#i dunno why mouth blood tastes better than skin blood. or maybe that's just me hfhvf

[keeps-ache]

mmm metals,

[showfallmediamaintenance]

[Content warning: Cannibalism.]

[Video transcript begin.]

[Someone is walking down a completely empty street, their phone in the pocket of their pants. They stop near an alley.]

?: What the fuck is that smell…?

[Voice identified: Edgar Elliot Pression.]

[Edgar turns into the alley, then turns a second corner to see a battered, bloody corpse, and a man with blond hair sitting nearby. The man looks up at Edgar.]

?: Hey, long time no see. 

[Voice identified: Cassius.]

[They both stare at each other for a minute.]

E: Can you share? 

C: Of course, dig in.

[He places his things off to the side, including his phone, allowing a full view of the two and the corpse. Revealing Edgar to be wearing a black t-shirt and jeans.]

[Edgar grabs the arm of the corpse, placing it in his mouth. Cassius scoffs.]

C: Going for the arm? There’s so much better meat near the legs. 

E: [Through the arm.] Does it look like I care?

C: Not really, just thought you’d like to know. 

[He tears the arm away, a large chunk of flesh going with it, he quickly chews it, and swallows. The tension in his shoulders that previously had gone unnoticed loosening. ]

C: Damn, maybe we aren’t as different as I thought.

E: Oh, don’t you dare.

[Cassius laughs, blood dripping down his chin, he smiles.]

C: You’ve gotta admit, we’ve got a few more things in common than I think either of us would like.

E: Ugh, fine. Whatever. I guess we do.

C: Hm… how much of the human body have you tried?

E: … Just arms and legs. Nothing more.

[Cassius takes out a dagger and swiftly retrieves the heart from the corpse. Holding out the impaled organ to him.]

C: Wanna try?

E: Dude.

C: C’monnnn, don’t be lame.

[Edgar laughs slightly in surprise.]

E: Are you trying to peer pressure me into eating a human heart?

C: Whaaaat? Why would I do that?

[Cassius moves the dagger forward a little, Edgar sighs, and grabs the heart.]

C: It’s good, I promise.

[Edgar flips him off as he takes a large bite of the heart. He chews for a bit, then goes in for another bite. It’s extremely messy, blood trickles down his arms and drips off of his elbows onto the pavement.]

C: Told you.

[He tears the heart in two and hands the other half to Cassius. Arms drenched in red.]

E: Yeah, it’s alright.

C: What, embarrassed that you like the heart?

E: No, just… eh, maybe. Dunno.

C: Awww, you’re embarrassed. 

E: Oh, shut up. 

[They continue on for a few minutes in silence. Cassius glances up, and stares at Edgar's outfit.]

C: So… never seen you wear anything casual before.

E: Yeah, probably because I’ve been running around constantly in the same 3 dress shirts for months.

C: Hm. Fair. Another thing I've been a little curious about, why are you… [Gestures vaguely at the corpse.]

E: I… keep having these cravings, and I’m worried I’m going to harm myself or the people I care about if I don’t keep them at bay.

C: Ah. 

E: What about you?

C: Hm… hard to say, tastes good? 

E: I’ll take that as a good enough answer. 

[More silence.]

E: Thank you, for the eyes. For Will.

C: It was no problem. I hope he’s having fun with them. 

E: I believe he is.

C: Good. 

[Edgar finishes the heart, and then takes the arm again. Taking another large bite. His mouth is stained red, as is the skin around it. He appears almost zombie-like as he consumes the flesh. Cassius is no different. He pushes his hair back, colouring his hair red, contrasting with the clean blond hair that was left untouched.]

C: You know, red looks really good on you.

E: Dude.

C: Just teasing.

[Cassius brings his hand to the corpses face, and takes his claws out. Slicing the eye out and popping it into his mouth. Edgar stares at him, jaw slack, expression unreadable.]

C: Hm?

E: Did you just eat a fucking eyeball. Like, just on a whim. No hesitation.

C: Yeah, you got a problem with that?

E: Kind of.

C: Too bad, sucks to suck, nerd. Do you want the other one?

E: [Recoiling.] Fuck no!

C: Nice, more for me.

[Cassius takes the other eyeball and does the same. Edgar ignores him and continues working on the arm. After around 10 minutes, he's soaked in blood, and there is a lot of visible bone.]

C: You want the other arm?

E: ... Yep.

C: Alright. [Cassius swiftly breaks the other arm of the corpse and hands it to Edgar.]

E: Thanks.

[They continue eating. This continues for around an hour, each time Edgar finishes a limb, he accepts the offer of another. Soon, the corpse appears to be out of any more edible meat. Both Cassius' and Edgar's faces are bloodied, Edgar's more so. Cassius digs around in a purse that he just brought into frame, and produces a surgical mask.]

C: So you can walk home without getting arrested.

E: [Putting the surgical mask on.] Thank you.

[Edgar stands, grabbing his things, and putting a previously unseen hoodie on, shoving his hands into his pockets. His phone is placed back into his jean pocket.]

C: See ya.

E: Mhm, bye.

[He turns and walks out of the alley. Continuing on his way.]

E: ... how long did that take...?

[Transcript end.]

[tiresomeimagination]

Change of Pace (Alucard x Reader)

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of mild injury (cut), mentions of blood and blood drinking, and Alucard being Alucard. AKA, creepy and a little bit of a jerk.

