodka and his eyes glazed over, the classic dopey Jungkook smile on his face. Taehyung swatted his hands away from him with a grimace but Jungkook just slid beside him, slinging his arm across his shoulders and dragging him to the kitchen to get even more alcohol.

“So you fucked her right?” Taehyung accepted the drink, taking a sip as his eyes searched the room for you just like they had earlier.

“Sure,” he responded, not wanting to tell his friend that although you were both naked on top of each other and you had forced two orgasms out of him, he had not in fact been able to slide his dick inside of you.

Jungkook was too drunk to comprehend that sure didn’t exactly mean yes so he whooped, throwing his arms in the air with a laugh, and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile at his younger friend. 

“Have you seen her by the way?”

Jungkook thought back to when he spotted you leaving Hoseok’s room, you had a look of satisfaction on your face as you walked through the house and headed for the backyard. You emerged back out with one of your friends beside you and you both laughed as you made a swift exit out of Jungkook’s house entirely. It was pretty obvious you wouldn’t be coming back.

“She definitely left.”

Taehyung could feel his heart sink at that. He should’ve spoken to you when you were both alone in the room instead of lying there in his post orgasmic glow. Too late. 

He slid his phone out and decided he had to text you. The black line flickered on his phone, taunting him, waiting for him to type anything out, but he was stuck. What was he supposed to say? Thanks for the orgasms with a stupid emoji tacked at the end?

Taehyung 1:48am : You left so fast, get home safe

That’s what he settled on, and his eyes stayed glued on the phone when he saw the notification that you read it, three dots popping up as you typed a response back.

Y/N 1:52am : Sorry friend needed to get home and I was her ride.

Y/N 1:52am : Think about me tonight yeah? Goodnight busboy.

Taehyung thought about you alright. He thought about you often, frequently replaying the events that had happened that night as his fist wrapped around his cock on those nights where he was beyond desperate to cum.

The both of you hadn’t spoken much since the night of Hoseok and Jungkook’s party, due to the fact that finals were approaching and as much as you enjoyed this game you had with him, you also knew you needed to pass the classes you had. Taehyung doesn’t fault you for that, he was on the same boat, and if you had continued to tease him on the bus or through text message while he was already on the verge of a mental breakdown, he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

So it came as no surprise that when the semester came and went, the communication was once again severed, no longer having the morning commute to share together as winter break started.

Taehyung still thought of you often, every time you uploaded something onto your social media he stared at it for a minute too long, fingers urging to send you a message and start a conversation; but considering everything that had transpired between you two had been purely sexual he wasn’t sure a ‘haha funny meme’ message was going to get him very far.

When the second week of break rolled around and Taehyung started to go out with his friends, you began to slip his mind, the small acceptance of whatever you two had going fizzling away from his thoughts. He wondered if you forgot about him already, maybe you were home visiting family and had your sights set on another person.

With that thought engraved in his mind he allowed himself to go out with Jimin and Namjoon on a Saturday night, the three of them being the few of his friends that lived in the city and weren’t going home to their family for the holidays. They stood by the bar of some club closer to Jimin’s apartment, deeper into the city, a place Jimin swore the hottest girls frequented and when Taehyung scoped the crowd he took notice that Jimin was right.

It only took two shots to loosen him up enough to ease onto the dance floor, and only a few more minutes until a pretty redhead spotted him and made her way over, her hands trailing up onto his shoulder as she moved her hips in time with his. He smirked down at her, her eyes gleaming up at him while her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, she’s definitely his usual type. The way she gripped onto him when he slid his thigh in between her legs, how she easily gave in to the way he kissed his way into her mouth, eager to let him have his way with her. It’s no shock that he found himself tucked away in a corner of the club, letting her hands roam his chest as she latched her lips onto his neck while he dipped his hands under the hem of her skirt to play with her covered slit. It’s messy and he’s the one leading the way, it's familiar for him, but he can’t stop the small craving inside of him for something else, something different.  

She whimpered into his mouth, not at all shy about being out in the open, and he can feel his cock throbbing at the thought of another girl that isn’t you for the first time—and you must have a sixth sense—there's no other explanation for him besides that when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

The nameless redhead whined at the loss of contact when he pulled his hand back to grab his phone, but he shushed her with a kiss, telling her he needed a minute. And that's all the convincing she needed to continue sucking hickeys into his neck.

When his phone lit up and he saw your name on his lock screen he blanked, eyes roaming behind him when he looked back to check if maybe you were here and that's why you were texting him. But when he unlocked the phone and saw the message you sent, it was oh so obvious that you were definitely not at the club.

The revelation of the photo you had sent catches him so off guard, he almost drops his phone, the device slipping through his fingers until he reacts and slammed it against his chest so hard to not let it clatter to the ground. The action winded him, the sharp pain of his phone wacking his chest had him wincing and it got the girl's attention.

Leaning back as her curious eyes peeked up to stare at him, instead she found herself staring at his chest, her face oddly lit up. The realization settled within him now, noticing that he must have flipped the phone over when he caught it and she was now clearly looking at the photo of you naked. The jaw dropping nudes you had sent, showcasing your boobs with your fingers on your nipple, wet with your arousal; and the second photo of your pussy on display had taken his breath away, but all it got him was a glare and a shove to his chest from the red head, muttering out that he was a pig as she pushed her way back to her friends.

He gulped as he flipped the phone around and analyzed the photo, a deep groan leaving him, because god dammit he had just started to come to terms that whatever you had was old news. You were always keeping him on his toes, it was going to fuck with his heart and his health.

Taehyung turned around and squinted through the flashing lights to hopefully find his friends, spotting Namjoon with a drink in one hand, his other clutching onto a blonde as they danced together, and he made his way over to him. 

“I’m gonna head out,” he mumbled into Namjoon’s ear, ignoring the confused glance he gave him. The clear translation being: what the hell.

“We just got here.”

Taehyung knew this but he can’t hang around here with the thrumming bass and dance with other girls when you had just sent him these fucking photos. “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot. Don’t worry, I’m gonna take an uber just let Jimin know.”

Namjoon could only nod, not really wanting to separate himself from the cute girl he had grown fond of, but he would be forcing Taehyung to come out with them again next week. He just watched as his friend slipped through the crowd of the club until he stepped out. 

When the cold air hit him Taehyung gulped it down, hands pressing against his face as he sighed and walked towards the brickwall on the side of the club. He couldn’t do this anymore, and with the alcohol numbing his common sense he didn’t think twice as he pulled his phone back out and opened up your message again, rechecking that you had in fact sent him those photos. And when he saw that you had, obscene photos still filling up his screen, he clicked the phone button and gave you a call.

He swore you weren’t going to answer him as the ring droned out, but when it cut off and all he heard is silence, he held his breath, wide eyes focusing on the cars driving on the street in front of him.

“Hi.” 

Oh fuck.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He spoke out so softly, pleading into the phone as he grabbed a chunk of his hair in between his fingers.

“Would you rather I didn’t?” you hummed, phone pressed against your shoulder and ear as you lazily trailed a finger up and down your stomach.

“No!” he shouted, wincing when he saw other club goers give him an odd look. “No, but why me? We haven’t even spoken lately.”

“We’re speaking right now.”

He remained silent, not knowing how to respond to you, but he keeps the phone pressed against his ear, the soft sound of you breathing being the only noise he hears—until there's a small moan. It makes his blood run cold, eyes slipping shut as he imagined why you had made that noise.

“What are you doing?” He finds himself getting the courage to ask, enjoying the small laugh you let out as you admitted to touching yourself, so nonchalant and carefree about the fact that you were still the leading cause to his blue balls.

Taehyung was slightly tipsy, his mind whirling as he pictured your fingers sinking into your pussy like they had that night, the pretty sounds you had let out as your mouth was stuffed full of his cock and he groans. “Do you really enjoy making me suffer?”

“Oh, are you suffering?” you cooed into the receiver. “You know all you have to do is say it.”

He knew this, oh god did he know this and right now he’s way too lost in it all to even feel the embarrassment or unsureness he usually does when he’s around you, so he asks—no begs—to finally fuck you. “Please, please let me fuck you Y/N.”

Your own eyes shut as he said this, fingers coming back up to rest on your stomach while you sat up in your bed with a smile on your face, focusing on the object beside your bed. “Okay, I’ll let you, if you let me try something on you first.”

Taehyung doesn’t even care to ask what the hell you meant by that, his mind already set on fucking you, and when he agreed without a second thought you text him your address, your head whirling at whats to come.

Taehyung didn’t even realize when he got to your place, running on autopilot fueled by pure hormones as he got into the taxi and managed to somehow get to your apartment in one piece.

His fingers were shaking slightly as he punched in the code you had given him, the main door buzzing as it unlocked, and it's then that it hits him, he's actually here. He had actually voiced his want for you and now he was here, fuck.

You sat patiently on your living room couch, a soft oversized shirt on as you waited for him to make his way up. You had buzzed him in about a minute ago, so when you heard the soft thud of footsteps approaching in the hallway, you knew it was him.

The gentle knock against your door had you hopping up from your spot, slowly approaching it and pressing your eye against the peep hole to catch a glance at him. He stood a foot or so away, eyes squinting at his phone and back up at the number to make sure it was the right place, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of a neighbor. 

Once you pulled open the door, you could tell he was nervous, hair a little messy on top of his head and face looking slightly flushed, but he stood up straight and gave you a smile.

“Hi,” he utters out, walking into your place when you stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. He half expected your apartment to look like a sex dungeon, dark and dim, covered in leather with a sex swing in the corner, but its surprisingly normal.

The soft pastel pinks and oranges greeting him is definitely not what he imagined but he likes it, his eyes locking onto a watermelon plushie with button eyes tucked into the edge of your couch.

“Taehyung, do you want some water?” you offer, wanting to ease him into this, but he just shakes his head, turning back around to face you and it's then that he realized you’re only wearing a shirt.

“If you’re drunk we don’t have to do this right now.”

Taehyung heard you loud and clear, but he can’t look away from your chest, every time he blinks he could see the image of your tits thanks to the picture you had graciously provided him with. It’s killing him because he knew you were currently bare underneath the thin shirt you have on.

To be honest he wasn’t drunk, barely even tipsy, the small amount of liquor he consumed tonight was way less than his normal amount. He felt woozy enough around you on a normal day, but he knew he definitely wasn’t too drunk to do what he had come here to do.

“No, I’m good. I swear.”

The determination in his tone was very clear but you still waited for him to stop blatantly staring at the way your nipples poked through the fabric of your shirt, until finally his gaze locked with yours, following behind you as you led the way to your bedroom.

When he entered your room his eyes were drawn to your bed, fluffy and inviting, draped in a soft peach duvet with light pillows, but knowing the absolutely filthy things you most likely did on it killed the small sense of innocence he initially felt. Especially when he spots the hitachi wand resting pretty at the edge of the bed.

You were staring at his profile when he spotted it and you saw the way he swallowed, wide eyes bulging out as he analyzed the toy. Was this what you had been using when you answered his phone call? He wasn’t sure, he hadn’t heard anything in the background...maybe it was one of those fancy zero noise ones.

When he heard you giggle he snapped out of it, turning to face you with curious eyes. 

“Have you never seen one?” Taehyung remained silent as he thought, but it's pretty clear he hadn’t. There was never time for sex toys with one night stands in random houses, sure he had seen them in porn but real life felt different. He wished he had, he didn’t want to use this on you and fumble around and make a bigger fool of himself.

“I take it you’ve never used one then?” you ask again as you walk over to it, picking it up gently in your hands and approaching Taehyung thanks to the fact that it was wireless.

He could only shake his head, staring at it in your grasp as your fingers glided over the plastic handle, your thumb flicking it on and smiling when the low hum filled the room. It's on the lowest setting but that didn’t stop you from beginning to get excited.

“Would you let me try this on you Taehyung?”

He looked utterly confused by your question, not at all expecting to be on the receiving end of this. What did you mean by that?

“You mean like shove it up my ass?” He could see you trying not to laugh at him, biting your lip as you shook your head. 

“No, it's not a dildo Tae. Use it here.” You reached out until it was gently pressed against his crotch, the wand buzzing over his jeans. He let out a grunt at the feeling, head dropping down to stare at the white silicone head weakly vibrating on him, taking a moment to get over the initial shock. He chalked it up to being slightly under the influence, but he really wanted you to turn it up.

It was clear to see how mesmerized he was by the device so you flicked it up a level, relishing in the small gasp he let out as his jaw dropped. It was barely a flutter of pleasure, but something about it excited him, had him craving more so he looked up at you, glassy eyes and all. 

“You can do whatever you want to me.” He felt no shame when he told you that, groaning once more when you applied a hint of pressure against him.

The way your body reacted to his words was pure instinct, him admitting to letting you do as you please unhinged you. He saw it in the way you bit your lip, your eyes roaming his face until they dragged down his body, landing on his now half hard cock with the vibrating head of the wand still pressing against it.

“Fuck, please,” he begged, and when you retract the wand he almost takes it back. That is, until you were pulling him in, one hand tugging at his shirt until he's flushed against you, your lips meeting his in a frenzy, swallowing the moan he let out into the kiss. His hands stayed at his sides, not sure if he was allowed to touch you again considering you had told him not to last time, and you smirked when you realized it. Taehyung knew he would only be able to touch you if he deserved it, your words being engraved in his brain, and he was planning on earning that tonight.

“Good boy, you remembered.” you whispered out, lips brushing against his as you spoke. His eyes remained shut, the only indication that he heard being the small nod he gave you. Your hand inched up from the grasp you had in his shirt until you’re cupping his cheek gently.

“You see what happens when you’re good?” You kissed him again, pulling back once he started to press harder into you. “You get rewarded.” His breath shuddered against your face at the promise of being rewarded, and you smiled while reaching down to grab his hand and gently tugged him closer towards your bed, your right hand still holding the wand loosely by your side as he followed along.

“Do you want me–“ he paused to take a breath when you turned back around to face him. “Do you want me to strip?” His voice sounded so soft, unsure if asking you was the right thing to do, but him asking you this showed you that you’d managed to create another sliver in his outer shell. One step closer to cracking him.

