#his bones are actually a bit tinted neon green

[fir3lit3]

wait omg LYCHEE IS A DUST? 👀✨✨✨

omg omg i LIVE for dusts with hats

@safwunnz..

-Anon 5

yup!! Lychee is technically from an unnamed redemption/desistance timeline!

dust/murder sans belongs to @ask-dusttale

he may or may not be a 'jack of all trades' when it comes to things 'construction' related. be afraid of his power with a welding torch /j

@sweetdesertshowers | lychee

[kokonoisgf]

Falling - Gojo Satoru x Reader

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!!! MINORS DNI !!! 18+ content ahead

+ this kinda really flopped on ao3, so I’ll repost it here hehe. I wrote this a while back but i’m still super proud of it!! I hope you guys like it too <3

+ explicit sexual content, fem reader, porn w plot <3

+ too lazy to proofread- 

+ w.c : 8.2k

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The music blared, drowning you in what seemed like a never-ending playlist of pop music. Mass of sweaty bodies mingled on the dance floor, while you relaxed at the bar, sipping on your heavily alcoholic cocktail. Lights flashed alternating between different shades of fuchsia, blue, green, and violet to the beat of the song. Your face felt warm, feeling bubbly in the pit of your stomach, gaze darting toward your friends having a blast on the dance floor with strangers. You grinned, leaning your head in the palm of your hand, planning to go join them once you'd be done with your drink. Your black bodycon dress rilled up your thighs, exposing the sweet delicate skin of your slender legs, which, unbeknownst to you, had men's ogling you left and right. A specific group of 3 men's had their eyes on you by the entrance, snickering. Their gaze held something malicious, but you were too tipsy to take notice of that or even care. You got cut out of your little trance by your friends coming back to you, smelling of a mix of alcohol and perfume. "We'll be heading back now Y/N" "Aw really? I was about to join you" You fake pouted, not really minding as you'd just go binge watch some of your favorite shows at home instead. Taking your hands, their heavily drunk self dragged you outside, all beaming and laughing. A couple of men's followed suit, you paid it no mind knowing that your friends were most likely taking them home. You made them promise to call you, and share their location on their phones as they exited in their respective cabs kissing your cheeks goodbye, their partner for the night following. you wrapped your black fur coat around yourself tighter, taking your phone off to dial a cab for yourself. You felt stares drill a hole into your body, the coat tightly wrapped around yourself only highlighting your delicious curves. As you were composing the cab's phone number you got rudely interrupted by someone snatching your phone away. Yelping, it took you a second to realize what was going on, your drunkness still hitting you with full force. In front of you stood three men, the one in the middle holding your pink cellphone between his digits. Their faces were disgusting, looking at you like you were nothing but prey on their list. Eyes glossy most likely from their alcohol intake, they reeked of cheap cologne and sweats. "Leaving alone tonight sweetheart?" one purred in a sultry voice, you backed away crossing your arms over your chest defensively. The alcohol in your system gave you a confidence you never knew you possessed "Give me back my phone, now." The males snickered, as the middle one shook his head dropping it in his pockets. "Not with that attitude, anyways what're you going to do about it-" he paused, stepping forward, desperately trying to close the distance between you two. You gasped, taking another step back almost falling, your vision was blurry, your senses weakened. You mentally cursed for going so heavily on the drinking, feeling yourself wobble. A shiver racing up your spine, the sudden gust of wind hit you, not to mention the snowflakes falling on your face and bare legs. "Leave me alone!" You faltered, eyes darting for anyone that could be of help, but everyone seemed in a daze too engrossed with the muffled music, or busy making out with a stranger. "Hey honey, are those creeps bothering you?" The sweetest voice resonated throughout your ears, feeling your back lend against something warm. A hand snaked around your waist pulling you closer to their protective figure, making sure that you were stable. "H-Huh--" You stuttered, blinking in confusion, looking up at the person behind you. He was tall, really tall, with locks the same color as snowflakes, a bandana covering his eyes. He wore a jean jacket over a dark top, with beige pants. It didn't take you more than one glance to notice that he was really handsome. Your eyes lingered a bit on the bandana, wondering if he possibly was blind, before grasping a hold of the situation. "Y-Yes they are" playing your part, you snuggled closer into his chest, relishing in the warmth he provided. Your voice was low, glaring daggers at the men's, holding unto your savior for dear life. His digit slowly caressed your arm, until he interlocked fingers with yours, walking up to the guys. His aura was intimidating, leaning down to be at eye level with them. You gulped down, he must have been 6' tall at least or something. "Now then, I'd like to have my girlfriend's phone back now" He grinned, extending his free hand, palm open. The large hand holding yours gave a light squeeze, seeming to thank you for your cooperation. Suddenly, as the trio carefully analyzed who was standing in front of them, their faces paled, all color draining leaving them as white as your savior's locks. Tilting your head to the side, you couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow known around here. "W-Wait Is that-" "Uh- Yes it's-" The trio almost started shaking like leaves, quickly handing back the phone. It wasn't long until they were out of sight, running inside the club, mingling back into the crowd. You beamed, as he turned back to you, towering above your small frame handing you back your belonging. You thanked him, letting your gaze linger on his face. His nose and tip of his ears were slightly pinkish due to the snow falling, his lips rosy-tinted. You couldn't help but stare in a daze, still wondering if he was blind. Your eyes scanned his surroundings for any signs of a cane or something, but none to avail. Nonetheless, your tipsy brain concluded, without any proof, that the man indeed lacked sight. Taking your sweet time to scan his face and gorgeous locks, you couldn't help but blush, he really was extremely good looking there was no denying it. "You know, you're actually pretty cute staring at me like that." A grin plastered against his lips, he tilted his head to the side, chuckling. You yelped, covering your mouth with the back of your free hand. "W-Wait you're not blind-" If that was even possible, his grin widened, "Luckily for me I'm not" he paused, giving another squeeze to your interlocked hands, reminding you that you were still holding hand with a complete stranger you'd met a mere 5 minutes ago. You couldn't help but gasp again, sweet melodic sounds escaping your lips. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your cold skin, leaning down, now at eye level with you, "You see, I'm glad I still have perfect vision to admire the sight in front of me right now" Your blush deepened, looking off to the side, trying to save your pride as much as you could. His words were swooning you way more than they should, was it the alcohol? or was it this mysterious aspect of him? But most importantly, how silly were you to even assume that he was blind after he just helped you, ugh curse your foolish little brain. You blamed it on his handsome features, must have gotten you distracted or something. "Smooth talker aren't you" you grimaced at him, cheeks reddish for being so fervently exposed to checking him out blatantly. You started to let go of his hand, even if you clearly didn't want to. Something about him entranced you, making you want to know more about him, even if he was just a mere stranger. "I was fine with holding hand, but if you insist" He teased in a sing-song voice, taking notice in the way you held your coat so closely to your frame. Shivers racked through your body, never imagining that you'd been waiting outside for so long, your outfit clearly not appropriate for this icy weather. "Here," You blinked, eyes glued to the man offering you his dark jean jacket. It was clearly oversized for you, yet you could smell his cologne and it enticed you to accept it. Snowflakes started falling on his broad shoulder, reflecting the light from the club's neon signs. "But, you'll be cold, '' you muttered, trying to put up a fight, knowing damn well you were freezing to the bones. "On the contrary, I'm pretty hot. Don't you think?" Your cheeks flared, it was as if he was reading your every thought. Huffing you wrapped the jacket around yourself, nuzzling your face into it trying to keep your face from freezing. "Do you want me to inflate your ego that badly?" "Well, you kinda already did considering how you were staring at me earlier sweetheart" He grinned, hand coming to shake off the snow from his hair. Your blush increased tenfold, his flirty behavior really getting to you. "Shut up I wasn't-" you retorted in a futile attempt to gain some dignity back, looking off to the side pouting. Leaning down, his scent swirled around you, face mere centimeters away from yours. You gulped, eyes scanning his delicate face: his lips seemed so soft, a thin coat of lips balm covering them, you wondered how it tasted. What was his favorite flavor, cherry? or maybe strawberry? "There you go again, ah so cute." He teased, proving himself right once again, his hot breath ghosting over your face smelling of mint and candy. Covering your cheeks with your hand, it felt like your face was on fire. "You talk too much" A chuckle escaped his parted lips, a fake pout now plastered on his handsome feature "Ah so mean to me" you couldn't hold back a giggle at the way he said it, hand coming to cover your mouth. The snowstorm went on, as you took your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it to look at the time. 1:15 a.m showed on the screen, your battery settling at a low 10%. Pursing on your lips, you didn't want this moment to end, completely enticed by this stranger but you had to call a cab before your phone died on you. Curse you for forgetting your charger as always. "You know, I'm a pretty good driver, I can drive you home if you'd like" His proposition took you aback, was this man really capable of reading your every thought? You couldn't possibly fathom what made this handsome stranger be so interested in you, your mind still a bit hazy from your previous drinks. Pursing on your lips, you definitely wanted to spend more time with him, yet feeling bad to make him become your personal driver before even knowing his name. "Are you're sure? I'd feel bad making you drive me home, plus I live quite far" you muttered sheepishly hands fondling with the hem of his jacket. "Anything for a pretty lady, and besides if you live too far-" He paused stepping closer, a hand coming to push back a strand of hair that the harsh winter breeze had pushed into your face, "It so happens that I live really close by" You stood there in shock, as this attractive stranger so blatantly exposed wanting to take you home. You gulped down, eyes scanning his face for any signs of it being mere teasing. Yet, he seemed honest, a grin still covering his face. "You really are a smooth talker" giggling, you nodded accepting his proposition fervently. Was it because of your semi-drunk state or the thoughts of what could possibly happen over at his house, you clearly had no intention of refusing his delightful offer. Everything about him made your core feel warm, yet you knew so little. Starting to walk toward his car, you stopped in astonishment at the sheer luxury of the vehicle. He beamed, opening your door for you, settling your purse into your lap sitting on the dark leather seat. You played with the strap of your bag, waiting for him to join you on the conductor side. As he sat, and closed his door his scent mingled with you, making the apple of your cheeks darken. "You're too damn adorable you know that?" You yelped, catching him gazing at you, putting his seatbelt on. "look who's talking-" You muttered to yourself unbeknownst that this man seemed to possess super hearing chuckling at your response. "Being called adorable is definitely a first, but I'll take it if it comes from you" His large veiny hand opened the vents, warm air now flooding inside the car, you sighed in delight. "Also sweetheart, I wouldn't want to bring a lady home before at least knowing her name" He paused, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand, "you know I do am a well-mannered man after all" He slyly said, head tilted to the side. His gorgeous ivory locks slightly damped considering the snowflakes that melted. Tongue darting out to lick your dried up lips from the cold, you blushed "L/N Y/N" "Ah L/N Y/N, sounds like music to my ear, I'm Gojo Satoru" ❄❄❄ Opening up the Bluetooth station he turned his head, most likely shooting you a glance under his bandana. "I hope you got any good music Y/N, you'll be our DJ for the ride" A grin formed on his lips as you started beaming. "Of course I do!" You retorted confidently, connecting to the Bluetooth at the speed of light. He hummed, starting the car, the scent of leather mingling with your own. As you put on your favorite song, he shouted "No way! You listen to Megan Thee Stallion? I knew there was something I liked about you sweetheart" Your heart thumped in your chest, feeling like it might burst out. His blatant honesty was striking you right in the heart. He really knew how to transform you into a blushing mess. "You got good taste too, She's really fire" your eyes twinkled, relinquishing in this feeling. Humming, Gojo turned to you, sticking his tongue out to you, "I know I got good taste Y/N, that's why you're coming back home with me after all" You swore you could saw him wink under his bandana, your blush increasing tenfold. You playfully, hit his arm, grimacing back at him, letting the music surround the both of you. As the chorus hit, Gojo was fully vibing, dancing to the sound. One hand on the wheel, he sang the rapping part perfectly, moving his upper body sensually to the beat of the song. His hair moved alongside him, chest huffing as he sang. You got entranced, eyes glued to him, seeing him drive with one hand, was somehow so sexy making your heart flutter. Starting to sing alongside him, he shot you a glance, grinning widely, the drive to his home way better than your whole clubbing experience so far. ❄❄❄ His apartment was extremely spacious, to say the least. The walls were covered in large windows, a spacious leather couch, and what seemed like at least a 60 inches television on the wall. The floor was a sublime chestnut wood, walls as snowy as his hair. A few plants adorned the corners of the apartment the whole thing reminding you of what you'd see in magazines or on the internet. You couldn't hold back your amazement, mouth forming an o shape, which made Gojo chuckle. Taking off his shoes, he proceeded to Drop the keys on the counter. He stretched, "Can I offer you something to drink?", face buried in his huge fridge, seeming to push bottles around from the sounds of it. You left both your coat and his jean jacket on a nearby chair, shoes neatly placed next to his, letting it dry up from the snowstorm outside, turning to him. Your dress hugged your curve to perfection, the small material barely covering what needed to be covered, stopping above mid-thighs. You wore a gold necklace, with gold hoops earrings your hair falling down your back, your collarbones full exposed. "Hmmm" You pondered, walking up to him, standing on your tiptoes trying to see something. Feeling your presence behind him, Gojo risked a glance in your direction, his smirk widening tenfold. "Are you trying to make me fall for you by looking like that darling? Because honestly, it's working 100 percent" pursing on his lips, his tongue darted out to wet them, your gaze instantly following suit. You felt your face erupt once again "H-Huh! It's not like that, I just wanted to dry up our coats" You stammered trying to defend yourself, arms flailing in front of you. He chuckled, gaze devouring you under the dark fabric that covered his eyes. Crossing your arms over your chest you grimaced at him, "Do you have white wine by any chance?" He nodded, "Of course my lady" moving the bottles around, deciding on one. Dropping it on the table he reached for one of the cupboards above his fridge, getting two glasses. You watched him in astonishment, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. He seemed to take notice in your endeavor as per usual, grinning "Something caught your eye sweetheart?" he remarked, pouring you a glass. You huffed, looking off to the side defensively, "You're just very attractive that's all..." You muttered the last part, which only seemed to inflate his never-ending ego. Cutting him off before he dared crack another flirty joke, you asked "How tall are you?" your curiosity was getting the best of you, as you sipped on the drink, the warmth of it enveloping you. He was so mysterious, the only thing you knew about him was his name, yet it was like you were craving for more. It wasn't like you to be that way, not usually caring what your partner for the night liked to drink, or what his favorite tv show was, but for the snowy-haired man in front of you, you'd actually memorize those facts in a heartbeat. He had you entranced, muddy in the palm of his hand. He leaned against the kitchen counter, leaning down, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand. "Thank you, you're pretty damn gorgeous yourself, and I'm around 6'3 I would say" He grinned being completely obvious to the fact that his height was a major turn on, bringing the drink to his lips. Your eyes followed his glass, gulping down. You scrunched your nose, a hand coming to twirl a piece of your hair. "Any other question darling?" He teased, taking his sweet time into savoring the intoxicating liquid. You knew damned well what you wanted to know, something you'd been wondering ever since you laid your gaze on him. "Yes actually, since you claim not being blind, what color are your eyes" You were getting bold, bolder than you'd usually be, the alcohol reigniting the fire inside you. If that was even possible, his smirk grew wider, head tilted to the side, "Oh, that's something I get asked a lot, so I'll give you 2/10 for the originality" He paused chuckling, taking another sip. You pouted stepping closer, your mind was running wild, what color could his beautiful irises be? Forest green? Ocean blue? or maybe coffee-colored ones? It was burning you on the inside, like an insatiable itch that you couldn't get rid of. "Does every girl ask you that?" You teased, feeling a slight pinch of jealousy scraping your heart. He laughed, instantly taking notice "ah you're too obvious, already getting jealous about my whereabouts aren't you?" Your face caught on fire at his words, your blush probably the color of the cherries on the kitchen counter by now. He twirled the glass in his hand, satisfied with the response he elicited from you before saying: "They do ask, but I rarely show anyone" He paused taking a sip, tongue licking up a droplet that was running down the glass. He had gotten strangely serious for the first time since your meeting, "But for you, I'd make an exception". You were taken aback, scanning his face for signs of it being a mere joke, but once again the man seemed utterly honest. You wondered if there was a specific reason as to why he hid his eyes, but you decided upon not asking now, it was rather too soon, and not of your business. He straightened himself, now towering above you. "On one condition, I'll let you do the honor of taking it off, deal?" He grinned coming back to his natural goofy self, seeming to take pleasure in your state. Your anticipation was killing you, feeling it in the pit of your stomach, nodding fervently ready to accept any condition if it meant seeing what was underneath that damned piece of fabric. As your hand reached for the material, standing on your tiptoes, the man caught your wrist giving it a slight squeeze. "Oh! but take a guess first" He stuck his tongue at you, as you visibly grumped, "You said one condition" You argued back, letting your heels fall back on the wooden floor, his long fingers still holding on to you. His hand was radiating warmth, making you miss your situation earlier when you were in his embrace. "hmm--" you pondered, taking a good look at his face. He would be handsome with any eye color really, yet you were taking so much fun into guessing it, trying to picture every possibility unto his face. Really wanting to win this little competition, you decided to go with what seemed like your safest bet. "I'll go with brown!" you beamed, feeling confident. That was until his grin widened, letting go of your hand. He waved his finger, seeming to wink under his bandana "We'll see about that '' You pursed your lips, feeling as if you had taken the wrong option, from his remark. Grasping a hold of the hem of his shirt you tugged on it slightly, "lean down a bit you're too tall" You complained, to which he obliged, literally going down on his knees. "Weren't you swooning over my height just a moment ago?" He teased, proceeding to imitate in a high pitched tone what was supposed to be your voice: "How tall are you?" Your embarrassment was out of bound, cheeks burning for being so blatantly exposed yet again, he really had no mercy in store for you. "Shut it- I have more important things to focus on right now" You retorted, earning a chuckle from him. He was right in front of you, a bit below eye level now, but you were finally able to take a good look at his angelic feature, which only made your heartbeat boosts tenfold. You had never met, or even seen, someone as good looking as him. What was his deal though? Taking such a liking to you, yes he did protect you from these creeps but now he was just fueling your fantasies and dreams even more. "Anytime now darling" He burst your bubble, bringing you back to reality, your hands darting toward the material. Sliding one finger underneath, you felt your hands shake a little. Was it because of all this built up anticipation, or was it because you were afraid that you'd actually fall even more for him when you'll see his full features? Slowly pulling it down, Gojo remained silent, smirking, probably planning something mischievous. As the material fell down, now hanging around his neck, you peered before almost shouting at the sight: his eyes were closed. "Oh my god- Open your eyes! You can't do this to me-" Midway into your childlike tantrum, laughter escaped his parted lips, eyes opening. The sight literally knocked the air out of your lungs, You stood there star-struck, your gaze melting into his. You couldn't believe your eyes, your mind refusing to process what was right in front of you. Beautiful sapphire irises looked back at you, adorned with full lashes as white as his hair. Was there something this guy didn't have?! Your mouth stayed slightly open, silence filling the apartment. Not only that, but also his hair had fallen down, now framing his delicate face so perfectly. Locks of snowy hair contrasting with his slightly tanned skin. He looked back at you, head tilting to the side before waving a hand in front of your face. "You still alive Y/N?" He teased, eyes twinkling, taking off the bandana fully and settling it on the counter. "Your eyes, they're gorgeous" you muttered, you wanted to say so much more but you were still processing how utterly beautiful that man was. It struck you right in the heart, as now, whenever his glance caught yours, you'd feel the apple of your cheeks heat up even more than before. "Thank you, I got quite the genes I admit." He cockily replied, taking a sip of wine, eyelashes fluttering. Your regard was glued to him, walking to the counter to get your glass, scooting closer to him in the process. You felt the need to compliment him more, was it because of the intoxicating alcohol now pulsating through your veins, you didn't know, but your mouth opened nonetheless: "Is that why you never show your eyes? You're afraid that girls will fall for you left and right?" You taunted grimacing, thinking you'd gotten back at him for being such a tease himself before it dawned on you that your big mouth had gotten you into quite the messy situation. Humming, Gojo leaned on the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering under the light, "So basically," He almost purred, running a hand through his ivory locks, "You just admitted falling for me. Did I hear you right, honey?" His face arbored the biggest grin you'd ever seen, knowing full well he had you under the spotlight right there, while his overly handsome self sipped on his drink. He was mere centimeters away, his scent completely intoxicating you. You cursed yourself for being so light-headed, your silly self not knowing to think twice before saying something. The alcohol had all subdued, not feeling any signs of being drunk or tipsy either, and yet you were still silly. Flashes from your earlier situation appeared in your mind, hoping you'd get to be in his embrace soon enough. Yet, you couldn't inflate his ego more than it was, his head would probably implode at this rate. As you were about to retort back, he shushed you placing a finger on your lips, "Shush, it's okay baby, I'm kinda falling for you too you know" He smirked, his digit caressing the smooth skin of your rosy lips. You were star struck, gaze melting into his, his touch lighting a fire within you. You had this growing urge to just please him, let him dominate you fully. The alcohol ignited lust, slowly opening your mouth, taking his digit inside your mouth. His eyes gleamed, now half-lidded, a low moan escaping his lips. Your tongue swirled and licked his long finger, feeling yourself get soaked at the thoughts of it inside you. His gaze never left the show in front of him, slowly coming to bit down on his lips. The mere sensation of your tongue against his digit made his length throb in his pants. You pulled away with a wet satisfying 'pop', gaze swirling with lust. His other hand came to grab your chin slightly, tilting it upward. The mere action made your core feel warm, already submitting entirely to him. He leaned down, bringing the finger that was previously in your mouth, into his. Never breaking eye contact with you, he hummed tasting yourself off his finger, before saying: "Don't get me wrong sweetheart, that indirect kiss was pretty hot, but I'd rather be doing this." And with that, he instantly crashed his lips on yours. You couldn't hold back a moan, all the built-up anticipation hitting you full force. His lip balm smelling of cherry, one of your hands came to rest on his shoulder feeling his muscles underneath the dark fabric. Damn, he was a good kisser, tongue swirling around yours, leaving nothing untouched. It was rare for you to feel yourself get soaked already from just a kiss, but this man seemed to possess supernatural powers or something. His thumb rubbed soothing patterns on your cheek, his tongue lapping at your lips eliciting yet another sinful moan from you. Taking this opportunity, Gojo slide his tongue into your mouth leaving nothing untouched. Towering above you, one of his hand slid down your back, resting on the back of your waist. Breaking away from the kiss, he panted, eyes twinkling. "May I gorgeous?" The hand resting on your waist gave a slight squeeze indicating what he meant. You blushed at his behavior, obviously agreeing. Large palms slide down the small of your back, fingers digging into your plump rear. The man almost let out a moan, eyelashes fluttering feeling your curves under his touch. His reaction only fueled your lust, even more, desire swirling into your irises locking gaze with him. A glance was all you needed to understand Gojo, as you jumped wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands instantly planted themselves on your ass supporting you, taking their time to feel you up, leaving nothing untouched. His touch was like fire, making you moan from its simplest movement, making a chuckle erupt from him. "Don't stop making those noises for me baby" He ordered, lips crashing back down on yours. You could only hum, your fingers tangled into his snowy white hair. Tugging on his locks slightly, the man groaned grinding his already fully erect cock on your panties. You gasped in the kiss, which the man didn't hesitate to take advantage of his tongue swirling in your mouth. Your dress had obviously rilled up, your bare ass now barely covered. As you deepened the kiss, saliva mixing with his, you felt him start walking toward the back of his apartment where you had noticed his room earlier. However, you were wrong to assume that he would have made it this far, no, not with how utterly hot you looked right now. Dropping your body on the couch, he nestled in between your legs. Encaging you between his arms, one of his large hands grasped both of your wrists pinning them up above your hand. He had such long fingers that both of your wrists seemed like merely nothing in his hands. Breaking the kiss for air, the man panted above you. His warm breath hitting the tip of your nose, his forehead leaning on yours. His eyes were half-lidded, looking at you with pure desire swirling in them. The clear Saphire blue you had seen earlier had subdued to a more animalistic hue, pupils almost blown out, leaving barely any of the ocean like color to be seen.