Author’s Note: This is my first time uploading writing to Tumblr, so sorry if the formatting is funkier than what’s expected. Ever since I got into Hellsing I wanted to write some stuff! Sorry if anything feels OOC, I tried my best :]

~~~~~

Drip.

Drip.

Your eyes focused on the flow of crimson liquid that tickled your skin as it slid down your arm, trickling into the awaiting glass. How had it come to this? You were asking yourself the same thing. You had been second-guessing this choice ever since the words escaped your lips not too long ago.

“You must be sick of cold blood bags by now, huh?” You had blurted out during a conversation with Hellsing’s loyal weapon. 

You had grown somewhat comfortable around the red-clad creature as of late. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the two of you to chat as you patrolled the moonlit manor halls. He told you it was simply to ease his boredom, but a part of you hoped that he enjoyed your company. 

It had been a while since Alucard’s last mission, and as such it had also been some time since the vampire last sank his fangs into something fresh. You knew that the Hellsing organization kept their vampires well fed, but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry about them living off of bagged rations. You knew, of course, that this was much better than the alternative. The alternative leaving bodies—or worse, ghouls—in its wake. Yet still you couldn’t help the innocent question that had come forth.

The vampire chuckled, looking off to the side as he kept pace with your strides. “They do lack a certain appeal” he answered.

You nodded in understanding. You wondered how on earth Seras kept a smile on her face when she had to survive like that. You glanced over at your walking companion. Anyone would be terrified to have this towering beast standing beside them. So why was it that you had grown to feel strangely safe around him, you wondered. His sunglasses glinted in the moonlight, hiding the burning orbs behind them. And yet...you could still feel his gaze.

“...What’s it like?” you asked, your voice a little less confident with this question.

“Hm?” was all he responded, turning his full attention down towards you.

“You know...having to drink blood all the time? Don’t you ever...I dunno, get tired of it?” you managed to ask.

He tsked as if mildly amused by a child’s ignorant ramblings. “One never tires of what’s in their nature.”

You nodded again. “Yeah, it just seems tough, that’s all…”

You were sort of expecting some playful wisecrack or another half-answer. Instead he paused, trying to decide the intent behind your words. “There are far greater causes to direct your pity towards, human” he replied in a steady tone.

Oh. Oh man. Did you offend him? You sure hoped you didn’t offend him, not after you had come so close to maybe considering him a friend. “Ah- I didn’t mean it like that!” you yelp, quick to insist that no, no you definitely weren’t trying to express something as demeaning to the No Life King as pity. Just an observation! He seemed to accept your scrambled clarification for the time being, his mouth twitching up slightly in amusement at your flustered state. He would be sure to remember that you were so easy to rile up.

You laughed awkwardly, eager to move forward, and much more eager to avoid embarrassing yourself more than necessary. “I just figure the old bagged up stuff has gotta taste a bit different, right?” you added with a shrug, trying to return the conversation to its casual tone.

He hummed as he mulled over the question. The pace of his steps slowed and you slowed down as well to match. “Someone as inexperienced as the Police Girl may not be able to tell the difference, but as for me…” he paused, a grin stretching across his face as he peered at you over his glasses. “Nothing quite beats the thrill of a real meal.”

Those words sent a chill up your spine. That was what was missing? The thrill? Something about the way he said it made you a little nervous. In an effort to keep the atmosphere light, you forced out a small chuckle. “Not exactly something you can just pick up at the convenience store” you teased.

“Oh, you’d be surprised~” he fired back. 

Ah, and there they were. The classic passing comments that you could only hope were jokes. It’s always best not to think about the disturbing implications of if he were serious. You pushed the nervous lump in your throat down, deciding not to touch on that comment and instead focus back on the previous topic. The blood bags. Was he saying that they were boring? You guessed it would be pretty dull to have the same thing every day. You wondered if it was like having a packaged microwave dinner instead of making it fresh yourself. The thought of that somewhat silly parallel made you smirk.

“Ah, a shame you have to settle for cheap dinners, then” you hummed, pleased with yourself for mustering up the boldness to tease him back.

He laughed lightly at that. “You have something else in mind, little soldier? Yours maybe?”

You could have—you should have—said no. Should have laughed it off and pretended it was another joke. Instead, you hesitated. Why did you hesitate? You guessed that at your core, you wanted to help your friends. After all, it had been so excruciating to watch Seras go so long refusing blood that you had nearly offered your own right then. It made sense that was all it was, you rationalized. You repeated this rationalization to yourself as the silence sat heavy in the air and as both of you stopped walking. You repeated it as a switch seemed to flip somewhere in Alucard’s mind, his playful and somewhat condescending grin turning into a predatory one in an instant. Oh and you definitely repeated it as those stuttered words finally spilled from your lips. “Well...uhh...I-I mean…”

But you knew it was too late for you to backpedal. You hadn’t said no.

This wasn’t where you expected your night to go by any means, standing in the dark dingy basement that Alucard resided in. His movements were agonizingly slow. You couldn’t tell if he was just hoping to scare you, or if he was giving you a chance to change your mind, to back out before the pain came. You stood firm. Despite your rising anxiety, you had come too far to back out now. You hissed out through gritted teeth as the cut was made across the inside of your arm. It was a clean and measured stroke. You supposed it made sense that a creature that tore men apart with his bare teeth would subsequently also know how to avoid cutting too deeply.