You gave him another gentle kiss, nodding as you stepped back from him, eyes trained on his body while he began to tug at the black shirt he had tucked into his jeans, the material slowly sliding off his body and revealing his tan skin.

He didn’t feel uneasy at your staring this time around, being able to tell you’re clearly enjoying the view of him slowly undressing, your eyes focusing on his cock as it sprung out when he slid out of his briefs. Your hand clutched onto the wand a little tighter, fingers hovering over the power button with newfound enthusiasm, eager to make him squirm at the new sensation. And when he took  it upon himself to settle onto your bed without you having to ask, you withheld the urge to clap in excitement.

Taehyung waited with baited breath when you kneeled onto the bed, shuffling your way up his body and setting the toy by his side, his body flinching slightly when the cool plastic touched his skin as it rolled on the bed. Resting your weight on your left hand, settled by his shoulder while your right hand softly cupped his cheek as you inched closer. His eyes looked at your lips before looking back down to his own hands, an unspoken question hanging off his tongue.

“My hands?” Is all he managed to get out, the rest of the question dying when he made eye contact but you only raised your brows up, making him realize he needed to be more specific. “Do you want them grabbing the headboard again?”

Leaning forward to kiss him once more, you smirked, witnessing how such a simple question could embarrass him so much due to him being in a different position than he was used to. “Ideally I’d want them cuffed and behind your back.” He shut his eyes at your words, cock throbbing as he pictured himself the way you wanted him. “But not today. Just keep them on the bed. Can you do that?”

Taehyung felt your lips press against his again and he nodded. “Y-yeah, yeah I can.”

He could feel you hum against his skin, the hand that was cupping his cheek beginning to trail down his chest, passing his navel until you reached his dick, fingers wrapping around him and beginning to slide your palm up and down. “Good.”

He sighed into your mouth as your hands squeezed around the base of his cock, twisting as it came up in a slow motion, wanting to ease him into the pleasure of it so as to not scare him when you grab the wand again. It only took a few minutes until he’s kissing you more relaxed, body sagging into the bed as he grunt softly into your mouth whenever you focused on his swollen tip; and that's when you reached over to your bedside table, grabbing the bottle of lube you had with your lips still attached to him.

They separate with a light smack, and you rest back onto his thighs, taking a moment to take him in, the way he’s laid out on your bed, chest heaving slightly while his weeping dick sat against his stomach. He watched you intently as you uncapped the lube you have, dropping a generous amount into your palm and wrapping it around his cock again. Taehyung hissed at the cool sensation, stomach tensing when you began a fluid motion only set on spreading the liquid, but he still groaned because he knew what was next.

You tried not to let the overt excitement show on your face when you reached over and grabbed the wand once more, thumb flicking it on to the lowest setting and pressing it against his thigh first, observing the way he jumped slightly at the sensation. “I know you’ve never used this before,” you start, trailing the vibrating head up onto his stomach and back down to his other thigh, dipping down slightly towards the center but staying off his cock. “So, you need to tell me if you feel uncomfortable at any moment okay?”

His thighs are tensing up already, getting desperate to feel something, anything. “Like a safe word?”

“Sure,” you hummed, staring back at his face and seeing the distraught look on it. He wasn’t sure why the idea of a safe word sent his mind into a flurry, he had never used one and having to think of one that he’d remember seemed almost impossible at the moment. “Or we can make it easy. You know traffic lights?”

He nodded. “Great. If you say green everything's going good, yellow is if you start to feel uncomfortable or need me to slow down, red is if you need me to stop completely. You say these at any time.”

You’re continuing to tease him as you explained this and Taehyung rested his head back, not wanting to see you as you clearly avoided giving his dick any attention. 

“Okay, I got it. Green,” he groaned out, and you just chuckled, finally pressing the head of the vibrator against his cock. The low vibrations started at the base and his stomach tensed at the feeling, a tiny whine escaping him, hands having to resort to clutching your sheets again to stop himself from grabbing you and forcing you to switch it up a level.

The head of the vibrator bent slightly as you applied more pressure, thumb flicking it up two levels and enjoying the way he cursed, his head lifting back up to stare in awe as you slowly dragged it up an inch before coming back down, passing it right over his balls briefly. 

“Oh shit,” he keened, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, not being able to thrust up into it because you were still resting on his thighs.

“Aren’t you glad you told me yes?” you asked teasingly, sliding it up until it was nuzzled right against his frenulum before kicking it up another two levels. His reaction had you dripping against his thighs, arm muscles taut from how hard he’s grabbing the duvet, stomach caving in as he moaned out unabashedly. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, “yes, I am.” Taehyung had no idea something like this could feel so good, he was so accustomed to hearing women talking about vibrators and he thought it was a load of shit. Clearly he had been very, very wrong. 

Even though you’re focusing it on the underside of his tip, slowly raising the levels up until he’s squirming, he felt like his whole lower body was vibrating. The telltale signs of his orgasm creep up on him, the feeling only increasing when your fingers wrap around his shaft and you hold the vibrator against his swollen tip. The fluttering feeling of pressure building up becoming more consistent, his breath leaving him in huffs as he tried to force it away.

You can tell by the way his body started to tense up, your finger turning it up another level to push him further. “Are you gonna cum already? I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

He whined loudly, desperately trying to sink his hips into the bed to ease the pressure but your hands followed his movements, his head whipping to the side as he scrunched his face up. “Fuck, I do–I do want to fuck you, god–“ he gasped out when you started to circle the head of the toy around his tip, the rolling pleasure becoming too much. “Unghh, please let me f-fuck you.”

His stomach began to shudder more aggressively, hips wiggling around and you smirked down at him, his face finally turning back up to stare at the ceiling, his brows pulled together tightly with unshed tears prickling his waterline. “Hold it Taehyung.”

He nearly sobbed at your demand, taking in a deep breath as he shut his eyes once more, forcing himself to try to tune out his nearing release. His heart feels tight in his chest, blood thrumming so loud in his head, eyes burning as the tears finally spill over. But it’s too late, the tingling feeling had started to spread throughout his body and he knew he was a few seconds away from blowing his load.

Taehyung let out a pained moan. “Fuck I can’t, y-yellow, yellow!” You let go of his cock, the vibrator lowering in intensity before easing off and going back to trail on his stomach and thighs as his close release faded away, letting him whimper as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry.”

After a moment you switched the toy off entirely and set it aside on the bed, soft hands running along his skin to help calm him down, reaching up to gently wipe away his fallen tears. “Don’t be sorry, you did good.”

He sighed in relief, glad that he hadn’t ruined it by not being able to hold off his orgasm, he tried the best he could but the only way he wanted to cum was after he sank into you.

You gave him another minute to come down, easing off of his thighs to tug your shirt off of your body, the material landing in a heap on the floor and that grabbed Taehyung's attention. He looked at your body with desire, wanting to reach out and grab you, kneading your flesh as he cupped your tits and ass, but he's done so well so far so he holds himself back. The only daring touch he allowed is his thumbs gently rubbing against your knees as they rest on either side of his thighs.

You let the touch slide as you bent forward and kissed him, reaching over to the bedside drawer and pulling out a condom. Leaning back from him, you tear it open with your teeth and slowly ease it onto his throbbing cock, hearing him groan when your hands add a bit of pressure at his base once it's fully rolled on.

“You okay?” you ask softly. He looked dazed out, no longer tipsy from his earlier adventure but his mind was working on overdrive, the abundance of fantasies he’s had of you are coming to fruition. He was finally going to know what it felt like to actually fuck you, and he was scared his excitement would make him cum a minute in, especially after he had forced his last orgasm away.

“Yeah, just–“ he swallowed harshly, letting his head fall back into the plush pillows. “Give me a minute please.” You smirked at the slightly pained expression on his face, but you hummed anyways, letting his dick lay back above his stomach as you leaned forward and opted for kissing him softly, fingers slowly trailing through his hair to help calm him down.

Taehyung shivered as your nails gently scraped down until you reached his neck, his hips beginning to rut up against you, clearly being ready to continue.

“Please,” he starts again, groaning as you tugged his lower lip between your teeth, letting it snap back gently. “Let me fuck you. I’ve been good right?” He still felt his face flush at his own words but a strange sense of pleasure also coursed through him when you nodded in response.

Your hand reached down between your bodies, grabbing his cock to tease around your entrance. “Yes Tae, you’ve been very good.” He held his breath as you started to ease down onto him, the both of you groaning at the pleasant stretch of your walls, his jaw dropping while he kept his eyes glued at the sight of his thick cock parting your lips.

“Holy shit,” he gasped out when you fully sank onto him, giving him a moment as you rested your hands on his chest, biting your lip at how full you felt.

Kim Taehyung’s dick lived up to its name, long and girthy with the prettiest veins running along the underside of it, the slightest curve of it allowing it to gently nudge along the sweet patch inside of you. It filled you up perfectly, leaving you stunned above him as you adjusted to his size. 

When his breathing evened out, you peeked a glance at him, his forehead slightly damp from the earlier teasing. He looked so utterly fucked out and desperate and it urged you on; you were determined to crack him, show him how great this could be, and so far he seemed more than willing to let go of control.

As you start a slow rhythm, you wished you could bind his wrists behind his back, strapped into a chair, wrapped up in the pretty red rope you used to use on Jungkook, or even drape your favorite blindfold over his eyes like you used to with Hwasa;  but you didn’t want to push him further, you were letting him dip his toe into this.

Taehyung was so used to being in control, so used to being the one in charge of giving for himself, and when he had heard the way you spoke to him: praising him for behaving, all giggly and soft after you had made his mind blank from an orgasm, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to his normal.

His thumb was still grazing your knees, every time he flicked them upward on your skin he could feel your muscles tense as you lift yourself off of him and snap back down, the sound of your skin slapping together filling up the room. They mixed in with your soft moans, nearly concealing how affected you were by this, hiding the small cries of pleasure felt from the tip of his cock nudging the sweetest spots deep within you. 

Taehyung could feel his blood buzzing in his ear, the feeling of being buried inside of you going beyond what he ever thought, his heart continuing to pound when he felt you tighten around his length.

“Is this worth you leaving whoever you were with earlier tonight?”

Your words caught him off guard for a moment, having to clear the heady feeling in his brain, and he took a moment to wonder how you knew he was with someone, but then your fingers came to prod at the hickeys littering his neck.

Half moons marked his skin as your nails came down to his chest, lightly digging into his skin and he hissed, hips thrusting up slightly. “Shit, I–“ he whined when you began to grind against him, slow rocks of your hips letting him feel the glide of your walls against his cock. “Yes, so worth it.”

You let yourself lean more against his chest, tits pressed along his skin as you brought your face closer. “Do you think she would’ve been able to make you feel this good?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it, immediately shaking his head. “No—fuck, just you.”

You pressed a kiss directly underneath one of the hickeys, leaning back again and cupping your breasts, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you resumed bouncing on top of him. Sinful slaps of your skin connecting fill up the room like it belonged there, arousal gushing out of you when he whimpers at the visual of you riding him. 

The whiny pleas he let out proved he’s edging close to his release again, making a heat pool in your gut, and he shocks you when he requests for you to place your hands around his throat. He had always been interested in choking, albeit he always imagined he’d be the one with his hands wrapped around someone but this felt right, your thumb and middle finger pressing into his carotid artery had all the stars aligning in his eyes.

Your eyes widened at his reaction, not expecting him to be bold enough to ask for this considering it took him this long to tell you he wanted to fuck you, but you’d take it. You’d take his half lidded gaze as you applied pressure on his neck, his stomach caving in slightly everytime you slid back down on his length, your walls squeezing him deliciously as he neared his end; you’d take all of it. .

He could feel his mind going hazy, drifting up as every nerve in him tingled, hyper fixated on the repeated raunchy, wet sound of you riding him. Taking note of his floaty appearance, you sped up your pace, tightening up around him as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly. “You feel so good Taehyung, cum for me.”

He shivered slightly at your words, your hands squeezing a little tighter against his neck, and suddenly he's cumming. His body was set alight as the feeling caught him by surprise, eyes bulging out and a choked gasp leaving his mouth when you released his throat.

He let out a loud moan of your name, rutting his hips up into you as his dick twitched and filled up the condom, spine sparking with pleasure as you continued to rut against him. “Oh fuck,” he cried out, his hand coming up to tangle into his hair while the small after shocks of his orgasm hit him.

When you reached over to grab the forgotten hitachi wand, his mind blanks, seeing you continuing to grind against his still hard dick as you pressed the head of the wand against your clit had him at a loss.

Fuck you’re hot.

When you smiled down at him, your mouth dropping open slightly when you found the sweet spot, he realized he uttered that out loud. Another groan of his spilled out again when he felt the vibrations against his own cock from how high you had the settings.

You give up on fucking him, letting his cock stay nuzzled deep inside of you as you pressed one hand against his ribs while you hunched over and moaned. The intensity of the vibrator had your whole body trembling, buzzing directly against your swollen clit with precision, making your velvety walls pulse around his sensitive cock. 

The feeling of your orgasm came on strongly, your hand pressing the toy harder against you, and Taehyung felt like he could cum again as you tightened your walls around him, the sensation making him softly rut up into you.

“Oh god, fuck Taehyung,” you gasped out, throwing your head back as your orgasm finally hit you. All Taehyung could do was stare at you in a daze as you came undone, small whimpers leaving your lips as your hips twitched, chasing the pleasure until you were sighing and shutting off the toy, body still trembling from the aftershocks. 

When you tossed it aside you stayed sat on him, breath heaving as you hunched over him slightly. His hands that were on your knees fully came up onto your thighs to gently massage them, wanting to comfort you, the mutual understanding that he was allowed to touch you after sex being passed between you. 

After a minute, you slowly eases yourself off of his soft length, pulling off the condom and tossing it into the bin beside the bed.

Taehyung was entirely spent. Tonight had felt like the longest night of his life, and his eyes were drifting shut when he felt you straddle him again, your arms resting on his chest as you stared up at his sleepy form.