You stood there in awe, gaze melting into his. He seemed like the embodiment of absolute perfection, and at that moment you just wanted to please him. Struggling to free your wrists you raised your hips grinding them against his clothed cock, eliciting a moan from the man above you. "Let me touch you please" You begged, lashes fluttering as you repeated your movement again, feeling his member twitch within the confine of his pants. Gojo smirked, raising an eyebrow at your needy tone, "I can't possibly refuse if you ask that nicely sweetheart". He teased, his vice grip on your wrists disappearing, taking this opportunity you turned him around sitting snugly on his hips. You grinned mischievously making sure to sit exactly on his large cock, feeling it twitch once again. God, he was hard, and he seemed so big it made your core swirl at the thoughts of him railing the absolute shit out of you. Gojo crossed his arms behind his neck, taking his sweet time to look you up and down, his usual grin covering his feature. It subdued quickly when your hands swiftly unzipped his pants dragging them down, making sure to drag your finger across his entire length. pursing on his lips, the man let out a moan, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "you're so big" You praised, not caring about inflating his ego. I mean, he deserved it right? That man was literally the most handsome guy you had ever come across, you just wanted to shower him with praises. He smirked, flashing you a wink "Oh? Am I really?" He teased in a sing-song voice playing coy. You only giggled, pulling down his black underwear, his cock colliding with his abdomen. Gojo hissed as the cold air hit his member, eyes half-lidded awaiting your next move with impatience. His dick was way beyond average both in length and girth. Tip rosy from being hard for so long, a bead of precum leaked slowly running down his entire length. You almost drooled at the sight, taking your sweet time to look at his cock, one finger coming to scoop the precum bringing it into your mouth. You moaned your tongue swirling and twirling around your digit, already intoxicated by his delicious taste. "Let me taste you again baby" he ordered his voice low, as he sat up. Taking his finger out of your mouth, you extended your arm forward, Gojo grabbing a hold of your wrist, tongue extending, licking the digit clean. He hummed lowly, eyes locked with yours as he did so. Pink muscle leaving no surface of his finger untouched, he moaned your name before leaning back down. "Suck me" You felt your heart rate spike up, your juice leaking from your core at the mere order from Gojo. You nodded, eyes dropping to his rock hard cock, hands settling on the base. Your tongue darted out, licking a clean stripe from the base to his engorged tip, mouth closing on it. You twirled your tongue a couple of times, feeling his large hands grab a hold of your hair. "That's my good girl" The mere words made you moan around his cock, the vibration only intensifying the pleasure for Gojo who threw his head back against the couch. Taking as much as you possibly could fit of his dick in your mouth, your hands moved around his shaft and balls desperately trying to bring him the utmost pleasure. It was working as groans and growls, escaped from Gojo's parted lips, half-lidded eyes never breaking away from you. "You look so good taking my cock like that baby-" He paused, hands massaging your scalp as if thanking you for the absolute best blow job he had, "but it's my turn now" and with that, he pulled you away from his cock, a thin string of saliva connecting you to his member. Leaning up he didn't hesitate a single second to capture your lips again into a kiss, a hand caressing your cheek guiding you back down under him. "You did amazing" He whispered, making you blush, "Thank y-" You squealed, feeling him drag you on the edge of the couch, your legs dangling off of it. “Now then, spread those pretty legs for me won't you?” He licked his lips, the cherry lips balm coating his velvety muscle. You couldn’t help but comply, long digits sliding across your soaked panties, index finger flicking where he knew exactly where your bundle of nerve was. He chuckled lowly, a thin coat of lust covering his sapphire irises. His fingers were already shiny with your essence, and he hadn’t even made direct contact with your core yet. “So wet for me already baby, did you enjoy sucking my cock that much?” He teased, knowing damned well the answer already. The silver-haired man hooked his fingers on the side of your panties, mouth almost watering at the sight of your glistening folds. You mewled, eyes glassy trying to push your core closer to him, eliciting yet another dark chuckle from him. “Needy little thing” his voice was coated with lust, azure eyes locking with yours. One of his long finger slowly parted your folds, collecting your glistening essence on his finger before plopping it in his mouth. He moaned, tasting you, “You taste even better than I’d imagined” “Stop teasing me” You managed to mutter between moans, a grin spreading on his face at your voice. Tilting his head to the side, his index finger twirled around your pearl never giving it the attention it oh so desired. “Beg for it” His voice was raspy, blowing hot air on your clit before flashing you a wink. Your cheeks, well your whole being, felt on fire. “Please eat me out-” You whimpered out, hoping it was enough to satisfy him. Your mind was into a frenzy, thoughts and sentences jumbling into one another, unable to form cohesive sentences. Chuckling, he pressed a soft kiss to your inner right thigh, “Tell me if i’m wrong but, a good girl like you can do better, right?” You threw your head back against his satin pillow, he really was playing hard to get. “ God Gojo please- just make me cum over your tongue already, I need you so badly!” You screamed out in frustration, fists clenching. At that point you didn’t care about anything but to feel his warm tongue on you, tasting your juices Cock twitching at your words, the sorcerer felt his own self restraint slowly crumble to pieces. He just wanted to take you right there, right now, to dick you down until you couldn’t walk anymore. He wanted to break you. You couldn't hold back the moan as you felt his breath hover right above your clit, “So obedient” he praised, before his tongue darted out licking a clean strip, before latching unto your bundle of nerves. Your reaction was instant, head thrown back as a fountain of moans of his name echoed within the room. Gojo felt his self restraint crumble to pieces, every pores in his body aching for him to bend you into a mating press and drill ino your pretty pussy. Yet, at the same time, the way your juices leaked around his mouth drove him to the brinks of insanity. Sapphire gaze darting back and forth between your glistening folds and your flushed face, he soon felt himself grind his aching cock against the side of the bed, desperately seeking friction. Your hands soon found themselves tangled into his ivory locks, only pressing him closer and closer to your soaked core. “G-Gojo” You cooed, feeling your release build up incredibly fast. Damn he was good, there was no denying it. The way he softened his tongue just enough to roll and lap at your clit, while his large hands spread your thighs, nails digging into your plush skin. The man was eating you out as if it was his last meal. “Yes my darling?” He purred, not breaking the contact with your pussy, hot air from his words only pushing you closer to the edge, the pet name not helping either. Noticing the way your cunt quivered at his word, the sorcerer raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh? Are pet names your weakness, my love?” He asked, even as he already knew the answer. His melodic voice would have been enough alone to push you into bliss, but right before you could cum, thighs shaking and hips stuttering, he pulled away. His keen eyes knew, right away the signs of your oh so awaited orgasm, only to deny it so sweetly. Your eyebrows furrowed, and before you could even retort about your stolen orgasm, the man was pinning you down, lips crashing unto yours. “God- you drive me crazy you know.” His sweet words made you swoon, however you tried as best as possible to keep reminding yourself that the man probably had partners left and right. I mean, with his look and absolute perfect personality? Who wouldn’t want him? You had to keep yourself grounded, or at least try to. One of his hand coming to stroke the side of your cheek brought you back to reality, as his forehead laid on yours. His cerulean eyes gazing into yours, before you felt the tip of his cock align with your drenched cunt. “Is this okay?” He murmured, holding himself up with one hand which only accentuated his biceps. You couldn’t help but nodd, of course you wanted him to rearrange your insides, to mold you into his cock. “I need to hear it dear” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, head tilted to the side, surprisingly patiently awaiting your response. Leaning up slightly, you captures his lips in yet another kiss before sliding your hand between your bodies and grasping his cock. “Fuck me before I do it myself” Gojo’s eyebrow raised, before he chuckled darkly. Taking a hold of your wrist he pinned them both above your head, one large hand way more than enough to hold them tightly into places. “Can’t leave you unsatisfied now, can I” and with that he pushed his length into you. You swore you could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix, molding your insides to his dick. The stretch was slightly painful, but oh dear god it felt amazing. Hips now flush against yours, he leaned back slightly discarding his shirt, throwing it on the floor somewhere. His kin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, muscles defined and flexing under the pleasure he was currently under. Noticing your lingering gaze his hand grasped your knees throwing them over his shoulder. You yelped, before he pressed a kiss against your ankle. “Look at me baby” He purred before drilling into your core. Your mewled and gasped, hands desperately seeking to hold unto dear life. His cock quite literally rearrnged your insides, Gojo looking down at your through his ivory lashes, lips stuck between his teeth. He was slightly silent asides from some pants and grunts here and there, as he wished to hear every little sound you made. Nails digging into your thighs, he let out a low groan as his pace never faltered, gaze darting between your pussy eagerly sucking him up and your fucked out face. “You’re taking me so well” He purred, before his hips came to meet yours at a rougher pace, almost sending you flying into the headboard if it wasnt for his hold unto your thighs. “So good to me-” His voice broke as he let out another groan. Your mewls and moans only spurred him on, before a trembling hand reached toward his face. “K-Kiss me-” You managed to mumble between incoherent babbles as he fucked your brain out. Gojo smirked, before gently dropping your knees and leaning down eagerly sealing your lips into yet another kiss. “Dont go and fall for me now-” He whispered between choked out groans, a sly smirk plastered on his features. As your hands tangled themselves into his locks he bit down on his lips, gaze lingering on your face. The way your cheeks burned and glossy eyes stared back at him, Gojo couldn’t help but latch his lips unto the soft skin of your neck earning a yelp from you. His cocky personality had subdued, leaving a rather soft persona underneath. Hips stuttering, he felt yourself clench tighter around him only signalling that you’d soon back into pure bliss. There was no way that he’d ever finish before you, prioritizing the needs of his partners way before his own. A string of moans fell from your lips as his bit down and sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. Feeling him smirk against your skin, he lapped at the spot teasingly “You’re gonna cum on my cock baby?” He cooed, blowing hot air, pace never faltering in the slightest. You could only manage a weak nodd, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure cursing through your veins. A loud moan of his name fell from your lips as you felt yourself unravel on his dick. Gojo groaned feeling you spasm around his cock, draging himself into the bliss as well. Leaning down he kissed you, encaging you between his arms as he rutted into your oversensitive pussy, hot milky cum tainting your walls white. “Fuck-” He cursed, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his, dick twitchnig into the depths of your cunt. It wasnt long until he let himself fall on top of you burying his head into the crook of your neck. Not even bothering to take his cock out, Gojo pressed feather like kisses all over your now hickey covered skin, eliciting a small giggle from you. “That was amazing” You purred, one hand running up and down his bare back. It was rare for the man to be so relaxed after such encounter, not that he’d usually ask his partner to seek themselves out of his house but, this time it felt different. “Thank you, thank you” Came his smug reply, before he lifted his face cerulean eyes locking with yours. Taking his dick out from inside your cum soaked core, He grinned, before rolling you over so you were now laying by his side, head resting on top of his chest. Your heart was hammering against your chest, as if clarity was hitting you full force. Here you were, snuggling with this handsome man you had met earlier, and yet you felt like you’ve known him forever. “Ah- what a bad host I am. Let me clean you up” Gojo suddenly exclaimed, before making his way to the bathroom to fetch a warm wet cloth for you. After cleaning himself up quickly, but effectively he was back into the room with a glass of water and the cloth. You blushed before telling him you could clean yourself to which he agreed, handing you the water. “Do you need a spare of clothe?” He questioned now rummaging through his drawers. The question took you aback, blinking as you stared at him in silence for a few moment. You weren’t expecting to spend the night at his place, not that you were complaining, but it felt too good to be true, really like fate had somehow brought the two of you together. “Did I fuck you too good that you forgot how to speak lovely?” His voice brought you back to reality as he smugly grinned at you, leaning on the drawer. He looked absolutely ethereal, messy locks framing his pale face and body sculpted by the gods themselves. “Shut it-” “I’ll take that as a yes” He cooed, before throwing you a large black shirt. You grasped it mid-air, giggling, as he eyed you with a smile. That was until you spoke up, putting the shirt on, “Is it really okay for me to stay here tonight?” You couldnt help but voice your thoughts before earning a chuckled from the sorcerer himself. “Well I dont mind driving you back home if this makes you uncomfortable.” He paused, sounding serious for once, glancing at his car keys situated on the small wooden table by his bed. “But, we’re not done for the night, aren’t we?” He flashed you a wink, earning a blush from you. His cocky self seemed to back in full throttle. Seeing your reddened face he couldnt help but laugh, putting on a pair of looser grey sweatpants as he spoke “Besides as much as I loved hearing your beautiful moans of my name Id also like for us to share actual conversations-” Throwing a pillow at him, his hand came to arrest it before it hit his face. Seeing your embarrassed look, he broke into laughter, throwing himself back on the bed besides you. “Dont say such embarrassing thing” You poked his side in a teasing manner feeling satisfied with his answer. Gojo grinned letting his head rest in your laps, looking up at you with doe eyes. The night’s soft breeze twirled into the room, your hand caressing Gojo’s hair, twirling a piece between your pointer and middle finger. The neon alarm clock showed in flashy red numbers: 5:06 am. You merely chuckled under your breath, feeling as if this night had been one hell of a rollercoaster. Gojo silently stared at you, feeling relaxed as you played with his hair. “Tired?” He questioned, taking your hand before pressing a soft kiss on your palm, earning yet another blush from you. “Not really” He hummed, kind of amusing you how his cocky persona had subdued into this calmer one. Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, as the rhythm of his breathing relaxed, feeling comfortable in your embrace. Still holding unto your hand, he gave it a light squeeze, gaining back your attention “So, since it's already morning” He paused, throwing a glance toward the alarm clock,” Wanna order some food and talk the night away my sweet Y/N?”