You stood in silence, watching your blood leak from the wound. Alucard held your wrist with a surprising gentleness as he collected the spilled liquid into a wine glass held just below. When the cup was filled a sizable amount, he released your wrist and casually sat down in his chair. You immediately clutched your arm in an effort to stop the bleeding. You watched with slight annoyance as he inspected the glass’s contents, swirling the liquid as if he were getting ready to sample a fine wine. You knew for a fact that he didn’t need a cup to drink your blood, so why was he bothering with the theatrics? As he took his first thoughtful sip, you could only assume this was for you...to watch you squirm a bit longer.

By the time he had drained the glass, your legs were growing a bit weak and you were starting to feel a little lightheaded...maybe you should have done this sitting down. He grinned as he lifted himself back onto his feet, towering over you with an intense gaze. The burning color of his eyes swirled, reminding you of a roaring fire. There was a moment of silence as he waited for—no, urged—you to ask the question that wanted desperately to come out.

“H-How...how is it…?” you asked weakly, staring up into his burning eyes.

He chuckled as he carefully inched closer, taking your wrist back into his gloved hand. “Your blood…” he began, lifting your arm up to his lips. He latched onto the cut, giving a small suck. The strange sensation drew a light gasp from you. “...is exquisite, my dear” he said softly against your skin.

You shuddered at his words. You were becoming increasingly dizzy with each passing second. You weren’t sure exactly how much blood you’d lost at this point, but clearly enough to affect your body. You swayed slightly. Before your legs could give out, Alucard snaked an arm around your waist to keep you standing.

He pulled away from your bloodied arm and leaned in closely, smiling wide enough to show off all his razor-sharp teeth.

“You know...I could easily kill you right now. I could tear open your throat and turn you into a ghoul...I’m curious, why would you allow yourself to be so...vulnerable?” he asked slowly, tilting his head with interest.

He was right. There was no way you would be able to defend yourself in this state if he decided on a whim that he wanted to go straight for the neck. Why had you made yourself vulnerable in the den of an apex predator? As you wracked your brain for the answer, only one seemed to linger.

“I...I trust you” you said just barely above a whisper.

His smile widened as a deep chuckle rose from his throat. It grew into a laugh as if you had just told the most hilarious joke he had heard all day. “Is that so?” He hummed, leaning in closer.

It was getting hard to focus on his face, your vision growing unsteady. He leaned in further...and...oh no was he actually going for your neck?? Before you could do anything with this terrifying realization, you blacked out.

Alucard’s lips ghosted over your pulse teasingly. He stayed there for a moment before pulling away when he felt your body suddenly go limp. He slipped his other arm under your knees and lifted your unconscious form up into his arms, staring at your relaxed expression. You trusted him? He thought that was a ridiculous sentiment to give to a monster such as him. And yet...something about the way you insisted on treating him like a person, rather than the beast he knew himself to be, was a little bit...endearing. 

He didn’t linger on that thought very long though, instead turning and beginning his trek up to your room. Settling you carefully back into your bed was the least he could do after your generous offering. He licked the lingering blood off his lips with a smirk. Your blood was certainly a nice change of pace.

[ichbinspeedo]

Part 3 Dio x Reader (Smut)

Warnings: GORE/BLOOD, NSFW, Marking, Biting, Degrading, Heat, Vaginal/Anal Penetration

So like, I  h a t e  Dio with a passion.  He hot and all but just  s t o p.  Buttttt  I'm also horny soo, Vampire Heat.  Why not.  It's like Omegaverse heat but for vampires, I dunno if it's thing but here it is folks 🎊

It had been 6 months since you joined Dio on his quest to eradicate the Joestar bloodline.  You were somewhat of a maid at the mansion.  Keeping the large estate clean and cooking food for the array of talented servants was part of your daily routine.  Not much to aid in the fighting, but enough to feel helpful.

You were working on cleaning up after tonight's dinner when Enya, a close servant of Dio's, showed up.  "Miss (L/n), Lord Dio requests your presence in the Library.  I suggest you hurry, it seems urgent."  The old woman told you, holding the door open as you walked out with a 'thank you'.

As you approached the large doors leading to the library's main area, you could hear scratching.  The sound sent fear up your spine, and you held your breath as you reached for the doorknob.  As soon as your hand came into contact with the handle, the scratching stopped.  You slowly opened the door, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness and searching for your master.

"L-Lord Dio?  You needed me?"  You called out.  To your right, you heard someone breathing hard.  It sounded distant and somewhat strained.  You quickly moved over to the sound, finding Dio in a leather chair.  His face was flushed and sweaty, breathing ragged as he looked over at you.  "Sir are you alright?"  You asked, genuine worry in your voice.

"Hmm"  He let out a low groan, "Tell me, (Y/n), do you know what 'heat' is?"  You gave him a slight nod.  "Well, with my powers has came... something similar.  Quite the inconvenience if I do say.  You seem like a tough girl, I believe you can take me?"  He questioned with an audible huff, looking down his nose at you.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, watching his subtle squirms as he stays seated.  "I-I'm not sure, my Lord.  I've never done anything like this before.."  You responded meekly, fumbling with your fingers.  He let out a chuckle and stood up.  Stride after shaky stride, he made his way over.

"Well I'd hope you hadn't.  I want you to be all mine~"  The vampire whispered in your ear, taking his hand into your hair.  "Now, you'd better be ready cause I won't hold back"  He strained the end of his sentence, pressing himself onto your front.  You were lost for words as the giant of a man tilted your head up and ghosted your lips.  He smirked and leaned down further, sinking his teeth into your neck.

