#i always see the opener(s) regardless of if ive heard of them or not

[copperbadge]

How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at copperbadge@gmail.com. GOOD LUCK!

[socialjetlags]

╰ ☆ ◞ avan jogia / nonbinary / he/they ——— no way, is that KAVI DESAI? you know, they’re 32 years old and they’ve been in los angeles for 12 YEARS. they’re chillin’ as a MUSICIAN & MANAGER at ALT CULT RECORDS. oh and they’re notoriously known for being PRETENTIOUS but there are some people who have seen them be ENTHUSIASTIC. i heard they’re a part of a BAND called STATIC MIDNIGHT, yeah, they’re a DRUMMER. to be honest they sound a lot like BASEMENT & CITIZEN. they’re actually A RISING STAR.

I. BASICS.

FULL NAME: kavi desai.

NICKNAME(S): avi (a shortened version of their name, also happening to hold the meaning of "sheep"), shepherd (see: explanation for avi. sheep doesn't seem to flow too well as a nickname, & here comes a moniker he'll never shake), pepsi.

AGE: 32.

DATE OF BIRTH: february 9, 1992.

PLACE OF BIRTH: maywood, california, usa.

GENDER: nonbinary.

PRONOUNS: he/they.

ORIENTATION: bisexual.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, gujurati.

NEIGHBOURHOOD: west paradise.

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: lives in a one-bedroom unit at the aster apartments.

II. FAMILY TIES.

MOTHER: mindy desai, distantly supportive relationship. there's nothing stronger than a mother's love, they say, but kavi could name a few things. mindy is a good mom, mostly, and she makes sure to check in every now and then. sometimes she'll even refer to recent news of static midnight, if there is anything to speak of. if kavi could complain of one thing, it would be that she always has to slide "your father loves you, you know" into conversation.

FATHER: jevan desai, hostile relationship. to put it simply, jevan disagrees with the life that kavi is living, and kavi often fans the flames—if he's going to piss his dad off regardless, he might as well do a good job at it.

SIBLINGS: palomi desai, younger sister. palomi thought the world of kavi when they were kids, and well... she still kind of does. she is their motivation to do good & be good. if they have one only fan, it's palomi.

PETS: a tuxedo cat (unoriginally) named socks. if you ask kavi, she's "a sweet little thing." everyone who's met her so far would have to disagree.

III. OCCUPATIONAL INFO.

OCCUPATION: musician, manager of alt cult records.

NAME OF THEIR ACT: static midnight.

DO THEY PLAY INSTRUMENTS? IF SO WHAT?: drums.

HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN A PART OF THE ACT?: 4 years.

ARTIST INFLUENCES: karnivool, soul blind, superheaven; he takes a lot of musical inspiration from heavy shoegaze artists.

CURRENT MONTHLY SPOTIFY/APPLE MUSIC LISTENS ON AVERAGE: 14k.

IV. APPEARANCE.

FACE CLAIM: avan jogia.

HAIR COLOR: naturally dark brown, but currently bleached to a near-platinum tone. looks a bit like half-assed frosted tips with the dark roots starting to come back in.

EYE COLOR: dark brown.

HEIGHT: 177cm, 5ft10.

BUILD: slim, defined muscles.

TATTOOS: a decent amount on his torso, arms & legs. details tbd.

PIERCINGS: double lobe piercings, left nostril stud.

CLOTHING STYLE: experimental. mixes all kinds of fabrics & patterns, mostly dresses in a muted color palette. wears a lot of loose, flowing pants paired with tighter tops.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: thick eyebrows, long eyelashes.

V. PERSONALITY.

MBTI: esfp-t, the entertainer.

ELEMENT: water.

WESTERN ZODIAC: aquarius.

CHINESE ZODIAC: monkey.

POSITIVE TRAITS: enthusiastic, adventurous, accepting, humorous, forward, decisive, open.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: pretentious, argumentative, (too) open and also somehow not open enough, self-sabotaging, unreliable.

HOBBIES: doom-scrolling, generating ai pictures of himself in different styles, denying any and all wrongdoing that they’ve ever done, irritating their cat and then giving her treats to reel her back in, working out, bitching about working out, fishing for people to tell him that his workouts are paying off, trying new diners, hanging out at bars, window-shopping, rearranging their living room and then ultimately ending up on the same layout, arguing with his neighbors over the noisiness of him moving his furniture every other day, spreading misinformation, pondering the possibility that it’s time for him to grow up and then deciding that he’s still got time.

VI. WANTED CONNECTIONS.

LONG-TERM EX: “the one”, almost. kavi was a flight risk from the get, but this person gave him an honest chance—and fell so in love that they stayed long after it had become obvious that he wasn’t willing to give them what they needed. up and down relationship, passionate one day & dull the next; a routine that established itself and persisted for two or three years. they were living with kavi up until the breakup, which was around christmas 2023. they still have an immense amount of love for each other, but understand that they lack romantic capability. staying friends through it all, for better or for worse. the vibes: the 1 by taylor swift, i know the end by phoebe bridgers, cellophane by fka twigs, two slow dancers by mitski, renegade by big red machine & taylor swift, new perspective by noah kahan, etc etc…

THE BEST FRIEND: they’ve been through hell & back together, even if most of this so-called “hell” was self-created. there’s not much kavi wouldn’t do for them, so long as they keep cat-sitting when he’s out of town.

CUSTOMERS: people who shop at alt cult records somewhat regularly and are often subject to kavi’s pretentiousness, as music is where it tends to come out. the person who thinks he’s so cool, the person who’s sick of him acting like they give a shit about anything he’s got to say, the person who thinks he’s a sleazebag but he’s Hawt so they’ll pretend to be interested in what he’s saying all day every day, etc etc!

QUESTIONNAIRE. 

start at the beginning, who are you and why are you important?

“i’m kavi desai,” he says, as if it that’s all he has to say; there’s something suffocatingly smug in it, telling of who he is. a conglomeration of false confidence and one-liners. “i was just an indian kid with a dream, and now i’m managing a record store and playing in a band that people actually give a shit about; no matter what angle you look at it from, i’ve got something to be proud of, right? and, believe me, it gets better from here.”

how long have you been making music?

“as long as i can remember, really. i asked for a guitar for christmas one year. i can’t remember how old i was, maybe nine or ten, and santa provided. i learned fast and i wrote a lot of songs as a teenager, most which were complete dog shit. i ended up picking up drums ‘cause a good friend of mine was selling their set, and i guess there was somethin’ in me that knew where i needed to be. hey, here i am.”

how would you describe the kind of music you make?

“honest rock music. in a band, you have to work together to make something worth listening to—but if you understand who i am and what i do, you’ll understand there’s a lot of self-revelation in it. i like to try new things, and i like to believe that it all comes from my heart.”

who are some of your biggest musical influences?

“when i was growing up, the main one was the smashing pumpkins. i could probably play every song from pisces iscariot on a guitar to this day—but hey, don’t hold me to that, alright?… nowadays, i really like superheaven. their drummer’s style really stands out to me. they don’t make music anymore, but their discography never gets old.”

what is the first record you ever bought?

“the all-american rejects’ move along. not a single skip on it.”

what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career?

“excitement. if i’m honest, not much else to speak of yet, but i think we’re getting close to something.”

what are some stand out moments from your career so far?

“it’s always nice to be told that i inspired someone to start drumming… or to see a pretty girl lose her shit from catching a setlist. hey, let me tell ya, moments like that will make you feel like a real rockstar!”

what are you still hoping to achieve in your career?

“well,” they start, grinning ear-to-ear—their bashfulness now evens out the vanity from earlier. “i want a sure sign that i’ve made it. this might look different for other musicians, but for me… it’d be nice to hold an arena tour, right?”

what’s next for you?

“keep your eyes on me and you’ll find out soon enough.”

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[too-gay-for-marvel]

a special card

a/n: listen,,,,,,,,, i know i promise this every time i finish something, but i swear im not dead. im just a simple bean trying to be an adult. and ive got the Big Sad. but im doin my best and yall will love me anyway ✌😎

Word Count: 1675

Warnings: none? i think?

Pairing: CarolNat x Reader (focus on Nat x Reader)

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4)

Unlike Carol, Natasha didn’t wait until the evening to show up. No, she showed up in the middle of the day, right around when your lunch break should have started. If you had known, you wouldn’t have even shown up to work. No, that was a lie, you absolutely would have still shown up to work.

It had already been an abnormal day; you had woken up late thanks to a certain blonde that had kept you up far too long. You had rushed through your shower, your coffee, and had gotten to work late. Now, your boss hadn’t cared. Hell, he had been borderline ecstatic that you had finally showed up past your usual punctual arrival.

“Hope this means you lived a little,” he had said when you showed up an outrageous 23 minutes late. His stupid smug face made you sick.

“Won’t happen again,” you mumbled and, even though you knew he had heard you, he ignored it.

Aside from your boss giving you a stupid little smirk every now and then, work was normal. You were behind, but you decided you could just move your schedule back by 23 minutes. It would ruin everything, but it was something you could live with for the day. Maybe. You would try, at least.

You blasted your music and put yourself into high gear, trying to get a blueprint finished before lunch so you could get back on track. But of course you didn’t, because for the first time in a very long time, your mind wouldn’t shut up. It just had to remind you of the reason behind your embarrassingly strict schedule.

And when lunch came around, you decided to work through it. It wasn’t like you were really in the mood to eat anyway, not with the graphic images running through your head. Besides, if you worked through lunch then you could be back on track for the afternoon. Seemed like a win-win, actually.

“Have time for a break?”

Of course. Of course there was the distraction. There was always a distraction. You put your carving knife down and turned your head enough to see Natasha walking toward you, a take-out bag in one hand and an envelope in the other. You suspected something, as you should. But that stupid smirk was enough to convince you to hear her out.

“No,” you said simply, turning back to your project before waiting for her answer. You were in the mood to be problematic. As you rightfully should be.

“Too late, your boss said you needed one,” she said before immediately setting the take-out bag on your project.

“Carol said you needed a distraction,” Natasha continued as if she hadn’t noticed you rush to lift the bag off your project in the hopes it hadn’t gotten any condensation or… unsightly liquids on the wood.

“Said you seemed a little stressed.” With that, she sat down in your chair and propped her feet up on the same project you had just cleaned.

“I’m not stressed,” you shook your head. “Just busy,” you emphasised by pushing her feet off the wood.

“Has anyone ever told you you work too much?” She asked. She leaned forward and rested her arms on your project - had she no shame? - before giving you another stupid smirk. Did she ever stop? Smirking that much just wasn’t natural.

“No.”

You didn’t look up. You refused to look up only to see that look that you knew she was giving you. It was the same look Carol gave you when you wouldn’t ease up on your schedule. The look Daniel gave you when you hesitated to take the kids on short notice. The look your mother gave you when she felt you were being ridiculous and needed to loosen up. All of those looks had one thing in common.

Pity.

And you hated pity.

“You need to eat,” Natasha said, far softer than you had thought her capable of. That too-confident attitude had disappeared and she looked… mundane. You didn’t think it was possible.

“I don’t need to eat,” you shot back regardless of how normal she looked. Just because she was a mob boss didn’t mean she could boss you around.

“Yes you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Y/N.”

“Natasha.”

You both locked eyes, and you could see the way hers sparkled; not with frustration, but pride. Logically eyes didn’t sparkle with anything really (unless it was the glitter from Dillon’s drawings) but you could tell. There was a slight squint at the corner of her eyes and you had known her long enough to know what that meant.

It meant she was proud.

Screw her pride.

“I’ll put it in the fridge for later,” she finally said, breaking eye contact as she did it. “Don’t forget it.”

It was a stern warning, but the fact that she hadn’t added an actual “or else” meant that nothing was going to happen. You knew it, she knew it, it was an empty threat. But you almost appreciated her attempt at taking care of you. As well as a mob boss could, you supposed.

The moment she was out of your work space, you focused back in on the project in front of you. With absolute surprise, you could finally focus. You were getting things done and, even though Nat was back within two minutes, you had actually made some progress. Maybe it was because Nat had come to see you.

Why the fuck would that matter?

“We got you a card,” Nat said as soon as she got back.

You looked up to see her holding the envelope she had walked in with. You brushed the splinters off your hands - even though you should have been wearing gloves - before taking the envelope from her slender fingers that you knew had pulled the trigger more times than you cared to accept.

They hadn’t closed it properly. Part of you wanted to scold them for it, but the other part was glad you wouldn’t have to rip it open and ruin your always-put-together demeanour. Obviously you could open it properly at home, but you weren’t at home, were you?

It was a simple card. A few flowers on the front, some pink some white. It was pretty cheesy if you were being honest with yourself. But then on the inside is where it got good. There were more of the same flowers, but they were underlining the two sentences in the middle of the card.