⭑  ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

back to masterlist? 

[cir]

@luxinexitium:

he doesn’t sleep well these days. even after jolting awake, gasping and trembling, he can still hear the crunching of bones, the mangling of a slender throat. his fingertips buzz from the phanton feeling of flesh against them, twisted, torn, buried beneath his nails. coating him from head to toe, the thin sheen of sweat feels more like a spray of blood, iron fresh on his tongue as if it had all caught him by surprise. between each thunderous heart beat, he hears thepop and snap of joints, a strategic arrhythmia. he doesn’t waste another second to scramble out of the cold sheets, shoes hastily shoved on and bag slung over a shoulder before he bolts out the door.

the hour hand is nudging at two when he slinks into the diner, past the dingy glass door beneath a rusting bell. in the peace of the building, the chiming of the bell sounds more akin to a siren, and he hates it. beneath his eyes, sunken rings of lavender appear almost turquoise beneath green-tinted lights, but the melancholy he wears is not uncommon here. the woman behind the counter greets him without missing a beat, unperturbed by the listlessness of his gaze; as awful as he looks, she’s probably seen worse. out of habit, his gaze wanders towards the small window to the kitchen and spots the freezer door, lingering for a beat before darting elsewhere. (now is not the time for faraway memories and dry humour.)

his muscles groan in protest as he retrieves what little cash he has from the pocket of his jeans, straightening out the wrinkles and creases before counting the total, twice. it isn’t until after his gaze floats between the laminated menu on the counter and the bills in his hands, then back to the menu does he place his modest order for a single serving of chips. he is as slow to move as he is to speak, counting out his cash a third time before sliding it across the counter. fortunately, the server doesn’t seem to mind. there are only two other people in the diner, not counting the pair in the kitchen, and they look just about as close to death’s door as he does. there’s no rush.

somewhere between the sizzling of oil and the traffic signal switching from green to yellow, the familiar clink of a plate against the counter sings in greeting. he shouldn’t be disappointed upon the first bite, but an entire week of restless nights does nothing to stop the dip of something in his chest. it never tastes the same, never quite like that fateful night of hushed laughter and childish i dare you’s. the familiarity in his late night snack is nominal, and perhaps that’s for the best. in some petulant effort at staying awake, he starts stacking his chips like bricks and says to anyone who will listen– “they’re never crispy enough. always a little too soft for construction.” a brief pause to steady his precarious tower. “the chips, i mean.”

“Maybe you should give ‘em your good ole’talk, Lucas.” It’s far past one in the morning when Minjoo speaks it into their conversation. “Maybe you’ll make a friend.” 

Lucas’ gaze falls on the stranger, who is really not such a stranger to him, whether Kyungsoo knew or not. He was a frequent here, sitting at the same exact stool. Made his way in around these weird, limbo hours, ordered anything fairly cheap and quick on the menu, then barely touched the food only to linger for a while, only to leave. 

Kyungsoo has become a pattern to him, more or less.

It takes him a little further into two when he finds the push to put it into action. He’s still got a broom in his hand, making motions of sweeping the floor haphazardly in the path towards Kyungsoo. When he arrives at the point across from him at the counter, he picks up his mumbling and immediately responds. 

“You’re actually quite, dead on!” He laughs. The sound is nervous, and he’s not really sure why -- it’s not common to him. He looks for something to put blame on, “...it’s because of the time of the hour, you know.” and immediately pushes it off his psyche onto the time on the clock.

“I’ll uh, let you in on something.” He leans in a bit closer, his hand placed by his lips as if to protect the secret being told by his too-loud of a whisper. “We stop really ‘cooking’ anything past midnight. Unless you’re a real regular, as deemed by Joo, our manager over there.” As if on cue, the introduction elicits a wave then a double thumbs up from Minjoo. “It’s hard to run a diner in a time like this keeping the fry-fryer running all night and all morning, so. We tend to cut a few legal walls, and this is definitely one of them! No, wait. Legal ceilings? Legal floors. Huh.” 

“Corners.” He lights up, visibly. “Corners! Legal corners.” 

A big grin stretches onto his lips, toothy and teethy. Although he hasn’t been granted it, he takes another step forward, closing in the space between them. “But I know you’re a regular, so you’re a regular to me.” He places the broom to rest up against the wall, before pointing to his name tag. “I’m Lucas. Not sure how you’re going to feel with me telling you this, but I make all the sandwiches you order, when you do, anyway. This is the only time Minjoo ever lets me back there in the kitchen, so I kinda just go for it.” 

When he stops talking, there’s the faint sound of the neon sign buzzing right on their left. When he focuses, he thinks he can hear the muffled radio coming on from the kitchen, where Hyukjoo is tidying up the skillets. It’s only when he stops talking that he realizes the diner is dead quiet, except for him.

“Shoot, I’m sorry.” He fumbles his words, and the broom behind him falls to the ground, tumbling the same. “I just wanted to come over here to let you know that... since you’re a regular, lemme know if you want an extra cup of tea or a serving of lemon pie. Can’t guarantee it being any good, but it’s on the apartment! On the... on the building.” 

“House. Yeah!” 