He wrapped his leg behind yours and tripped you to the ground, following you down and climbing on top of you.  Gripping your jaw tightly, he forced his lips onto yours.  Your head fuzzy with newfound pleasure coursing through your veins, you kissed him back.  Mindlessly, you started to run your hand through his hair.

He instantly pulled away and smacked you.  "Did I give you permission to touch me?  If I were in an worse of a mood you'd have lost that arm, love."  Dio caressed the mark he had left on your cheek.  You didn't dare fight against him, knowing that if you'd said something you might end up dead.

"Hmm, I can't have you going around thinking you run this place, now can I?"  He said with a grin, pressing a manicured nail into his bottom lip and chuckling.  "Now, should I strap you down with leather, or plain rope?  It's a hard choice if I do say so myself"  Dio leaned in close to your ear, spreading your legs and rubbing his clothed member on your thigh.  He let out a shaky breath, leaned down and whispered in your ear "Or maybe I could just fuck you so hard you can't move~"

With that, he took a razor sharp nail to the dress you were in, slicing it off of you.  He dug his thumb nails into the sides of the underwear you wore, cutting both the clothes and your skin.  You let out a quiet whimper, feeling a warm liquid spill down onto the floor.  "Tsk tsk, you're making such a mess"  Dio said, forcing your face onto the floor.  He rubbed it onto your freshly spilt blood.  "Clean it, bitch."

You immediately stuck your tongue out and lapped at the smear of blood, frantically trying to please your master.  His large hands gripped your thighs and lifted you so your ass stuck out in the air, and your face was pressed into the ground.  Once you finished cleaning the floor with your tongue, you felt a pair of lips on the cuts Dio had just made.  "Mmnh, you taste just like I'd imagined~  Now lets see if you taste as good here.."

Your eyes widened at the realization of his words, feeling the man behind you shove his face into your now bare pussy.  He got right to work lapping up your fluids, pressing his chin into your throbbing clit.  You let out a surprised moan, quickly biting into your arm to keep quiet.  This earned you a smack onto your ass, Dio digging his claws into the flesh.  He pulled himself away from your core for a moment.

"Don't you dare cover your mouth.  I want everyone to hear you.  I want them to remember hearing your moans every time they look at you.  They need to know how lucky you are~"  He planted a kiss onto the mound of flesh that yearned for attention, but left it at that.  "You know what?  Let's make it even better"

He rolled you over onto your back, and brought his thumb nail up to your chest.  "Scream for me~"  Before you knew it, your master had plunged his now unclothed dick inside you.  Him pounding into you at a fast pace from the start had you breaking instantly.  Screams of pain poured out from your mouth uncontrollably, and Dio started to drag a nail into your skin.  It stung like a bitch, but you knew not to complain.

"Ahh, Lord Dio please!" You shouted out, feeling him carve lines into your chest and between your breasts.  The pain focused up to the new cuts rather than the pounding in your abdomen, letting pure pleasure take over.  Dio leaned in further, lifting your hips up into the air.  You felt your orgasm approaching fast, and apparently Dio did too.

"Ngh- Gonna come already?  You little fucking masochist, you like this don't you!"  He yelled, bringing his hand down on your bleeding backside.  After finishing whatever he decided to carve into you, he stopped his movements.  "Answer the question, brat!"  He spat at you, causing you to wince.

"Ahh please Lord Dio!  I love it so much, I love you Dio please keep going!"  You shouted, clawing at your head.  The cold floor under you left as he picked you up, sitting in a chair facing a mirror.  He had your back facing him and pressed your legs up to your shoulders.  You could see what he had written on your chest.  'Dio Brando,'  the letters splayed across your chest and stuck out like a sore thumb.  You'd been claimed, and you loved it.

"Watch."  He plunged himself into your backside without warning.  The sudden intrusion made tears spill form your eyes, feeling like you were being torn in half.  "Fuck you're so tight back here!  I could use this more often, you'd like that wouldn't you?  Don't you want your master to fuck you raw everyday?"  You let out garbled moans and nodded quickly.  "This is gonna be your new life.  You're gonna be my little slave you slut~"  He scratched down your thigh, using one had to hold your legs up and the other to reach down and rub your clit harshly.  You leaned your head back into his body and turned your head towards him.  You wanted so badly to kiss this man, but you knew better to ask first.

"Master please let me kiss you, please!  I want you to ruin me please!"  Your shouts echoed throughout the loud room, and your master granted your wish.  He tilted his head towards you, connecting his lips to yours in a passionate kiss as he fucked you from behind.  You could feel your own juices acting as somewhat of a lubricant, knowing that the pain could've been much worse.

The more you moaned into Dio's mouth, the faster he went.  It was like he couldn't help but use your pleasure for his own.  You knew he could kill you at any second, so that small surge of power within you makes you burst with happiness.  His thrusts almost seemed desperate inside you, needy grunts and pants being absorbed into you.  With one more thrust into your tight hole, Dio released his seed deep inside of you, pulling away from your lips to let loose a heavy sigh.

Your face turned into one of dissatisfaction, having not reached your high yet.  The man behind you let out a low chuckle, grip loosening on your hips.

"Why the sad face darling?"  He cooed into your ear, scratching lightly on your bloody stomach.  "The night's only just begun~"

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: this chapter is one that is very special to me and really echoes a lot of the same feelings that I’ve experienced through the years. writing this chapter felt really healing for me, as I hope maybe it can to you who might’ve felt the same. Because of this, please read the warnings below and read what you feel comfortable with! Remember that no matter who you are, or what you’ve gone through you absolutely deserve love!! 