“We fucked up. So we’re really really sorry.”

When you looked closer, you noted that the original card had said “I fucked up,” but the “I”s had been scribbled out and replaced with the “we”s. Then below the flowers, in surprisingly childlike handwriting, was Nat’s and Carol’s names.

“Have you two… ever signed a card before?” You hesitated to ask, but only after seeing the uncertainty on Nat’s face.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… you…” but the look on her face was enough to get you to sigh and smile softly to yourself. “It’s a really good card.”

That smirk of hers was back as she leaned in her chair and propped her feet up onto your project again. If she didn’t stop, there were going to be consequences. In theory, of course. You were never really one to break the rules at work.

Okay, you were one to never break the rules at work.

You were still mesmerised - whether in a good way or bad way, you couldn’t quite tell just yet - by the card when you finally noticed a pair of arms wrapping around your middle. You knew it wasn’t your boss. Even though he was overly sweet, he wasn’t a perv.

Deductive reasoning aside, you would know her touch at any time.

“I heard Carol made it up to you,” Nat whispered in your ear. Well, as close to your ear as she could get. She was just a little too short to reach.

“No, I made it up to her,”  you shot back quickly, wanting to make it clear that Carol had not gotten the best of you. No one got the best of you.

“Mmm how about I make it up to you, then?”

Admittedly, you loved the tone in Nat’s voice. As much as you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t really feel anything for the couple, you did. You felt so much for the both of them that it hurt your heart. Literally. But you also knew you couldn’t let anyone get the best of you. Not even Nat.

“My boss is—”

“—goin home for the day!” He called out, and you immediately started questioning just how much he had eavesdropped. “Don’t forget to lock up!”

And with that he was gone. Almost like he had planned the whole thing. Maybe he had. Or maybe the woman behind you had been cunning enough to… “convince him” to leave for the day. Yeah, that was probably the more accurate option. You could live with that.

But you couldn’t live with Nat thinking she had the upper hand.

he moment her hand started to move up your stomach, you grabbed one of her arms and used it to pull her between yourself and your project. One of the benefits of being bigger than her; you could manhandle her all you wanted. And there was also the perk of her being shocked by your size every single time.

Nat knew better than to argue. In the real world around other people, she was the boss. But in this one room, away from prying eyes? Everything was different, she had no control and she knew it, and she loved it. So much so that she put up no fight when you lifted her onto your project and stepped between her legs. Nothing could fix that weekend, but maybe it could distract you just enough.

It was certainly enough to bury all your previous concerns of getting your project dirty.

[zerochanges]

2020 Favorite Video Games

I don’t know if I am an outlier or if this is the same for everyone else but I really did not play a lot of games this year. 2020 was a very harsh year for all of us, especially for me for some personal reasons. So to get to the chase, I am just gonna say it left me not doing much in what little free time I did have, and I didn’t play much either. Usually I try to keep my lists for ‘favorite of the year’ to only titles released that year but since I played so little this year, screw it. I am gonna include any game I played this year regardless of release date.

Collection of SaGa

By far a flawed rerelease. It’s bare bones: there are no advance features you would usually expect out of these kinds of emulated rereleases like save states, fast forward, or rewind, and there was no real effort made to touch up almost 30 year old localizations that had to meet Nintendo of America’s then harsh standards. This really is just 3 roms slapped into a nice looking interface with an option to increase the game speed (which by the way you better use, the characters walk very slow in these old games). 

I am bit harsh here, but only because I thought the Romancing SaGa remasters and the upcoming SaGa Frontier remaster all looked like they got a great budget and a lot of love while this is just another Collection of Mana situation (moreso specifically talking about Seiken Densetsu 1/Final Fantasy Adventure/Adventures of Mana part of that collection). I would have loved to see Square Enix do a bit more for these older games. Or at least include the remakes. Seiken Densetsu 1 had two great remakes, both unused in Collection of Mana, and all three of these original SaGa titles have remakes that have never seen the light of day outside of Japan. How great would it have been to get the Wonderswan remake of SaGa 1, as well as the Nintendo DS remakes of Saga 2 and SaGa 3? 

But my gripes aside, these games are still fun as they ever were. Replaying SaGa 1 specifically during the holiday season really helped calm me down and made me feel at ease. It’s easy to forget but even in their Gameboy roots there are a lot of funky and weird experimental choices being made in these games. They aren’t your run-of-the-mil dragon quest (or considering the gameboy, maybe pokemon would be more apt) clones. 

Raging Loop

Perhaps my favorite game of the year, Raging Loop is one of the best visual novels I have ever played hands down. The level of creativity and splitting story paths that went into it is simply mind blowing. The basic premise is both a wonderful throwback to the old days of Chunsoft sound novels while still modern and somewhat reminiscent of both Higurashi and Danganronpa. Essentially you play as Haruaki, a poor slub that got lost in the mountains with no clue where to go until you stumble upon an old rural village with a strange history and even stranger superstitions. Before you know it there has been a murder and the Feast is now afoot.

The less said about Raging Loop the better, although I do want to say a lot about it one day if I ever can write a proper review of it. This is a gripping game that will take hold of you once you get into it though and never let go. I actually 100%-ed this and I very rarely do that. I got every ending, every bonus hidden ending, played the entire game twice to hear all the hidden details it purposely hides on your first play through, played all the bonus epilogue chapters, unlocked all the hidden voice actor interviews, collected all the art work, etc, etc. I was just obsessed with this game, it’s that damn good! And the main character is maybe the best troll in all of video games, god bless Haruaki. 

Root Double

From Takumi Nakazawa, long time contributor to Kotaro Uchikoshi’s work comes a game any fan of Zero Escape or Uchikoshi in general will probably enjoy. Root Double, like its name suggests is a visual novel with two different routes, hence Root Double. The first route stars Watase Kasasagi, the leader of an elite rescue team in the midst of their greatest crisis yet that could lead to nuclear devastation as they try to evacuate a nuclear research facility that has gone awry. 

The other route stars Natsuhiko Tenkawa, an everyday high schooler whose peaceful life is thrown into turmoil when he stumbles upon a terrorist plot to destroy the nuclear facility in the city and his attempts to stop them. Together the two separate plots weave into one and creates a really crazy ride. Part Chernobyl, part science fiction, any fan of the genre will easily enjoy it. And hey it’s kind of relevant to include on this list too since it just got a Switch port this year (I played it on steam though).  

Snack World

I was shocked upon starting Snack World as it is instantly incredibly charming, witty, and downright hilarious at times yet I heard almost zero people talk about it. EVER. This game is Dragon Quest levels of quirky though, and the localization is incredible. The game has such an oddball sense of humor that works really well with its presentation right down to the anime opening video that sings about the most bizarre things. Instead of the usual pump up song about the cool adventure ahead we get stuff like wanting to go out to a restaurant and eat pork chops. 

The self aware/fourth wall breaking humor is just enough to be really funny, but doesn't overstay its welcome and always makes it work right in the context of the dialogue. And finally, just everything; with the menus, the name of side quests and missions, and the character dialogue -- are all just so witty and full of quirky humor. This is one hell of a charming and funny game and addictive to boot.

Trials of Mana

Trials of Mana has gone from one of those legendary unlocalized games, to one of the first major breakthroughs in fan translation, to finally getting an official English release complete with a fully 3D remake. In a lot of ways from a western perspective this game has had an incredible journey. As for this remake itself, I really found myself having tons of fun with it. I loved the graphics, and the voice acting while a bit on the cheaper side almost kind of adds to the charm since both the graphics and acting really give it an old PS2 vibe. I know that is probably just more me being weird but yeah, I had to say it. 

I really hope Square Enix sticks to this style of remake more often, instead of just doing Final Fantasy VII Remakes that break the bank and involve extensive tweaking to both plot and game play. I’ll take smaller budget projects that play more like the original game any day personally. I wouldn’t mind if they also deliver a brand new Mana game all together in this engine either. 

Utawarerumono Trilogy

This year saw the release of the first entry in the series, Utawarerumono: Prelude to the Fallen--and thus finally after three years since the sequels Utawarerumono: Mask of Deception and Utawarerumono: Mask of Truth came out in 2017 the trilogy is now complete in English. I ended up binging through Prelude to the Fallen very fast shortly after it came out and immediately jumped on to the sequels. Perhaps the best part of 2020 was that I finally played all three of these fantastic games, and did so back-to-back-to-back. Playing the first Utawarerumono was an experience I will never forget, it was like visiting old friends again that I haven’t seen in ages, by and large thanks to the fact that I saw the anime adaption of the game when I was much younger, nearly a decade ago. Back then I would have never of dreamed that I would get to play the actual game and get the real experience. 

And it only got better from here, as all three games are such wonderful experiences from start to finish. The stories are all so deep, and by the time you get to the third entry, Mask of Truth, it’s crazy to see how they all connected over so many years and weaved together into a plot much bigger than they ever were. What carries it beyond all that though has to be the fun and addicting strategy role playing game aspect, which while a bit on the easy side, is still so much fun and helps make the game feel better paced since you get to play the conquests your characters go on and not just read about all the battles they fight. Beyond that the games are packed full of awesome characters, and I know I’ll never forget the amazing leads in all of them. Hakuowlo, Haku, and Oshtor will all go down as some of the greats to me. 

Ys: Memories of Celceta

Ys: Memories of Celceta is a full 3D remake of Ys IV, a rather infamous game in Falcom’s Ys series. Not to get bogged down too much into the history of Falcom but by this point they were facing a lot of hardship and had to outsource this entry to other developers, and thus passed it on to two particular developers they had a business relationship with, creating two unique versions of Ys IV. Tonkin House who had worked on Super Famicom port of Ys III with Falcom ended up creating their own YS IV entry, Mask of the Sun for the very same system, where Hudson soft who had produced the much beloved Ys Books I & II remakes for the Turbografix (PC Engine) CD add-on created their own Ys IV entry Dawn of Ys for that console. Both games followed guidelines and ideas outlined from Falcom themselves but both radically diverged from each other and turned into completely different games. 

Falcom finally putting an end to this debate on which version of Ys IV you should play have gone and created their own definitive Ys IV in 2012 for the Playstation Vita. I played the 2020 remastered version of this remake on my PS4. I even bought this on the Vita when it first came out but I am horrible and only horde games, never play them. So it was a lot of fun to finally play this. 

Memories of Celceta is probably one of the best starting points for anyone looking to get into Ys, especially if you only want to stay with the 3D titles as out of all the 3D entries this explains the most about the world and series protagonist Adol Christian. Beyond that it’s just another fantastic entry in a wonderful series that has a few good twists hidden behind it, especially for long time fans of the series. 

Random Video Game Console Stuff

Xbox Has Blue Dragon: I actually got an Xbox One this year for free from my brother. Because of that I started to play Blue Dragon again and there’s a lot I would love to say about this game. I don’t know if I am fully committed to replaying it all the way through however but I find myself putting in a couple hours every few days and enjoying myself again. Does anyone else remember Blue Dragon? I feel like it really missed its audience and had it come out nowadays and probably for the Switch it would have really resonated with the Dragon Quest fandom a lot more instead of being thrown out to die on Xbox and constantly compared to Final Fantasy VII and the like which it had nothing at all similar with. 

The Turbografx 16 Mini: This was probably one of the best mini consoles that have come out and I feel like thanks to the whole 2020 pandemic thing it was largely forgotten about. That’s a shame, it has a wonderful variety of great games, especially if you count the Japanese ones (god I wish I could play the Japanese version of Snatcher included), and a wonderful interface with fantastic music. One of these days I would really like to be able to play around with the console more seriously than I have already. 

Fire Emblem Shadow Dragon Never Existed: So Nintendo localized the first ever Fire Emblem game on Nintendo Switch which is awesome to see them touching Famicom games again--I haven’t seen Nintendo of America rerelease old Famicom titles since Mysterious Murasame Castle on the 3DS, but their trailer hilariously made it seem like this is the first time ever they released Fire Emblem when in fact they had already localized the remake Shadow Dragon on the Nintendo DS nearly 10 or 11 years ago. I and many other fans I talked to all found this really hilarious, probably solely because of how much they kept repeating the fact that this is the first time you will ever be able to experience Marth’s story.

All that aside though I have to say the collector edition for this newly localized Famicom game is probably the most gorgeous retro reproduction I have seen in a long time, and I really spent many many hours just staring at the all clear glass mock cartridge. I have found myself really obsessing over retro reproductions during 2020, and obtained quite a few this year. I really hope this trend continues to go on in 2021 as recreating classic console packaging and cartridges is a lot of fun. 

[samwrights]

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side. 