[today-we-will-survive]

Let Us Light Up the Night

gif made by me

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning: none

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Had to write this after making my Dream Glow moodboard 💜

The lightbulbs in the chandelier hanging high above everyone’s heads have been replaced with black lights. Colored strobes pulse around the perimeter making the whole place look like it’s underwater, people dancing and swaying to the music like they’re caught in the undercurrent. The ultraviolet lights reflect off the neon paint splattered across the walls and painted on everyone’s bodies turning the whole place into a live, pulsing piece of psychedelic art.

You can only stand in the entrance to the party for a while, your eyes wandering but never really focusing on any one thing because there’s just so much going. The music rattles the floor and pounds against your chest, the black lights completely blow your vision out making anything that isn’t glowing just blur into fuzzy, dark blobs. Purple colored smiles and whites of eyes jump out of the neon tinted chaos seeming almost scary, until a figure seems to materialize in front of you out of nowhere and your eyes finally have something to focus on.

“Y/N!” Taehyung has to practically scream to be heard over the music, even though he’s standing just a couple feet in front of you. He has a bright green handprint curling around the side of his neck, a spattering of yellow, orange, pink and green speckling his face like stars and his blue hair glows like strands of fiber optics in the strange lighting, making him look otherworldly. You sure have a beautiful best friend. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Yeah,” you yell back. “Me too!”

Taehyung doesn’t look completely convinced. In fact he almost looks a little surprised that you actually did show up. Especially with how resistant you were when he texted you about the party in the first place. You tried to feign ignorance, saying you hadn’t known about the party and that you need more than a couple hours notice but that didn’t really work.  In all honesty, you did know about the party. You’ve known about it for weeks You just didn’t really want to come. Mostly because you knew Jimin would be here.

After all, it is his frat that’s throwing the party. But besides that, it’s also Taehyung’s and with this being his first party after being inducted, you have to be the supportive best friend, right? Even if the boy you’ve pined over for the past two years is here.

Besides, after the hectic week this has been, you need to be able to let loose a little. And hey, maybe you won’t even see Jimin. Maybe you could just stay close to Taehyung the whole time and just hang out with him and his friends. After all, it’s not like you can really pick out individual faces here anyway unless the person’s standing right in front of you like your best friend currently is, his teeth glowing purple as he grins at you eagerly. It’ll be okay. This’ll be fun.

“Let’s dance!” you yell over the music and grab Taehyung’s arm.

But before you can drag him into the crowd, he closes his wrist around your own and pulls you closer. “No way, we gotta paint you up first!”

“I don’t know, Tae,” you say eying the crowd, faces and bodies glowing with strange designs and splatters of neon yellows and greens and pinks. “I’m not really a paint person.”

“You are tonight,” he says with a smile then drags you along behind him before you have the chance to argue.

You end up with an elaborate, though hastily done scattering of dots framing half your face, starting from your temple and trailing down the curve of your jaw before spreading across your collar bones into a starry sky. Taehyung finishes it off with two yellow prints in the shapes of his big hands on both of your forearms before leading you at last onto the dance floor.

As you melt into the crowd, you also feel the weight of the past week begin to melt away as well. The air around you, though hot and a bit stifling, is so full of energy that you can’t help but feel replenished somehow. Like a newly charged battery. You’re glad you came.

It’s easy to get lost in the moment. To close your eyes and feel like you’re not just one person but part of something bigger. Like a drop in an ocean just moving where the current takes you. You spend entire songs dancing like this, the world disappearing, your surroundings morphing into nothing more than the brushes of arms and bodies against you, the heavy bass pounding against your chest, the rumbling floor under your feet, the bright colors flashing and dancing behind your eyelids.

But finally, you do open your eyes, and when you do, they somehow know exactly where to go. It’s as if there’s some sort of magnetic pull drawing your attention past Taehyung where he’s dancing in front of you and causing you to lock your eyes with the very person you were hoping you wouldn’t see tonight.

“Jimin,” you utter. His name leaves your lips tingling, your heart pounding harder against your chest from the inside than the music does from the outside. You hoped so hard you wouldn’t see him that you almost convinced yourself that maybe he wasn’t even actually here. You should have known better. Because not only is he standing there against the wall in the flesh, but the intricate glowing white swirls of paint climbing up his bare torso like tendrils of smoke and weaving around his collarbones before branching off in either direction and spilling down his arms makes him somehow stand out above the rest of the paint splattered partiers surrounding you. He’s lit up like a neon sign. Impossible not to see. Impossible to tear your eyes away from even as he starts making his way toward you.

What is it about Park Jimin that’s had you mesmerized since you first laid eyes on him your freshman year? Was it the way his then bright pink hair contrasted his quiet, gentle nature? Was it the fact that he could be the sweetest, most shy soul you’ve ever met one second and then as fast as lightning morph into this strangely confident, intimidating man that could bring anyone to their knees with one icy stare? He’s always been a mystery to you. A puzzle to be solved. And yet, it seems like any time you’ve felt like you were getting close to cracking the code, he’d throw up another wall, another obstacle for you to have to face before you could get to him. He’s always seemed guarded. Even when the two of you were close friends. And you were close. Closer than you and Tae, actually, at one point. But then something happened.

What it was? You may never know. All you do know is that Jimin suddenly stopped answering your texts. Stopped sitting next to you in class. Started outright avoiding you around campus. And you still have no idea why.

But now he’s weaving his way through the crowd toward you, somehow perfectly clear in this blur of blue and neon tinged bodies and all you can do is watch him, your feet planted firmly on the floor. A statue buried halfway in the ocean floor while everyone else is riding the current.

You watch him place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s arm and your eyes dart down to the icy swirls painted on the backs of his hands and ghosting down to brush over his knuckles. Taehyung cranes his neck then tips his head in acknowledgement before Jimin nods toward you. You only see out of your peripheral that Taehyung looks back in your direction because you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from Jimin. But then your best friend is gone, faded into the background along with everyone else and Jimin is stepping toward you, tentatively reaching out to touch your side as if asking for permission without actually asking. You can only just barely nod before his arm snakes around your waist and he applies the slightest amount of pressure to urge you to close the gap between you two.

Your body is flush with his, the warmth of his skin seeping in through the thin material of your tank top and he leans in toward you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, his voice low but still loud enough to be heard over the music. It’s nothing like the way Taehyung had to yell at you to be understood. No, Jimin’s voice somehow manages to still be soft yet you hear every spoken word perfectly clear. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

You pull away so you can look at him, searching his eyes for any sort of clue as to what suddenly brought this on. His face, though tinged blue under the sharp black lights is still the same face you’ve always known. Better though, because it’s the version you remember from before everything turned to crap.

“You want to talk to me here?” you ask. “Now?”

“Well, no—I mean,” he bites down on his lip in thought then tilts his head back in the direction he came from.

You shake your own head, the anger finally pushing through the haze that was clouding your mind up until moments ago. “You want to talk? You should have come to me months ago. Not now just because I happened to show up at a party at your frat. I don’t want to hear what you have to say now,” you say then turn away and try to disappear into the crowd. Unfortunately, Jimin has a firm grip on you and digs his fingers into your hip, pulling you back to him until your shoulder blades rest against his chest.

“Just please let me explain,” he says.

You want to keep being mad at him. After all, he hurt you. And what kind of person would you be if you just let him sweet talk you into forgiving him as if nothing ever happened? Why feed his ego when you know he could just easily slip right back out of your life again?

“Why would I let you do that?” you ask him. “Why would I let you try and justify the fact that you’ve been avoiding me for the past two months?” Then you turn around so you can look him straight in the eye. “Why do you think you deserve my forgiveness, Jimin?”

He looks back at you, surely not having expected you to be so blatant. But then at last he opens his mouth. “I don’t want to justify what I did, Y/N,” he says dipping his head low so his lips are close enough for you to hear him over the music. “I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong while I was doing it but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” you ask breathlessly. The air between the two of you is too hot, too thick. Too energized.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me,” Jimin says. “You don’t even have to talk to me after this. Ever again. I just want to explain.”

“Fine.”

“Do you remember the last time we hung out?” he asks.

You’ve been playing that night back in your mind over and over, trying to figure out at which point it was that everything suddenly changed. What did you do to make Jimin suddenly want to stop talking to you? “How could I forget? You just disappeared, Jimin,” you say then before you can stop yourself, you bring a hand up and use a finger to lightly trace one of the white wisps on his chest. “Like smoke,” you utter softly enough that he probably didn’t hear.

“I had to,” he says shakily.

“No you didn’t.”

“Yeah I did. I either had to cut all ties, or face the fact that I’m in love with you.”

Your palm falls flat against him, his heart pounding beneath it as your eyes shoot up now to meet his. You begin searching for any sign that this is some sick joke. Maybe he’s known your feelings for him this whole time. Maybe someone tipped him off. Taehyung probably. You’ll kill him.

“Jimin, why are you doing this?” you ask feeling embarrassment creep up your neck.

“Doing what?”

“Doing what,” you utter and let out a pathetic chuckle. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know. Who was it? Who told you? Was it Yoongi?”

“What?”

“Was it Taehyung?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he asks stepping back now from you.

Your hands come up to rake down your face and you feel the paint smearing across your skin. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t have come. I just need to leave.”

“No, please,” Jimin says quickly and grabs your hands. “Please tell me what you’re talking about. I’m floundering here, Y/N.”

You can only laugh at how erratic you must sound. At how much of a mess you must look like. “Jimin, I’ve liked you for literal years. I’ve loved you for so long and now you’re just throwing it back in my face after already making me feel like an idiot for ever thinking you could love me back. I get it, alright? I got your message. You don’t have to taunt me like this. You don’t have to be cruel.”

Jimin comes forward in one quick motion, gripping your face between his hands until you’re mere inches from him. “Y/N, I had no idea. I promise I’m not joking. Please, believe me. I love you, okay? I’ve loved you this whole time and I thought that you didn’t love me back and that you never would and I freaked out and didn’t know what to do and I know disappearing like that was the literal worst thing I could have done—”

“The literal worst,” you gasp in agreement.

“—and I wish I could take it all back. All of it right up to when I realized I loved you because if I could take it back I would have spent the last two months showing you how much I love you and telling you and holding you and kissing you and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry and you don’t have to forgive me but you just need to know, okay?”

You can only look at him—after all, his face is so close to your own that he seems to be taking up your entire world. The music has somehow faded into the background even as it continues to pound against you, your whole body having gone numb yet somehow still buzzing. And you can feel his thumb sliding over the slick wet paint smeared across your cheekbone and you can feel his breath hitting your skin in rapid bursts and you can feel his lungs expanding under his ribs where they press against your own and you can feel the anger in you morphing into something else. Relief. Sweet relief because the boy you love loves you too.

[lunaraen]

"We don't have to talk about it, but when you're ready... I'm here." with Radar trying to help out Aiden when he moves back to Beacontown?

Radar likes sunrises more thansunsets. Sunsets promise darkness and the looming need to sleep that'll end upgetting ignored about as long as he can ignore it, while sunrises promise fullnew days to continue what he knows and to experience different things and meetnew people.

But for every sunrise there's asunset, and he's not the only one feeling melancholy tonight.

There's only a little shame inadmitting to himself that he's focusing so much on the view so he won't have tofocus on Aiden's next sigh, the latest in a string of far too many.

Beacontown doesn't quietly slipoff into the darkness of night, hasn't in all the time Radar's worked here andeven before then, and it lights up in a different way once the sun sinks lowand the moon soars high. The maintained protections for people's creativitywhen building means there are a lot of different designs, but so much of thecity glows even at sunset.

Even the calmer districts andareas tend to have a number of sea lanterns and blocks of glowstone, gentle, in comparisonto the multicolored beacons and the beams reaching to the clouds at the center of the city, but still lit.

It makes the city that much saferwhen the sun can't protect them from mobs and it all looks stunning, chill bluesand warmer golden glows mixing together nicely and spiced up by the glowstinted by colored glass, the cooler neons of the night almost a trademark ofthe busier areas. It's impossible to see the intricate designs many of thelanterns have from here, but their smaller glows and tinted glass help theshops stand out.

It's another part of Beacontown'scharm. 

Even when close up detail isn't available, it stands tall, beautiful, andsafe, radiating life and warmth as far and as loudly as it can.

(He can even see the glassencased lines of lava surrounding Ivor’s home, tubes of orange snaking theirway to the ground, the skull house itself used more for storage now thanliving, given Ivor’s well used room and lab in the temple.)

Radar might not like sunsets asmuch as sunrises, but he still likes them. It's hard to dislike something sopretty.

Night, as pretty as it is, hasfar more hate-able features, like wandering seas of monsters and bloodthirstycreatures, and it still brings sleep, serene moonlight nights, and skies full ofglittering stars.

He doesn't even hate night.

(It used to be his favorite timeof day, once, when he slept more often, probably more reasonably. Even when hewas being worked to the bone under Stella, he looked forward to sleeping assoon as he could, as soon as the quill was down and the paperwork finished.

Dreaming was his favorite thing,when he could be anybody and anywhere, before it became another distraction,another problem demanding attention and time.)

The hill is plainer, almostunremarkable save for the view it gives them and the way the city's colorsreflect off the grass, muted and soft.

It's like a beacon of peace.

Or loneliness.

(Radar needs to leave the poetryto Lukas.)

Beacon of everything or nothing,or both, it's treated all the same by Aiden, fingers plucking at some of thepurple-tinted blades of grass and one hand curling into the loose soil. His jawkeeps clenching and unclenching, and the fingers digging into the dirt mimicthe motion.

It's been a bad day.

(Maybe a bad week, or even amonth. Aiden's been more melancholy than usual lately, just a bit morewithdrawn and snarky, and there's no real telling how long he's been feelingdown.)

And Aiden stares.

He stares down at the city, atthe lights and the milling people, the same way Petra eyes an encroachingmonster horde or the way Ivor monitors a notoriously tricky potion.

There's a hunger in his eyes, a want, tempered by experience andexpectations.

They've been here before, whenRadar was first tasked with giving Aiden a tour of Beacontown and Aiden wasonly hesitantly trusted (and trusted at all much more by Jesse than by Lukas)to not try and pull anything. It was almost an entire season ago.

The walk here was meant to berelaxing, meant to be a chance for Aiden to vent, and he's just as relaxed asRadar is.

Radar, for the record, is notrelaxed in the slightest, doing his best to keep from rapid-fire tapping hisfoot against the ground while his fingers card through his hair in an almostfrantic manner and his mind keeps returning to reminders of paperwork stillunfinished and projects that need more attention.