Part 5 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, explicit language, HARD angst to FLUFFY fluff, mentions of alcohol, fingering (f receiving), squirting,  dry humping, nipple play, protected sex, fluffy sex, cockwarming

CWs: implications of jealousy and possession (past), non-con pressure, fist fighting, quite a bit of blood, bruises, and other wounds, mentions of a scar, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of nausea, mentions of low self worth and self deprecating habits 

Word count: 8.7k (grab a blanket, your plushie, some fuzzy socks...also I promise no other chapter will be this long LOL) 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

-Two years ago, and some change- 

Tonight was different. It could have been for a number of reasons. Maybe it was the way that he held onto your hand tighter than he usually did. You swayed your body next to his like you thought that you should have been doing. If you hadn’t you would have looked out of place. He hated when you looked out of place. The skimpy dress you had worn that night was just for him. You thought that he would like the way that the straps barely clung to your shoulders and the way that it was snug against your curves. 

He was watchful. Silent. You had known him to be a generally loud and gregarious person. He had many friends. Many of his friends you really did like; but, there were others that you had liked less...the friends with wandering and judging eyes. 

“Why her?” They would ask. 

“You could do better.” They would whisper in his ear when they thought that you couldn��t hear. 

“Isn’t she...boring?” 

“Not boring when I’ve got her alone.” 

The club was full of people; a suffocating amount. Bodies thrashed up against eachother in all their sweating heat. Shiny polyester and the tulle ruffles of shirts scratched against your skin in passing. Under the line of sight, no one could see where hands might reach or creep in the dark corners of that room. With the music blasting, no one could hearo f the sinful desires whispered from ear to ear. 

“Don’t you want to get outta here?” He had craned down to give you his message. 

“W-why don’t we just dance? I like this song.” 

“But we’ve been here for so long.” His hand gripped tight on your arm. “Really. Let’s get out of here.” 

“But--” 

“Let’s bounce. I don’t wanna be here any more. Let’s go have fun somewhere else.” 

Fear rose in your throat. His tone had changed to the one that you had been trying to keep at bay for weeks.

“Baby, I’m having fun!” You tugged back at your arm which he hadn’t released. Your brain worked quickly, and you did what you thought would’ve been distracting enough. You kissed him. 

Hard and fast you shoved your tongue down his throat in ways that you only would do when it had been the two of you alone. The music was loud. No one could hear the way he forced a moan into your mouth. Your hands wove deeply into his hair that was swathed in that cologne of his that was dizzying. It was saltwater and cinnamon. 

Your body pressed up flat against his chest and, as expected, he threw his arms back around you and kissed back with the same fervency that you tried to drench him in. 

Your words were breathless. “Can we...stay?” 

“Baby, how can you say that when you kissed me like that? God, if I could screw you right here and now...” 

His friends had been watching. Or pretending not to watch. It was no lie that their eyes had been peeping from the corners. 

“Let’s get some more drinks then? Hm? Maybe later we can head back to your--” 

“--NO! I want you now.” His words were violent, and his hands starved in his feverish way, yet still, he sucked his devilish smile into your neck. “Baby, please.” 

Just a few more drinks. That was all that it would take. Just a few more drinks and he would be a stumbling mess. He would forget his name and you and then he wouldn’t be able to take you anywhere. You loathed yourself for feeling that way, but it was the only solution you could think of. 

“Let’s go out back. No one walks down that alley, you know so.” 

A nervous laugh slipped off of your lips. “I-I know, but--it’s so cold outside, it’s snowing an-and it won’t be comfortable--” 

“--I don’t need comfortable, I just need you.” 

Lazily, his eyes met with one of his friendsand he flicked his finger to beckon him over. “You. Come with us. We’re gonna need someone to watch the door.” 

His friend scoffed and shoved his glass into the hands of a stranger. “Fine. What are you gonna pay me back with?” 

“I dunno, I’ll think of that later.” 

Your arm wiggled, a slight attempt to free yourself of his grasp. “Babe, babe, come on. I-it’s risky, an-and--” 

“--And what?!” 

“I-I don’t...I don’t...” 

“Babe I thought you liked it when we did risky stuff? Remember last week? The bathroom? You liked that didn’t you?” 

“That-that was different.” 

Above your heads the speakers boomed with a bass drop that you could feel vibrate in your chest. Strobe lights of dozens of different colors blinded your vision. Your head panged with a pain that must’ve been the alcohol, but with each passing second, you felt more and more lightheaded. Air just barely escaped from your lungs and your lungs felt like dead weight. 

His voice had been muffled. Your feet started taking steps that didn’t feel like they were their own. He used his body mass to part the sea of bodies, drawing you farther and farther away from it all. The two men chuckled as you neared the back of the building where the haze from the stage seemed to accumulate. 

“Stand right at this door and don’t let anyone get out from it. Don’t leave until we come back in.” 

His friend rolled his eyes, then took out his showy looking pen to take a long drag. He blew it into the other man’s face. “Have fun you two.” 

The cold winter air stung at your dry lungs. You realized then that you had forgotten your coat inside. Under your feet, flaky and white snow had mixed in potholes which had filled with iridescent oil. Together, the only thing that you could think of in that moment was how the two colors and mixed. In no way where they similar: one, black and slick, the other soft and pure. They made no sense. 

“Ohhhh...Baby.”

His breath was hot and it steamed in the air like some kind of deadly and wispy poison. His hands were big. Much bigger than yours, and they seemed to wrap you all up in them. They were magnets to your hips which fell into them with ease. He must’ve been cold too you figured: goosebumps formed on his arms where the falling snow fell on them. 

“You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?” 

“Y-yours.” Your voice trembled. 

“That’s right.” 