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

[sloppy-butcher]

my requests are ALWAYS open babey!!! and that probs because i never actually get requests 

baby dwight is always fun to write about so thank you for the request!

i included some nsfw headcanons below the cut because im a slut and i cannot help myself

OKAY I REALLY FUCKED OUT ON THIS ONE TUMBLR SUCKS ASS first the cut didnt work and now ive lost the ask. i got a screenshot tho its real professional hours

the reader is a survivor because,… yes

Relationship HeadCanons for Dwight Fairfield

In the beginning of your relationship, Dwight would be very passive. You would have to be the driving hammer, taking the active role in order to keep your relationship moving forward. You were the one who noticed his stares, you were the one who first sat with him and you were the one to express your feelings for him. However, don’t mistake his inactivity for a lack of affection, Dwight does deeply care for you. It’s more that he doesn’t believe himself worthy of your attention. He keeps to himself, hoping that his feelings would silently die while you went off to find someone more deserving of your love. But you were observant and persistent and after a long while, he finally begins to understand that in some bizarre and totally bombastic scenario you had fallen in love with him.

Dwight likes to get you presents. He doesn’t consider himself to be overall handsome or outgoing in conversations so he feels that interacting with him is a very tiresome and tedious task. He tries to lessen his guilt by collecting and giving you gifts, like sacrificial offerings given to appease hateful Gods. A new flashlight he got from Ace, a cool, full-equipped toolbox from Jake and so on. He never expects anything from you, your time alone is simply enough for the poor boy, he even goes as far as to refuse anything you’d try to give him. “Keep it for yourself,” he said waving his hands dismissively, “You’d get better use out of it anyway.” However, no matter how hard he would try to sway you from getting him anything you would always find a way. Kisses, no matter the kind, are the one thing he cannot refuse nor give back. So you would kiss him any chance you got. Just got back from a trial, kiss on the cheek. He got you another present, a kiss on the nose. He starts doubting his worth as both a leader and boyfriend, a long meaningful smooch on the lips. Regardless of what kiss it would be, Dwight would always go beet red and unconsciously rub whatever part of him you had touched. He could be heard mumbling afterwards “Wow. That really happened.”

Dwight has trouble believing in himself, maybe because he never really had a good support group growing up or maybe because people just don’t take him seriously. Whatever it may be, it has resulted in him being naturally timid and shy. However, the world of the Fog is anything but natural so when push comes to shove Dwight changes his tune. In the heat of a desperate trial Dwight takes charge; he motivates others, encouraging them to follow the plan and get their jobs done efficiently and effectively. He’s inspiring. At least to you. Sometimes the others would doubt the man questioning his judgment and often going against his ideas. Dwight also has his flaws. He panics when someone tries to argue or attempt to reason with him, even if someone has a valid point Dwight ignores them. His hold over power was always so fragile that it makes him nervous when others suggest a plan that he did not come up with himself. “If people don’t need to look up to me then I’m useless.” You would see Dwight spiral down a dark hole, losing grip on reality and focus. “Dwight,” You softly call out to him, taking his shaking hand in yours and squeezing. He stops, turns and looks at you with eyes wild and watery. You pass him a comforting smile. “We’re listening to you, Dwight. Please also listen to us.” It would take a moment but like ice melting in the sun, Dwight would calm, his hurried breathing evening out and his mind ceasing to race away from him. You brought him back to Earth, back to the situation at hand. And you reminded him that no matter what he thought he always mattered. You did this all with just a small, loving smile.

Dwight is the master of puppy-looks. As he gets more confident in his relationship he learns how to manipulate (not that Dwight is actually capable of asserting himself over you like that) you in do doing whatever he wanted. You’d be chatting with some other survivors when all of a sudden the hairs on the back of your neck would stand on end. Turning around you’d see Dwight all on his lonesome. All he had to do was flash you those brown puppies and you’d be by his side.

NSFW! Dwight gets turned on way too easily. A hug that got a little too tight, a kiss that used more tongue than normal or simply even a wondering hand that got a wee bit close to his crotch. Everything is a yes to him. Hopefully, his S/O will have more experience in all things sex because Dwight is undoubtedly a baby. But he’s willing to please. Oh so ready and happy. The first time he saw what effect he had on his partner, the absolute pleasure he could give them, Dwight vowed to do anything to keep their pleasure and bliss, dare I say, coming. Expect a lot of “Is this okay?” and “Am I doing this right?” Just keep reassuring him, “Dwight, just do whatever makes you feel good.”

“Dwight~,” You whined as you got down on your knees and unbuckled his pants. He gasped and flung his hands up as if the police had just busted his drug operation. “Pull my hair.” An audible ‘whaaaaat?’ came from the man as he struggled to swallow, his eyes watching you masterfully push his boxers out of the way. You gave Dwight one last, slightly annoyed, look before you set to work. Dwight whimpered and very slowly grabbed a lock of your hair. He couldn’t understand how pulling your hair would feel nice for you but he couldn’t deny you although he did it delicately and gently.

If you are a female, please peg this man.

[mychemicalaromanticism]

things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

[440mxs-wife]

Arthur’s Angels Chapter 1: Meet the Angels

Pairings: Dean x Jayna Brandon (OFC), Sam x Maggie Parker (OFC). Other Characters: Gabriel, Arthur Ketch

Warnings: show-level violence

Word Count: 4900+

Authors Note: This started out as a birthday gift of sorts to my good friend, @MissyIsSassy1. Jayna is her character, so anything about her is Missy, while Maggie is my character, and anything about her is me. Don’t look at me, I just write stuff.

Summary: Jayna and Maggie are employed by the mysterious Arthur Ketch to hunt the supernatural. They have never met Mr. Ketch in person, and receive their assignments via speakerphone briefings. Still, they do their job, and they’re damn good at it. See what happens when their path crosses with the Winchesters.....

Author’s Note 2: I’m not sure how many parts this will have, I guess as many as people are willing to read. If you want to be tagged in this series or have any requests, please let me know. Thank you for reading, enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, weapons check?" Jayna said to her partner, Maggie. The two of them were on assignment, going up against a nest of vampires. No way that either of them wanted to be caught in a fight without adequate weapons support.

"Machete, freshly sharpened," Maggie said, patting her thigh holster. "Also have my .380, with a full clip of the ceramic rounds filled with dead man's blood," she confirmed. "You?" she asked.

Jayna gestured towards her back holster where she kept her always-sharpened machete. She tucked her 9mm pistol, also with the ceramic rounds, in the back waistband of her jeans. "So, how many did Gabriel say would be in this nest, anyway?" Jayna asked.

Maggie looked at the ramshackle house before them. "No more than ten, if I remember correctly. I figure we get in a few good swings and take out the first four or five vamps, which makes the rest of our job a bit more manageable," she explained.

Jayna shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me," she replied as they approached the front door of the run-down shack.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna Brandon and Maggie Parker were experts, recruited by the reclusive billionaire, Arthur Ketch, to hunt the supernatural. Each woman had her own reasons for becoming involved in hunting. Whether their motivation was a deep sense of duty or a desire to continue the family legacy, regardless, they trained relentlessly. For that reason alone, they were considered to be two of the best female hunters in the world.

Rumors had circulated that Mr. Ketch once had ties to the former British Men of Letters, a secret organization from the 1950's. Their purpose was to investigate and hunt the supernatural, like vampires, werewolves and shapeshifters.

About three years ago, the weapons locker was raided and cleared out, then the organization was mysteriously disbanded. All of their technically superior weaponry was said to now be under the control of an unknown entity. Some even suggested that Mr. Ketch himself may have been the one to take possession of this futuristic firepower.

Working alongside Jayna and Maggie was Gabriel. He mostly worked behind the scenes, researching cases and providing tech support and even transportation if necessary. Sometimes he went out in the field, if the case involved posing as a couple to complete the mission. Gabriel could be a bit mischievous at times, but he was always there for Jayna and Maggie when they needed him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna slowly and carefully eased the front door open. She didn't want any squeaks or whines from the aging hinges to ruin the element of surprise. As they approached the living room area, a vamp was entering the room from Jayna's left. She swung her machete and sliced the head clean off the body, both hitting the floor with a thump. Another one came in from Maggie's right, but she was ready. Her machete sliced through the vamp's neck like a hot knife through butter.

After they cleared the top floor of all five vampires, that only left the remaining five, most likely in the basement. The ladies knew they had to be careful, because there may also be potential victims to rescue. Jayna signaled to Maggie that the door in front of her led to the basement. Maggie nodded and drew open the door, which fortunately opened without a creak.

The women slowly descended the stairs, pausing every so often to make sure nothing had disturbed the vampires. They appeared to be sleeping in some sort of sling or hammock, with the ends secured around an exposed beam in the ceiling.

Jayna counted and signaled to Maggie that there were only four more to clear out the nest. Maggie nodded and motioned that she was going to go check for victims. Jayna nodded her assent as she continued to survey their environment, always keeping an eye out for an exit.

Maggie found six victims, only three of whom were still alive. She disconnected the IV that was drawing the blood out of the first two and tied a piece of her shirt over it like a bandage. The couple looked like they were high school sweethearts, a quarterback and his cheerleader. Must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, is all. They didn't look like they'd lost too much blood, so she told them to go and wait for her and Jayna under the stairs.

Something seemed to be a little off with the third captive, though. Maggie looked her over for injuries, but didn't find any. She started walking towards the stairs, thinking the other captive would follow her. Maggie caught the horrified look in the eyes of the cheerleader as she gestured to the last captive. Maggie turned around in time to see the last victim charging at her, knocking her over. She had been turned, and she had decided that Maggie was to be her first kill.

Jayna ran over and knocked the girl to the ground, only to have her quickly get back up. Jayna gripped her machete with both hands and made a clean slice, taking off her head. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Jay," she whispered.

"Anytime," Jayna said, then turned her attention to the remaining cluster of vamps, who were starting to stir in their bunks. "Uh-oh, looks like that was just the wake-up call," Jayna quipped. "Time to take care of business," she remarked.

Two vamps went after Maggie, while the other two went after Jayna. They each took the first one out easily, but the last two were starting to get the upper hand. The one attacking Jayna had her pinned to the ground and kept trying to take a bite at her neck.

The impact of hitting the floor caused her machete to drop from her hand. Jayna brought her leg up and shoved the vamp away from her, then drew her pistol. She shot a couple of ceramic rounds into its upper chest, and the vamp went down, paralyzed for the moment. Jayna completed the kill as she cleaved its head from the body.

Maggie's vamp seemed a lot more determined, most likely the leader of his nest. He had her pinned to the wall to where she couldn't raise her arms to swing the blade. "Do you think you two hunters can just waltz in here, kill my family and take what's mine?!?" he thundered. His forearm was pressed up against Maggie's neck. He pressed hard, holding her against the wall and threatening her air supply.

Just before Maggie nearly blacked out from lack of oxygen, she heard Jayna shout to get the vamp's attention. He turned his head towards Jayna, which was his last and fatal mistake. Her machete quickly and cleanly separated his head from his body and the fight was over.

"Thanks again, Jay. Really saved my ass this time," Maggie huffed, still trying to catch her breath.

"You can save my ass next time," Jayna chuckled. "Let's get these survivors topside and out of this house. You okay to lead us out of here?" she asked.

Maggie nodded, then paused as she heard footsteps approaching their position. Maggie pointed upward, and motioned to Jayna and the couple to keep quiet. When the intruders hit the last step, Jayna and Maggie stepped out of the shadows, weapons drawn, and yelled "Freeze!"

The newcomers also had weapons that they trained on Jayna and Maggie, at least until they saw the collection of headless bodies on the floor. The man closest to Jayna had piercing green eyes, spiky hair and slightly bowed legs. He re-engaged the safety on his weapon, but still felt the need to keep it pointed in Jayna's direction.

"One question. Who are you and what the hell are you doing on our hunt?" he demanded.

"Your hunt? Excuse me, but this is our case, bud," Jayna retorted. "We should be asking 'who are you and what the hell are you doing on our hunt'," she sassed.

"Name's Dean Winchester, sweetheart," he smirked. Gesturing to the tall, shaggy haired man to his right, "And this one here is my brother, Sam Winchester," he explained.

Jayna and Maggie looked at each other and realized that the newcomers were not a threat. They reengaged the safety on their weapons and tucked them in the back waistband of their jeans. Sam and Dean, having decided that Jayna and Maggie weren't a threat either, did the same.

"Well, boys, now that we've made our introductions, we must be going. Got to get the survivors some medical attention, so they can go back home to their families," Maggie said. She started to climb the stairs and motioned for the survivors to come out of hiding and follow her to the car.

Jayna turned to leave as well, but before she did, she caught Dean's eye. "You guys will clean up, right? Been a slice," she said as she winked and gave him a mock salute. She followed Maggie up the stairs, grinning to herself all the way.