He needs to diffuse thesituation, whatever it is, for both their sakes, to be a good friend and alsoto keep each of them from spiraling in silence.

(Having a panic attack on anondescript hill outside of town isn't what either of them needs.)

Radar almost rests a hand onAiden's shoulder before thinking better of it, hand instead resting on his own kneeas he sits cross-legged beside Aiden and foot tapping quietly against thegrass. From this angle, he can see the bottoms of his shoes are temporarilygrass stained, tinged green.

"We don't have to talk aboutit, but when you're ready... I'm here."

There's no real ideal or expectedresponse to that. Radar's ready to respect his answer, whether he spillseverything now, lets Radar know he's not ready now and may never be, or giveshim the silent treatment.

Aiden stays quiet just longenough for Radar to begin to suspect he's going with the third option.

"...there's not a lot todiscuss." The answer is as unfortunately unhelpful as expected and feared.The follow up helps only incrementally. "You've read Lukas's book– everybody here has. You already know what happened."

Trauma isn't easily coped withafter years of stewing and barely a season of healing. Guilt is just as hard.

And Radar is officially trainedfor none of this, though he's had plenty of unofficial on the job trainingthanks to the mountains of trauma trailing behind and hidden by the Order.

"And it's been kind ofterrifying, I won't lie. Knowing you did those things and that Jesse stillwanted you to come here, and live with us." Radar swallows, hoping itisn't as terribly loud as he thinks. More importantly, he worries this is justmaking Aiden feel worse, and Aiden doesn't look much more comforted by theadmission. "But Lukas doesn't seem to know much about what happened to youafter that, after you first got to Sky City, and he definitely never publishedanything on it. He changed your names for a reason."

Different names kept their livesfrom being any more stressful or rough upon returning to their own world, andkept Radar from knowing exactly who Aiden was or what relevance he had to Lukasand Jesse until they'd decided to clue him in.

Beyond the Order and the BlazeRods themselves, and him, no one knows the connection between the old Ocelotsand the harrowing Sky City adventure.

The only reaction Radar's seenfirsthand is the occasional surprise and excitement that Aiden, Maya, and Gillare back, having been gone so long but still being known for their fantasticand award winning building skills, and none of them have reported any harsherinteractions.

"Yeah, well, all theexciting stuff ended pretty much when the Order left. What you read was allthat was worth reading." It's hard for Radar, sometimes, to see Aiden asthe monster from Lukas's retelling. He thinks whatever personal growth Aidenhad before writing his letter to Jesse would be much more interesting to read,more enlightening and less horrifying. "Gill got slammed, once, with abrick. He was bleeding pretty bad– he's lucky it only ended up leaving him aconcussion. We're lucky."

"...you aren't worried aboutanyone here doing something like that, are you?"

Aiden says nothing.

He almost speaks, for a moment,mouth opening before it shuts and he shrugs, looking away from Radar. His nosescrunches slightly as he gives a hollow half-grin, a tired huff, his fingersbrushing his hair back and only almost getting tangled in it.

The Yeah, I mean, come on goes unspoken, and Radar has to swallow again.

The paranoia's understandable,and it's terrifying.

And Radar has always protectedhimself with knowledge in the face of terror, when he has no shield to bash,because sometimes it feels cowardly but it's comforting in the end to knowthings will likely turn out okay and how, because Jesse almost never fails andgets up every rare time she does.

"There are few areas in townas well protected as the temple, and people here don't have the same connectionto what happened as people who actually lived in Sky City. You can always goback to living with us if you don't feel safe." Aiden's shoulders hunch,and Radar has the dismal realization that he's not helping yet, too blunt ortoo intense in his desire to help fix everything. He forces any dismay at thisrealization out of his voice, letting it relax as he also forces himself tobreathe. "If anyone here has a problem, all they have to do is see that theOrder's already forgiven you guys. It's done, it's over, and the Order wouldn'thave you living here if they didn't trust you."

The look Aiden levels him isalmost blank, unamused and flat before he raises an eyebrow.

"They kept Cassie."

(Okay, so that's one other personwho knows their actual involvement in Sky City.)

"Who's been making her ownprogress!" Aiden's expression doesn't change much, while Radar's wilts."I don't think she's murdered anybody recently."

Aiden snorts, his bangs fallinginto his eyes as he shakes his head.

"Right, there are just giantrats and disappearing spider colonies actually mutilating bodies in those cavespeople keep somehow wandering into. That might fool a couple of reporters, butI don't think it's really got the press duped either. Not all the way."

It definitely doesn't fool Radar,if only because he's sat in on a number of conversations about Cassie's meansof disposal.

As much as they could beconversations, with Cassie disregarding them.

And while Aiden hasn't sat in on anyof those yet, he's smart enough to have figured it out, especially when everynamed body, the few not mutilated past the point of recognition, ends up linkedto some plot to overthrow or harm the Order.

And he's smart enough to knowRadar knows better too.

"I don't think she'smurdered anybody who didn't have it coming?"

Maybe letting Cassie into theirlives, their home and headquarters, was a questionable decision, but it wasJesse's, and Cassie defends herself by pointing out that she only attacks peoplewho she has good reason to believe are a serious danger to the Order orBeacontown.

Her "interventions" arerare and occasional enough, not to mention helpful. The shadier parts of BadLuck Alley are understandably more fearful, more cautious, and Radar thinksthey're all the better for it.

(He's admittedly not much of afan of Bad Luck Alley, as much as he likes Jack and Nurm, because people living"off the grid" more often than not seem to think they're above orbelow the rules enough to not worry about them, and that includes basic stufflike "please don't try to overthrow the Order that saved the worldmultiple times". This way, no matter why they're pulling that kind ofstuff less, they're safer from Cassie.)

It comes down to Jesse being really nice to a lot of people in waysRadar doesn't understand and in ways he's kind of okay with neverunderstanding.

He doesn't understand it any morethan how he understands why Jesse's good with forgiving him for his occasionalslip ups and lost forms even when it costs them so much time and stress.Jesse's done so much for so many people, and if she wants to do more, who'sgoing to stop her?

(There should probably be adifference between her forgiving him for screwing up on the job and activelytaking serial killers and old tormentors into their temple, but it's Jesse. She knows what she's doing.Well enough to somehow pull it all off, anyway.)

And he's right, but that's notthe right thing to say. Not with how Aiden tenses up, eyeing him more critically before relaxing his hands.

Radar isn't sure when they curledinto fists in the first place.

"Would I have it coming?Would Maya? Would Gill?" Radar doesn't have a good answer, and Aiden knowsit. He doesn't pause long, gaze drawn to the scarlet sunlight bouncing andshimmering off the rooftops and windows of Beacontown. "If you didn't knowus, only knew we tried to kill the Order, that I tried to kill Jesse, and Cassie thought we were some kindof threat? Would it be okay then?"

Heck of a question to ask.

(Radar's first thought is thatAiden is perhaps unfairly charitable towards Maya and Gill, happy as Radar iswith all of their progress, and that Maya and Gill don't view themselves theway Aiden does and actually kind of hate it when he blames himself foreverything that happened.

They've made it clear they're asguilty as he is, not more and not less.

But he doesn't want Aiden, with abad history of being angry near edges, to nudge him off the cliff here and now,and he doesn't want him to storm away, so Radar doesn't bring it up.)

"...morals are hard whereCassie's concerned."

Aiden's look softens, half-smilehumorless before he sighs.

"Yeah, I get that. And Idon't know if I can really blame her for it. But... the idea that some peopleearn that kind of stuff, getting attacked, because they're suspicious enough ordid bad enough things before is what got us so much hell in New Sky City. Gillgot more than just a brick chucked at his head, you know."

He knows.

"...sorry."

"Nah. Don't– don't worryabout it. It's just– everybody thinks they're doing the right thing. Even ifthey're throwing junk at people's heads, or attacking them from shady cornersand dark alleys, or burning cities to the ground."

It's a good thing Aiden doesn'tsmoke or drink, because he looks ready for either, and Radar isn't planning ondriving him further down that path.

"We try to avoid doing thatsort of thing here. It's not really good for making people feel safe, and itjust kills tourism."

It doesn't quite get a laugh outof Aiden, but the snort sounds amused.

"Smart."

"...do you feel like you'redoing the right thing?" Radar doesn't mean to contribute to Aiden'scrisis, or whatever it is that he's exactly grappling with, which might just bea moral dilemma topped with trauma. He just gets the feeling that he is, andAiden's guarded look prompts him to clarify. "Now that you're here?"

Maybe that's not the point.

Maybe he's missing something.

Maybe Aiden doesn't even know,stuck in the past and still clawing his way into the future.

"Hell of a lot better thanwhere we were." Aiden shrugs, tilting his head to the side as he looksaway from Radar and up at the gathering wispy clouds above them. "...itfeels too good and I'm scared of messing it up. Jesse trusting us doesn't meananything– sure, it's nice and all, but she's Jesse. Cassie offers protection, but Jesse took in Romeo too–and she pretty much has to teachhim how to be human again. Us being here doesn't make it all better, doesn'tmake us seem like anything other than scumbags she's feeling sorry for. I don'tactually have to worry about walking on eggshells around her, but I'm halfafraid she's going to wake up and realize she has no reason to trust us, orthat we're a threat to her city and her people. There were no powers to takefrom us, no fancy gauntlet to guarantee everyone’s safety."

(Radar might still not fullyunderstand the story, but it sounds to him like they lost plenty of power whenAiden tried to kill Jesse and she came back, when she had him at sword pointand spared him.)

It's complicated.

Radar knows from experience thatthings that are complicated tend toultimately just be good fuel for thinking in circles.

He's no Jesse, but he'll have todo.

"You're not a threat–you're getting a second chance, doing your best with it, and Jesse knows it.And if you're worried about other people seeing you that way, then you'll justhave to show them that you're not taking it for granted, that you are trying tomake it better." Radar dusts off the knees of his pants as he stands,shrugging as he picks a bit of fuzz off his vest. "We've seen a lot ofweird things here. Even if everybody knew who you were, what you really did, Idon't think it'd shake or bother too many people. You're not hiding here– you're making amends."

"It's probably not a goodidea to just shout it out, anyway."

"Probably not." Theidea of Aiden doing that, running down the streets and just snapping from thepressure, isn't realistic. It still gets a smile out of Radar. "But Idon't think you were planning on that– or bringing it up at work for fun. Itdoesn't sound like great lunch break small talk."

What Aiden talks with hiscoworkers about is his business, but bringing up past failed attempts to murderOrder members or an entire city hardly seems his style. However justified hisparanoia is or isn't, for himself and for Maya and Gill, he's careful and smartenough to take care of himself and not test Radar's theory over how badlypeople might react. Aiden's history as an award winning builder sounds likesomething he'd be more likely to bring up at work or get ribbed for.

"Not really."

Jesse's secret, Radar suspects,is that she's too good at forgiving others because she knows they need help.

It's not out of any ignorance, orblind hope that they'll get better, but the sheer determination that they can be better people and that she can helpthem do less damage, be less cruel to others and themselves, while working outwhat they want their lives to be. It works well enough, from what he's seen,and few worlds will complain about having less serial killers and megalomaniacsto worry about.

Jesse has that sort of inspiringeffect on people.

There's no reason Radar can'thelp with the healing process, and Aiden doesn't scare him the way Cassie does.

"You know, you can spend thenight at the temple with us." It's been a while since Aiden's stayed longwith the Order, visiting regularly after moving into his own place nearby butvisits rarely going over an hour at a time. Walks around town like this havebeen only a bit more common and a smidgen longer. "Ivor makes pretty goodhot chocolate."

"Is there anybody that triedto personally kill Jesse who didn't end up forgiven?"

"I mean, a couple, but it's ashort list." One was an evil supercomputer, and two others werepower-happy maniacs who didn't know when to ask for forgiveness from someonewho's nearly an endless well of it. "And that's not an answer."

It might be because of hispersonal experience, or lack thereof, with them, but Radar thinks he likesAiden much better.

"Sure. Let's go get cavitiesor sugar crashes or whatever that stuff will give us."

In Radar's experience, Ivor's hotcocoa is great for getting good rest, helped by the right amount of sleepingpotion mixed into it, and he knows that the last time Aiden tried it, he endedup taking an impromptu several-hour nap on their couch.

A repeat performance might not benecessary, but it's probably tempting.

Besides, if Radar actually endsup getting to sleep at a reasonable time tonight, he's taking Aiden with him.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Camp Beaverbrook | 007

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

Hey Mom!

It’s been what? A week since I’ve last written. I’m not really sure if they’re sending these letters on Fridays or if they actually spend that much money on postage. Part of me thinks that they don’t send them at all and they’re just sitting in those big plastic cases that Gail always keeps under lock and key. It’s been fun, though, but I’m ready to be a counselor now. I think this is the perfect send off.

Emily

She mindlessly pushed the three lone carrots against the broth backdrop. They looked sad, all of their coating having tinted the liquid that they swam in. They looked like little life rafts that could carry a whole person if a person was an ant.

She had her lip between her teeth, her stare trained in the general direction of the counselors. On one counselor that had the sunlight hitting her just right as it rose against the mess hall. Emily had a full conversation with her yesterday, one where she only choked on her words once or twice. She knew Aubrey, had seen her every single day at camp for the past three and a half years but still- each time was met with her heart in her throat and an instant moisture to her palms.

The blonde did a bit of a double take, first catching a gray gaze before shooting back down to her own food and up again. She offered up a kind smile and a half-hearted wave. Emily fumbled with herself, cheeks inflamed as she lifted her chin in a nod and looked back toward the grooves of the table that had gotten so interesting. An onion clung to the back of her spoon.

“You are helpless.” Hayley tore a generous piece from a roll, dipping it into the broth. “Just jump her bones already.”

“What?” Emily hissed, voice low “I don’t want to- I mean, she’s flawless but that doesn’t mean I need to have sex with her. Honestly just being in her presence-“She trailed off, gulping in a heap of air “Where’s Jane?”

“Nice change of subject Michel Emerson.”

Emily let out a deep grumble at the reference. Hayley was playing to her weakness; a shitty movie about vampires that hung from the bottom of train tracks. Michel Emerson had risked everything for a pretty girl with an alluring personality, even if it did turn him into a creature of the night. “Seriously, asshole, she hasn’t shown for lunch, and now dinner?”

“So? Jane never shows. She probably passed out after her time slot on the lake. Yeah?” Hayley rolled her eyes.