His freezing hands swept up both sides of your face and you prayed that he couldn’t feel the tears stream from your eyes to his fingers. All at once, you felt nauseous, you felt sick, shame, rage, embarrassment and fear. With the adrenaline pumping in your ears, you did something even you didn’t expect. 

“S-stop.” 

His mouth continued lapping over yours, even your words which you repeated, 

“Stop!” 

“Baby, we’re just getting started!” Frigid fingers crept up your shirt to your bare skin. 

“I SAID STOP!” 

You had bitten his lip, and the metallic taste of his blood dripped onto your lip. 

“You bitch!” He stumbled, then wiped the blood to his finger. 

Hot tears fell freely, and your body shook: perhaps it was the cold, or your fright, but it shook every part of you. 

“What the fuck?!” He rose his hand in the air, “Who the fuck to you think--”

“--HEY!” 

A voice echoed down the alley and bounced off the brick walls. He was a black outline, but it was undoubtedly him who had shouted. He was still, but all at once he started running, sprinting towards you and you cowered to the snow. 

“Don’t you fucking--” 

The other man ran right up to the both of you. He was shorter, but crashed into the other taller man with a fist raised. He nearly had to jump a little, but he had knocked him square in the face with a horrible fleshy sounding thud. 

He finished his sentence, “-Don’t you fucking touch her!” 

The shorter man rubbed at his knuckles which had bloodied quickly. Your boyfriend had slipped on the ice a few steps back, falling to the ground clumsily and wetting it from the blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He laughed incredulously. 

“You pack quite a punch for a little guy don’t you? Well, you picked the wrong fight--” 

He rose to his feet with fists raised, then took a swing at the other man. He was agile, and ducked with ease, then twisted around the taller’s body to punch into his ribs. Still he didn’t miss each punch, and your boyfriend landed hits to his face as well. The stranger fell to the ground this time, groaning out and splashing into the cotton snow. While he was down, the taller man kicked into his sides. 

“How do you like that? Huh??? You have no FUCKING RIGHT. This is between me and my girlfriend, so, fuck. off.” 

The stranger spat blood to the white snow. “A-actually, I did have a right.” 

“What was that??” He kicked harder. 

“You-you were going to hit her? Weren’t you? Who the hell hits their girlfriend?” 

In one motion, the shorter man was back up on his feet, stumbling, but still swinging. He was weaker, but still punched into the taller man’s sides relentlessly. The two men sparred, and you felt frozen. It was as if you weren’t even breathing. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. Your thoughts rang, but your voice couldn’t muster it. 

“You’re the fucking--” Punch. “--Scum--” Punch. “--Of the--” Punch. “--Earth.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes had become bloodshot red. In a mix of furious arms, he had scraped his wristwatch against the other man who cried out with a horrible sounding whimper, and then a flash of red started to flow down his arm. 

Your dress had soaked through with the freezing cold water and you had nearly buried your eyes into your arms. Never had you felt so small, so helpless. 

“HEY! What’s going on down here?” 

A flash of blue and red lights lit up the pitch black alley. 

“What’s going on??” 

The policeman’s voice buzzed over the loudspeaker on his car. 

The shorter man was a crumple on the ground and he hissed out with pain from his teeth. His arm quivered with pain from the gash that had been pressed into it. By contrast, the peaceful snow fell lightly onto his body and got tangled into his curled, dark hair. Your boyfriend; you hadn’t even seen him turn to sprint down the opposite side of the alley. 

Regardless, the stranger still managed, “Ar-are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

Your dry and tear-stained cheeks crinkled. “N-no. He didn’t.” 

“T-that’s good. Listen, I-I need to go. I can’t afford for them to take me. Ask them to help you and take you home. 

The clink of the policeman’s keys on his hip jingled as he neared. 

“I’m sorry I have to run.” He stumbled to his feet. For a few seconds, you could see his eyes under the flickering yellow streetlight. They weren’t brown or black, but some kind of dark stormy grey. 

He went running down the alley, as fast as he could manage with a limp to his leg and his dripping arm creating a trail behind him. 

As he ran, he left behind him a scent, foreign in the winter air. You couldn’t name it exactly, but you had guessed at least for then, it might’ve been something like rosemary and cedarwood. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

2am, and you felt euphoric. Like a fucking cloud. Even though it was typical, there really were no other words that could describe it. 

Felix and Chan bumped their hips against yours while they danced in the rhythm of the song that the DJ had played. Both of their bright smiles were utterly adorable, and the three of you doubled over in your laughter at each other’s terribly awkward dance moves. Chan made his best attempt at the robot, and Felix busted out some of his favorite internet dances. You rose your hand to the side of your face as if to say I don’t know them. Felix’s tiny hands interlaced into yours and you danced with him too while Chan mimed throwing dollar bills into the air. 

“How much longer?” You yelled over the music until it scratched your throat. 

“I don’t know! I didn’t get a chance to look at the line up!” Chan’s body bumped up against others in the crowd while he tried to check is phone. “It’s fine! I’m sure he should be coming on soon!” 

You couldn’t remember the last time  that you had been to a show that wasn’t to see Jisung. It was strange thinking about all of the things you used to worry about when you had gone to see him in the past: was your outfit sexy enough, had you remembered to put on your lip gloss...you’d even worry over stupid shit like if you had missed any spot on your legs while shaving. 

None of those worries filled you now. The clothes that you had put on in your haste made little sense, and were a bit warm in the room where sweat practically dripped from the walls. You had even left your apartment in such a hurry--you had been working on a new piece from a spark of inspiration during midday.

“He said that he was going near the end I think!!” You informed your friends. 