Sam and Dean both looked at each other. "What the hell just happened?" Dean thundered. "How did we get stuck with the clean-up?" he growled.

Shaking his head, Sam chuckled. "Come on, Dean. Let's get to work," he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jayna and Maggie dropped off the survivors at a local hospital to receive medical attention, then provided Gabriel with their final report. Gabe was impressed that the girls had finished the job in record time and managed to save two civilians. He said they had earned some time off, so they decided to find a diner to get something to eat.

On the way to the diner, they talked about meeting the infamous Winchesters.

"So what did you think of them?" Maggie asked.

"Well, Dean is certainly the one in charge," Jayna observed. "Talks a lot, and if I'm being honest...." she trailed off.

"Yeah?" Maggie prompted, dying to hear how Jayna was going to finish her thought.

"It's not so much his words, Mags. I swear, though, his voice is just the right frequency to set off my internal tuning fork. And I mean in the best way," she remarked as they busted out laughing. "What about you?" she asked.

"I dunno. Sam seemed content to let Dean run the show, but I think that only means one thing. The man is a tiger that isn't going to want to be caged forever by his big brother. And when he gets loose, whoo boy! Someone's in for a wild night," Maggie finished.

When Jayna pulled into the parking lot, they couldn't help but notice the gorgeous, black 1967 Chevy Impala parked outside.

"Is that--" Maggie started.

"Couldn't be. Then again--" Jayna mused. "Let's just go in, we don't have to sit with them if they're in there," she replied.

Maggie shrugged and held the door open for Jayna, then followed her into the diner. They scanned the area for the Winchesters, knowing it had to be their car outside. Jayna spotted Sam and Dean sitting in a corner booth off to her right. She elbowed Maggie to get her attention and directed it towards where the Winchesters were sitting, bringing a smile to Maggie's face.

The girls looked at each other as if to ask, "Should we join them or ignore them?". One look between them had them thinking back to the conversation they had in the car. They nearly broke out into laughter again at the memory, but managed to hold it together.

Jayna and Maggie sauntered over to the boys' table, each swaying their hips a little in case Sam and Dean were watching. Maggie reached them first and cleared her throat a little to get their attention.

"Excuse us, gents, but are these seats taken?" Maggie asked, locking eyes with Sam.

Before his brother could answer, Sam jumped in and said, "No, not at all, please join us," he grinned. He scooted over to make room, while Dean rolled his eyes but made room for Jayna to slide in.

"You ladies hungry? Here, take a look, if you'd like to choose something," Dean remarked, handing over his menu.

The waitress came back to their table and noticed that two more guests had joined the table. Jayna and Maggie ordered their drinks, then everyone gave their food order. Dean ordered his classic bacon cheeseburger with fries, Sam requested a salad. Jayna went for the pot roast dinner, while Maggie ordered a Reuben sandwich with chips.

Jayna fidgeted with her napkin before speaking. "So, I think maybe we might have gotten off on the wrong foot with you guys," she started. "Comes from years of having to work twice as hard as female hunters to prove ourselves in a male-dominated profession," she explained.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Dean replied. "I'm rather impressed, just the two of you taking out a nest of ten vamps. That's not easy, even for a couple of guys like us," Dean said. "I just hope we didn't come across as macho jerks."

"Nope, nothing to fear there, Dean. And thanks for cleaning up, by the way," Jayna added. "I can tell, though, that you're used to being the one in charge, the leader. Hope it's not too intimidating that I'm a bit like that as well," Jayna said as she locked eyes with Dean.

Dean slowly shook his head. "Just so you know, though," he added, leaning towards Jayna's ear. "I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it," he added huskily as he ran his index finger along her jawline.

Jayna internally shivered, not only at the closeness of his lips to her ear, but at that damn sexy voice of his. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of his plump lips. She wondered if she'd ever find out if they were as soft as they appeared to be. Jayna looked over at Maggie, who was too deep in conversation with Sam to notice any distress her friend may be under.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Across the table....

"So, what kinds of things are you into, Sam? You know, what do you like to do when you're not hunting?" Maggie asked a little nervously.

"Mostly, I do the research for the two of us. Dean's the 'action guy', I'm the 'book nerd'," Sam replied. "I'm a big fan of sci-fi, especially Star Wars and I've read all of the 'Harry Potter' books. Also, I have what some people would call a weird obsession with reading about serial killers," he chuckled. "What about you?" he inquired.

"Well, first of all, nothing wrong with being into books. I, too, have read all of the 'Harry Potter' books, but I like a good spy thriller once in awhile. I don't mind Star Wars, but I'm more into Star Trek. It's kind of a requirement, since I'm from Iowa," she grinned. "My weird thing has to do with how easily I can learn a foreign language. Mostly reading, not necessarily speaking them, though," she finished.

Sam's hazel eyes locked on to Maggie's as he spoke. "Star Trek, hmm? I can just hear the kind of heated sci-fi debates we'd get into. And I can't stop wondering about the sexy things you might say in another language. 'Specially when you get all riled up," he gently teased.

Sam reached over and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind Maggie's ear and grinned when he heard the slight hitch in her breathing. Fortunately for Maggie, the waitress arrived with their meals, saving her from doing anything embarrassing about her growing attraction to Sam.

After dinner was finished, the four went out to their respective cars, but neither driver seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Conversations were had about what to do with the rest of the evening, and whether that would include any members of the opposite sex.

Dean broke the stalemate by inviting Jayna and Maggie back to their room for a drink and possibly a movie. He mentioned the name of the motel, which prompted the girls to invite Sam and Dean back to their room instead. When Jayna explained that their employer was able to provide a bit nicer and separate accommodations, the boys instantly agreed.

Jayna and Maggie followed the boys back to their motel so they could grab a change of clothes for the night. While they waited, Maggie took the opportunity to voice her doubts to Jayna.

"Are you sure we should be doing this, Jay? I mean, inviting them back to our hotel? We hardly know anything about them, other than what we've heard from other hunters," Maggie pointed out.

"That's the point, Mags," Jayna answered. "We spend time with them, get to know them better. Besides, I saw you and Sam 'sparking' over in your corner of the booth," she teased.

Maggie scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I saw plenty of 'sparks' going between you and Dean on your side of the booth, Jay," she retorted.

Jayna shrugged. "If you're waiting for me to deny everything, you're going to have a long wait, dearie. It's that voice of his, like it has a tractor beam and it's pulling me in! Not that I'm complaining, mind you," she laughed.

Maggie joined in on the laughter. "I think I was right about Sam, too. You know, about him being a tiger and to be careful if he ever gets unleashed from his cage," she remarked. "He mentioned how fun it would be to debate me on sci-fi topics. And, about riling me up so I say naughty things in other languages," Maggie giggled.

At that moment, Sam and Dean emerged from their motel room, each carrying a bag. They turned to look at Jayna and Maggie in their car, smiled, waved then got into the Impala. Around 15 minutes later, they had arrived at the RedStar Hotel, where the girls were staying.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Dean exited the Impala and examined their surroundings. This hotel was much nicer than anything they'd ever stayed in, except when on the werewolf case with Mick Davies. "Well, ladies, I have to say, these are some fancy digs," Dean remarked. "Not your usual hunters' accommodations," he added.

"Courtesy of our employer, whose name shall remain anonymous," Jayna quipped. "This is just the lobby. Shall we head up to my room first, then decide how best to spend the rest of the evening?" she asked.

Maggie and the boys nodded their assent as they made their way over to the bank of elevators. "Room 516 is mine, 519 is Maggie's room," Jayna explained. She pulled her key card out of her pocket and opened the door.

The room was equipped with a king sized bed, a recliner in the corner, a 55-inch flat screen TV and a desk where Jayna's laptop rested. "Come on in everyone," Jayna said as she threw her car keys on the desk. From her bag, she produced a bottle of whiskey and proceeded to pour two fingers for everyone.

When everyone had a drink in hand, Maggie raised hers a little. "I propose a toast: to a successful hunt and to new friends," she declared. Everyone repeated the toast and clinked their glasses together. Maggie made eye contact with Sam when their glasses connected, trying to determine what kind of mood he was in. She also wanted to see when may be a good time for them to make a break for her room to be alone.

Someone produced a deck of cards and from that, several rounds of Truth or Dare Go-Fish were played. The whiskey continued to flow, and as a consequence, the participants got a little sillier with each round. After about the seventh round, Jayna looked at Maggie. From all their years hunting together, Maggie knew from the look on Jayna's face that it was time for her and Sam to go.

"Hey, Sam, I heard there's a Star Wars marathon on TV. I know these two are probably not interested, so how about we head over to my room so we won't bother them?" Maggie suggested.

A knowing smirk crossed Sam's face. "Fine by me, as long as you don't mind that I quote the dialogue as the movie plays," he grinned.

"So much the better, I'll even play along," Maggie replied. She held out her hand, which Sam took in his and intertwined their fingers.

"Have fun, kids," Dean called after them. Upon hearing the door latch engage, a hungry look settled in Dean's eyes. He walked over to the table where Jayna was putting the deck of cards back in the box.

Dean approached Jayna while her back was to him. He reached for her hand to make her turn around and face him. He reached up with his right hand to cup her face. "So," he remarked softly, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"So," Jayna whispered. She placed her palms on his chest and slid them upwards until her hands were clasped behind his neck.

As her fingertips grazed the hairs at the base of his neck, Dean dove in and captured Jayna's lips with his own. His free hand roamed up and down Jayna's back, causing a small moan to escape from her mouth. When the need to breathe became too great, the kiss was broken, leaving Dean and Jayna panting.

"Whoa," Dean whispered. "That was amazing," he remarked.

"Agreed. I've been wanting to do that since the diner," Jayna gushed. "How's about we try that again?" she suggested.

"As you wish, sweetheart," Dean replied as his mouth slammed back to Jayna's with a need that he knew only she could satisfy. "So beautiful," Dean murmured against her lips.

Jayna brought her hands down so that they were inside his flannel shirt. Within seconds, she was pushing his outer shirt off of his shoulders and was reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. Dean gently pried it from her fingertips and eased it up and over his head. The sight of his bare chest caused a hitch in her breathing, which did not escape Dean's notice.

Dean toyed with the hem of Jayna's T-shirt, causing her to look down at his hands. He hooked one finger under her chin and tilted it upwards to meet her eyes. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

Jayna nodded. "I'm sure, Dean," she answered. That was all the permission Dean needed to relieve Jayna of her shirt, leaving her in a lacy pink bra. A look of admiration crossed Dean's Greek god-like features and Jayna had never felt more treasured.

One by one, pieces of clothing disappeared until there was nothing left between them. Dean and Jayna found themselves under the blankets of the expansive king-sized bed. They took turns giving and receiving pleasure in the form of hot kisses and exploratory touches. As the two of them moved together, layer upon layer of passion was built. Each one higher than the last, until they both found their release.

As Dean and Jayna's heart rates slowly returned to normal, Jayna scooted towards Dean. He snaked his right arm around her to hold her close to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and her right hand flat on his chest. "Mmm, Dean that was incredible," she murmured, her eyelids feeling heavy.

Dean leaned over and pressed his lips to Jayna's forehead. "It really was, sweetheart. Incredible," he mumbled against her skin. He felt his own eyelids fighting to stay open as well. "Sweet dreams, baby girl," Dean whispered before completely giving in to his need for sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, the couples met in the hotel's dining facility for the breakfast buffet. Jayna noticed that Maggie and Sam looked pretty cozy going through the line. Always finding a reason to touch each other, or for one to grab the other's hand. Hmm, her night must have gone as well as mine did, Jayna thought with a smile. We should have lots to talk about on the drive back to HQ, she silently added.

"Morning, beautiful," Dean rumbled huskily in Jayna's ear. His stubbled cheek tickled her ear, causing her to giggle, which also brought a smile to Dean's face.

"Morning, handsome," she replied as soon as she had regained her composure.

Back at the table, everyone exchanged phone numbers. If either team needed help or wanted to talk to someone, they now had a way of contacting each other.

All too soon, it was time for the hunter teams to go their separate ways. Dean and Jayna were standing by her car, exchanging good-bye hugs and slow, luxurious kisses.

Over by the Impala, Maggie and Sam were saying their good-byes. "I had a wonderful time with you, Sam. You're smart, caring and a bit of a romantic if I may say. But you also have a very sexy wild side to you that I love just as much," Maggie remarked.

"And you, ma chérie, are sweet, kind and maybe a bit too sassy for your own good," Sam grinned. He tapped the end of Maggie's nose as she pouted. "But I would love to see you again sometime, ma belle fleur," he said softly.