His eye cracked open and he grinned at you when he saw the look on your face; it was the sweet smile you wore when you were up to no good. The fingers on your left hand gently spelled your name on his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, your chin rested on top of your arm and you laughed when you saw his eyebrow raise up in question.

“What?” he asked. You were clearly out of the mood that made you want to bind and tease Taehyung until he was crying, wanting to reassure him and make sure he was comfortable after doing things you knew he wasn’t used to with your soft touches.

You hummed softly as you stared into his eyes. “Kim Taehyung is into choking huh?”

His face flushes immediately as he replays his request in his mind, and you pat his chest to get him to stare at you, a small frown on your face at his clear embarrassment. “Hey, it wasn’t a tease. It’s hot.”

Taehyung raised both brows now, staring at you like you had said something absolutely foreign to him. Tonight was a night of firsts and realizations, who knew Taehyung loved the feeling of a vibrator on his cock, and who knew he had a kink for your hands around his throat. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” you mused, lifting up slightly to inch closer to his face. “Seeing you squirming while I choked you was the hottest thing.”

He could only stare at you, the gears in his head turning as he thought of what just happened. He never imagined he’d be into giving someone control like that. Taehyung knew it was minuscule, but this was all new to him and he loved it already, his brain wondering how much further you could take it.

“You know, I’m kinda into it.” He looked away from you as he said this, still not confident in admitting it and he knew it was silly, especially when he could see how much hearing these words lit your face up.

Your eyes shut when he admitted to this; it always felt like finding gold when you got a man to confess to enjoying this. So many men were always afraid to admit to liking how it felt when a girl took control over them, no matter how subtle, and Taehyung was someone you thought would be a little harder to break down.

“Are you?”

He hummed, his hands finally coming up higher to touch you and his warm grip caught you off guard. But he takes his time as he trails his fingers up and down your sides, gliding across your back, sliding them into your hair and tugging you closer until he’s kissing you, the first time he’s ever taken control of any situation.

He relished in the small gasp you let out as he licked the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping in and massaging against yours slowly for a brief moment until he’s pulling back. Taehyung realized that this is the longest conversation you two have had in person, and the first one where he didn’t feel like a babbling idiot.

“Is there more we can try next time?” he wondered softly, nudging your noses together and kissing you again briefly.

Your mind was already picturing how he’d look tied up, cock swollen and dripping with a cockring sat snuggly around his base, maybe a thick collar around his neck. You could ease him into trying out some of the floggers you have, or tempt him into wax play, maybe ice cubes if he was wary of the wax. So many ideas that had you squirming on top of him with anticipation, and when he saw that look on your face he found himself smiling with you.

“Oh, there's so much Taehyung. You just have to tell me what you’re comfortable with.” Your fingers are raking through his own hair now as he leaned into the touch. “Can you do that?”

When your fingers tugged the strands, he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Pressing your lips against his again, he feels you smirk against his skin, the small sharpness of your teeth sinking into his lip making him groan. “Good boy.”

[greenygreenland]

Date: Jean Havoc x Reader (w/ Big Brother Roy Mustang)

REQUESTED

-PRETEND ROY IS YOUNGER FOR THE SAKE OF THIS ONE-SHOT (say, like 20-ish) -sorry this took so long. I had an internship and it got a little crazy

-idc about the timeline because this is a one-shot and i’m not gonna use my big brain lmaooo

Summary: Overprotective Roy? Yes. You’re dating Jean Havoc and your bro watches your first date from the shadows.

Nervous. That was the first emotion you felt when you stepped out of the front door. Today was a big day, maybe more so than you’d like to believe. The sun shimmered overhead, where the sparse clouds drifted lazily across the sky. “Bye, Roy,” you called. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock.”

Roy was your elder brother by four years. If a guard dog had a human personification, it would definitely be him. For all your life, he wrote himself off as the responsible sibling. He acted like his grades were better than yours, like he was the one to take out the trash, or finish all the dishes before cockroaches decided to make home in them.

Anyone would have thought that to be true. After all, Roy was young and rose up the military ranks at an alarming rate. But you knew better, along with his close colleagues. Roy was stupid, overprotective, and impulsive. He would do anything that interested him, and if it didn’t, he’d pay no mind to it.

You prayed your brother would pay no mind today.

The front door slammed open with a creak. “Where do you think you’re going?” Roy inquired. He squinted at you as if you were about to do something stupid. “And what are you wearing? I hope you have shorts under that.” You rolled your eyes and adjusted the purse slung over your shoulder. 

This sun dress was a gift from Jean for your (age) birthday. The skirt flowed in the passing breezes like a flower, illuminating all the vibrant colours under the rays of sun. It was a beautiful dress. If Roy thought otherwise, you’d make him understand. “It’s called a dress, doofus.” you sarcastically replied. “Not like you’d know when you only see Riza in the Command Centre. Poor you. Haven’t gotten the chance to see her in a skirt, huh?”

Roy averted his gaze to the sky with a haughty huff. “What are you talking about? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Heat rose up his cheeks. “If you’re implying I harbour romantic feelings for my First Lieutenant, then you’re--”

“A hundred percent correct.” you stated with a smug smirk. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock. Don’t burn down the house.” If Roy accidently did, you wouldn’t be surprised. He was the Flame Alchemist, and above all, your stupid big brother.

“Where are you going (Y/n)?” Roy called. You flung your hair over your shoulder with a bright smile that could have blinded even the sun. “A date, of course.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to rub salt in a wound. What Roy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But then you saw look on his face. Nevermind, it was totally worth it to rub in his face: jaw agape, eyes as wide as saucers, and shoulders hunched down.

Ah, it was good to be you.

The city bustled with life. With the sun shining, and the beauty of living in your palms, you trotted down the street. There was nothing that could ruin your date.

"Jean!" Your tone was light as a laugh escaped your lips. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a while." 

Cherry red dusted his cheeks. He stuffed the unlit cigarette into his pocket and offered you a hand. In his other, he placed a single (f/c) flower between your hairclips. "I saw you yesterday," he said with a bashful smile. "What do you mean it's been a while?" You bumped shoulders playfully and intertwined your fingers together. "Hyperbole, Jean."

"Well, it's one hyperbole too many." He remarked with a grin. "Do you want to have sandwiches today or a hot meal?" You shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. It was comfortable to have him hold you like this as you made your way down the street. He always had this secure way of linking your arms with his.

Off to the side, Roy couldn't say the same. It wasn’t like he planned on following you. Curiosity just swept him out of the house. And besides, what you didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt, right? Right.

Roy wished Jean didn’t hold you like you were some stuffed animal. For all he knew, Jean was just playing you. It wouldn't be the first when he had over fifteen other girls in the past four months. If Jean broke your heart, he'd be sure to fry the man up to a crisp. "Damn him," Roy grumbled. He pulled down his fedora and adjusted the glasses over his nose. "What makes him think he can touch (Y/n) like that?"

You suddenly laughed loudly at some joke. “Stop!” you cried, playfully smacking his arm. “That’s the worst one I’ve heard all week!” 

Roy slinked out of the shadows with a low huff. He shouldn't have worn such a thick jacket. It had to be over twenty something degrees today. But that was no matter because you were being whisked away to the park--by Jean! Roy hurried down the street. Since when did you get lunch? And what was Jean going to do to you?

"The park's a good place." you noted. “Let’s go there.” The bag from Sally's Sandwiches hung from Jean's arm. It swung back and forth as he happily pranced along the street with you hand in hand. "Good thing I remembered to bring a blanket this time. We can sit under that tree."

Oh, what was Jean going to do to you? Roy couldn't stand the thought of you walking with him like that. There had to be an ulterior motive to this 'date'. Maybe Jean wanted to leech off you for money, or maybe he would try seducing you in the park? Roy shook his head. No, no.

Jean wasn't a bad guy. Maybe Roy was thinking too far ahead. But what if he wasn’t? What if Jean pulled some sneaky plan?

You crossed the street just as a car wildly swerved. Its tires screeched against the road like nails on a chalkboard, grinding against stone until it came your way. Roy frantically popped out of his hiding space. "What kind of idiot would--"

Suddenly, you slammed a hand into the ground. The stone transmuted, blocking the car from any unnecessary collisions. It smacked straight into the wall, smoke and steam rising from its engine. "(Y/n)!" cried Jean. "Are you okay?" He frantically placed a hand on either of your shoulders and looked you up and down. A smile rose to your lips. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

A sigh escaped Jean's lips. "That's good. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt." You placed a gentle hand to his cheek and pecked it (Roy wanted to gag). "I'm an Alchemist. It'd be a shame if I went down by a car."

"Don't joke about that," Jean chastised. He hooked his arm with yours again and led you away from the screeching onlookers and police. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Roy blinked. Did he hear Jean right? 'I don't know what I'd do if I lost you'? What was that supposed to mean? “Look at them, being all lovey-dovey...” Roy continued after the couple. They passed through a field of forest green grass, where flowers bloomed in straight, uniform lines all around. It was a beautiful spot to have a picnic. 

You swung your arm, hand in hand with Jean. The sun kissed your heads from the Heaven’s, illuminating a bright happiness Roy couldn’t look away from. Urgh. He wanted to kick something, or better yet, set a tree on fire. How could you two look so perfect? You were only (age) and that was far too young to be dating. 

Besides, you had a career in the military. If your little ‘relationship’ was sealed with a ring, you’d be separated. “Did they even think that through?” Roy grumbled to himself. He gritted his teeth together and ducked behind a bush. 

“Excuse me sir.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder with a false smile. “Ah, what is it?” A little boy ball up and down in his hand. The glare on his face could have been intimidating, but Roy was Roy Mustang. He wouldn’t let some kid look down upon him. “Are you lost?”

The kid clutched the rock so tightly his knuckles turned white. “My mama said to watch out for creepy people. I think you fit well, Mr. Pervert.” He took a step back and launched the ball at Roy’s head. “Take that!”

“What are you talking about?!” Roy exclaimed. He jumped out of the bushes and brushed the leaves from his jacket. Boy, it was getting terribly hot in the sweltering heat. Poor Roy found himself losing what little patience remained. “I’m not a creep, kid! Where are your parents? If I was a creep, you would have been kidnapped already. I’m just trying to make sure my sister...!”

At that very second, you so happened to come to a stop. At that very second, you so happened to stare. At that very second, you so happened to recognise a face among strangers.

Roy was royally screwed. 

The little kid pointed at Roy as if he were the most wanted criminal in all of Amestris. “Lady!” he screeched. “I saw this guy watching you since you got here! He’s a creep! Call the cops!” Jean squinted at Roy. At first, he actually believed the kid was telling the truth. What kind of normal person wore a winter coat, a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses if not to deal drugs in the alleyways?

“Hold up...” Jean blinked owlishly. “Colonel, is that you?!”

You released Jean’s arm. “Oh, it’s him alright.” A menacing glare rose to your face as you cracked your knuckles. What was Roy supposed to do? The wrath of his sister was not something he could brace himself for, especially when she could be just as impulsive as Edward Elric.

Roy waved his arms in denial. “I don’t know what that kid’s talking about. I just happened to pass by, and in the process, I ended up dropping my wallet, which turned out to be in the bushes, so--”

“Save it.” You cracked your knuckles and pulled on a glove. “It’s time to crank up the heat, because we’re having fried Alchemist tonight.”

Anger. That was the only emotion you felt as you chased your big brother around the park. Today was supposed to be a big day. You planned to walk around, maybe go shopping, and spend the night wandering around with Jean for a whole day. But no. Your stupid, idiotic, big brother had to be the creepy party crasher.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[mandelene]

If you're still taking requests, can I have ℧ with Arthur please 👀

You sure can! 💕

The Tea Party and the Promise-Breaker

Word Count: 1690

“But you said you were gonna play tea party with us!”

“I know, darling, but I’m quite tired and—”

“You promised!” Amelia screeches.

Arthur swears he feels something in his skull rattle. He did promise, but that was before he worked three 16-hour shifts at the hospital and started to feel unwell. He woke up yesterday morning to a sore throat, but he refused to call out sick over something so trivial. Now, the sore throat is worse, his head hurts, his sinuses burn, and he can feel his nose beginning to run.

This is his first day off all week, and although he’d love to play with Amelia and Madeline, he simply doesn’t have the energy to entertain them. He wishes he could have a two-hour nap, but that won’t be possible since Francis is working until the early evening, which means Arthur is in charge of supervising their two six-year-olds for the day.

“You never want to play with us,” Amelia accuses him, sounding genuinely broken-hearted.

He knows it isn’t easy for the girls when he’s not home very often, and the last thing he wants is for them to think he doesn’t love or care about them—nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll join the tea party,” he surrenders, overwhelmed by guilt. “Would you girls like me to set the kettle?”

“We’re gonna have imaginary tea, Dad,” Amelia explains, a little exasperated by how out of the loop he is. “But you can bring your own tea if you want…And bring cookies, too!”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yaaaaay!” Amelia cheers, jumping up and down several times before grabbing Madeline’s hand and dragging her toward her room. “Let’s get all of the toys, Maddie!”

When the girls are out of sight, Arthur releases a cough he’s been suppressing and buries it into the crook of his arm. A tea party won’t be too labor-intensive at least. He’d rather sit down and drink tea with the girls than have to run around with them in the yard.

He makes himself a large mug of tea with honey and lemon. Then, he grabs whatever leftover pastries are in the fridge—Francis is always baking something for the girls, it seems like. Thankfully, he finds some chocolate chip cookies as well as financiers. He sets them on a plate, gathers extra silverware and napkins for the girls, and makes his way back up the stairs, clearing his aching throat along the way.

When he arrives at Amelia’s room, the little children’s activity table that she normally keeps against the wall has been moved to the center of the room, along with two children’s chairs and two beanbag chairs.

Arthur doesn’t particularly like the seating arrangement, but he knows better than to complain. He places the treats, napkins, and his tea on the table and makes himself as comfortable as he can in one of the beanbag chairs, letting his weight sink into it with a sigh.