Chan did a little excited dance. You didn’t know if he was more thrilled over the fact that he was there or how you had promised to introduce him to Changbin after the show. 

The lights shifted, turning from pink to blue, and the music faded too. Your beating heart slowed as the atmosphere changed and Felix clawed back onto your arm. 

“Oh my God!!! I think that it’s gonna be him!!!” Chan nearly leapt into the air. 

It was frightening how familiar it all felt; you felt as if you had been transported right to that first night, the night that you had met him and the night that he had entranced you up on that stage. Everything in the room darkened, and the smoke slithered onto the stage. Everyone had quieted with their focus narrowing on the empty expanse that had been set up all for him. 

To the side of the stage, the announcer chuckled into the mic, “Ladies and Gents, as you know him...SPEAR B!” 

Music erupted like a crack of lighting over the speakers and was so sudden that nearly everyone in the crowd jumped out of their skin. The spotlights flooded the stage in a blinding white light, and before your eyes could process it, he had thrown himself to centerstage with some kind of magic or trick of the eye. It was so confusing, all you could do was stand in shock. 

Rapid fire lyrics flew off his tongue with lightspeed, and he carried himself around the stage with as much regality as a king. His hooded eyes held nothing but concentration at each of his words, and he threw his arms around with emphasis so you could hang onto every single syllable. He shone under the lights where he had adorned himself in his favorite array of silver and crystal jewelry: his trademark chain around his neck blinked like diamonds. Every curve of the muscles on his thick arms and thighs tensed and the vein on the side of his neck flared as he spoke. With a bite to his lip and an indulgent smile, he owned very single part of his own world. 

He was fucking mesmerizing. 

Felix and Chan were wildly flapping their bodies around and thrashing their heads along with every other body in the crowd, but you had stood still. It was unbelievable that you had been close to him. All your memories of him holding you softly in his arms, planting kisses into every tender inch of your skin seemed so far away, but so close. He couldn’t have been the same person. 

Your heart swelled with a pain. It might’ve been warning, precautionary, or fearful. Or, it might’ve been warm, intoxicated, infatuated. Your own mind couldn’t comprehend it. 

Over the hundreds of eyes in the crowd, somehow, he had found yours, and it was just as that first night had been. He was so massive, so crushing. His confidence was something so addictive and his gaze so thick that you felt as if it  was crushing. Still, there was one thing that was different about it now. 

He knew you. He wasn’t just some stranger. 

He knew your ins and outs, he knew your fears, the way that you would shy away from him or how you would lean into him closer. After that one meeting, you had encompassed everything that he could imagine, as he did for you. 

You had started as strangers, but now you couldn’t even imagine a time when you weren’t. 

He had broken his composure for mere seconds to smile at you. It was a simple: I see you. And you see me. 

It was cliché. Fucking cheesy as hell. God, it was sugary sweet and rotten; a phrase you hadn’t said in a year or more. But, with the dozens of other girls screaming it in that room, bumping with bodies and bass ringing, condensation on the walls and music louder than your own voice, you joined the cacophony.  Even if he couldn’t hear you screamed the words with your whole chest:

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU SEO CHANGBIN!” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The music had subsided, and the stage lit to normal as the stagehands switched around the arrangement for the next act. You and your two friends were out of breath and exhausted. Sweat beaded on all of your brows and you felt it dripping down your back as well. The three of you stood laughing out in your euphoria: it as a high like none other. 

“Damn. Why do I really want ice cream right now?” Felix huffed out his laugher and slung Chan under his arm. “Doesn’t that sound like a really good idea?” 

Chan whipped the damp strands of hair from his eyes. “That does sound like a really good idea. But...you think any places will be open?” 

With surprised glances, the three of you burst out hysterically. 

You wiped an exhilarated tear from your eye, “We’d have to go to the store.” 

Somehow, it was the funniest thing that you could have said and Felix and Chan held their sides in their laughter. 

“Do-do you think that Changbin would want to come with us?” Felix helped fix your sweater which had become a bit ajar on your frame. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Chan did another adorable little dance. “Holy hell. I can ask him about his process!!!.” He scooped you up into a tight hug. “This is so exciting!!!!!” 

“Just don’t...scare him away.” You patted into Chan’s hair with adoration. 

“He should be back out any minute right? He said he would come looking for you?” 

You nodded, feeling your heart start to race at the prospect. You hadn’t felt this giddy about the attention in a while--not at least, attention that had been given to you without a condition. 

Behind your little group, you felt a tug on your wrist, then your cheeks swelled with warmth. 

“Chang--” 

“--Holy fuck! You actually came!!” 

Jisung’s eyes lit up and an inhumanely wide smile spread across his face. 

“...Jisung--” 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, you actually came! Shit, I really thought that after we talked the other day that--” 

Chan ripped Jisung’s grip from your wrist. “You better cut that out.” Once as giddy as he was before, his expression had turned deadly serious. 

“What are you doing here?” Felix pushed you slightly behind him. 

“Performing? This is my show too. I’m on in thirty. You’re here to see me too?” 

“Like hell we are.” Chan rolled his eyes. 

Jisung chose to ignore him, bringing his attention back to you. 

“B-baby, thank you so much for coming, and for giving me another chance--” 

“--Another chance? Y/n, what is he talking about?” Felix asked, then both of your friends eyes were on yours. 

A knot formed back up in your throat with your decisions that you had let hang since you had las spoken to Jisung. You thought you had been clear enough to him, and you had told your friends you had thought that you had ended it. 