A shy smile returned to Maggie's face. "I would like that as well, mon chéri," Maggie replied. She slid her hands up the length of Sam's chest and rested them on his shoulders. Without much encouragement needed, she pulled him down until their lips met in a fiery, passionate kiss.

When they broke apart, Sam brushed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek. "See you soon, darlin'," he said softly.

"Bye, Sam. Call if you need anything, or want to talk," Maggie responded.

"I will," he promised as Maggie walked away to where Jayna was waiting. Maggie wished Dean a safe trip home as he passed her on the way to his car. She heard the Impala roar to life and just like that, Sam and Dean were gone.

Before Maggie opened the passenger door of the car, Jayna asked, "So, how did it go with you and Sam last night?"

Maggie paused before looking Jayna directly in the eye. "Rawr," she said, then both women burst into laughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at headquarters, Gabriel expressed how happy he was to see them. Although he didn't press for details, he could tell that both women had had an enjoyable past 24 hours. "Briefing in 15 minutes, ladies!" Gabriel called out.

They didn't have time to do much of anything before the meeting, except freshen up their hair and splash some water on their faces. Unpacking, laundry and a shower would have to wait until after the meeting.

About ten minutes later, Jayna and Maggie entered the conference room and took their usual places. A conference call-style phone with a large speaker was in the middle of the table. The meeting started precisely at 11:00 am, with a call from their employer, Arthur Ketch.

"Good morning, Angels. I understand the vampire hunt went as planned, even saved two of the victims," Ketch remarked.

"Yes, sir," Jayna and Maggie responded in unison.

"Well done. Your next assignment will be for the recovery of a cursed object. The setting is a high-society party to which only couples have been invited. This will therefore be an undercover assignment," Ketch explained.

Jayna and Maggie looked at each other in silent communication. Winchesters? they asked each other. Jayna pointed out that while Gabriel usually fills in on these "undercover couple" assignments, that leaves Maggie without a partner.

"Sir, we need both myself and Maggie for this mission. We met a pair of hunters on our last case that would be perfect for this assignment. That would enable us full use of the team, and Gabriel could still act in a support capacity," Jayna finished.

Silence reigned on the other end of the line while the idea was considered. "How easy would it be to contact this 'pair of hunters' you met?" Ketch asked.

"We exchanged contact information before we left them, sir. Only a matter of picking up the phone and calling them," Maggie answered.

"Very well, make contact and inform Gabriel of their decision. I have confidence in you, Angels," Ketch concluded before the call disconnected.

"I never get to do anything fun," Gabriel grumbled. "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride."

"Aw, come on, Gabriel. You know we wouldn't be anywhere without you," Jayna teased, tapping the end of Gabe's nose.

"You bet your sweet asses you wouldn't," he grumbled. "Go on, make your 'booty call' so I can let Arthur know whether this is a go or no-go situation," he muttered.

"It's not a 'booty call', Gabe," Jayna retorted as she scrolled through her contacts, then pressed the one she wanted.

"Hey, Dean? It's Jayna. Got a question for you: Can you and Sam get your hands on a couple of tuxedos? We have a little undercover mission, and it would really help us out if you could join Maggie and me," she finished.

A broad smile spread across her face. "Fabulous. I'll email you the details. And Dean? Can't wait to see you again. Over and out," Jayna concluded softly then disconnected the call. "Hey, Maggie? How would you like to see Sam again?" she called out as she walked down the hall to her room. She giggled as she heard a shriek of happiness from Maggie's room.

Tags: @swiftlymoniquesblog @miss-nerd95 @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @lyarr24 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jawritter @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride @wayward-mikaelson @yourelivingwrong @gabrielslittleangel @jessica-noel94

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 3

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/64603504

previous | next

3. the universe is wild

Elliott wakes up in the hospital, and every part of him hurts. An IV delivers pain medicine to the veins in the crook of his elbow, but other than that, he is unscathed. The bullet wounds have thankfully healed, and he is no longer bleeding. Thank God for modern technology, he thinks sarcastically. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he realizes that he is not alone in the room.

Bloodhound is seated in the windowsill on the other side of the room, their head down and their arms folded. Are they asleep? Elliott wonders. Their shoulders move slightly with every breath. They look fine. Why are they still here? Elliott swings his legs off the bed and tries to stand up, but regrets it immediately. “Ohhhh shit, I’m going down!” he blurts, and promptly falls off the bed in a tangle of sheets and wires.

His head spins and aches, and spots of black bloom across his vision. “Dammit,” he swears, and he tries to stumble to his feet. Out of nowhere, two gloved hands grip his arms with firmness and exceeding care. They pick him up and push him gently back against the bed.

“Regain your balance, félagi. You stood up too quickly.”

“Yeah, you think?” Mirage snaps without thinking. He stumbles back onto the bed, pushes his head against his pillow and breathes unsteadily, trying to get some oxygen circulating through his body. The IV has managed to stay connected to his elbow, despite his clumsiness. He notices belatedly that Bloodhound is very close to him, hovering next to the bed, making sure he won’t fall again. 

“Damn, this stuff always sends me on the worst trip. Feels like college all over again.” Mirage laughs, awkwardly, hoping for some kind of response. “This stuff is nuts, right? We’re punched full of bullet holes every single day and these bastards have figured out how to make medicine that will patch those wounds up in no time. Completely nuts. Just wish it didn’t make me so damn high.”

The hunter by his side remains silent- his efforts to make them laugh are sadly fruitless. I wonder what Bloodhound’s laugh is like, he thinks, and he doesn’t fully register the strangeness of his thought until a few moments later. Whoa, what? Did I really just think that? What’s the deal, Elliott? You must be REALLY high. He shakes his head, trying to stop thinking about it. “What are you still doing here, anyway?” he asks them, shifting his body around a little. “You look fine to me. Though, I guess I can’t really see you. Well. You seem fine, anyway…”

“I am back to normal, yes,” they reply. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Oh,” he says, a little surprised and confused as he settles back into the pillows. “Well. Um, thanks, H- I mean, Bloodhound. You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine.” They shrug slightly and move back across the room to sit on the window seat once more. “And so you are,” they murmured. The setting sun on the other side of the glass highlights the edges of their form, giving them an almost otherworldly glow. 

Sunset had always been Elliott’s favorite time of day. He and his mother used to watch it together almost every night growing up. He always felt calm by her side, knowing that while the day was disappearing, she was right there and always would be. But now… things were becoming different. She was like the sunset. Slowly slipping away.

“There is something troubling you,” they say. It’s neither an accusation nor an invitation for him to share- they simply state it as a fact as common as knowing the sky is blue.

An instinctive response bubbles up behind Elliott’s lips and very nearly exits his mouth, but in an instant, he remembers Bloodhound’s words from the night before. ‘You are allowed to feel the pain you bear.’ But how is he supposed to even start talking about it? Where would he begin? How can he speak to them when he can’t see their face, can’t see how they’re feeling?

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be all mad at me or whatever?” he asks, trying to change the subject. He very slowly sits himself up in bed, being sure to not move too fast. “I ruined your success streak and made a bunch of shitty decisions today. Plus, I said all that dumb shit last night at the bar. Aren’t you angry?”

The hunter seems to consider this for a moment. “No, Elliott. I am not angry,” they reply finally, their voice even and smooth. “I have never been one to hold a grudge. Nor am I upset about our match this morning. I am somewhat disappointed, but the outcome is simply what the Allfather willed for us today.” 

“The Allfather?” Mirage replies. “I’ve heard you talk about them before. Who are they to you?”

“I have not met the Allfather in person, if that’s what you are asking,” they reply. They unfold their arms and twine their fingers, clearly deep in thought. “Many would consider this faith to be foolish or childlike, but that is not how I perceive it. The Allfather guides me through all I choose to do. What the Allfather wills, I will accept, no matter what the outcome may be.”

“Come on, you’re a total badass!” Elliott exclaims, incredulous. “Give yourself a little more credit. You could kick everyone’s ass regardless.”

“Be that as it may, I will not deny the presence of the Allfather’s guiding hand.” The hunter’s voice is not frustrated or offended, but open and accepting. Their ability to hold to their beliefs makes Elliott jealous, and he wishes he could measure up to them.

“Huh,” Elliott replies. “Sounds fes- fash- fascin.. Cool, I guess. I’ve never been one for gods or faith or mystical beings, but hey, whatever floats your boat.” He rolls his neck, cracking a few kinks. “Why do you trust him, anyway? Sounds like you’ve been through some serious shit.”

“Once again, that is a story for another time,” Bloodhound says, their voice turning soft again, accompanied by the tiniest note of pain. There’s a small hopping sensation in the back of Elliott’s stomach, and this time he doesn’t try to push it away. “The Allfather may be from a very old faith with a very long history, but my fjölskylda raised me on stories of his power and direction. I honor my fallen ættbálkur by carrying the Allfather with me.”

“Fye-what? What was that other word?” Elliott questions. The language Bloodhound speaks isn’t one he’s heard from anyone except them, but it sounds lovely and melodic, especially in their voice. “What do those words mean?”

“Fjölskylda. Family,” they reply patiently. “And ættbálkur means… tribe, I suppose. Forgive me; the common tongue is not my first language, so I do not always remember the proper words.”

“S-Sure,” he stutters. “Look, Hou- sorry, Bloodhound, force of habit…” He falters, frustrated with himself. “I’m sorry about last night. It was really stupid of me to assume anything about you. All of us have shitty pasts, stuff we’re running from. And you’re no different. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Bloodhound chuckles. The sound is pleasant and lovely, and over much too soon. It stuns Elliott into silence. “Thank you, Elliott. You honor me with your kindness.” They turn away from him, staring out the window to the dying horizon. The sun reaches through the glass and glares off their goggles, reflecting spots onto the wall next to them. “I owe you an apology.”

“Wh- huh?” Elliott splutters, feeling a little uncomfortable. Why are they apologizing to me? I’m the one who fucked up yesterday.

“I suggested that you are not intelligent yesterday evening,” they reply, not turning around to face him. “I am sorry. That was unkind.”

“Oh.” Elliott had forgotten about that. “You know what? Don’t even worry about it. People have been saying that about me my whole life, so I’m used to it.” He pauses, trying to find a laugh. It doesn’t come. 

“Nevertheless…” Bloodhound says. They get up from the windowsill and move towards the door, their movements lithe and smooth. “You have much more mannvit than you give yourself credit for.”

Elliott doesn’t know what mannvit means, but he hopes it’s something good. 

Bloodhound begins to open the door to leave, but Elliott stops them. “Wait, why did you come to check on me?” His emotions are a puddle of… well, mud. He’s not sure where one element ends and the other begins. “You never told me.”

The hunter stops, their hand on the knob. “That, Elliott,” they murmur, almost too quiet to hear, “is-”

“-a story for another time,” Elliott finishes for them. He rolls his eyes, but he’s not annoyed, not really. Mostly, he’s just confused, but satisfied. “Right. Well, I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I would not expect anything different.” They turn and give him one last look, and exit the room, letting the door come to a soft close.

Elliott couldn’t see Bloodhound’s face, but he hopes they were smiling. 

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

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...

He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars.

 “How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips.

 “Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees.

 “Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”

��

He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths.  

 Virgil himself included.

 He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

 He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found.

 He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon.

 An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.

 “please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…”

 “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him?

 “dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain.

 “Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?”

 “What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?”

 “Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.”

 “Y-you’re not m-m-mad?”

 “Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding.  

 “O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.

 It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.

 It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there.

 He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.

 That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.

…

He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.

 “sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.

 “I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him.

 “Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him.  

 “Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns.

 “Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head.

 “Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton.

 “Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly.

 “I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far.

 “G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.

…

He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.

 The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.

 It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word.

 Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He'll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they'll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they'll pluck him clean once more.

 That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.

…

A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t.

 All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not.

 He's never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told.

 Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak.

 The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go.  

 He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops.

 “N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 “Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway.

 “yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth.

 “No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls.

 “If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“

 “Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.”

 “N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe.

 “We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him.

 He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.

 He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B' type questions before moving to open ended ones.

 It's easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler's ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.

@fortheloveofjanus

[hongjoongslut]

High Times

nerdy!changkyun x badgirl!reader

synopsis: after trying so long to convince your best friend to get high with you, he finally gives in and it was not as you expected to be, at all.

warnings: smoking, corruption kink, best friends to lovers, non-idol au, changkyun being a hidden dom, hidden feelings that come out

word count: 1.3k

enjoy!

you seriously couldn't remember how many times you've asked this question. "come on kyunnie, you only have to do it once and its better to be with someone you know and trust!" for so long you've wanted to see something other than his smartness rolling out of his mouth. you've been friends for almost 3 years. how you two are friends is a mystery. you're polar opposites. "if i give in will you finally do some homework without needing help all the way through?" you laughed "maybe halfway through." "Deal then. But if I die, I'm haunting you forever." you slightly nudge him "you're gonna be fine dumbass. how about tomorrow since its Saturday?" he sat and pretended to ponder on it. "You chose Saturday because you know your parents are gonna be gone. What if we ended up having sex or something?" "Im Changkyun, i promise here and now that I wont start anything sexual. If you do, that's on you boo."