Amelia and Madeline have lined up their teddy bears and dolls around the room, and Madeline seems to have drawn a sign on a poster board that proudly says, “MADDIE AND AMELIA’S TEA PARTY.” The text is surrounded by doodles of flowers, teacups, and stars.

“What a beautiful sign, Madeline,” Arthur compliments her.

She sheepishly smiles and hugs her favorite teddy bear, Kumajirou, against her chest. “Thank you…Daddy, you didn’t wear your tie. You were suppose’ta dress up for the tea party.”

He looks down at his attire and frowns. Yes, perhaps flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, slippers, and his gray bathrobe weren’t a great stylistic choice. Both of the girls are wearing dresses and tights. “My apologies, ladies. I can change, if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You just havta act like a gentleman,” Madeline instructs, and Arthur can’t help but smile at how endearing all of this is.

He should enjoy it while it lasts—the girls won’t be interested in having tea parties with him when they’re older. Although he’d rather be in bed, he’s glad he agreed to this.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he assures them before taking a sip of his tea.

“You havta stick your pinkie finger out,” Amelia reminds before pretending to pour tea for herself and Madeline from their children’s tea kettle and into plastic teacups.

Arthur puts his pinkie out and nods. “Ahh, how could I forget? So, tell me, has anything interesting been happening at school?”

Amelia immediately begins to talk about how some other girl in their class recently got a new bike, and how she feels awful that she’s six and a half years old and can’t ride a bike yet. “Will you teach me, Dad?”

“Of course, love. When summer comes we can think about it.”

“Promise?”

He’s learned his lesson about making promises. “We’ll see,” he says instead, ignoring the expression of disappointment on Amelia’s face. He takes a napkin from the table, excuses himself, and blows his nose softly, wincing at the ache in his sinuses…He’s feeling a bit feverish as well.

“Are you okay?” Madeline asks him, concerned.

“I’m just a bit under the weather,” he admits. “So, no hugging or kissing—I don’t watch you girls to catch this.”

Madeline doesn’t seem to be willing to let the subject go just yet. “Did you take medicine?”

“I will in a little while. Thank you, poppet.”

Amelia stands up and comes over to him to yank on his arm. “You havta go to bed, you’re sick. You always say we can’t play when we’re sick and havta rest, remember?”

Arthur feels his patience thinning, but having an excuse to lie down for a moment could be worth it.

“I can’t go to bed. I have to take care of you girls. It’ll be lunchtime soon, and I have to—”

“No, mister.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Amelia scolds him, and for a second, he forgets who the adult in the room is.

He picks up his mug of tea and begrudgingly follows Amelia back to the master bedroom, where he obediently lies down on his and Francis’s bed, groaning when his sore muscles meet the memory foam mattress.

“We’ll take good care of you!” Amelia exclaims, exuberant.

Arthur’s not too sure he’s looking forward to this, but as the girls go and conspire out in the hallway, he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment…Only a moment…He has to stay up to watch the girls…

The next time he opens his eyes, Amelia is poking a thermometer against his mouth, waking him from a very brief snooze.

“You’ve gotta take your temperature, Dad.”

Now that his body has had a taste of sleep, he feels absolutely exhausted. He takes the thermometer from her and puts it under his tongue, curious to see what the reading will be. When it beeps, he grimaces at the number taunting him. A hundred and two point seven. That’s thirty-nine degrees Celsius—enough to signal to him that this is probably more than a mere cold.

“Do you have a fever?” Madeline asks from the end of the bed, eyes shimmering.

“No,” he lies. “I’m fine, girls. It’s nothing to worry about…You should both return to the tea party. I’m going to rest here for a moment and—”

Amelia touches his forehead with her cold hand, and he shivers. “You need medicine.”

“I’m all right for now, girls. Really. Go back and play.”

To his surprise, the girls do leave, and he lets out a sigh of relief…That is, until he hears Amelia talking to someone over the house phone in the distance.

He jolts out of bed and dashes over to her, but it’s too late…

“Papa wants to talk to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Damn.

He takes the phone from her, feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach. “Hello?”

“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me before I left the house this morning that you were feeling ill?”

“I’m fine, Francis.”

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“You don’t—”

“See you then.”

And just like that, Francis hangs up.

Arthur puts the phone down and prepares his most intimidating scowl, ready to direct it at Amelia, but then she pulls on his arm again and says, “We can play tea party next time. Don’t worry. You’ll be all better soon.”

The scowl disappears and is replaced by a wistful smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sorry our plans have to be put on hold. I’ll make it up to you both, all right?”

The girls nod, and Arthur sends them off to finish the pastries that are still waiting for them in Amelia’s room. In the meantime, he finishes his tea and blows his nose again. He sucks on a cough drop and grits his teeth against the immense pressure in his sinuses. After seeing the color of his mucus, he’s willing to bet he has a sinus infection.

He leans against the headboard of the bed and falls asleep against his will.

-----------------------

“Come, mon amour—you’re going to have a sore neck and back if you stay like this. Lie down properly,” Francis coaxes him, bracing his head for him.

Arthur’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he lowers his head so that it’s on his pillow and lies flat on his back. “…You didn’t have to come home early.”

“I’m glad I did—you have a fever, and a high one at that,” Francis says, setting a damp hand towel on his feverish brow. “Did you really think you’d be able to tend to the girls when you’re like this? It’s dangerous. You should have told me.”

“…'m sorry,” Arthur mumbles, still incredibly tired. The towel on his head feels nice.

“You just wanted a reason to leave the tea party, didn’t you?” Francis jokes, brushing his hand against his warm cheek. “The girls told me about it.”

“Oh, of course. The next time I’m asked to play dress-up or ‘hair salon’ with them, I just may have to give myself bronchitis.”

Francis laughs and kisses the side of his head. “Conniving man.”

[sayonarasanity]

dandelion

summary:  Maybe, it was the fact that Levi was being a lesser bitch than usual recently, for almost four months actually and hell when he thought about it, Erwin was in fact relatively late to see the signs. But the signs were, to his credit, so transparent no one could blame him for not noticing them any time sooner. Because at first, he had believed that the reason why Levi was acting just a slightly bit kinder towards the people in the office, was perhaps the tea machine he had bought himself which was excellent at steeping tea and good tea always brought his spirits up. But now he suspects the reason might not be something that simple.

AO3

Erwin was quick to catch the signs.

The signs, however, were subtle also as fast to disappear. Like the bubbles on boiling water, there were plenty of them but only if you were observant and in Erwin’s case bored enough to catch them. And he didn’t even know if he was interpreting them correctly. Levi was, always had been quite a private man. Despite being friends with him for years there were still times he had to squint to pick up the altering lines of emotions on his face, or times he had to get him drunk for good for Levi to spill out what was bothering him lately. Fortunately, it wasn’t that hard to understand that something was in fact bothering him—he had a habit of being a bigger bitch than he already was at those times.

So maybe, it was the fact that Levi was being a lesser bitch than usual recently, for almost four months actually and hell when he thought about it, Erwin was in fact relatively late to see the signs. But the signs were, to his credit, so transparent no one could blame him for not noticing them any time sooner. Because at first, he had believed that the reason why Levi was acting just a slightly bit kinder towards the people in the office, was perhaps the tea machine he had bought himself, which was excellent at steeping tea and good tea always brought his spirits up. But now he suspects the reason might not be something that simple.

Apart from the tiny change in attitude, the first sign he caught was the umbrella or rather the lack of it.

“Morning,” he greeted as they both stepped inside the elevator. The rain had started simultaneously with the sunrise and hadn’t ceased since. It was a heavy one which caused the temperature to decrease a few degrees. And Erwin knew that this kind of weather was not Levi’s favourite. It was like the dark clouds were somehow linked to his mood, he was surprisingly fast to be affected by them, negatively. As an addition, he absolutely loathed being soaked and if he were to forget his umbrella or couldn’t find it before leaving the house then it was farewell to serenity for the day.

“Morning,” replied Levi, nodding and stood beside him as he pressed upon the button seven, leaving a drop of water slipping down through the buttons as he retreated his hand. And he combed his wet hair back, then used his hand to wipe the raindrops from his face which… didn’t work for both his face and his hand were almost equally wet. He must’ve walked the way from home to the subway then the way from the subway to work.

Erwin noticed that he had been staring not very subtly at Levi. “Forgot your umbrella again?” He asked, smiling to wipe the stupid look on his face.

Levi threw him a very brief glance and Erwin tensed involuntarily because here came the scolding. He was going to pay back trying to talk to a very soaked and a very grumpy Levi Ackerman—

“No.” Erwin blinked because he had actually answered and the tone of his voice was, well not the warmest of voices for sure, but it was at least neutral. “I lent it to a friend.”

“I see,” Erwin nodded, and the elevator stopped after seconds. And it was not until they both left the elevator, walk through the office and he chatted with colleagues on the way to his desk and hung his jacket then his umbrella that he noticed—

Yesterday, Levi had an umbrella.

It wasn’t raining yesterday but the weathercast on their phones was saying that it would start by the time they left work, hence Levi had come prepared, but it hadn’t rained. So, if he had lent it to someone it was either after work, which was unlikely, or it was this morning before he left for work.

Which meant, Erwin thought startlingly as he blinked at the soaked cloth of his own umbrella, that someone, his friend whoever they were, possibly had stayed the night. And the thing was just like how it was impossible to stop the raindrops in mid-air by mental force, it was just as unlikely for someone like Levi, who was so strict about his boundaries, and who had extremely firm rules about hygiene, to let a friend stay at his home. He didn’t even have that many friends, to begin with. Unless that friend was someone overly special, someone, whom he thought was worth flexing those boundaries. And through their years’ worth of friendship, Erwin had never encountered someone as such.

“No way,” he whispered, amused. He genuinely hoped that he wasn’t reading too much into it because Heaven knows he could use some fun especially if it was brought by famous Levi I-feel-nothing- Ackerman.

*

No matter how delightful to think it was, Erwin was not a man to jump to conclusions. The possibility of him making things up was obviously there, solidly. But it wasn’t like he was going to give up that easily. Gingerly, while trying hard not to expose himself, he followed the tell-tale hints as much as he could. Hints like him being more laid back, his features being more relaxed replacing the ever-present scowl every now and then. He was also somewhat absent at times and was looking at his phone more frequently than usual.

Levi was a firmly shut chest and not everyone had the key to open him. And contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a mean person per se. He was simply a little cold, distant and didn’t like to accept everyone in his life easily. Such demeanour was to be misinterpreted, rightfully so. But Erwin kind of saw it as a defence mechanism, plus for someone like Levi who had a complicated background, it was to be understood. To be honest, he was one of the nicest, tactful and merciful people Erwin had ever met and also the only one who had the ability to masterfully hide that softer side of him.

Yet, as the clues dropped bit by bit Erwin realized that recently he wasn’t that good at hiding it.

He was coming back from the kitchen having refilled his cup with fresh coffee just yet when he saw Levi sitting at his desk, his back facing him. Erwin’s desk was the one in front of Levi’s, just behind the divide that separated them. He took a sip from his coffee; the hot liquid burned his tongue, and the stream brushed his cheeks. And just as he lowered the cup and gulped down the coffee in his mouth, realizing that it wasn’t actually that fresh, he saw it.

The faint, barely visible, ghost of a smile on Levi’s lips while looking at something on his phone.

Erwin blinked a couple of times to make sure that it wasn’t the fog of the coffee that was playing with his vision. Then focused on his friend’s face to get a better look at it. It wasn’t like Levi never smiled, he did. Occasionally. But they were generally mocking, or amused, or belittling, and very rarely sneaky smiles. Not like this one which was curling the tips of his mouth upwards in an almost… oh, I’ll be damned, Erwin thought but it was clear as day, it was in an almost affectionate way.

As if noticing his shocked gaze, Levi locked his phone and just like that the tiny smile was gone, replaced by the regular scowl and blank stare. Hence, closing his mouth Erwin walked closer and sat down on his desk. Then placing his cup on top of the desk he looked at Mike, who was sitting next to him and was furiously typing on his keyboard. Yet, when he did notice his stare, he threw Erwin a questioning look along with a raised brow. But Erwin simply shook his head and got his attention back to his work.

Not yet.

*

The third and final sign which managed to persuade Erwin at the end was the phone call.

He was about to take a smoke break on the terrace when he saw Levi talking on his phone. Erwin wasn’t the type to listen to people’s conversations. He had very strict moral rules about the whole respect the privacy issues. But he was extremely bored and getting a little impatient about learning exactly what was going on with Levi—surely a simple way like directly asking him would solve his problem but he would very likely gain nothing with that. If Levi had wanted, he would have told him months ago.

So, he accidentally happened to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Use the shower too,” he was saying when Erwin stood behind him near enough to hear but far enough not to be noticed. “I don’t want you to get my furniture dirty.”

He couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the line was saying. He eyed Levi who was drawing a breath from his cigarette at the moment and put one between his lips as he watched cautiously. Levi then blew out the smoke and pinched his nose, seemingly irritated. “No,” he said. “No, dumbass. How many times do I have to tell you? Put the whites and blacks separately. Or best, don’t even touch the laundry. You’ll mess up my shirts.”

He tapped the end of his cigarette with his index finger causing the ashes to fly away with the wind. He listened to what they were saying for a while, drawing one or two breaths from the smoke he placed on his mouth. And when he turned his head a little to the side, Erwin saw that tiny, barely visible smile on his lips again. “Do it if you think you can. Just don’t burn my kitchen.”

Miracle. Had someone cast a spell upon him? He was offering his shower, his kitchen and almost his laundry to someone who was clearly not an expert on any of these things.

“Alright,” he said pressing the butt of the cigarette on the metal trash bin near him. “Will you stay the night?”

Erwin felt his brows shot upwards upon his question and he watched with even more shock the blush, the knots of red appearing on his cheeks. Blush! Had he accidentally stepped into an alternate reality?