She had spent more than enough time talking Emily down. She had kept the clumsy girl from nearly drowning in the lake when Aubrey told her to simply cool off. It was getting late, there was sleep eating away at the edge of her mind and it showed in her demeanor. Not particularly sunny, but often times confused with discontent.

“Sure.” Emily agreed, not having anything else to do. She had lost all appetite for any type of dinner. There was a sneaking pinprick at the back of her mind. Something that she had gotten before. Her mother used to say the uneasiness was a clear sign that she needed to listen to her gut. But that was only before she put her on a plane for a class trip to New York with enough money to buy mace as soon as they touched down.

Now it was rocking her whole entire sense of being.

Emily let her spoon fall into the soup that was mainly untouched. It created a loud noise and beef broth soaked against her cheek. Hayley flinched, lifting her eyebrows. “You’re going to offend the chef.”

Coffee eyes shot towards the kitchen, Jesse was bringing the knife down on what looked like more onions. It certainly smelled that way. He had bulky headphones over his ears and a towel against his shoulder, head bobbing along. Somehow, she knew he would be okay.

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the bench. “Wha- where are you going?”

“I am going to go check her cabin,” Emily said, throwing her napkin down against the bowl of soup before gathering it all together. She didn’t wait for Hayley to open her mouth in protest, instead, she walked towards the very window that supplied the neon light of the kitchen.

Jesse glanced up, lifting his chin slightly before she gave him a wary smile and dropped the bowl before anyone else had, careful not to spill the broth. He went back to bobbing his head, and Emily exited the mess hall trying impossibly hard not to look towards the counselors.

There was a frigid chill to the air that made her seek for any type of warmth, a jacket over her simple cotton t-shirt, something to ease the cold that presented itself the moment the sun started to lower against the pine needle trees.

She shoved her hands into her jean shorts and walked against the path that had been carved out ages ago. There were boot prints, and even bare feet tracked in the loose dirt. Her breath pressed into the air in a soft cloud, something she used to exhaust. That small prick buzzing like her table was ready at a family restaurant.

The cabin looked bigger than before, almost like each of the three steps that she took up to the screen door were miles long. Her legs ached and shook, but she still pulled it open and glanced around the space: Her bed had been made this morning and was still left untouched. Hayley’s was a mess under her own, and Jane was empty. The covers were pulled back and the setting sun highlighted it in a ghastly orange.

Emily let out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding onto. Her lungs burned, and her ears were ringing now. A pressure and anxiety that she couldn’t fiddle with tugged at her. The door creaking open as she turned to face it.

Hayley.

She leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows raised. “Not here?”

“No, afraid not.” Emily let out a deep breath. “Dinner over?”

The girl nodded and flopped down on her mattress, stretching her hands out over her head as she groaned as her back popped in just the right way. She didn’t think she took that long to walk to the cabin across the camp, but she had, dragging her feet and begging for a reason to make the ringing stop.

Emily could feel her throat tighten and she blamed the cold air, not the deepening feeling in her stomach as she shook her head and pushed past her screen door, standing staggered against the steps to her cabin. It was crowded this time, kids trying to get back to their bunks before the mountain night grew chillier.

She watched as kids that wore a mix of forest green and golden yellow walked among counselors that were far from finished with their nights. She would often see the fire rising from the rocky shore and smell the beer in the metal trash cans that next morning. The thought made her skin prickle.

Aubrey Posen stood by the edge of the path, her arms crossed over her chest as those deep green eyes peered into Beca’s. The girl was shorter than her superior, but the way she puffed out her chest and sneered made Emily think that she had more gall than the woman she was looking for. Chloe had an even hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back or pull her to their shared cabin. The archery instructor lifting perfectly sculpted eyebrows up in discontent.

Emily steeled her nerves and walked forward, cutting across the crowd as a few people mumbled while others stared directly at her. She kept her distance, but not too much, Beca Mitchell shooting her midnight stare her way as if to acknowledge her presence.

“Hey, Em” Chloe offered up warmly, trying to defuse the situation, Aubrey’s own stare had softened a great deal, though, she never let her shoulders drop. “What’s up?”

She wanted words for form, really, she did. But they seemed to stall in her throat. At the crackling sound that she let out, Aubrey straightened her shoulders and turned herself completely towards the camper, knitting her brow. “Em?”

“I don’t want to bother you, it’s just- Jane, my cabin mate, I haven’t seen her all day.”

She knew she was taking it slow, mumbling. Four sets of eyes were on her. The surrounding area had been voided of kids, all of them sneaking liquor in their own cabins. Smoking loose cigarettes that they had hidden in their t-shirts before spraying a thick layer of lavender spray.  

“She usually misses breakfast, but never lunch, or dinner. I’m uh, I’m worried about her.”

“Jane Eide?” Stacie asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized sweatshirt. “I’ve been working with her. She didn’t show today, though, figured she had fallen asleep.”

“I pulled her from the water the other night,” Beca admitted, “Late. She and two others were out on the lake after dark.”

Aubrey pulled in an easy breath, one that was far too calm for a situation like this, there was an unknown type of fear that was behind her darkened eyes. One that she wouldn’t really admit to, but Emily could see it. She could feel it.

“Right, so no one has seen her since last night?” All silence and blinking eyes. “Emily, did you hear her come in last night?”

“No, I didn’t. Neither did Hayley.”

“Okay. Stacie, you go back to the mess hall with Jesse, search the mess hall and the quad.” Aubrey had a certain stiffness to her voice. “Chloe, Beca. I need you to go to the north building and check the phone log- maybe she phoned home. Emily, follow me.”

No one made a move for a few seconds, just staring at the woman in front of them until she clapped her hands together and snapped everyone out of a haze that felt like a hazy dream. Campers didn’t just vanish. Some would get homesick, sure, but they would call their parents and get picked up begrudgingly. The feeling Emily had seemed to stem within the circle of them and extend- Stacie the first to nod and step away, doing a slight jog towards her station.

Chloe took reign and used the hand still on Beca’s shoulder to drag her towards the building that housed a small desk and the white postal bucket that everyone placed their letters in. There was a phone and a yellow log to write in, hopefully, Jane had.

“Come on,” Aubrey said, and Emily followed like an obedient dog on a short leash. They were walking in one clear direction and Aubrey was moving fast the cold not seeming to get to her, so Emily rolled her shoulders back and forgot about her own chilled bones.

Aubrey pushed past the door to her little cabin, something that looked out over the east side of the lake and was isolated to everyone else. No one dared come this close to a place like this, the place that Aubrey would sit and drink coffee before anyone disturbed her.

Emily didn’t know what to expect, but it looked almost normal: There was a little television that was an obnoxious shade of blue and had rabbit ears stretching to the sky. A nicely made bed and a small table with two chairs on either side of it. There were lights strung up over a floral bedspread. It smelled thickly of lavender, and it pulled Emily in. She struggled to stay against the threshold.

“Here,” Aubrey seemed slightly out of breath, she stretched forward and handed Emily a hard metal flashlight. She had palmed one herself, its silver shell reflecting the fairy lights. “We’re going to check around the lake.”

“Okay,” was all Emily could mumble, the woman pulled open what looked like a closet instead of a dresser. She produced a brown leather bomber jacket that had a fur collar, folded and covered in patches. It looked worn and overwhelmed her with scent as it was tossed in her direction. “I can’t-“

“It’s cold,” Aubrey said tenderly. She was wearing a sweatshirt herself, adjusting the collar as she flicked off the light and pressed herself through the doorway. Emily could feel her heat against her front.

She hurriedly slid it over her shoulders before closing the door and jogging slightly to catch up with Aubrey, she had already flicked her flashlight on. It created a circle of yellow that she swept over the grounds that they walked against, their sneakers loud compared to the silence of the night. Emily couldn’t hear crickets.

Her shoulder would bump against Aubrey’s every couple of steps, and she savored the touch, moving her own beam of light close to the water’s edge. It lapped at the stones and made them look prettier than they really were.

“I lost my hamster once.” Emily finally said timidly.

There was a slight hint of a laugh, or maybe a scoff, that pushed past Aubrey’s lips. Either way,  its splayed against the darkness of the sky in a puff of white. “What?”

“Yeah, when I was six, I had a hamster and he got out of his cage somehow. We couldn’t find him for a couple of days- maybe a week. I don’t remember. I was six. But we finally found him, you know.”

“Where was he?” Aubrey asked, pulling a branch up for the both of them to duck under. It smelled like pine and dropped dead needles at the movement. The lights from the camp were getting smaller as they wandered into the large isolated parts of the perimeter. The lights from the cabins looked like they were put through a funhouse mirror as they reflected off the inky water.

“He was in the television.”

“Your hamster?”

Emily hummed in response, letting her light move against the stretch of trees. They looked scarier at night. “Yeah, in that little part where the speakers usually are. He had chewed through all of them, so at least we knew he didn’t starve. The little guy lived four more years after that… so uh, maybe we’ll find her. You know?”

“Jane is a person, not a rodent.”

“Oh, I know,” Emily’s shoe slid on the closest rock, the sound splaying oddly as Aubrey instinctively reached and clutched onto her arm, keeping her from sliding too much “Thanks. I just don’t think I’ve lost anything else before.”

Aubrey stopped then, her back to the forest as she parted her lips. Emily didn’t know if it had anything to do with her eyes adjusting or the fact that the moon had risen to its fullest point, but it was easier to see. Every part of Aubrey looked milky blue, her lips and eyes darker than the rest of her subtle features. She looked like a siren, playing oddly with the rubber button on her light. Almost like she was nervous.

“I have,” Aubrey said, so softly it was almost muted by the water lapping the shore. “My father he uh, he left when I was fifteen, maybe sixteen? I don’t think we tried too hard to find him but it um, it feels kind of like this. You know?”

“Like someone is holding your heart and just kind of… squeezes it?”

Aubrey let out a long-held onto breath “Yeah, yeah. Like that. Is it getting tighter for you too?”

Emily chewed on her bottom lip. She had to admit, the feeling seemed to melt away around Aubrey. She was a calming presence, an authority figure that she gawked at if anything. Aubrey sniffed, eyes sad in the moonlight as they flicked towards Emily’s mouth. “Yeah, I think so.” It was no more than a whisper.

“Emily…?”

“Yeah, Aubrey?”

The older woman’s hands were cold as she took a fluid step forward, her fingers curling around the back of Emily’ neck as she let the other hand hold tight against the flashlight. Emily had kissed people before, hell, she had done it often and diligently, but this was different. This was soft and Aubrey tasted like a mix of cinnamon and heat. Her nose was cold against her cheek as her touch moved against Emily’s jaw delicately.

Emily pulled away with a sharp breath, leaning her forehead against Aubrey’s. That hand around her heart had released its hold and let it flourish as the blood rushed past her ears. “Whoa.”

“That was-“Aubrey swallowed, her hand dropped her hand down “I’m sorry, I misread the situation, I’m sorry.” She apologized twice in one sentence, wanting to move away completely, but she had found Emily’s hand curled around the collar of her sweatshirt, holding her in place.

“No,” She whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to do that but-“

“It’s not the right time.” Aubrey finished her thought, swallowing roughly. “We need to keep going.”

Emily nodded and eventually dislodged her fingers from the girl's coat, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do. They returned to walking in silence, their feet crunching against dried leaves and gravel. She could swear she felt the ghost of a cold hand.  

[magicalsalamander]

Kitten’s Little Flame Part 2

Pairing: BTS Suga/Yoongi (Dragon hybrid au) x Reader (Cat hybrid)

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, eventual smut, hybrid, college, best friends to lovers, roommate

Word count: 3.18K

Summary: “He’s the calming cool you seek in the Summer, but a comforting warmth in the Winter.” Yoongi and you are in university now and even roommates, can you stay best friends or will it bloom into something more?

 A/N: Well.. per request I continued with another part! I hope I don’t disappoint you.I feel that this may be a slow burn to get to the point. I want to build it up with tension and blatant oblivious characters.Again, this is my first time writing something, so I hope you enjoy it! Also I hope you cringe only slightly with the cliches. Thank you for taking your time out though! :) Forgive me for my grammatical mistakes.. Thank you @ratedtae for making this wonderful moodboard!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 (M), Part 5 (M), Epilogue (M)  [Will be linked when issue is fixed, please access blog for mstlist]

Two plumes of white smoke rose out of his nose, swirling and intertwining with the frigid air that blanketed this Winter night. For him the seasons change was nothing, he held an orange marmalade tinted flame within him that was constantly lit and provided a furnace that made him run hot. A walking fireplace that provides a warmth that is felt only by few. He stuffed his hands in his university hoodie pocket as he walked down the snow-covered street. Snow was falling lightly from the starless night and melted instantly once it touched Yoongi’s face, so he buried himself even further into his hoodie to avoid the moisture. The snow littering the sidewalk reflected greens, reds, and blues from the neon lights of shops that were open. Whiffs of peppermint and different dinners along the main street coursed through as people opened various shops doors. 

He was returning from campus after submitting his last final of the semester. Music has always been his passion and now he is working towards a professional degree in Recording and Composing. His last final was for his advance music production class and it was a project that was months of work. He can remember the countless nights he spent writing and rewriting his compositions. The countless nights he spent in the studios on campus for students in the Music department. His final was late in the afternoon and he had to submit all his paperwork and a USB of the actual recording of the final project to his professor.

The buzzing of the neon lights, the bustling of people going home from their nine to five, and honking of the traffic reminded him of how much time he had spent indoors these past four months. The occasional shop he passed by rang with holiday tunes. He looked across the street and saw the café that you and Yoongi along with the rest of the gang frequented when you all had time and weren’t drowning in school work. This was your third year in University and it was about an hour from your guys hometown. The group you’ve grown up with since you all were kids made it to University. The eight of you, all different types of hybrids, were striving for success on different paths. The eight of you were all different ages besides species, but you balanced each other out much like fibers coming together to create a single thread.