Beep. Beep. Beep. 10:30 AM. you honestly woke up in such a rush, changkyun was surprised to see your text this early.

you: hey are u still down for today?

kyun: holy shit you're awake now? hell yeah im still down. you must be dying to see me.

you: you wish nerd. come around 5:30. 

you wish time would hurry. changkyun has been your crush pretty much since the day you met. he didn't even knock, he just entered and made you jump. "kyunnie!!!!" you jump up and hug him tightly. "hey y/n, you must love me." you shrug. "only platonically." 

"Okay so here's the deal. You inhale the smoke, breathe out some and take the rest back in. then you hold it for a second and blow out. since this is your first time, I'd recommend taking a slow pull first." he exhales slowly and takes in some smoke. he did what you told him to do, causing a coughing fit. "Holy shit, that was rough." you pat his back. "it takes time to adjust but when you do, its euphoric."

you both are feeling weightless. he is a lot more high than you are, but regardless you're both under influence. "hey wanna play 20 questions?" you nod and lay your head on his leg. "okay, if you had to kill one person, who'd it be?" you laugh. "great starter. probably your ex Jaigya. she messed you up and that wasn't right." he nods. "my turn. who is the one person you've always wanted to have sex with?" he laughs shyly. "If i dont answer, i have to take another hit?" you nod. "guess im taking another hit." you sat up. "why won't you tell me? you dont wanna tell me about your fantasies and the girl you want the most? come on, you know i dont judge." he sighs. "that's for another day. but same question to you." you've wanted to admit your feelings for so long and of course it comes up when you're both high. "it's you kyunnie." his head whipped around to stare directly at you. "m-me? why? for how long?" you smile "those answers are for another day." you reached to take another hit but he grabbed your hips and held you tightly on top of him. "answer me, princess. how long have you wanted to lose your virginity to me. and why." your jaw drops, in complete shock in what just happened. "e-ever since we met..you've always been attractive to me. ive had feelings for you ever since then." his thumb reaches up to slightly part your lips, admiring how soft they are. "god you are so innocent. you sure you want to princess?" you whine in response. he softly grabs your cheeks, trying to not scare you or hurt you.

 "yes daddy."

 he smashed his lips against yours, pulling a low moan from you. your cheeks are traced by his thumb, slowly yet passionately tasting you. "God i cant wait to ruin you babygirl." you smile into the kiss, feeling your underwear start to soak in arousal. He pulls away and touches the hem of your shirt. lifting your arms up, it was quickly discarded, showing off your lace bra. "damn y/n, you had this planned all along.." he kisses the soft flesh, goosebumps arising in your back. you could cum with just how hot he's looking. his hair pushed back, kissing your breast and marking them as his. he reaches behind and takes off the bra, cold air hitting your bruised chest. "princess, you're so perfect." you blush heavily as he takes your right nipple in his mouth. 

"changkyun..please stop teasing me"

he slips his shirt off, revealing his toned body. of course you've seen him shirtless before, but it still leaves you breathless. "i think you need to get rid of these, love" tugging at your sweatpants. you slowly took them off, revealing matching lace panties. he slid his pants off, setting you back to straddle him. you could feel him grow harder under you. "are you still okay with this?" you smile and rock your hips forcefully hard on his hard-on. "fuck….dont tease me like that, you cant handle the consequences." you smile devilishly, doing it again but slower.

he places you over his shoulder and carried you to your room. he plops you down, tearing off your panties. "i told you that you shouldn't tease me. now let's see how you like it." he kisses your thigh, nipping here and there. he places a soft kiss to your clit, making you jolt. he licks a stripe up your slit. "so sweet y/n, all for me.." he dives in, making you squirm. "fuck kyunnie!" he smirks, not stopping his actions. you feel his finger slowly enter, the temperature difference makes you moan. "you're so tight honey, im gonna fuck you open.." you start to feel your impending orgasm. "s-stopp…" he raised his head. "did i-i do something wrong? are you okay? im sor-" "fuck me until i cant walk kyunnie." his jaw drops, tearing off his boxers. his cock smacks his belly and is glistening with precum. "shit, i dont have a condom." you sigh. "it's okay, remember i have the implant." he smiles with a sigh. he wraps your legs around his waist. he covers his tip with your arousal and pushes in slowly. it was a stretch for sure but it felt somewhat pleasurable. "you okay??" you nod. He goes in a few inches more, watching your reaction. he bottoms out, making sure not to hurt you. "you can m-move if you want.." he shifts back slowly and enters you again. "shit y/n, i know i will not last long with how tight you are." he starts slowly thrusting, low grunts leaving his mouth. once he heard you start to moan, he picked up his pace. you screamed at the immense amount of pleasure you felt. "Harder Daddy!!" 

he smiles. 

"whatever you want, princess."

you slowly stir awake. you turn over and see 11:34 AM on your clock. you tried leaning up but you felt severely sore. changkyun walks in, not expecting you to be awake. "good morning sleepy head." you scratch your head. "what are you doing here kyun?" he smiles. "if you dont remember then look down." you found yourself in his tshirt. you pull it off to see hickeys all over your breasts. "wow. i remember now.." you laugh. "im really sore, can you help me up?" 

he nodded. "on one condition, you and I start dating since we've had hidden feelings for so long." you sigh and roll your eyes.

"fine we can date, but seriously help me up or you're gonna have to wash these sheets from the pee im barely holding."

[thehomeforthehopelessromantics]

After all this time Part IV:

Last part! Credits to @jermeeeeee for helping me figure out the title. Hope you enjoy!

(Y/N)’s POV

I could hear the headlines now. College girl confronted by love of her life; dies of a lack of oxygen before he can really say anything.

At least it’ll be an interesting story.

“Can I come in?” Blu asked, staring at me with those big hopeful eyes. I wanted to say something but all I could do was muster up a hum and step out of the way so he could enter. “This place hasn’t changed at all, huh?” He looked back at me with a smile that was almost friendly and I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. He slipped off his jacket and took off his shoes, putting them with the rest of them and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t normal anymore. That he hadn’t been in my apartment for over a year now. So why does he look like he still belongs here?

“Are you gonna come talk to me or just stare?” He joked with a teasing smile. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I shut the door and went past him to sit on the chair in the living room. It was dreadfully uncomfortable and existed in our living room purely for aesthetics (which Neo claims is super important) but right now I don’t know if I could stomach sitting next to him on the couch so the chair it is.

He sat down on the couch before looking at me and laughing lightly, “I know that it’s been a while since we’ve been face to face like this but you can try not to look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s just...” I clenched my jaw, staring at him still. Trying to remember a time when he wasn’t existing in my apartment and failing miserably. “It’s weird. Having you here again. It feels like-“

“Like we never broke up?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, sinking into the chair, wishing it would swallow me whole. His friendly demeanor slipped away as he shifted to sit on the edge of the couch, arms hanging over his knees as he leaned toward me.

“(Y/N), why did we break up?”

Because I’m a coward. Because I was terrified. Because I’m not good for you.

“You know why we broke up,” I said lowly, noticing that my music had stopped playing. The playlist must have ended. A part of me wanted to go and play more music just so there won’t be the silence that surrounds us right now.

“No, actually,” he shook his head. “I don’t.”

I could tell he was waiting for my to say something but I couldn’t even move. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. I felt like I was taking up too much space in the room and wanted nothing more but to shrink.

“I... I remember you saying that it wasn’t working anymore. That we weren’t working anymore. I’d never had something chill me to the core like hearing you say that. But as many times as I asked you never told me why we weren’t working anymore.”

Because we worked. We worked so well and I couldn’t lie well enough to give reasons.

“Because it wasn’t any of your concern,” I heard the icy words roll off my lips, surprised by the fact that my voice wasn’t shaking even though every other part of me was.

“Not any of my-“ he gaped, eyes widening. “You stood there and ripped my heart out of my chest and can sit there and say I didn’t deserve a reason why?” He almost yelled, getting increasing more frustrated the longer he spoke. “Besides, what does it matter if you tell me now? We’re not together anymore regardless.”

He huffed, pouting slightly while staring at his palms and all I wanted to do was get up and curl into him and never let him go again. I stayed quiet, trying to think of what to say next and all I could come up with was the truth. “I wasn’t good for you,” I whispered, silently hoping he didn’t hear me.

I saw a puzzled look cross his face as he looked up at me. “What?”

Clearing my throat, I shifted so my legs were under me in the chair. “I just wasn’t any good for you, Blu. We both know that.”

“Bullshit,” he spat, looking more offended than I anticipated. “If you’re gonna lie to me at least make it believable.” My jaw dropped. The first time I’m telling him the truth about what happened and now I’m being called a liar?!

“Whoa whoa whoa, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but it sure as hell isn’t me,” I snapped, glaring at him. “Lose the attitude.”

“Stop lying to me and maybe I won’t have an attitude.”

“What makes you think I’m lying to you?”

“Because that’s bull. Everyone knows that you were one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“That doesn’t mean I was ever good for you.” Our eyes met in a hard stare off and slowly I saw his face morph into one of shock.

“Oh my god you actually believe that, don’t you?”

“Would I have said it if I didn’t?” I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head to stare at a far point on the wall. “I’m flighty and I change my mind too fast. You would’ve only ended up hurt.”

“I did get hurt,” he grumbled.

“More hurt,” I turned to look at him, emphasizing my point. “I’m not the kind of girl you need, Blu. You need consistency and dependability and I’m always gonna be scared that I’m gonna wake up and feel something different than when I went to sleep and I’m gonna hate myself for hurting you like that.”

“As if you didn’t already?” He exclaimed, and I clamped my jaw shut, forcing myself to stay quiet. “When we went to sleep that night you loved me and when we woke up suddenly we weren’t working.” I kept a blank face, praying that he wouldn’t see right through me. “That is what actually happened right?” His voice lowered, no longer yelling but genuinely inquiring. I must have been silent for too long cause the next thing out of his mouth was, “Dammit, (Y/N), say something.” 

“That’s not what happened,” I mumbled, moving my eyes down to the floor. “I didn’t just wake up and not want you anymore. I’m still stunned that you believed that I did.” 

“You broke my heart and the whole time you still wanted me?” he asked, getting angry all over again, voice rising. “Why would you do that to yourself? To me?”  “There was nothing else I could do!” I said exasperatedly, wishing that he would just understand and let it go.

“You could’ve told me the truth!” He stood to his feet, eyes blazing as he stared down at me

“And say what Blu?” I yelled back, moving so I was standing too with my hands on my hips, totally unaffected by the height difference between us. “How on earth was I supposed to tell you I want you, but I’m leaving?”  “Just like that!”  “You would never have let me walk out that door!” 

“I’m still mad at myself for letting you leave at all!” 

“Why?” I screamed in frustration, my hand tearing through my curls. “Why are you still so hung up on me?”  “Because I still want you!”

“After all this time?!”

“Yes!” He said before taking a deep breath. “I don’t know why you’re not getting this. For me it’s always gonna be you.” 

“Bullshit,” I rolled my eyes, turning and going into my room with him hot on my heels. 

“It’s not bullshit.” I felt his hand slip around my arm and tug me back to look at him. “Unlike you I’m not a liar.” I saw the regret on his face the second the words left his mouth, but you couldn’t have convinced me to care. Scowling, I ripped my arm from his grasp before muttering a quick, “Get the fuck out.” 

Tearing at my clothes, I looked for something to slip on. I needed to get out of here, fast. “I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N).” His hands came out on either side of me, stopping my frantic search for something to put on. “What are you doing?”  “Leaving.” I tore myself away from him, not liking the warmth that came along with him being that close to me. Screw the clothes. Where are my shoes?  I slipped on my sneakers and tried to grab my keys, but they were snatched from my grasp. If looks could kill he’d be 6 feet under by now. “What?”

“You’re not leaving.” He held the keys above his head as I tried to reach for them.  “Stop acting like I won’t climb you to get my keys back. Hand em over,” I commanded, feeling foolish for jumping for them at all. 

“If you want ‘em back you’re gonna have to climb me then,” he shrugged. “I’m not leaving.” 

“God, what do you want?” I stomped out of frustration, letting out a growl. Maybe I was being childish and throwing a tantrum, but he came into my apartment and started yelling. It’s fair game, now. 

“I just want you to talk to me,” he said pleadingly, free hand reaching out for me, but I moved out of the way. “(Y/N), please.” 