“Dumbass,” he said once more, and Erwin caught it in his tone this time. Affection. “Stay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Only when Levi left the terrace without even a glance at Erwin and the trace of the smile still more or less evident on his lips, Erwin realized that he had forgotten to light up his cigarette.

Erwin didn’t really like gossip. He usually saw it as a waste of time, and he was too busy to involve in such dialogues anyway. So, he made sure to stay clear from the drama as much as he could.

But this time it was different.

He blamed it on the brain-numbing, boring texts that he had to redact and edit, and do the same each day to the texts which so very rarely changed in context. Boredom, he declared, was the perpetrator of his actions.

“Mike,” he whispered during the lunch break. Levi had left alone, saying that he had other things to do. “Hey.”

“What?” Mike asked, not taking his eyes away from the screen of his phone, locked on the game he was playing.

“I think,” Erwin started, checking his surroundings to make sure no one was near them. “I think Levi is seeing someone.”

Mike’s fingers on the screen froze and his eyes slowly travelled from his phone to Erwin. It lasted merely a couple of seconds for him to snatch the air pod from his ear, pause the game and move his chair closer to him. “Tell me more.”

And so, Erwin did. He told him about the lent umbrella, the affectionate smile, the little hints he picked up and finally the phone call he had just witnessed. Mike listened to him, humming and caressing his beard with his hand thoughtfully.

“What do you think?” Erwin asked, wondering if Mike had taken the same impressions as him or it was just Erwin who was actually reading too much into things because of the boring office life he had.

Mike hummed again, bending his lips down and squinting. “You said you saw him smiling affectionately?”

“Yes.”

“Was it creepy?”

“Well, no. Not really.”

“That should mean something, man,” Mike said. “Maybe he brought a cat?”

“He cannot possibly talk to a cat on the phone, Mike” Erwin pointed out. “And lend it his umbrella.”

Mike nodded, agreeing. Erwin rolled his eyes. It wasn’t his fault that he had no one else to gossip about Levi. “Who could they be then?” He asked. “Do you think we know them?”

Erwin shook his head. He couldn’t think of anyone Levi would be interested in. He never properly talked to the people in the office in the first place. “I don’t know.”

“We should find out,” Mike sounded excited as he said so and Erwin relaxed upon realizing that obviously, his interpretations were not that far-fetched.

“How?” To be frank, he too was very curious about the identity of the person who somehow managed to bring the softer side of Levi out in the daylight. Then, putting his more rational part into action, he said, “We can just ask him though.”

“But where’s the fun in that, Erwin?” Mike laid his head backwards and threw him a very disappointed stare. “We need some action and some movement here. I’m selling my soul to this computer every day in exchange for very little money. Also,” he raised a finger, eyes illuminating playfully. “Man, what if he is in love? Hilarious.”

“He is not a robot, you know,” Erwin said, feeling the need to defend his friend.

Mike shrugged and leaned back, turning himself left and right on his seat, lost in thought. “A wedding would do,” he murmured to himself then snapped his fingers. “Nile!”

“What about him?”

“He is getting married this weekend?” He raised his brows at Erwin like he couldn’t believe how he forgot the fact that their old friend was getting married to his very first love.

“Yeah,” Erwin nodded, stopping himself from wrinkling his face as if he tasted something sour in his mouth. “Right.”

Mike put his elbow on his desk and rested his chin on his palm, watching him. “You plan on coming?”

“Sure.” Marie was a rusty and old memory he had left in the past which he would cherish for the rest of his life. But no matter the history he was happy for them both.

“If Levi comes, he might bring the mysterious significant other too, don’t you think?”

Erwin hummed, not a bad idea. “Yeah, actually.”

Mike grinned and stretched his long arms above his head. “Let’s wait and see.”

*

Levi came to the wedding alone.

Mike and Erwin silently exchanged glances between each other throughout the ceremony but didn’t dare to talk about it out loud. Levi was most of the time busy with his phone, typing. And when he wasn’t they chatted among themselves about work, finance, politics and sports but it never came to anything about the significant others which the two men obviously didn’t have.

Towards the end of the night, after bidding their farewell and congrats to the happy couple Mike offered to go to a bar to have a couple of drinks. Erwin accepted as he had nothing better to do anyway other than maybe starting The Office all over again. He seriously needed something that wouldn’t make him remember his work.

To their surprise, Levi accepted the offer too. And an even bigger surprise came after when the three of them got into Mike’s car to get to the place he had been nagging them about. “A friend of mine might join us later,” he said. “Would that be a problem?”

A quick, excited and wide-eyed exchange of looks with Mike later, Erwin replied, “Why would it be a problem?” He smiled at Levi who was sitting in the back seat.

“It would be great!” Mike exclaimed, and Erwin glared at him, warning. “Do we know them?”

“No, you don’t,” Levi replied curtly. And that was the end of the conversation.

The place Mike took them was freshly opened, clean and not so crowded. They settled on a seat near the window, ordering their drinks. Erwin could tell from the way Levi traced his eyes around the bright floors, polished marbles, and the altering lights that he had liked it.

“So, who is that friend of yours?” Mike asked, his eyes following Levi like a lion slowly getting closer to its prey.

“You’ll find out when she comes here,” came the brief and clear reply. Levi’s eyes were sharp as if indicating that he wouldn’t fall for any of his wordplays.

“You’re no fun,” Mike muttered with dismay as he raised his glass to his lips.

“Ask me if I care.”

“Do you?” Mike asked with an annoying smirk.

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry, I’m late!” A loud, cheerful voice interrupted their bickering. Then a slender, brown-haired woman sat down next to Levi. There was a smile blindingly wide on her lips, oval-shaped frameless glasses were a little slipped down on her nose, and the eyes behind the lenses were a light shade of brown, almost hazel. Her hair was sloppily tied, and the strands that covered her face looked smooth.

And under the curious gazes of the two men, she leaned forward to leave a peck on Levi’s cheek.

Levi coughed and flushed, then tried to hide it behind his glass, taking a long sip from his drink. “This is Hanji,” he said after putting the glass down on the table, but he had failed at wiping the redness away from his cheeks. “Hanji, this is Erwin and Mike. My co-workers.”

“Hanji Zoe,” she beamed at them as she extended her hand to shake their hands. “Levi told me a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Erwin couldn’t help but be somewhat taken aback.

“Well, on the contrary,” Mike spoke up, voicing Erwin’s confusion. “He never told us about you.”

Hanji glanced at Levi who raised a brow at them. “You never asked.”

Wait. Was it really that simple? Seriously? After all the detective work he had done and the passion he had put into it. “You would’ve told us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s kind of new anyway,” Hanji said, wrapping an arm around Levi’s shoulders. Erwin noticed the slope of Levi’s body against Hanji’s as if he were gravitating towards her. “We’re still trying to get used to it.”

The body language told a lot, Erwin observed. “Seems like you already have,” he blurted and when he realized what he had said the words were already out and heard.

Thankfully, Hanji didn’t seem to have found his statement absurd. “Oh, you think so?” she giggled, and her cheeks coloured as she directed her eyes at Levi. And she hummed softly when their gazes locked. “Maybe.”

Her lips remained curled upwards on the corners, and Erwin couldn’t see the expression in both of their eyes and neither of them spoke, but he felt like words wouldn’t suffice for whatever had been exchanged between them in those short seconds. He watched as Levi’s lips tremble and move, shaping a smile that was so small and so barely apparent. Then he contemplated about how easy it was actually to see happiness in someone who very rarely let his emotions surface. Like dandelions emerging on their own through the mere lawn, right next to the concrete pavements.

“I kind of think it’s creepy though,” Mike whispered, leaning against him.

Erwin snorted amused and finished his drink.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 21

21/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.8k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic 

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

-------------------

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved. 

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her. 

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift. 

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth. 

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need. 

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue. 

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now. 

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning. 

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them. 

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons. 

Mulder just gives her a look. 

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong. 

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room. 

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning. 

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open? 

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

-------------------------

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him. 

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak. 

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out. 

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive. 

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose. 

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.  

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets. 

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness. 

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.” 

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary. 

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm. 

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly. 

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

----------------------

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night. 

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning. 

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

 It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old. 

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him. 

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it. 

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord. 

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.” 

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?” 

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly. 

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

------------------------

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask. 

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open. 

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in. 

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly. 

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.” 

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips. 

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.” 

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this. 

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls. 

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies. 

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies. 

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

---------------------------

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain. 

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him. 

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him. 

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

[densi-mber]

Frozen, Part 3

A/N: Here is the third and final part of Frozen.

When we were last with Densi, they were facing impending hypothermia and Deeks had just suggested naked cuddling.

***

“Deeks, this is not a time for jokes,” Kensi sighed, or she tried to. It came out as more of a croak, her throat dry and hoarse from the cold. Each word made her throat ache, like it was being tore from her.

“Who’s joking? I am completely serious,” he insisted. “Skin-to-skin is proven to be one of the best defenses against the cold.”

Kensi rolled her eyes, not really sure why she was protesting, but not feeling like giving in. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to admit the situation was as dire as it seemed.

“We have the fire.”

“And it’s barely providing any heat.” He stepped closer and tipped her chin up. His fingers were red, but still made Kensi’s skin burn with the difference in heat. “Face it, Kens. Our clothes are soaked, we’re quickly heading towards stage three frostbite and impending hypothermia and if we don’t do something soon, we’re going to start loosing appendages. And I happen to like my fingers and toes. As well as a couple of other essential parts.”

Pulling in a small breath that burned her throat, Kensi glanced at the fire. Damn it but Deeks was right. She could barely feel it even from half a foot away and she was freezing.

“Fine,” she said, finally relented. “But we need to stoke up the fire and have things set up so we don’t have to get up a bunch.”

“Sweet. I’ve always wanted to spoon for survival.” Deeks ignored her glare in favor of moving the cot closer to the fire. She watched him for a moment, worried that he was straining himself too much. Even with the liquid stitches, he could reopen the cut which would put him at risk of more bleeding and possible infection.

Worry wasn’t going to save them though so she pushed those thoughts away, and added several more pieces of wood to the fire, moving the rest in easy reaching distance of the cot.

Kensi had a roll of string in backpack and together they ran it across the room to hand their wet clothes on and then tucked the three, depressingly thin, blankets around the thin mattress on the cot. By the time they were finished, her fingers were barely moving, and she felt increasingly lethargic.

She fumbled with the zipper on her coat, grabbing at the pull several times without any success. Deeks already had his boots and coat off.

“Oh baby, come here,” he said, noticing her struggle. Kensi was cold enough to let him lead her to the cot and not resist when he began tugging off her boots. She gasped when the cold air hit her now less protected feet. “Sorry.”

Deeks grimaced as he removed her coat, jeans and t-shirt, revealing more reddened skin. He stripped off his own thermal shirt, which was partially dry near the shoulders and used it to dry some of the moisture from her damp hair, which was frozen in icy tangles around her face.

At any other time, she would be distracted by the sight of him half naked and kneeling in front of her while he slowly undressed her. Now she just wanted to get them both under the covers as quickly as possible.

Wordlessly, Deeks left her to finish undressing and to hang up their clothes then dried his hair with one sleeve of his shirt. Kensi slid under the covers as he ran over in just his underwear and crawled in beside her. He tossed his boxer briefs over the side of the cot a second later, making a face.

“Never liked those anyway,” he commented, drawing the layers of blankets over their heads.

“Get over here,” Kensi croaked out, drawing him closer. She hissed at the initial contact, feeling like her skin was burning, but knew it was a good sign that she wasn’t completely numb. Deeks wrapped his arm tightly around her, his hands resting on her lower back, and intertwined their legs, creating a barrier all around her.

Cradled in his arms, she felt marginally warmer, but there was a fine tremor running through her now. Deeks held her even tighter, like he could somehow will away her hypothermia induced tremors.

“God, this would be so much more fun in Malibu,” he sighed a few minutes later. “You could wear that blue bikini of yours, the one that almost got us kicked out of Mammoth last year. I’d even break out my short shorts. Just laying out in the sun, surfing, and eating fish tacos.”

“I think you’d turn into a fish taco if I let you.” Her skin still ached a little but the combination of their bodies pressed together and a tiny of heat coming from the fire was starting to thaw her bit by bit.

Deeks contorted his head to look down at her, his expression skeptical.

“Uh, I seem to remember you were the one who ate six tacos all on your own last time.”

“I didn’t have any lunch that day,” she explained reasonably. Drips of cool water were beginning to trickle down her back from her thawing hair. She shivered again and burrowed a little further into Deeks’ arms, tucking her head between his shoulder and head.

“Mm, we probably should have eaten something before we got naked,” he said, his voice sounding slow and deeper than normal. It made her think of the sun, laying on the beach like he’d described.

“I’m not hungry.” She let out a giant yawn, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes.

“We can’t fall asleep,” Deeks muttered right before her eyes slipped shut.

***

“We should come here more often,” Kensi said, her voice light and dreamy as she trailed her fingers up Deeks’ chest. The sun beat down on his head while waves gently crashed against the shore. He swung both legs up onto their lawn chair so Kensi straddled his thighs. He fiddled with the blue string of her bikini and she smiled mischievously, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Go ahead, no one’s around.”

Just as he was loosening the knot, a figure bent over them, blocking out the sun.

“You got a pulse?”

“I think they’re just asleep.” A hand shook Deeks’ shoulder and he turned away from it, wincing as a blast of cold hair hit his face. “Deeks, wake up.” He popped one eye open, trying to figure out what Callen was doing at the beach with him and Kensi. And why it was suddenly freezing.

“Callen?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He tried to sit up, inadvertently flipping the covers off Kensi. She yelped and sat up suddenly, looking around with a wild expression.

“Callen, Sam, what are you doing here?” she said, her words a little slurred as she tried to pull the blanket up around her shoulders.

“We tracked you using the GPS in your phones,” Callen answered. “Nell got worried when you didn’t check in yesterday.”

“Thank god for Nell.”

“Unbelievable,” Sam said, coming to stand beside Callen. “In the middle of a blizzard and you still can’t keep your clothes on.”