 Yoongi pulled his smart phone out of his jean pants pocket and pulled down his hood to look for your contact. He scrolled through his phone to bring up his recent conversation with you finding your contact saved under the name “Kitty”, and pressed the green button to call you. He knew you were already home since today was also your last day for finals and how stressed you’ve been with your classes this semester. To add icing to the cake you had a professor who was less than qualified to teach a class that was detrimental to you getting into your nursing program. He waited as the dial tone went through, but after a minute of waiting you still weren’t picking up and it went to voicemail. He sighed and hung up, and another stack of hot steam made its way out his mouth. It wasn’t unusual for you to not answer his phone, despite the man times of him scolding you for not picking up or responding timely. It irked him to his core when you didn’t answer his call, who knew if something could happen to you when he wasn’t there. He ran his hand through his hair and stuffed his phone back into his pocket grumbling your name. He knew you probably haven’t eaten today because of your anxiety before exams makes you ignore basic needs. At some point he was sure you were probably part avian for how little you ate in general. He decided to make a safe bet and get you food by walking into the café, determined to get home as fast as he could.

The plastic bag with two trays of your guys usual swung back and forth in his hand, as Yoongi speed walked his way home. The longer he waited for the take out to be served the more he thought about you possibly not being okay. He knew he was probably overthinking and protective, but it was his Kitty that we’re talking about. Waiting in a booth his leg started to bounce in impatience as he waited and glared at the receipt as if that would speed up the process any faster. As soon as his name was called he stood up abruptly with his tail swinging impatiently behind him, he snagged the bag and thanked the waitress curtly. He didn’t want to be rude, but when it came to your safety he could throw everything out the window. The sound of snow crunching under his Chelsea boots carried him all the way to the shared apartment complex that was about a 15-minute walk from the campus. He entered the elevator leading to the 5th floor of the complex and made his way over to apartment 512.

Winter, the season you weren’t about to gather anyone who would listen and rant and rave about it. No, it was the season you didn’t enjoy for a simple reason, you didn’t like the cold. The bitter cold stings and seeps into your bones and it always feels like needles prickling your skin. It only made it worse that you were alone in your apartment, bundled up in layers of shirts and leggings under sweat pants, a hoodie and pizza printed socks. You had your hood up and encompassing your head with the strings pulled so you only had a small outlet to watch the TV with. You also had your comforter with you on the couch to keep you extra warm. The occasional shiver racks through your body as you watch the reporter on TV report the weather is only going to get colder in the next few days. The news causes you to curl in more on yourself searching for any more potential heat. The effect of the hot coco you had earlier has worn off a while ago and so now you were relying on your own little cocoon to keep you warm. To add further to your situation, the adrenaline was finally wearing off and you were feeling exhausted after the stress of the past weeks.

You heard your phone ring in the familiar ringtone letting you know Yoongi was calling you. You groan in protest not wanting to answer the phone because that would require you to move. As any grown adult would you decided not to answer it, refusing to breech your little cocoon. You whimper because you miss your portable heater, for more than the simple reason of him being a literal flame. Finals have been so chaotic that you’ve both barely seen each other, despite living together. Your rooms are literally right across from one another. This semester you’ve been stuck with a morning schedule mostly and you’ve spent the majority of your time in the library to use all the figures and displays they have to help study for your Anatomy final. Honestly, besides the heat the Yoongi provided physically, your cheeks always warm up as well when Yoongi is near. The guy does something to your heart that has it doing summer saults. Yoongi has been cooped up in the studio as well, so the only time you get to run into one another is the time when Yoongi is making his way out of the apartment and you’re just coming back from the Library. At those times all you get to ask your best friend is how he’s doing and if the project is going well, before he’s off to finish his project and you to cram more at home.

Twenty minutes later Yoongi’s punching in the key code and rushing in from the outside with a plastic bag rustling as he makes his way through the door. He slips off his shoes and lazily tosses his backpack around near the entrance. “Y/N?” he calls out to you with a bit of frustration in his tone, checking if you’re are home. “Hmmmh”, you mumble from underneath your little fort and turn to look towards the entrance of the shared apartment. He sets the bag of take out on the kitchen counter and walks into the living room to finally fully take in your little arrangement. He scoffs a bit and smirks at how cute you look all bundled up as if the apocalypse is upon the horizon. He honestly wanted to scold you on the spot with his mouth agape ready to spill, but how can he when you’re in your given state. The scowl on his face softens a bit before he strides over to you and he sits down next to you and says, “I called and texted you asking if you wanted something to eat, but since you didn’t answer me…well I guess I’ll have to enjoy it all on my own.” You peek through your little hoodie hole at Yoongi and decided to slip it off to express to with the biggest smile you could to show how “pitiful” you were. By pulling back the hoodie you exposed a messy bun and makeup less face, a result of not caring about appearance today. You pull your best pus-in-boots eyes with your ears pulled back and to add to the grand effect you unfurl your tail from around your waist and stroke it innocently and sweetly remark, “you wouldn’t do that to me Yoongi, that would be inhumane.” You look up at look up through your lashes at Yoongi and move to curl into his side. He knew you were going to say that exact phrase, but when you pulled that face you knew would instantly melt him, he completely softens. You shiver because the cold has hit your neck, but smile because Yoongi feels like Summer. He stiffens for a second but then relaxes instantly when you curl up next to him. You inhale his scent and he smells like freshly pressed espresso and a bit like a campfire.

He’s the calming cool you seek in the Summer, but a comforting warmth in the Winter.

Normally, other hybrids would have not dared to even touch Yoongi because of his hard and cold exterior, but you’re the only one who’s able to do this with him. The rest of the group only can go so far with Yoongi, but he still protects them if someone dares to test any of them. Being your best friend for over a decade, he has learned how to let your simple actions of affection become the normalcy. He’s so used to you being affectionate towards him, but still his heart skips a beat when you reach out to him. Yoongi knows you like the back of his hand, he feels you shiver and questions, “is it really that cold?” You burry your face further into his shoulder and nod, mumbling something about your toes feeling frozen and will break upon mere contact. Your ears tickle his neck and he stifles a laugh at your pitiful act. He scratches your ears and instantly you purr in content. You feel at complete ease and slowly heat up with your dragon being your fireplace.

He lets you snuggle into his side for five minutes before he interrupts your comfort with “Hey popsicle, the food is going to get cold.” You grumble about not wanting to move, but Yoongi having hunger drive him he has to peel you off of him (despite every instinct internally telling him to pull you in closer) and walks to the kitchen. He brings the takeout to the living room and sets it on the coffee table and pulls out your tray and hands it to you. You open the tray and instantly light up and snag a plastic fork form the plastic bag. You take a bite and hum in content and do a little shoulder dance in happiness. Yoongi laughs at the sight and starts helping himself to his tray. He picks up the remote control and starts scrolling through the guide to look for a movie you both can tolerate. You ask each other in between bites about how each other’s finals went, and both eliciting a responding with “I’m just glad it’s over with.” Yoongi finds a movie that you both wouldn’t mind and fall into this lull of comfort of just being with each other. You scoot closer to Yoongi as you finished all the food in your tray and set it down on the coffee table empty. You lay your head on Yoongi’s shoulder and thank him for the meal. He only grunts in response, afraid if he turns his head to look down at you your faces will be closer than appropriate.

Half way through the movie, Yoongi has his arm around your shoulders bringing you into an embrace and you moved half your comforter over his legs to share the blanket. Yoongi’s breathing has evened out after some time and it’s become shallow as you feel the slow rise of his chest against your side. You tilt your head so you can look up at Yoongi to see if he’s actually asleep. It’s an instantly confirmation as his eyes are closed and his head slightly bobbing back and forth. You smile softly knowing he must’ve missed hours of sleep and his body is done fighting instinct to sleep. You stare at his face and observe his features. Since you’ve first meet Yoongi he’s always had his black hair and horns that adorn his forehead. Although when he was younger they weren’t more than an inch in length, now they’ve grown and curve back about seven inches. He’s always been handsome, but now as an adult he’s grown into his features adorned with a sharp jawline.

Confusion clouds your heart though, you’re not sure if Yoongi treats you as just a sister/best friend, or as a potential love interest. You can’t believe that a man this attractive and accomplished could ever like you. You’re just a plain jane, an average house cat. You heart hurts knowing that Yoongi would never look at you the way you do to him. You’ve seen the girls that chase after Yoongi since elementary school, but he always pushed them away. You know he cares more about his passion than chasing tails, at least that’s what he said when Taehyung asked him after the most popular girl in school gave him a love letter and rejected her.

You’re no delicate flower; at least since you started hanging around the guys, you’ve learned how to defend yourself physically and mentally and not take anything from anyone. As a cat hybrid there’s the stereotypes of cats being a snarky, standoffish and overall cruel. However, you break those stereotypes and really care about the wellbeing of others and even want to pursue a career as a nurse. Although you aren’t the most extroverted being out there like, you still like your time to yourself to be with yourself. That being said you don’t lack confidence with yourself, but you feel like you don’t deserve someone as amazing as Yoongi.

In kindergarten when Yoongi saved you once by pushing away a dog hybrid that was trying to bully you and cornered you on the playground, you became best friends. He pointed to the kid and told him to never to mess with what’s his in a low growl. At the time you were so shocked because Yoongi never talked to you directly besides that one time, but he was always hanging around the same circle of friends. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin, a panther hybrid, were only a second late coming behind Yoongi as he declared a threat and seeing the other hybrid book it with his tail between his legs. They picked you up off the ground and asked if you were okay inspecting for any damage. You nodded and looked up at Yoongi to mutter “Thank you” with a bright smile. After that day you would approach Yoongi and even offer him a part of your lunch box your mom would pack. The best friendship wasn’t instant but Yoongi came to keep you near as you would follow him around. You grew even closer in middle school when your parents finally left their office jobs after saving enough money and opening their own record store. Yoongi’s passion and interest for music grew after your dad showed him all the classics in the shop, and your mom introducing him to notorious rappers. Your mom may look like a sweet woman, but she enjoys her hardcore music. He would show up at the shop with the others when you were just sitting around on the weekends working on homework in the back. You both would just listen to tunes and try to recommend new artists when you ran across them. Eventually as you grew older you met new friends a few grades up of yours, a wolf hybrid named Namjoon and he brought in Seokjin, a brown bear hybrid. As you were a junior in high school a bunny hybrid named Jungkook, younger than all of you, came into the group through Jimin. The eight of you stuck together and became inseparable.

You got lost in studying Yoongi’s face that you failed to notice him getting closer to you. The bobbing of his head finally fell forward and landed with your foreheads meeting. His soft, warm breath tickles your face while your noses brushes against each others. Your cheeks instantly redden and panic sets in, you don’t know whether to move away or stay. Your breath tickles Yoongi’s face and he slowly opens his eyes and meet yours. He takes a second to just look into your eyes, Y/e/c irises sparkle with reflections of light from the TV. His widen a second later realized that this is real, he’s face to face with his Kitty. He backs away and coughs to cover up his pinking cheeks to pull of an act of nonchalance. You stand up abruptly and gather your blanket, you take one glance at Yoongi before stating shakily, “I’m..I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow Yoongi.” Before he can even reply you’re already in your room shutting the door behind you.

Yoongi sits on the couch speechless, everything happened so fast, but at the same time nothing happened. His heart is beating in his chest so hard and fast that he feels the embers in his furnace creeping up his throat giving him a butterfly feeling. He leans back on the couch with his forearm over his eyes and sighs. He can’t help it anymore, he can’t deny that he just wants to protect you as his best friend.

What does this mean for you both now?

Copyright by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[maybe-writing]

Trevor could not think of many, if any, times in his thirty years of life that he dreaded going to his childhood home as much as he did right now. He dragged himself up the well-kept sidewalk, with the perfectly manicured lawn on his left, and the evenly watered flower bed on his right. He climbed up the beautiful wooden steps, ornate with ceramic garden gnomes and smiling turtles. He pulled open the screen door, and firmly face-planted into the sparkly white front door.

Trevor rapped, almost furiously but not too aggressively mind you, on the door until he got an answer. A woman in her sixties, with a half-painted face, and hair still tightly wound in curlers opens the door to greet him “Hi Trevor honey, so glad you could do this for us.”

“Hey mom, it’s not a problem.” It was a problem.

“Yeah, well the car is in the shop, so we had no other way to get to the polls.”

“Quick question. You never lock the front door when you are home. Any reason?”

“Oh, you can never be too careful in these crazy times.” His mother glided through the kitchen to move a few things and make a space for the make-up mirror, “These neighborhoods are getting quite dangerous.”

Trevor’s face couldn’t help but to show all of his furious confusion. He whipped his head around to the large bay window positioned quite squarely at the front of the house. Outside, two women in their late forties, covered head to toe in neon. Shoes, leggings, track jacket, fanny pack, even the hair ties that held their hair up in a tight perfect ponytail were matched. In sync as they shuffled past the front yard.

Mr. Abernathy in his yard, maintaining his already well-maintained lawn, as he always had since Trevor was six. Next door, a new young family that he had never met, barely older than Trevor was in his yard. He was tossing a football with a five-year-old, his platinum blond hair trimmed neatly into a precise mushroom. A woman was brushing the sunflower golden hair of a three-year-old girl in a bright pink dress. Trevor looked back at his mother bewildered. How could this woman think this slice of all-American, sugar free, all organic, Anglo-Saxon wet dream of an echo chamber could be remotely dangerous?

Trevor moved into the living room, “I’ll just be a few more minutes to put my face on,” his mother called from the kitchen island. Trevor nodded as he stepped behind his father watching a local news station. They were interviewing the candidates for the mayoral election. They were talking to the man who was currently polling the highest, taking his photo op. John Smith, not a very unique sounding name, but that’s the name he picked.

Trevor can see his father out of his peripherals, locked onto every word. Trevor was more fixated on the man, and he used that word very loosely, on the screen. His emaciated cheeks almost seemed to vacuum into his mouth every time he talked. They highlighted his sharp pronounced cheek bones. His sunken eyes, with harsh dark circles, made the yellow tint in his irises more noticeable. And Trevor couldn’t help acknowledging how soulless they were. His voice was hoarse, raw, and definitely sinister.

“So, this is the guy?”

“He wants to keep the city safe” his father remarked with gravel and venom in his statement.

“Those bumps on his forehead seem new, and like they are still growing.”

“You just want to find the worst in people.”

Trevor leaned over the couch to try and get his father’s attention, “He’s possessed by a demon. That is the main point of his campaign.” Trevor gazed at his father who seemed to be going through extra effort to avoid eye contact. “He told people to call him John Smith, because his true name can’t be translated from Latin.”

“I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Open-minded now.” The way he said it, Trevor knew it was meant to be an insult, but it didn’t quite faze him. So he simply leaned back and waited.