“Please what?” I crossed my arms, giving him a pissed off stare. 

“Talk to me,” he begged. “Just tell me what’s going on in your head when you think of me.” 

“Right now? All I can think is that I want you to shut up and get out of my apartment before I do something stupid like tell you I’m still in love with you.” I rolled my eyes before freezing. Oh. Shit. 

“What did you just-”  “No.” I said firmly, looking at his face that was riddled with shock and surprise and happiness. “No, you didn’t hear that. That didn’t happen.” 

“Baby-”  “Don’t fucking call me that,” I screamed pitifully, screwing my eyes shut. I heard him set the keys down and take soft steps closer to me. I wanted to protest, but I knew if I moved an inch I’d snap and everything would come pouring out of me and I’d kiss him and ruin this more than I already have. 

I felt a tentative hand place itself on my waist, pulling me closer. I just squeezed my eyes tighter. “Can you open your eyes please?” I shook my head stiffly, refusing to budge. I heard him let out a sigh before I felt his lips press themselves on my forehead. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Please?” I shook my head again, softer this time. His lips pressed a soft kiss to each of my cheeks, muttering a ‘please?’ in between. His face came to hover dangerously close to mine, foreheads pressed together. Out of curiosity and the need to find out if he still looked as breathtaking as I remember up close, I opened my eyes to see him staring at me adoringly. “You still love me?” He asked softly, a small smile on his face. 

“I shouldn’t,” I whispered, finally letting myself give in and relax under his touch. 

“But you do?”

“Yeah... yeah I do.” I brought my hands up to touch his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under my palms. 

“(Y/N)...” he started with a shaky breath. “I know that this might be a lot for me to ask right now, but I have to try or I’m gonna scream.” He swallowed thickly, eyes searching for mine. “Can I kiss you?”

Before I could stop myself I was muttering a soft, “God, please.” 

Without a second thought his lips crashed on mine and he groaned instantly, bringing me closer. Dizzily I moved to wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back hungrily, having forgotten how good he felt pressed against me. I felt his tongue swipe against my bottom lip, asking for entrance, but I denied just to mess with him. Feeling him grin against my lips, he moved a hand from my waist to wrapped around my neck. Unintentionally I gasped, giving him all the time he needed to invade my mouth. 

My hands found his hair and tangled themselves in it, wanting nothing more in the world than to be closer to him. Teasingly, I bit down on his bottom lip which lead him to wince, while his grip on me tightened. 

He mumbled a quick, ”Jump,” between kisses and I happily complied. He caught me and my legs wrapped themselves around him while his hands held me under my thighs, preventing me from dropping. Lips still attached to mine, he walked us to the bed and placed me down on it, climbing on top of me.

“You taste,” he mumbled, moving down to my neck, “exactly like,” he bit down, causing a moan to escape my lips, “I remembered.” He licked a stripe up my neck and my skin felt like it was burning and every part of me was buzzing.

“Oh yeah? And what do I taste like?” I tried to chuckle but it quickly turned into a heady moan as he found my sweet spot and my back arched into him.

Grinning against my skin, he laughed lightly before making his way back up to my face, a teasing smile on his lips. “Peaches,” was all he said before he was kissing me again. I tried to touch him, but my hands were quickly grabbed and pinned above my head. “Keep them here,” he ordered, positioning himself between my legs and grinding down slightly as I hit my lip to contain whatever unholy sound was trying to pass through my lips. “Got it?”

I shook my head and he grinned wickedly. “Good girl.” And just like that he was kissing me again. Licking into my mouth and sucking on my bottom lip like there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. He moved my legs to wrap around his waist and gripped my hips so tightly, I was sure it was gonna leave bruises, but I couldn’t find it in me to mind. It was blissful sensory overload and the best (and worst part) was I couldn’t touch him. I was completely at the mercy of what he wanted and everything about that excited me. He ground into me again and we both groaned into the other’s mouth. Maybe this was too much, but how could I care when he felt this good?

His lips parted from mine, both of us heaving to try to fill our lungs with air. I looked up into his eyes and saw that his pupils were totally blown out and he was eyeing me with lust oozing off of him. He started to say something when the shrill of my phone pierced the air. Groaning for an entirely different reason this he dropped his head into my neck as I reached over for the phone (which was proving to be more difficult than I thought with him practically lying on top of me.) “Don’t answer it,” he pleaded, moving his head back up so I could see the pout on his face. “Tell whoever it is to go to hell and let’s just kiss some more.”

That sounded like an offer that was too good to refuse but one look at the caller and I knew I couldn’t. “It’s Neo, I have to answer it.”

Begrudgingly he climbed off of me, letting me lie back against the pillows to take the call. “Hello?” I answered as Blue leaned down, pressing kisses up and down my mostly exposed leg. It was distracting to say the least but I tried to focus on what Neo was saying instead of the boy whose lips were pressed against my skin.

“Hey girlie, what you up to?” He asked happily and I blushed.

“Just y’know, having some fun,” I said and Blu grinned up at me, before coming up to whisper in my ear,

“If I’m the fun you’re having, you can have me anytime.” He then procceeded to place a kiss underneath my ear.

“That’s cool, so would you mind if I didn’t come home tonight?”

“Didn’t come home?” I questioned, grabbing Blu by the back of his collar to stop his attack on my neck.

“Yeah, Dalton asked me to stay the night. You mind?”

This was one of the reasons I love Neo. No matter what we’re doing we always try to keep the other one posted.

“Go ahead, babe. Knock him dead,” I smiled. Happy as hell that my best friend sounded so happy.

“You’re the best, I love you.”

“Love you more. Details tomorrow?”

“Oh absolutely,” he gushed before saying goodbye and hanging up. Glancing over at Blu who had made home tangled up next to me on the bed, he was smiling.

“So Neo is staying the night at my place. Dalton just texted me.”

“Apparently he is. Their night must’ve gone very well,” I laughed, turning my body so I was facing him.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me for the night.” He tugged me closer to his chest, the smile never leaving his face.

“I guess so, whatever are we gonna do all night?”

“Whatever,” he kissed my forehead, “you want to.” He kissed my lips, but just before it became a full on makeout I stopped and pulled back. “What’s wrong? Did I push it too far?” He asked with concern all over his face and my heart melted a little.

“God, no,” I reassured, diving a hand into his hair. “I just don’t wanna get too caught up tonight. Don’t wanna go too far and have this be something you regret in the morning-“

“I wouldn’t,” he said with absolute surety. “Not a single second spent with your is something I regret. But if you’d rather I just stay here and hold you close while we sleep,” He smiled softly, “I can do that.”

***

I woke up the next morning, breathing in an intoxicating scent that was definitely not my perfume. My eyes opened and the events from last night flooded my head. I was curled into his chest and he was still sound asleep: or he was until I tried to get up and he promptly held me tighter.

“Don’t go.”

“Blu, I have to pee.”

“Hold it,” he mumbled into my hair, his grip on me not loosening a bit.

“Blu,” I whined.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you have to.”

“But I have to pee.”

He pulled back to look at me, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Promise you’ll come back to me?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I promise.”

He finally let me get up and go to the bathroom before doing the same thing himself and then we just curled back in bed. His fingers lightly tracing the features of my face.

“I never thought I’d have you as the first thing I see in the morning again.”

“And yet here we are,” I mused.

“This isn’t a dream right? My feelings are gonna be so hurt if you’re just a dream,” he laughed but I could tell part of him was serious. Grabbing the hand that was currently tracing my jaw, I opened my eyes to look at him.

“This is real, I’m real.” I kissed the tips of his fingers. “And I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“ I love you.” Leaning in, his nose brushed mine lightly. “You still love me?”

“More than you know.”

[burnedbyshoto]

if you sent any asks (recommendations for things don’t count as I have to look around!) since october 17 until october 22 it is in here :)

anon said: The header for your askbox response post is *aesthetic*. I think it’s a really good idea to post one every few days if you have the time. ❤️

well, thANK YOUUUUU!!!!! I put in a whopping 10 minutes into it because I had no idea what I was doing! i’ll definitely be doing asks this way now though.

big dick kiri anon said: !!!!!! ILY HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY PLS HYDRATE 💙💙❤️❤️ -bigdickkiri

Omg love! Please don’t worry about kinktober just breathe! Take your time and try to relax 💙❤️- bigdickkiri

DAMN, that is a LOT. Please look after yourself and don't stress about it love!! - bigdickkiri

I'm very excited. BUT PLEASE LOOK AFTER YOURSELF, DO NOT FORCE ANY OF THIS OMG - bigdickkiri

AHH, AMAZING, TALENTED SWEETHEART, GORGEOUS LOVE, HAVE A INCREDIBLE DAY AND HYDRATE - bigdickkiri

I believe I did have a good day, and I am actually super bad at hydrating, buT ILL TRY TO GET BETTER!!!!

I am breathing!!!! JUSTTT BREATHEEEE!!! I am taking my time now and relaxing to the best of my ability :D thank you so much bdk I love you with all my soul

theres always a lot, but if im not doing a lot I dont do anything so on one hand.... it’s okay LMAO but I will continue to try and not stress :D

BDK I WOULD NEVER WANT TO MAKE YOU THINK IM FORCING THIS OUT OF MEEEE ILL TRY MY BEST TO MAKE YOU PROUD

GHSOGHJIAORGJRGIRAHG YOURE AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, TERRIFIC, INCREDIBLE!!!!!!! YOU HYDRATE AND MAKE SURE YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU

@bread-theduck​ said: We love you and support you ❤ dont push yourself, your mental health is so much more important that kinktober haha. Take all the time you need, we're right here and open if you wanna talk~

I don’t really try to push myself... it just happens subconsciously D: but thank you for the love and support!!!! my mental health is stronger than I give it credit though

anon said: listen! we all appreciate you and your writing dearly but! I think we can all agree that we want you to be okay mentally and physically before you make yourself write! kinktober can wait! you’re more important!! at the very least, pls take a break for tonight.

I honestly can’t even remember when i said I was tired, but thank you for your kind words regardless!!!! I am trying to get better at it because i don’t want to disappoint you guys D:

@saintbullet​ said: Please take care of yourself!!! DONT risk your health for writing. We care about you so much! Be careful 💕💕💕

I know I push myself a lot, and i’m really sorry for scaring you all!!!! I am trying though, and it just has a lot to do with my mental fatigue and that im judging some hard classes right now then it has to do with anything

anon said: hey it'll be alright! idk whats wrong but i promise everything will work out like its supposed to! you just take care of yourself and take as much time as you need to feel better!! we love u!! ♥️

It wAS MY PERIOD I REMEMBER NOW AHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! I LOVE YOU TOOOOOOOO WITH ALL THE LOVE MY HEART POSSES!!!!!!

anon said: periods can be a pain so pls take care of yourself!! drink lots of water and rest up!!!

my period is the worst, if she was a person i’d block her and avoid her irl!!!!!!!!

anon said: Lol ok so gay for Mina anon back and no, I was not the anon who requested it. But lmao, let me take this time to whole heartedly thank that anon for quenching my thirst anyways

oh whoops, sorry for thinking you were someone else D: iM GLAD TO SEE THAT YOU WERE HAPPY WITH IT!!! READER WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BAD GUY BUT I COULDN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE IT WORK LMAO

anon said: I am just planning on hanging out and reading all the lovely writing that comes from this

i’m pretty sure this is about my nsfw/sfw headcanons, and honestly im sooo very excited to start working on them!!!!!!!!

anon said: you have no idea how happy I got when I saw u posted for mina like UGH MY WIFE I LOVE HER SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺 N GIVING US GAYS AMAZING CONTENT UR AMAZING MWAH MWAH KEEP BEING THE PERFECT ANGEL U ARE 🥺🥺💞💗💖💕💓💝

AHHHHH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT MINA IS LIKE MY FAV CLASS 1-A GIRL SO I LOVE HER SO MUCHHHHHHHHHHH YOURE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU AND YOURE AN ANGEL!!!!!!!

many a anons said: Sorry I didn’t see the part where you said not to request characters that were already on the list I thought that was the list of character we could vote for.

so sorry I accidentally sent a character in that has already been requested, Tumblr didn't show me the follow up posts ;;

nooo I didn’t see the list I’m so sorry 😭😭😭

LOL ITS OKAYYYY. y’all were hoes and kept sending me shouto who I couldn’t even think about deleting from my list... so... you are lucky >:(

anon said: hello! not a request here but take care of yourself anc stay hydrated bb 🥰🥰

I got my water right next to me rn bby :D

anon said: be todoroki’s girlfriend

bitch I am todorokis WIFE, why would I need to dress up???

@girl-with-a-mentality​ said: You can be todoroni for Halloween.