“We were huddling for warmth,” Deeks said, trying to sound dignified while he started shivering again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s like 10 degrees out there.”

“And you just had to get completely naked.”

“Our clothes were wet,” Kensi said, brushing a handful of hair back. It was completely disheveled, sticking out in several places, and he had to resist the urge to lean over and kiss her.

“Speaking of clothes, you wouldn’t happen to have a some, by chance.” He leaned over and plucked at his shirt which was torn and still damp. “And maybe a parka or two?”

“We got you covered,” Callen said with an amused smirk. “Sam, you want to call Nell and let her know we found them?”

“I’ll get her to send a medivac too since we’re never getting an ambulance all the way out here anytime soon,” Sam added, eyeing the wads of discarded gauze and bandages. “Which one of you knuckleheads got hurt?”

Kensi immediately pointed to Deeks, having no problem selling him out.

“He’s got a 2 1/2 inch cut, not too deep, but it was pretty bloody,” she reported. “I did my best with the medical glue. He still might need some stitches though.”

“Traitor,” Deeks said and Kensi shrugged, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy. Sam walked off to call Nell while Callen pulled sweatshirts and pants from his backpack and tossed them on the cot.

“I’ll give you guys a couple minutes.” He turned go, but then turned back, gesturing between them. “If I hear anything even remotely suspicious going on in here, I’m tasing both of you.”

Kensi made a scandalized sound as Deeks shivered beside her, his hands tucked in his armpits.

“Believe me, this is one of the few times where sex sounds absolutely unappealing,” he assured Callen.

They dressed quickly, moving out of the relative warmth of the blankets as little as possible. Once they were clothed again, Deeks tugged Kensi against him, kissing her firmly.

“I’m really glad we didn’t freeze to death,” Kensi said as he held her tightly. “Or lose any...appendages,” she added with a smirk. He picked Kensi up, intending to carry her from the cabin, and then abruptly sank back down with a grimace.

“Ok, maybe we should go to the hospital,” he decided, clutching at his stomach as something twinged and possibly tore. Kensi helped him back down to the bed with a sigh.

“Well, I guess we’re not going to Malibu this weekend.” Deeks groaned again, his dreams of sun and bikinis quickly evaporating.

“I hate snow,” he said vehemently.

[saturatedboy]

Slaughter of the Ram

Chapter 2 (Lord Heisenberg x Male!Oc)

Words: 3.8K

Smells of wet pine and a slight whiff of burning tobacco drifted around in Leonardo’s mind. The endless darkness that consumed his mind had turned and twisted into small patterns of purple and blue dots dancing around. Harshly, Leonardo had inhaled through his nose and realised his breath through his mouth, the noise coming out sounding more like a growl than a groan. The exhale of his breath had swooped back into his mind through his nostrils, them flaring at the intoxicated smell of alcohol. The sudden remembrance of the alcohol had alerted his brain, pain soon aching in his head area. Opening his eyes steadily, the blurred vision had shown shapes of brown and red in different shades and lighting. Being careful, he forced his eyelids to stay open and scanned the front of his sight lines, the pictures coming clearer through the sleepiness that had glazed over his eyeballs. Upon a wooden wall were different shapes and colours of bottles, all of them being alcoholic beverages- some even Leonardo didn’t know. Looking a little to the left, the barman from the night just gone was stood cleaning glasses, refilling some for the distance laughter that came from a booth that was behind Leo. To his right, he could see more of what his head way laying on, the bar top stretching on a little more until it rounded of by a 90-degree angle.

Regretting all decisions in his life for a split second, Leo used his hands that were previously rested on the slightly sticky counter and pushed himself up. Feeling a wave of relief wash over him as the bones from his neck cracked at the sudden movement. A delighted sigh came from between his thin lips, his tongue gliding over them both after to make his lips moist with his own saliva. Although the relief that had come over him felt amazing from within, his physical appearance had showed no relief for his own body as he was slouched over on a stool, hair messy and unkept tidy, small amount of saliva drifting down his chin and clothes all crinkled. Still in effect of the alcohol, his body swerved sideways about, his mind doing flips and his stomach rumbling for the loss of a meal. “Bar...bar tender!” He called out, being careful to not slur his words. The bar man looked over at his frame, only to look back at the glass he was drying and placed it down, walking over to the now hung-over Leonardo. Once there, he leaned his forearms on the bar and stared amusingly at Leo.

“Let me guess. Water right Leo?” He chuckled out, already walking away to go fetch the poor soul a glass of water and to take some medication for his head. Leo looked down, ashamed for people to see him like this in his aftereffect state.

“Yeah...a water will do fine thanks.” He replied as the tender had placed the glass down, filled half way to the brim with water. The water was clearly cool, the glass already having fresh droplets of water gathering on the outside of the glass itself. Being thankful, Leo nodded and grabbed the glass, almost moaning as the cool liquid fell down his throat.  

“Here take these,” The tender held his hand out, two pills being present, ”Their medicine for your headache.” Leo once again nodded, unable to speak a ‘thanks’ as he was already downing the water fully this time, using his free hand to grab only one of the pills. The tender closed his hand and went back to his original position, going back to cleaning glasses and serving the early birds who crave for alcohol to keep them going through the day. Leo placed his empty glass down and went to looking at the small pill between his fingers. Thinking nothing bad about it, he took it down dry swallowing and using his mouth to have it slip easily down. He just had to wait for the effects to keep in.

Looking off to the side now that he was more fully awake, Leo wasn’t surprise when he didn’t see the star guest of last night not next to him however. A slightly pang of guilt washed over him, had he made him leave? No, that thought was quickly shaken off as a loud voice came through then now open doors of the entrance. “Where is he- OI! Leo, no time to slack off!” The female's voice was clearly angry, and held so much of authority when saying his name out loud. Groaning and rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand roughly, Leo could only slightly whine when he felt the pull of his shirt became balled up in his friend Catherine’s grasp. “I knew he wouldn’t stay. Tch- trust a Lord they say. Fuck that never again.”

The pull on his shirt had Leo falling from his stool onto the ground, his knees buckling under him as his upper body was thrusted upwards from the iron grip Catherine held him in. ”Get up, we have to get to the school gosh dammit.”

“What’s got you all worked up?” Leo yawned, ready to listen to whatever has placed his best friend in such a foul mood. However other than getting an answer, he was met with provoked eyes as she flicked his forehead, letting go of his shirt making him collapse fully to the floor. Huffing, Leo pulled himself back onto his feet using the stool he had previously sat on to balance himself on his two feet. Watching Catherine storm away, Leo looked back at the tender and waved before following his childhood buddy.

The air was chill, not many villagers was up at this hour of the morning. Being quick on his feet, Leo caught up with Catherine who still hadn’t talked after getting him. Weighing his options, Leo kept quiet, whatever was going on in Catherine’s head she would tell him when she was ready with it. Instead of talking about her problems, Leo decided to create small talk to sooth her mind and his. “So, the children are out and here we are going to work still.”

“Of course, Leo, we are teachers. I’m just hoping my fresh order of food has come from the Duke.” She speaks, lifting her umber dress at the front as she and him came to the cobble stairs that lead towards the school itself. As they walked, they chatted, amongst throwing a few giggles here ns there. The mood did certainly brighten up as the sun had also, becoming brighter and clearer in the sky that was misted with fog.

At the school front, both Leo and Catherine had sorted their clothing, patting it down and straightening collars. “How I look?” Leo questioned, throwing his arms to the side in a presentable manner and showcasing his clothing from yesterday.

“You look like the same yesterday only this time you looked as though you just ran through a forest bush,” Her remarks never failed to make him chuckle, his smile never leaving his face as neither did hers. Nodding and slightly agreeing with her, they both entered the school through its double doors. The school was fairly small, only having one level to the building. It contained a total of 4 classes, an assembly room and toiletries. The head’s office being placed near the reception. As they opened the heavy doors, a man stood at the reception desked looked up, flashing a toothy grin with his stumble beard.  

“Glad to see you both in work, aren't nothing like staying inside on a cold day.” He said, his gruff voice echoing around the partially empty space. Catherine only waved, giving Leo a hard smack on the back as she walked off down the hallway to the side, turning into the first classroom on the left to start her own work. Just before Leo could speak, her voice screaming about how the order hadn’t been delivered was heard. The noise made both grown men laugh.

“Morning there, I’d be off. Have a good day.” Leonardo said, running his fingers through is hazel hair as the man behind the desk replied with a ‘good day to you too.”. Taking the same and only hallway that Catherine did, Leo walked right down it and entered the very last classroom on the right. When entered, he shut his door and walked past the small desks that were standing towards his own rather large one. When seeing his desk, he noticed something. ‘Where are my papers?’

Hitting his head with his hand, he rushed out his classroom and walked down the hallway towards the entrance. Just as he passed Catherine’s room, she popped her head out. “Whilst you're out there go pick my order up from the Duke please,” and off she went back in leaving no room for any protest against her request. Going along with it, Leo had rushed and left the school whilst getting the receptionist to stare at him with a questionable look and from another teacher of the building. He sped walked through the entire village that he grew up in and rounded about towards the Bar which was starting to become a fairly visited place of his. Clenching his chattering teeth as the coldness picked up, he entered the bar and walked towards his once seated place. A sigh left his lips as he saw his messenger bag untouched under his stool. “May mother Miranda have mercy on me,” he muttered, grabbing his bag and pulling it around his shoulders. Walking back out after looking through his bag, Leo kept his eyes firmly on the path he had to follow. Keeping lightly on his feet in case of any unseen ice, the young man had walked in the opposite direction of the school to head to the outside perimeter of the Village. Walking through the cold, he stuffed his hands into his pockets of his trousers, being careful to not prod himself with the pencil that had normally sat in there.

Although the sun was out, its rays of warmness had no touched the scratchy skin of Leo’s. Instead, he was given the sky’s shivers as he felt a snowflake swirl In front of his face. ”Snow, my favourite weather,” he muttered sarcastically, already feeling unimpressed however slightly better after taking the pill to help with his headache. Wandering around through the day was always better than night, there was no need to be scared of the mountains his village was nestled between. Some people from his village had even climbed the mountains, overlooking the view to see other parts of the land that seemed to stretch further than he had ever thought. It is a sight to forever hold though, everyone that had the wonders of being on top of the mountains had witnessed the true feeling of being free.

Leo smiled at the memory of him and his own family travelling up there once. He was about 8 at the time and was gifted a pencil and book to write in for his stories for his birthday. The climb was awful however, his small legs felt like collapsing but with his father by his side, he managed through it. He remembered reaching the top and grabbing his small book from his coat pocket, just so he could write everything he could see. Villages, lakes, a factory, castle and eve a vast forest or woods. He didn’t know what it was at the time but he felt onto of the world. He felt like he ruled over everything. “I should visit them soon,” the memory of his family had him thinking about them. They had been out of contact after he got his teaching job because he was trying to start his own life by himself. A faint smile brushed on his lips as he walked nearer to the mountains front, where carts would travel to and from to get to other villages.  

The sound of hooves clapping against the stone ground had Leo smiling even more. ‘Finally,’ he thought as he spotted in the distance the cart of horses, a jolly voice accompanying them both. Striding towards the cart, Leo saw the horses first as the cart was turned like it had only just entered his village quarters. Cupping his hands, Leo blew hot air into them and rubbed them together, their friction creating warmth for him. Just as he placed his arms back to his sides, he moved past the horses and walked to the front, only to stop quickly as he saw more than one familiar face.

“Ah Leonardo, please come come. I'm sure you've came to collect the order for Miss Chef aren’t you,” The Duke joked, laughing slightly at his own humorous tone.  

“I am indeed or else I’m sure the children will be coking me next sir,” Leo replied respectfully, standing next to the other familiar face all whilst maintain eye contact with the Duke.

“I’ll be with you in a second Leonardo, just speaking with the Lord here is all. Please excuse me for a second whilst I gather your order Lord Heisenberg.” Leo and the Lord Heisenberg watched as Duke had entered into his cart, the slight shake of the cart moving from his weight and rummaging through whatever was in there. Both men stood in silence, the only noises being the clicking of the hooves or the whilst from the wind that was picking up slightly more as each second flew by.  

Lord Heisenberg next to him had rummaged through his coats pockets to take out a cigar and lighter. Lighting the cigar, he flipped the top of the silver lighter back over the wheel and dropped it back into his pocket. Taking the brown cigar to his mouth, he took a deep inhale as the end of the stick flamed brighter. Taking it out from between his lips he blew the smoke into the air, not slightly bothered if it went into Leo’s direction. “So, you’re ‘ere being an errand boy?” He grumbled out, taking another inhale of his cigar.

Leo relaxed slightly, finding the voice to the Lord to be rather comforting after the events of last night. “I’m no errand boy, I forgot my things and, on my way out, my friend asked me to get her order. Just doing a favour is all.” Leo and Heisenberg stood in silence one day, the atmosphere around them becoming calm as more snowflakes had decided to create their own routine about dancing around them.  

“So, a teacher huh? Must be strange teaching up there with all the demons running around.” The joke had made a small chortle escape between Leo’s lips, a smirk finding a way onto Heisenberg’s as he heard the male’s laugh.

Leo turned to face Heisenberg, looking a little up since he was about an inch taller than him. “They learn quick, already reading one of my favourites. I wouldn’t say they are demons; I would quote them to be foxes for the many excuses they come up with when they don’t hand their homework in.” Heisenberg had thrown his cigar somewhere into the snow behind them having finished it. The after taste had swarmed his mouth, making him suck on his top lip to get the dry texture fairly moist. Running his rather thick muscle tongue over his lips, Heisenberg had dazed down to stare at the young man next to him.

“Foxes huh? Quite the metaphoric person ain’t ya.” Leo shook Heisenberg’s words off, finding no need to try change his mind about him. Writing and saying such words were just natural to his lips, any other way seemed more foreign than he would want. Silence had struck around them, their final words being lost through the now chilly air that had rained snowflakes.