“I’m ready. Thanks again so much for this,” his mother said. Trevor nodded sweetly but disappointed. His father pulled himself from the couch in a manner reserved for unhappy buffalo. “Say thank you Jeff,” his father let out some semblance of the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’. Trevor’s mom glared at him and hinted at a try again. Jeff mumbled out what sounded like a statement relatively close to ‘mind your business Peggy’.

They all settled into his car, Jeff in the front seat and Peggy in the back, “There is a polling station on Maple Street.” Peggy cooed from her spot in the car. Trevor punched the address into his GPS and noticed that it was only 20 minutes away.

Trevor’s head filled with a multitude of ideas, and the possibility of changing his parents minds in 20 minutes was impossible. As he pulled out of the driveway and rolled onto the street, every neighbor they passed gave a big wave. They were clearly planning something horrible.

Why did Trevor agree to this? He couldn’t have something else to do today? He could have stayed home with his wife. Lord knows it was needed at this time. He should have said no, but they were his parents. He could stall, until they had no choice to give up and go home, “It looks like there is a branch of my bank on the way. You guys mind if I stop?”

“You’re the one driving,” Jeff grumbled, “It’s none of my business.” Peggy reached from the back to swat his arm as he stared out the window. They exchanged a small mumbled conversation of hushed inaudible words.

Trevor parked his car and informed his parents he would be back in a flash. Much to his dismay there was no line. The one time he would have been happy for a line at the bank. His snail pace through the rope guides seemed weirder than he intended. He had no desire to make the poor teller believe he was trying to rob the place, so he moved at a normal pace.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” the bright-eyed girl said in a not too threatening, please don’t have a gun, tone.

“Yeah, can I get my balance on my accounts.” Trevor said, only then realizing how stupid it sounded.

“If you have the app, you can do it yourself.”

“Yea, I know,” Trevor mumbled practically defeated. The girl finally connected the dots and took down his information and began looking up his account.

Is this really the best he could do? Meandering around a bank? This was amateur hour. “I’m sorry, it seems the computer is going a bit slow” She has clearly done this before. If he was going to do this, he was going to need to work a bit harder.

The computer found the time to finally get the balance and the teller printed it up, “Is there anything else I can get you today?” She asked, and Trevor had a few ideas but nothing remotely good enough. He could actually rob the bank, but that seemed like a lot of paperwork. He thanked her and made his way back to his car to deal with his ornery father.

“Are we all good?” Jeff said through a scowl. Trevor drove down the path set by the GPS. Trevor recognized where he was and where he was going now. The female voice told him to make a right at the light. He sat there waiting for the light to change, and the longer it took the more he built up his courage. Once the light turned green, he drove straight.

“I thought you were supposed to turn left?” Peggy called from the back.

“This is a better way,” Trevor never remembered ever lying to his parents, “we can avoid the traffic.”

“Make a U-turn” the robotic female voice said from his phone.

“We just go this way and be there in no time.”

“Make a left turn,” Trevor turned off the GPS.

“This way doesn’t seem faster,” Jeff growled after ten or eleven turns down back roads and side streets.

“Just the next left and we should be within spitting distance.” Spitting distance? When has Trevor ever said that? He knew where he was, so he knew the street was going to be backed up enough to hold them off.

As they turned onto a practically empty street, Trevor felt like the universe was really working against him today. He wasted fifteen minutes and was only a few miles away from the destination. There was a breakfast place near, and at 9:30 in the morning it could be a good way to waste time.

“I didn’t have breakfast yet; you guys ok if we stop? We have time.”

“That sounds fun,” Peggy beamed. Jeff mumbled an incoherent form of ‘fine’.

“Table for three?” the dark-haired girl asked as she grabbed the menus and silverware. As she walked them to an empty table in the empty restaurant, Trevor felt the universe was playing a cruel trick on him for playing a cruel trick on his parents. The waitress barely let them sit down before trying to get them drinks, and headed off in a flash.

“So I need to ask,” Trevor stated to break the tension “What is so appealing about this guy?”

“Well I know you lost your faith but we haven’t,” Jeff barked.

“I still very much consider myself a Christian, which is why I can’t see myself voting for a prince of hell.”

“In case you didn’t know,” Jeff huffed “he is consistently surrounded by priests and religious leaders praying for his well-being and anointing him.”

“Other people call that an exorcism,” Trevor stated without looking up from the menu, “Besides that feels like a fruitless effort. Whomever used to own that body is clearly dead.”

“He wants to make real changes.”

“Burning down churches will make some real waves.”

“He won’t burn down every church,” Peggy tried to add, “he didn’t mean that.”

“I’m sure your church is safe. Didn’t Pastor Griffin make a sermon about voting for him, because God said so?”

“You don’t get it.”

The waitress seemed less eager to return to the table this time around. After dropping off the food she practically ran away. The silence was necessary but still awkward. “He wants to put something in place to avoid any more of those riots.”

“Those ‘riots’ started out peaceful, much like this breakfast should have.”

“It always starts ‘peaceful’ with them.”

“Chloe’s doing great, since you asked in such a nice way. She’s pregnant, twenty-one weeks. So, you’ll be grandparents.” His father’s face didn’t move. His mother forced a smile that almost looked like she filled her pants with something foul. “Don’t choke on your meal with excitement.”

“Well as long as you don’t name it anything ridiculous like Dayquan or Latasha.”

“Why would we do that?” Trevor asked angrily.

“You know how THEY are.”

“They?” Trevor almost felt punched in the gut, “Have you always had a problem with Chloe being black?” His parents have always been nice to Chloe. He met her in college and when he brought her home after his third semester they were welcoming. Then again,he remembered how

his parents were also pretty upset about the one black kid in his high school being an affirmative action and how it would affect Trevor getting into a good college.

“We just thought you would be with someone different.” Peggy said under her breath.

“They destroy our cities, try to take over by marrying our children, and he wants to make sure that it doesn’t happen by strengthening the right people.”

Trevor felt the biggest wait fall on his shoulders “I finally get it.”

“He’s the only one who gets it.” Jeff snapped.

“No, I do,” Trevor said solemnly, “so let’s finish up here and we head to the polling station.”

Trevor settled the bill and drove the last few miles to take his parents to complete their civic duty. These weren’t people who were brainwashed or led astray by the serpent magic of a hell beast. These were who they were, and he was talking to them.

Jeff marched back to the car proudly displaying his ‘I voted’ sticker. He plopped down into the seat triumphant and arrogant. “All good?” Trevor asked.

“Yup,” Jeff said with no gravel, but all the smugness.

“Great,” Trevor said kindly. Jeff's eyes slightly narrowed but a grin slithered across his face.

The car ride back was much shorter, without any pit stops, and silent. Trevor pulled into the driveway of his parents’ home, “Thank you,'' Jeff said softly as he poked his head back into the car.

Trevor knew his father took the change in behavior as compliance to the cause, and that didn’t bother him, “Of course,” he could think what he wanted.

As Jeff and Peggy walked back into the house, Trevor had to accept who they truly are. He had to accept that he would change, or they wouldn’t be there for the birth of their grandchild. Either way, he would never dread having to pull into this driveway ever again, because he would be doing it less often.

[dominicalhambra-blog]

Short Story: BH #2

Short Story: BH #2

By D. Aleks Alhambra

Block Head #2A39002 (BH #2) walked on the scene, eager to yell at someone on the spot. He found the receptionist, eating her wafer-thin water crackers, and he became filled with even more anger. Pounding his square, midnight black feet on the ceramic tiles, BH #2 bustled over to the reception. He stopped in front of the desk, testily laying one little square hand upon the aluminum surface, and anticipated the receptionist’s attention, of which he did not receive.

The receptionist munched on the water crackers, staring at a blue sheet of paper just a few inches away from the little square hand of BH #2 as if it were a small television displaying a mesmerizing but unemotional scene of drama. The desk worker’s square jaw would barely agitate as the crackers were ground down and then swallowed into the depths of her dehydrated but invariably square stomach. BH #2 reasoned (fumed) that if the eating of water crackers had affected him so much, being ignored would most assuredly cross a whole new line. He raised the square little fist of his and slammed it down on the turquoise aluminum desk.

Pain seared across his hand as he hit the wrist bone against the edge of the surface, and chaos reigned in his mind as the blue sheet of paper fluttered onto the ground with prominent papery noises. For a moment, the receptionist stared into the paper’s absence and then resigned herself to look up at her current social captor. Squarely beaded eyeglass chains tinkled as her head moved slightly upward to take in the image of BH #2.

“Is there an issue, sir?" The receptionist's eyes peered through his chest.

“I think the slamming of a hand on a desk should signify multiple issues, madame!”

“And what is the issue - or issues -sir?”

“I am truly and utterly angry! My little block hands and big block head are unsatisfied with being blocks! I renounce this Block Head lifestyle!”

BH #2’s monologue was brief but poignant for the others in the waiting room, who had already switched off their square tablets when this angry character had embarked upon stomping over the ceramic tile floor — hushed murmurs began to bounce off the stony floors and walls, reverberating to the ceiling and corners of the room, finally reaching BH #2’s square ears, but he could only hear the repeated phrase “peas and carrots, peas and carrots, peas and carrots”, which was found to have little immediate meaning. He was livid; turning around, he horizontally jabbed his index finger into the air as if a square finger could effectively berate the waiting room denizens for their impropriety.

“You stare at me—“

The receptionist had made another slight facial movement to cut him off.

“Sir, I empathize with your misgivings about your current situation. My heart goes out to you and those also affected. I wish to give my condolences. I am fully understanding of…”

Fed up with this receptionist and these waiting room inhabitants, BH #2 proceeded in stomping fashion to the entrance as the receptionist’s listless voice wandered off to her bag of water crackers. Twice over, he rapped four square fingers against the handicap door button, making sure that the effect of his frustration could be heard and seen by all currently involved in his circumstances, and also to make up for the half-second delay that occurs between pressing the button and the actual movement of the door, which can easily misinform users that it had not registered the initial activation. The square handicap door swung itself outward into the sunlight, and with three crinkles of a mass-produced water cracker bag, BH #2 produced a glare for his peers and left.

Block Head #2A39002 covered his eyes against the glare of the setting sun; his block of a hand seemed to be surrounded by rays of light. He positioned the hand closer to his squarish brown eyes and observed his field of vision becoming limited to his periphery, of which he could see little due to the sun’s glare. Maintaining this hand position, BH #2 turned to his left and took several steps forward. With a pause, his hand lowered, and he took in the new sights of the grey-brown street and the concrete sidewalk stretching out in front of him, and also the green-tinted building in which he had just entered, stomped around and yelled.

Raising the hand again and placing it closer than ever to his eyes, the street, sidewalk and building disappeared from his vision, along with any hint of light. Then the hand lowered, then rose, and lowered again. Similar -- if not identical -- results followed each and every time. BH #2 became so upset by this new finding that a new stomping session had commenced upon the concrete sidewalk, lasting several blocks and at least two ignored red lights. Arriving at bar with failing neon signs and at least three empty whisky bottles being used to prop open the square metal entrance, Block Head #2 decided that the first eight of his eleven dollars would be dedicated to two cheap beers, with the last three finding themselves in the hands of a bus driver that would take him from this nightmare.

Entering the drinking establishment, an initial environmental scan produced five tables and one very traditional-looking bar, adorned with three shelves full of liquors varying in colors and sizes but shaped in a familiar way. A mirror was placed behind these liquors, doubling the perceived amount of alcohol at hand. BH #2's hand found its way to his eyes, quickly consuming his entire vision; this bar was no different from the rest.

With furrowed brows, he lowered the hand and claimed a bar stool near one of the other patrons of alcohol. Perhaps the outrage of BH #2 was tangible: this other patron wished to engage in conversation on the matter of emotional disposition. The sound of an old leather jacket's squeak and some loose metal bits coincided with this man's interest in the new entree. His withered square lips puckered and opened as language poured out into the musty air and reached BH #2.

“Sonny, your face is red and your posture is haphazard at best. What’s the matter? Need this old pappy get you the first round? Lucky for you, some of my funds have already been allocated for a predestined and strange passerby this evening.”

Startled by the kind gesture, BH #2 stuttered out his first few words. ("Gesticulations abound, hands were not only a tool for obfuscation but for expression," he later thought to himself after recounting the day's events over and over in his mind while lying in bed, searching for what went so wrong and why he could not sleep, with fluttering eyelids and a restless square leg.)

“This morning I found my head to be squarish in shape, as well as my neck, knees, toes and tits! And when I cover my eyes with these square hands, my vision is obstructed by its opacity! I wish to know why or at least how I have become this way, and most especially what I need to accomplish in order to reverse this unfortunate situation!”

The old block-shaped man stared at #2 for a moment. With a blink, he turned back to the bartender and rapped his knuckles against the wood surface.

“My highly esteemed barman! Get this fellow a medium-grade canned beer. He seems to be facing some rather peculiar issues. It’ll be on my dime that this youngster can get the drink he deserves.”

The overseer of alcohol snapped open a tallboy of a particularly branded beer, handing it over to BH #2. Flustered, he could only give the overseer a small glance of thanks, and mumbled another one to the old man.

“You are very welcome my block-headed friend. And now I shall be departing.”

The bar stool squeaked as the stranger shifted his weight back in to his feet. He gave one small look at BH #2 and then again to the overseer with his hand cutting at his neck like a silent and drunken plea for mercy.

“Wait, you’re not gonna give me any advice for my current predicament?”

“What advice can I give for the batshit crazy things you just told me? I’m contented enough with my own life that I will not be engaging in matters that very unsurprisingly don’t matter. Enjoy the beer you nut.”

The old man slapped eight square dollar bills on the table and hopped off the stool, his square boots clicking out of tempo with each step. As he limped toward the exit, BH #2 was flipping his hands up and down, up and down. His face would disappear and reappear amongst flailing limbs.

“You’re here! You’re gone! You’re here! And you have no control over your body as you morph into the black! Boom, you’re back! Boom, bye bye! And one close of that door and you’ll disappear forever!”

Turning on his heel, the shriveling square head of the old man peered through BH #2.

“Aye, that may be.”

Heading out the door, the sunset blared back into BH #2’s eyes, lighting up the mirror behind him. He hid himself again behind then square hands. The square bottles of liquor flared up; green, brown, red, and blues twinkled throughout the bar, and rays of light brushed the corners of the door. Through slits of his fingers, BH #2 witnessed the mixing of colors: browns, turquoises, purples danced on the walls. A shadow descended upon the mirror; the rays disappeared, along with the old man.