....you right...

anon said: Thirst post infoo ;3 I found a doujinshi of Bakugo being teased and toyed with sexually with by Ochako, Yaomomo, and our lovely momma Mina

...send it

anon said: GIRLLLLLL

ANONNNNNNNNNNNNN ;)

local dumbass anon said: local dumbass is here once again, i thiink you know who i am and might've found my ig buuuuuut..?

uh.... I don’t know???????? I only followed people on insta if you gave me your handle or followed me first.... also did you cut your bangs?

anon said: Your Monoma scenario was really good!If we’re being honest, though, Monoma would literally start foaming at the mouth if he saw anyone from 1-A making physical contact with his s/o, ESPECIALLY Bakugou. They would have to call animal control because there would be a rabid Monoma in the dorms lol

okay... while you’re not wrong, I just thought 18 year old monoma should have grown up just the tiniest bit! plus his obsession is controlled because of his insecurity so LMAO IDK I JUST THOUGHT MAYBE UGH

@awkward-theaterkid​ said: I was reading your Day 19 Fic but I couldnt take it seriously, the title "My Way" kept reminding me of the Backstreet Boys "I want it that way" and it keeps popping up while I read it 😂

as someone who only heard that song because of b99 I read this and immediately thought of b99 LMAOOOOO

🍒💥anon said: URGENT PSA: LYSSA IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND I LOVE HER -🍒💥

Hello Queen Lyssa, I finally read "And They Were Roommates" and have absolutely no idea why I put it off so long! ITS A MASTERPIECE. Each chapter is addictive and the slow burn and angst destroyed me 😭 The smut in the final chapter is flawless and sooooooooooooooooooo H O T. Shoto wasnt even my favorite character but he might have to be now (or at least in my top 3) 😰 This is my new favorite series and I cant wait to re-read it!!!! YOURE AMAZING AND ILY. You own my soul now -🍒💥

URGENT PSA I LOVE YOU CHERRY EXPLOSION AND YOURE AMAZING :D

ATWR holds a special place in my heart uwu.... HAOGHIOSRGSIOGJSIHG THANK YOU!!!!! SHOUTO IS AN AMAZING CHARACTER WHO I LOVE WITH ALL MY HEARRTTTTTT

~ thank you to @didyoumeanme​, @kittenlordofdarkness​, @soafers​ for submitting memes and animal pics for my rommate, much appreciated :D ~

anon said: Did the local dumbass anon ever cut their bangs? Do you know?

....I dont know, but I just asked her rn >:)

this paragraph is dedicated to those surrounding to the meltdown mess that occurred yesterday. to each and every one of you who sent me kind words via my askbox or directly contacting me, thank you. I really want to move past this because I feel by holding on it will make me feel less inclined to write because of my guilt. of course, I do not expect you to forgive me, or trust me in my story of how it went down, because at the end of the day it was my mistake for trusting in someone to write with pure intentions when I didn’t know if she could. im trying to continue on with my best foot forward and im grateful for those of you who trusted in me. I swear I will never push myself again, and that I will instead take my time in order to publish my original work and only my original work and not take anything that comes from a “friend”. know that I love you all, and I dont know how to take it easy so my break lasted a whooping 10 hours, and my blog won’t discontinue until im done with bnha or...I get into medschool which is still 3 years away, I am taking care of myself, im staying hydrated, im trying not to put myself down anymore, I will keep going, & will forever continue to be more careful with what I post. also, no one was really coming for me, so don’t worry if you thought so lol. (to you 9 anons who expressed their kind thoughts to me, thank you. to big dick kiri anon thank you. to @bqkubabey​, @flayvus​, & @ultimate-shit-poster​ thank you so so much you really helped me not drown myself in my own guilt.)

anon said: i hope you’re feeling okay today :((

I am feeling a lot better. unfortuantely I did make myself really sick yesterday because ive never been as stressed in my life ever, but im okay now. there’s nothing I can do more for what happened so I will try to continue on as best as I can and I appreciate you caring... ilysm :)

@ikinabi​ said: Your writing??? Actually god sent 🥵👌 and the way you write Mirio gets me GOING

BAHAHAH NOOOOO ITS NOT PLAFUAOGHJIPRAHAR MY MIRIO PIECE YOU LIKED WAS MY FIRST PIECE ON HIM AND OOO BOY I DID NOT DO HIM JUSTICE

anon said: fuck buddy iida is a thought that has never crossed my mind but now that i’ve seen your post i am intrigued haha

well... it is up :) if you wanna check her out :)

anon said: You dont have to answer if you dont wanna but i just wanna see if your okay. I hope your end your doing well and not stressing.

i’m doing much better than I was yesterday!!! I just needed to rest and calm down and stop attacking myself. thank you for checking in!!! it means so much :,)

[attackonari]

Take What is Mine VI

ToC: I - II - III - IV - V

The feast of the hunt was getting underway. Torches lined the pathways, children play fighting, elders bemoaning the younger generation and youngsters listening to embellished tales of hunts. Holding the drink in my hand I smiled watching my people celebrate a well done hunt with a feast of our spoils. Not all of our food, but everyone contributed. 

I took a sip and looked around, spotting Sakura speaking with Emiya, one of the many hunters. Not a bad one, but not really my cup of ale. I continue to scour the crowds with my eyes, looking for a head that should have long returned. That mate of mine is too good to have been killed in his first hunt...right? No, no, he is arrogant and his feats have been heard even here, not that we’d tell him. 

I set my cup down and stand, signalling to Sakura to come to me. Leaning close to her ear to ensure others do not get a whisper of conversation, not that many would with dancing, children and feasting, I whisper to her my question.

“Where is he?”

“Apologies,” Sakura whispers back, “but it seems that he has yet to return. I have sent out a scouting party to see if he can be found,” she pauses, “or his body.”

His body? Why would only his body be found? Before I knew it I was having her walk with me to the back rooms. No need to alert anyone during a joyous occasion. I pull her to the back room and have her against the wall with my hand on her throat. 

“What have you schemed now,” I growled baring my teeth. Sakura likes to play games with her image. Plant ideas and schemes here and there and make the other party believe it was their idea. Or, push them towards it with just a few words. Perfect for envoys of other territories or even the wayward humans who believe they can claim dominion over us as if we truly were beasts, but my mate? I couldn’t help but tighten my hand around her throat. 

“A-Alpha...I,” she could barely sound out, “I only...said...to watch out…” she tried to take a breath, I loosened only for enough air.

“Watch out for whom Sakura,” I growled beginning to lose patience, “Who did you warn my fool of a mate away from?”

“O-Old...Scarred PAW,” she dropped like a piece of wood into fire. Watch out for Old Scarred Paw? She sent my fool out to fight the Great Bear, that to even us is a beast among beasts. I only met the bear once a few years ago. It was through blinding an eye that I managed to escape and barely at that. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I can feel my claws aching to rip her apart, my gums aching to dive into her throat. My mate...my mate is dead. Old Scarred Paw kills all in its way.

“You,” she coughed, “you can always find a better mate,” she coughed a few more times, “a better one. Find a beastman,” she cleared her throat. 

I could hear her words but it felt as if my ears were underwater. She sentenced my mate to die. A hunter's death is glorious but a death is still a death. And my cubs will be without their father. I can only watch as Sakura attempts to stand.

“Do not look so lost,” she cleared her throat, using the wall as a crutch, “you are the Alpha, you can have whoever you want of the males, or,” she paused looking at me, “the females…”

I can only continue to stare at her. My eyes are dry, but already at the thought of my blond fool my heart howls in sorrow. Before I knew it my fist was buried in the root wall of the Great Tree. My face leaned in close, so close, I could see the pinks in the purples of her eyes. 

“No,” I whispered softly, “there will be no other for this Alpha. I will walk into the forest and howl my sorrows and let myself be hunted to death.” 

“You speak,” her voice still croaking, “as if you swore matehood to him for eternity. As if you said the vows when you mated him,” she tried to growl. I can only stare at her foolishness. Perhaps if I had acknowledged...no...it would not have changed that I felt only the affection of a friend. 

“I did,” I smiled, “I swore to the Earth Mother, and the Sun Father,�� my heart shattered, not even a day mated and already he is gone, “and beneath the light of the Daughter Moon and the Children Stars, I swore to be his mate. His hunter. His hearth,” I paused and closed my eyes, “and his home.”

Staring into her eyes, I could see the tears gathering and pulled back. I am already exhausted at the thought of the announcement of giving Sakura the Alpha position as I will walk to prepare to be hunted into the afterlife. I turned my back to my foolish friend, I always knew one day her schemes, her tricks would come to bite her in the ass, but I didn’t think it would bite me too. Hah, bitten by association. And it meant my death, what irony. 

“I will announce my abdication and the Right of Prey for the morning,” I begin walking forward before pausing once more, “This means you, as my successor will have to fight once again for your claim.”

“Why,” she gasped, “why would you vow to him your soul,” she questioned as if she didn’t understand despite the amount of times I told her. Well it couldn’t be helped, maybe my act as the Alpha fooled even her? Who knows and at this point, who cares?

“I told you didn’t I,” I questioned as if she hadn’t heard the story a thousand times, “I want the kind of love my parents had,” I fiddled with the fang necklace hanging from my neck, “a pure love where it didn’t need to be questioned or said. One where you just know.” 

I took a deep breath and shook off the lingering sorrow that now fills me completely. I am still Alpha and will be until morning. A feast will go on regardless of the news tonight. I will make sure of that. 

“Fix yourself quickly, and then join my side.” 

With that I walk out of the back room and to the throne. I sit back down and gulp down my drink calling for a young cub to get this Alpha another. The cub sprints away cheering but is scolded by his mother as she hands him a full cup. He attempts to run over only to be scolded loudly to his chagrin, and, to the entertainment of others. A chuckle leaves my lips as I pat the cubs head and send him to play with his friends. I take another sip as I once again survey the Main Den hall. I will certainly miss this. As I put my cup down and Sakura finally joins my side, I take a glance to see her eyes are slightly puffy. Fool. I signal to the drummers to cease and let out a large howl. With that I stand. Time for my final show.

“My fellow beasts,” I exclaim loudly, “today the hunting party hunted well for the week! However,” I pause, “I have some sad news to relate to you, my fellows.”

With this Sakura will once again have to fight for her place as Alpha. 

“I will be ab-”

Howls begin to sound about the village. Multiple howls alerting everyone to something coming. Cubs are rushed behind their parents, young ones beginning to growl and adults flexing their claws. Those howls were of the scouting party. Did they come to bring me his remains?

A young male runs in panting and pale as if he were prey himself. 

“ALPHA,” he panted. He should not look so tired and he began to stutter and flail about. 

“Y-your-”

“MY WHAT,” I couldn’t help but roar. This is ridiculous, I can’t even get an announcement in, “out with it boy!”

“YOUR MATE KILLED OLD SCARRED PAW,” his voice echoed around us. What? What sort of joke is this? My mate would have been killed by that damn bear. 

“So you come to jest about Old Scarred Paw here,” I couldn’t help but growl and begin walking to the whelp. 

“I-I am not jesting Alpha,” the whelp shook in his footwraps, “h-he carries the Great Beast upon its back. The O-old Bears’ other eye...it's been stabbed,” he stuttered, “a-and his throat s-slashed.”

I was about to grab the whelp and shake him for unknowingly poking at my broken heart when the occupants of the hall burst into chatter. Behind the whelp I can see the body of the old bear heaving up and down. Entering the hall, two golden legs stopped right in front of us and threw the body of Old Scarred Paw at my feet. There standing in front of me was my mate. This foolish human king, Gilgamesh. His breathing strained and heavy, his body bruised, dirty, bloody and cut up. I couldn’t help but hold my breath. This man, he won’t ever know how he just saved me right now. 

Chapped lips suddenly opened up before letting out a booming laugh. I could only stare into his red eyes as he smirked. 

“A worthy adversary, but that beast is no Humbaba,” he chuckled a bit more before his hand came up to slick his hair back, “rejoice beastwoman, I killed your monster.”

“You did,” I pushed the whelp out of my way and walked up to him. My mate is alive. My mate killed Old Scarred Paw. I drew closer to him, stepping over the corpse and standing right in front of him. I couldn’t help but examine him. Mostly intact, with a good bit of bruising. 

“Hmmm,” he raised an eyebrow as I looked back at his eyes, “what is it you-mmph!”

I grabbed his face and let my lips claim his. My mate is alive. He really must be part god. That’s the only way he could have triumphed over the old bear. I kissed him with everything I was, my entire being. Pulling away I couldn’t help but breathe heavily, pulling back a bit, feeling my eyes water. 

“You should praise me more...mon..grel,” he said, falling back, I barely caught him in my arms.

“GIL!”