“Excuse the wait gentlemen, I have gathered both of your orders,” The large man had left the comforting warmth of his cart to sit on the outside ledge, holding two large bags in both of his clammy hands that were littered with many rings. A sweet smile was plastered onto his face, eyes beady as he leaned forward and gave the respectful bag to each of the other men. “It was a pleasure doing business with both of you. I shall be arriving here next week again Leo. Would you like anything whilst you’re here?” The Duke had asked, placing his now empty hands onto his stomach whilst leaning slightly back.

Thinking for a moment, Leo had returned the sweet smile back to the Duke. “Do you have any pots of ink and any parchment paper? I'm running low on both.”

“Ah yes, I had restocked them before I came here. How many would you like?”

“Just 2 pots of ink and about 2 books of the parchment paper please as well.” Leo waited as the Duke had travelled back into his cart, his horses neighing at the moment. The cart moved left and right, making Leo take a step back in case of any sudden jerk movements. However, his move did not go unnoticed by the Lord.

“Awww, is the writer scared of movement?” He teased, smiling as he swung his bag of equipment over his shoulder whilst leaning on his large hammer with the other. Leo ‘tsked’ and closed his eyes.

“I am merely looking out for myself sir, if something were to happen- especially in this weather- I'd rather be prepared.” Leo spat out, not meaning his words to be accompanied with such venom, it wasn’t like he had anything against Lord Heisenberg. His words had made Heisenberg chuckle out loud, finding amusement with Leo the villager.

“Here we are,” Leo silently thanked the world as he heard the Duke’s voice. He wanted to get going soon, the chill was starting to hit him badly and his fingers wrapped around the bag of food he could only guess were becoming numb. “2 pots of ink and books. That'll be 150 Lei please.” The Duke leaned forward and handed the materials to Leo, who took them in gratitude.

Just as Leo reached down into his messenger bag to gather his money and place his things in there, a small pouch was thrown into the Duke’s hand. ”Here, I’ll pay for him. Think of it as a way to pay back for the enjoyable night I had.” Heisenberg spoke, turning to Leo and tipping his hat. Leo moved his hand away from his bag and rubbed he back of his neck sheepishly.  

“It was only a couple of drinks; the bar is always filled with guys like me.”

“Oh, really now? Please, you weren’t the one moving away from me now were you.” Leo held back his tongue, looking the other way from Heisenberg’s direction.

“If that’s all gentlemen I shall get going. Safe travels the both of you.” The Duke had waved at both men, pushing himself back into his cart one last time and shutting the doors leaving both Leonardo and Lord Heisenberg alone once again. With snow falling around the both of them, Leo had agreed with himself to start heading back to the school.

“This has been fun but it’s time for me to leave and head back. Safe travels Lord Heisenberg.” Leo had spoken, adjusting his grip on the bag of food as he threw it over his shoulder. He walked away, back turned-on Heisenberg and started his walk back to his home village. As he walked, he listened to the footsteps that followed him. This continued for about 2 minutes before he sighed, rolled his eyes and turned to face whoever was following him. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the Village of Shadows?” Leo asked, watching as Heisenberg had followed him with a shit eating grin.

“Now now, and here I thought we were beginning to become friends,” The smile never faltered off his lips as he said that, finding the faint blush on Leonardo’s cheek from the cold sort of nice to look at. Something new.

Leo shook his head gently and turned, walking away from Heisenberg not even caring anymore if he followed him or not. However, he thought being followed by a Lord would be comforting- absolutely not. He felt his stomach do turns, his head ache was starting to come back and his hands were becoming warmer as his grip around the food bag was becoming less loose. “So, you just wear thin layers in this cold?” The Lord asked, walking alongside the younger male. Leo shook his head again, his hair shaking along with him.

“I would be wearing a coat but someone had taken me away from the warmth of the bar and took me straight to work. I would of gone home and got my coat but no, work is very import around the village.” Heisenberg silently nodded, looking ahead as he let Leo lead the way back to the Village of the Ram.

“You got a lover?” The sudden observed question made Leo trip slightly, he managed to catch himself however before any harm could be done. A blush raised from his cheeks to his ears as he started to run his mouth dry.

“A lover- gosh no. I-I haven’t even got time for those kinds of things. I’m a writer, my life is dedicated to spreading the word and I have work to do, children to teach. They are the future; they must learn the history and how to read and write.” Leo sighed, feeling slightly guilty for speaking so quickly. “Anyway, no woman in the village can woo me. Maybe Catherine but not me. I don't even love women like that.”  

Heisenberg quirked a brow at his words. ‘Don’t like women like that? How...peculiar.’ The Lord smirked, placing his own bag in the hand of his hammer and swinging his arm around the shoulders of Leo, making him slightly jump on contact.

“You don’t need to love women, you can just have a night stand and-” Leo pushed Heisenberg away, adjusting his shirt and placing his collar straight.

“Gosh no- just no. I don’t like women like that, simply. I like guys.” He put it simply, now walking with heavy footsteps and deep ragged breaths. ‘Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck’ Leo chanted in his mind, finding now that his own actions may cause him to get harmed.

“So, you’re gay.”  

“...Yes, I’m gay.”

“Eh okay.” The answer from the Lord left Leonardo speechless. Not many people in the village really supported his rights of love, thinking a man and woman should be together to bare children since foreigners never come around. Just to know the Lord Heisenberg, apparently one of the top Lords ever was okay with him liking men, had a rather shocking effect on Leo’s mind.

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling a little at the acceptance he was given off a Lord. Looking far ahead was the opening entrance back home, back to his home village. Being slightly more comfortable with the Lord trailing behind him, Leo turned his head and showed his smile at Heisenberg, who in favour smiled back. “Welcome back to the Village of Ram,” Leo said, turning back to face the entrance again with a slight skip in his step.

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 20

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Been a busy week! I’ll let you know if I need to slow down updates! So how about we visit Virgil, see what’s up with him?

cw: a n g s t, panic attack

~

Virgil couldn't move. Roman had helped him into bed, then sat in the room for a while, trying to talk to him. When Virgil didn't respond, he eventually left, stating that he would be back later.

His world was crashing down around him.

Could he believe that just yesterday, he'd smiled? He'd laughed? Now it was all background noise, mindless buzzing that felt totally inconsequential. There was only one thing that mattered now. Patton.

Therapy had been rough, and Virgil had expected it to be. What he hadn't expected was to go over every meaningful interaction he had with Patton. The doctor had said she was “doing some tests”, so Virgil struggled to keep himself together as he talked about the one person he missed most in the world.

Then, she'd had the audacity—she'd dared to—

Virgil took a deep breath, blood boiling as he remembered that it was she who encouraged these breathing exercises. What if he didn't want to calm down? He deserved to feel, remember, Patton needed him to—

Virgil's legs started quaking, but he paid it no mind. He could not be wrong, admitting he was wrong would be abandoning Patton, he couldn't do that, he wasn't dead, he wasn't gone, he'd always been there and always would.

His breathing quickened, coming in short, shallow breaths. His entire body was shaking, and Virgil nearly puked when he realized he could smell rubbing alcohol. He hadn't had a flashback all week, he'd been doing so well!

As if summoned, there were gentle fingers on his wrist. Calm, the fingers traced. It's okay. I'm here.

“Patton,” Virgil croaked. “I—I knew it, you're here, you're here, I knew it—”

V breathe slow. Safe.

Virgil got his breathing under control after a dozen rounds of exercises. His legs were still quivering, but he knew where he was. He was in his room, in Roman's house, and he was going to be okay, and Patton—

Virgil choked.

His own hand gripped his wrist. His own hand was tracing soothing words.

“She was right,” Virgil whispered. His mind frantically grasped at straws, trying to explain what had just happened, as Virgil felt an overwhelming amount of despair.

“Virgil, you talk a lot about Patton. In every instance you told me about, however, you never hear him. You can't see him. Based on your time alone at the beginning of your imprisonment, it seems unlikely that they would suddenly decide to move you into a room with another person.”

Virgil's body had been completely out of energy, lax and unable to move, but now he was stiff as a board, locked in place. It couldn't be. It couldn't.

“We haven't been able to find out what that book was, based on your description of it.”

No. No no no no no.

“And I've seen you trace words onto yourself, in times when you need comfort. An interesting coping habit, one that might appear when a person is locked in a room with no outside stimulation.”

Virgil sobbed, full on weeping as his body couldn't move. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

And that was exactly the problem, wasn't it?

“Virgil, I think Patton may have been a hallucination that your brain fabricated in order to keep you comfort during the year that you were alone. I may be wrong, but everything you've told me about Patton points to it. Virgil, can you be absolutely certain that Patton was real?”

He'd said yes, he'd said that there was no other option. He'd stormed out of the office five minutes later. He'd refused to talk to Roman in the car. He'd gone straight to his room and curled up on top of his blankets.

Patton had to be real, didn't he? He couldn't have made up a person so complex, so loving, so wonderful. And, more realistically, he couldn't have created something so solid it had washed his clothes on days he felt too ill. Unless he'd imagined it. Anything was possible if it came from his head, wasn't it?

One part of him was screaming, begging him to not abandon his best friend. The other part of him was mourning the loss of Patton. Virgil wasn't sure what to do, torn this way. He had to be real. He was real—but was he? Where was the evidence?

The world was crumbling. Virgil choked on his tears, crying for Patton, crying for himself, crying for the loss he'd just suffered. Patton wasn't real, Patton had to be real, Patton couldn't be real.

Roman knocked on the door, asking cautiously if Virgil wanted to come down for dinner. Virgil pretended to not hear him, feigned sleep when Roman opened the door to look in. He buried his eyes in his pillow as he heard the door quietly shut, then Roman's footsteps retreating. He was alone, isolated, and the one person he'd truly loved had probably never even existed.

What was Virgil supposed to do?

-

“Dude, what does it say?”

A long silence. Virgil groaned. Apparently he'd gotten an email as well as a letter, but Roman had insisted on reading it to him. Screen-readers were 'too impersonal' now. It wasn't like he was going to get his information any other way.

“Virgil, I . . . I'm sorry.”

Virgil's heart dropped. Roman sounded lost for words, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. There was no way whatever the letter said was good news.

“You . . . you got in!”

In a shot of adrenaline, Virgil smacked him. Probably on the arm.

“Ow! That was my face, you heathen!”

Oops.

“Roman! Don't—why—” Virgil could barely speak. He'd gotten in? He was certain he wouldn't get in the first time, let alone twice . He got in!

“It's my job, as your adopted older brother!” Roman said, the false hurt completely gone from his tone. “I have to bully you a bit! You should've seen the look on your face, it was priceless!”

Virgil frowned, his heart still racing. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it a bit. “I'm . . . older than you?”

“Doesn't matter! I am, by proxy, older!”

Virgil snorted. “That makes no sense, dude.”

“Doesn't have to!” Roman proclaimed. Virgil could practically see him doing some dramatic arm thing. “I'm the older brother, and therefore, I don't have to make sense!”

Virgil tilted his head back in an approximation of rolling his eyes. According to Roman, it looked pretty creepy when he actually rolled his eyes, and it stung a little. Still, he would probably roll his eyes once he was around people who weren't Roman's parents.

He was really going back.

He sniffed, his nose burning. It had been so, so long. Had the campus changed? Would he be in a different dorm? Would he and Roman still share, since they were in different grades now?

He knew everything about their accessibility and whatever, about how they would accommodate disabled people. The school had actually reached out to him, informing him that he could finish his degree no problem, they had four or five visually impaired students already and could easily make it possible for him to continue his education. Virgil had been in contact with various foundations in order to work things out with his university, and he'd gotten a few scholarships—not to mention, the handful of scholarships he'd already had had gladly reinstated themselves. In fact, Virgil had pretty much already known that he'd be going back. There'd been very little room to doubt, as his therapist had told him several times.

This was real, though. Right there, in Roman's hands, was proof. He was allowed back, and would see teachers and classmates he hadn't seen in over a year. He was starting spring semester, which was still a few months away—Roman, despite his protests, had also put off starting his junior year until spring semester.

“Virge? Are . . . you okay?”

Virgil sniffed again, wiping his cheek to find a few tears there. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, with an attempt at a laugh. “I just . . . didn't think this would ever happen, y'know?”

Roman also laughed, albeit much more nervously. “With the way admissions was basically begging you to come back? Of course it happened!”

Neither of them acknowledged what Virgil really meant.

“So, packing?” Roman said, after several seconds of silence. “I know it's a while away, but is there anything specific you want to bring?”

With a pang, Virgil thought back to his hand-stitched hoodie. Hopefully it was bringing Patton as much comfort as it had always brought him. He'd had it for years, made it in Home Ec in high school. Until recently, he'd never been without it. It was bittersweet, in a way. Sure, it was gone, but it was with Patton. Like . . . like a piece of his heart would always be with Patton.

Virgil shook himself. That's stupid. And cheesy, he told himself. Grow up. Move on. He doesn't exist.

There was an ASL club on campus, one that Virgil planned on becoming a part of. Roman wanted to as well, making up something about having always wanted to learn sign, but Virgil knew it was just protectiveness. Virgil was pretty sure Roman had been about to rearrange his entire schedule so that they could have the same classes, despite the fact that Roman was a year ahead and in a different program of study. After a long evening of Virgil sitting in his room anxiously while Roman talked to his parents in the living room downstairs, Roman had come to the conclusion that it was best for him to continue with his intended major. Virgil was relieved—he was a grown adult, after all. He didn't really want someone trailing after him everywhere, insisting on helping him with every little thing.

Did he?

“Am I ready for this?” he wondered aloud. Roman gripped his shoulder tightly.

“I think so.” The words were soft, but no less powerful than Roman's usual loud tone. “You're so strong, Virgil. You're the strongest person I know.”

Virgil couldn't help but cringe. He knew someone much stronger. Whether that person was real or not was up for debate.

His most recent therapy sessions had involved a lot of tears, but Virgil had agreed to acknowledge that Patton might not exist. In turn, the doctor agreed to not make a formal assessment on Patton for the time being. It was still devastating, of course. It was still as if his entire world was falling apart. But Virgil was finding it easier to smile, more natural to joke with Roman.

He was healing.

Did he want to heal?

Yes, of course Virgil wanted to heal. He wanted to move on. He wanted to lead a normal life, without hurt and flashbacks and hallucinations.

But not without Patton.

There was a fork in the road approaching, Virgil was sure of it. He was going to have to choose between waiting for, hoping for Patton, and moving on. He wasn't sure what would happen when he reached that point.

But it scared him that he would have to make that decision alone.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

It’s Just A Spark Ch.6 - Maybe

Two days later, Hiccup sealed a big tupperware box and made his way out into the city. His shift didn't start until nine PM, so he still had plenty of time to spare.

The pet shop had never been hard to find; on his first walks through the city alone at night Hiccup had discovered it between a bakery and a bookshop.

A bell chimed as he opened the door and carefully looked around. An elderly woman stood behind the counter, smiling warmly at him.

"Hiccup, dear, hello!"

The young man smiled and stepped closer. "Gothi, hi. How are you?"

"Oh, the sign is new, yes."

"No, I - that's nice. How are you?" Hiccup repearted, louder this time.

"It's new! Yes!" She shouted back and Hiccup gave up.

"Is Astrid in the back?"

"What yak?"

"No, not a -" he sighed. "I'll check myself."

'The back' always promised to be a magical land of supplies and wonder; reality proved the back to only be a small room with a counter, a table and two chairs, a fridge and a locker. There was another door leading to what Hiccup presumed to be the bathroom and one with an old sign that read 'OFFICE' in pale capital letters. Carefully he peeked around the corner and felt his heart jump at the sight of Astrid sitting at the table, a mug in her hands, scanning over a newspaper.

He knocked against the doorframe and watched her raise her head -

Astrid's face lit up immediately at the sight of him.

"Hiccup!"

With a couple of steps she had already crossed the room and stood in front of him, laughing softly when he wrapped his arms around her and shortly spun her around.

"What're you doing here?"

"Oh, I just thought you might fancy some lunch." He grinned and pulled out the container, making her gasp.

"Thank you! That's ... don't you have to work too?"

He grinned lopsidedly at her and ran a hand through his hair. "Night shift," he explained. "Doesn't start until nine PM. I just wanted to drop this by and then I'm back to hitting the mattress for tonight."

He watched her place the container into the fridge and take out two glasses and a bottle of water, smiling up at him.

"But I guess I could make time for another ten minutes," he streched, already sitting down, making her laugh and almost spill his drink.

oOo

She had kissed him goodbye on the cheek, making every step he took after that feel like he was flying.

Granted, it was hard sleeping after that.

Toothless had curled up on his chest, purring loudly as Hiccup stared up at the ceiling of his dark room, silently wondering what it would be like having her next to him.

He closed his eyes, remembering the weight of her hands against his chest and imagined pulling her against him until not an inch was left between them.

He groaned, violently scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Face it, Haddock," he muttered to himself. "You can't even kiss her on the cheek. How exactly are you planning on having her lie next to you?"

Fact was, going as far as holding her hand sent sparks down his spine and the thought of doing anything more than that sent shudders across his skin.

That had never really happened before, he realised. He couldn't remember any time he had felt attracted to another person the way he was attracted to Astrid.

But how was this different?

Maybe it was her. Or he had simply got older.

Hiccup stared into the darkness and realised that it was probably (definitely) her.

oOo

His door bell rang at exactly 8:30 PM. Toothbrush between his teeth, still only clad in a big towel, Hiccup quickly skitted to a halt in front of the door.

Probably just another package falsely being dropped at his address.

He almost swallowed his toothpaste when it was, in fact, not the mailman.

Astrid.

Astrid, standing in the doorway, offering an empty container.

Astrid, slowly letting her eyes wander across the length of his body, then blushing furiously and almost dropping said container.

Astrid, still not averting her eyes. Instead, they were fixed on his chest.

"Uh." He cleared his throat as well as he could through the toothpaste and toothbrush.

"Shanksh." He pointed at the container.

"You're … welcome."

Awkward silence. More staring (Hiccup began thinking that maybe it was fully intentional) from her side.

"Myou wanna c'm in or," he mumbled and finally she shook herself out of her stupor.

"Oh, no, you - seem … busy. I'll, um. Get … going now. Yes. Good night."

And with that she turned on her heels, fled down the staircase and quickly slammed the door shut. Hiccup exhaled and shuffled back to the bathroom to finally get rid of the toothpaste.

Mere seconds later it rang a second time.

Upon opening he already knew it was Astrid (yet, he had not done anything for his upper body's modesty), who presented the container to him with outstreched arms.

"I … forgot to give this to you," she mumbled and already made her way back to the staircase. Hiccup felt yet again like he had back then before asking her number; and again, he wasn't really thinking (was it just her?).

Quickly he caught her by the wrist and held her back, spun her around and searched her gaze.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His tone was light, disguising his jittery heart and his desperate attempt to gather all his courage - he quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Good night," he husked and stepped back, letting go of her hand. She bit back a grin, nodded and then stood on her tiptoes, leaned in and whispered into the darkness, "Don't you dare getting fried tonight."

oOo

It was the crack of dawn by the time Hiccup dragged himself through the door the next morning. Bathtub, cold water, diffuser, bed. Preferably in that exact order. He slumped upstairs after opening a can of cat food and unceremoneously dumping it into Toothless' bowl and slowly rid himself of his clothing on the way up.

He shivered as he stepped into the bathroom but stuck to a cold shower nontheless, not having the desire for more heat tonight that he'd already had.

People caused way too many fires, he thought hazily as he started scrubbing the sod and ash off of his skin.

At least everybody came out alive. That was the main goal. Get there in time and get everyone out alive. Tonight there had been three cases of smoke poisining and two minor degree burns but they'd driven them to the hospital nontheless.

Hiccup bit back a muffled grunt as he touched his stump. 'I'm helping people, I'm helping people, I'm helping people.' His daily mantra.

"Astrid was right," he groaned into his empty bathroom. "It's a death wish."

Astrid couldn't sleep. The image of a wet-haired, towel-clad Hiccup had burned itself into her mind. She groaned and turned onto her left side. Of course, he wasn't only considerate and funny and challenging, no, he also just had to have a body like this.

She absentmindedly wondered which kind of toothpaste he used.

The look on his face had been priceless, though. And there had been a second emotion the second time she'd been at his door, something … else. Determination? It had felt like more thab that, something she couldn't really put her finger on. All Astrid knew now was that the air between them had felt electrified, just like two days ago. She'd been daring, she knew that, as she'd initiated the conversation about his … behaviour. And her move with the collar bone had definitely been something that shouldn't even be allowed, especially not on a second date. But he'd let her. And she hadn't failed to notice him shudder lightly at her action.

Her mind once again provided her with towel-Hiccup. Sighing Astrid reached out to her phone. She hesitated for a few seconds, then typed, 'Sorry i stared at you.', deleted it, wrote it again, rephrased it and deleted it once more.

oOo

Hiccup was already at work when his phone buzzed the next day. His heart did a small somersault as he saw it was from Astrid.

'Sorry about yesterday night…'

He blushed involuntarily.

'don't worry, it's okay'

… 'unless you're repulsed by me now'

She typed. Stopped. Then, 'Remember our talk about your ... antics?'

'Yeah?'

'Add that to the list.'

Hiccup couldn't help but laugh quietly and hid his blush behind his phone.

'remind me to make a list for you too. we need to balance that out'

Suddenly his phone started ringing, Astrid's face all over the screen.

"Tired of texting already?"

She laughed. "Shut up. I just grew impatient and wanted to hear your voice now that I know you don't hate me."

Hiccup chuckled and leaned back into his chair. "Are you at work?"

She hummed. "Yeah, on my break. Today's been pretty sparse."

"My shift's in about two hours and I just remembered I ran out of cat litter."

"Did you?"

He imagined her raise an eyebrow at him to match her teasing tone.

"Oh yeah, it's very urgent."

The young woman hummed again, pretending to be deep-in thought. When she spoke again Hiccup could almost hear her grin.

"I'll pick you up at 3:30, we're trying out the café."

"Is that a threat?"

She laughed brightly. "That's an outlook on your future."

[path-of-my-childhood]

Collect Call From... TAYLOR SWIFT

Blender Magazine (final, unpublished issue from May 2009) // By Josh Eells

Each month, one lucky rock star phones Blender HQ for seven days straight, just to, you know, share. Now on the line: country-pop princess.

DAY 1: FEBRUARY 24th, 3:51 pm

Swift calls from Nashville, where she lives with her parents and younger brother. “I’m so happy to be home! I’ve been in Europe for two weeks. I got back two nights ago and spent half of yesterday sleeping. This is my only week off for months, but I categorize vacations differently than most people. I don’t care if I’m doing interviews from when I wake up till I go to sleep, as long as l’m in my own bed, that’s a day off.  This morning I went to some of the radio stations in town, said hi to program directors. Then I met with my stylist - we talked about tour outfits. And now I’m getting dressed for my brother Austin’s lacrosse game. He plays goalie - this is his first game as starter. His friends used to tease him about me, but now he's six two and built. I don’t think they make jokes anymore.”

DAY 2: FEBRUARY 25th, 4:14 pm

Swift phones from home, where she’s “lounging on the couch under a quilt” and playing with her dogs, Baby (a Doberman) and Bug (a mini Pinscher). “Austin did great! His team won, and he kept a bunch of balls out of the goal. Afterwards I went with my friend Emily to a Nashville Predators game. I did a commercial for them, so they hook me up with tickets when I’m in town. There’s a couple of cute guys, but I think they’re all married. I totally cheer and do the fang-finger thing. Last night they put me on the JumboTron, and you could literally see the wave of people getting up to come over. I’m still getting used to the fact that being stared at is part of my day - in high school it meant I had something on my face. The fact that my albums has been No. 1 for 10 weeks - it’s unbelievable. But this week looks a little questionable: The Jonas Brothers have an album out, too. Hmm.”

DAY 3: FEBRUARY 26th, 5:30 pm

Swift dials in from the road In Nashville, where she’s stuck In rush-hour traffic. "I just shot a video with my friend Kellie [Pickier] for a song we wrote together. It’s about ex-boyfriends. In the video I am kind of her trouble-making sidekick - I wore this strapless studded dress with a zipper up the front. The whole day I was afraid someone was gonna walk by and unzip me. It would have taken half a second to ruin my day. Oh, my God, last night I fell asleep on the couch watching CSI: NY. I was out at like 7, but at some point I dragged myself to bed, and apparently in my haze I turned the heat up to 95! I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, with my poor cat lying on the floor panting. I made myself an ice bath and called my friend Emma in LA - she was in Superbad - and she kept me company for two hours while I cooled down.”

DAY 4: FEBRUARY 27th, 4:37 pm

Swift rings from the music room at her house, where she’s teaching herself how to play piano. “I’m still not caught up from my jet lag. Today I woke up at 5:30, ate same cereal and fell back asleep on the couch. I didn’t sleep long though, because we had rehearsal this morning. Kenny Chesney was rehearsing next door, so we chatted for a bit. Nashville is a really small town. I still live with my parents because I’m never home long enough to move out. And I don’t go to bars, because I’m 19 and scared of breaking rules. Besides Kellie and my best friend Abigail, who moved to Kansas, most of my friends are in LA. And boys aren’t even an issue right now. I categorize guys as “talking”, “nominees” - people you feel like you could someday date - and “dating”. Right now I don’t even have nominees. I don’t even have potential future nominees! But I’m used to being single. Before my last relationship [with Joe Jonas] I was single for like two years. It’s sort of my thing.”

DAY 5: FEBRUARY 28th, 12:50 pm

Swift checks in from her mom’s car with some medical news. “So, I’m driving to the doctors office. I burned my face with a curling iron! Don’t worry, I’m fine - I’ll call you after we’re done. [She phones a few hours later.] OK. What happened was, I woke up at 6 am and decided to curl my hair. I guess l was still asleep, because I slipped and burned my face under my right eye. It hurt really bad, but I didn’t think much of it. I edited and uploaded a MySpace video - unhindered by the fact that my face was melting off - and went downstairs, and my dad was like, ‘Oh, my God!’ I guess it was worse than I realized. So we went to the dermatologist. She gave me a prescription for some burn cream - I’m not sure what it is, but it has a lot of syllables. The good news is I’m expected to make a full recovery.”

DAY 6: MARCH 1st, 10:03 pm

Swift phones from Plant City, Florida, where she lust performed at the world famous Florida Strawberry Festival. “This place is strawberry city! When we landed, there were official Strawberry Festival minivans waiting to pick us up, driven by people in strawberry shirts. In the dressing room there were bushels of the most beautiful, gigantic chocolate covered strawberries I’ve ever seen. It’s like they welded three together! And this afternoon I met the Strawberry Festival Queen and her court. They were dressed in red and looked very sparkly. It was cold for Florida, like 55 and rainy, but everybody bundled up and had a great time. Afterward we had a police escort, which always makes you feel cool, and we’re taking a private jet, which is even cooler. On the way to the airport all these kids were trying to hurl themselves on our car - it was pretty frantic for a second. But thankfully no one got hurt. That’s why it was cool.”

DAY 7: MARCH 2nd, 12:50 pm

On her last day at home, Swift calls from her favorite couch, where she’s enjoying the view of Old Hickory Lake. “It’s freezing in Tennessee! It’s like 29 degrees, and I’m sitting here packing sundresses and flip-flops for two weeks in Australia. That and downloading movies for the 20,000-hour flight I’m about to embark on. I have three goals for this trip. One, get a tan. Two, go to the beach. And three, debut my new summer wardrobe. Oh, and four, play some good shows and make an impact on Australia! Ha. I don’t go into most situations thinking I’m going to win. I’ve never even won a raffle. These blessings I’ve had lately are more amazing than I could have ever imagined. We got the new projections today, and It’s looking like we’re going to be No.1 again. Does it feel a little sweeter this week? [Laughs] Yeah - just a little.”