Chan huffed out an authoritative sigh, “We’re leaving. Come on,” he wrapped an arm around both you and Felix. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

“No! Wait! Y/n don’t leave! Let-let’s talk about this, y-you never let me see you any more, I’ve been missing you...missing you like crazy,” His grip reached out to you once more, pulling your whole arm closer to him with a pain that panged in your shoulder. “--since you’re here...let’s just talk this out okay?” 

The music in the room grew louder once more, and the next act entered the stage with the announcer’s enthusiastic voice. The lights flashed out, and suddenly all of your bodies were bathed in red, pink, and blue light. 

Another memory, from another night, flashed before your eyes. He held onto your arm tighter than he usually did. His incessant eyes pleaded over to yours like he had countless times before. 

“Jisung, stop.” 

“I-I just don’t understand! Let’s not do this here! Can’t we go somewhere private where the two of us can talk? Baby--” 

Another hand grasped at your opposite arm, then it snuck around your waist. 

“--What the hell do you think you’re doing to her?”  

Changbin pulled you into his chest with a force that knocked the wind out of your lungs, then he immediately inspected the arm where the other had grabbed you so tightly. 

“Did he hurt you? Let me see.” 

Chan and Felix’s eyes widened in their shock. 

Jisung pushed himself closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Changbin? Don’t get involved in this, it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Actually, yes, it does.” 

Everything was unfolding before your eyes, and you felt faint. All the secrets, lies, the way that you had entangled yourself in it all, was crushing you like vines with thorns. Your fear bit bile in your throat, and you couldn’t decide if you felt strong enough to run. 

Before you could say anything about it, Changbin pulled you out from the crowd, faster than your wobbling legs could handle. He was furious, you could tell, but he tried his best not to let it seep over to you. Changbin muttered curses under his breath, but pushed forward, past the dancing bodies, past the stage, past the maze of speakers and other sound equipment in the back. 

“Let’s just get out of here okay?” His fingers dug into your waist. 

Behind you, Felix and Chan shoved their way a few paces behind, ultimately getting caught in the web of people moving this way and that. Not far behind them, was Jisung thrashing with all his might to catch up. 

With your heartbeat in your ears, words started spilling out from your mouth: 

“Changbin, I didn’t tell you--I-I still haven’t told you, but you need to know before--” 

Changbin swung the back door to the venue and it slammed behind you with a metallic clang. It was nearly blizzarding outside, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Rather, he pulled you back into his chest to hug you tightly. He was desperate in the way that he hung onto your body; like he was trying to suck the very life from you. 

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there sooner. He’s a fucking dick, I won’t let him touch you again, I promise.” 

Your nose clogged immediately, and your sobs came out choked and full of utter fear. 

I’m going to loose him. I’ll lose him. He’ll hate me. He’ll let go, and never come back. 

“Chang-Changbin...Jisung, he was--” 

“Beautiful, why are you crying? Stop, stop, it’s okay.” He soothed you, wiping the tears from your cheeks that got muddled with snow. He too had snow clinging to his eyelashes and his hair that was also strung with sweat. 

The back door swung open with another startling clank, and Jisung threw himself out of it with Felix and Chan holding him back by the arms. 

“HE DOESN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung screeched, then tore free of both of your friends. 

He lunged himself at Changbin who had seconds to respond. He turned his back to shield you with his body, and Jisung clawed with an animalistic energy. 

“HE DOESN’T FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung had been sobbing too, then swung a haphazard fist to Changbin’s back. 

Felix and Chan came rushing to catch you as you fell into their arms, then Changbin swiftly turned to return the hit. 

“Me?? You’re fucking crazy!!” He dodged another hit. “What the hell do you know about her?? Huh? YOU don’t know a thing about her!!” 

Jisung wiped his eyes then threw another lazy punch. “What are you talking about???” 

The two men stood still, both of them turning to turning to look at you with heaving chests. In your friends arms you trembled, and your worst nightmares unfolded right in front of your face. Your body fell to the ground, and the snow seeped into your clothes, just as it did on that night so long ago. 

“Holy shit.” Jisung grabbed both sides of his head in his realization. “She fucking played us. SHE FUCKING PLAYED ME.” 

Changbin cast his eyes away from you, just as he had when he had barely known a thing about you. He wouldn’t give you the pleasure. 

“You were fucking her too, weren’t you?” Jisung laughed out like a madman. “So that’s what she’s been doing this whole time I haven’t seen her. She’s been fucking you and--” 

Changbin’s fist rose, and it came crashing into the side of Jisung’s face so suddenly that you and your friends jumped from how fast he had done it. 

He said nothing, but proceeded to raise his fist again, then sent it right back into the soft of Jisung’s cheek before he had a minute to respond to the first. Jisung whimpered, then spat blood out of his mouth. His tears had returned, but this time, they were infused in his own anger. The two boys steadied their stance, looking into each other’s eyes with lethal rage. Jisung attacked back with a yell that echoed through the alley, and he too landed punches to Changbin’s sides in sharp hooks. Changbin then grabbed the other man’s shirt collar, pulling him close, then knocking him back with red and bloody fists. 

The two boys scuffled and slipped in the snow which had slicked on the ground to make each of their steps clumsy. Jisung sobbed through each of his punches, whereas Changbin held his teeth shut with a grit, merely grunting as he swung more and more. Your own tears blurred your vision, and your chest felt tight; nearly like it was about to burst. Your friends clung to your body just as tight, hushing to you and yelling at the boys to stop, but their voices sounded distant and faint. 

Jisung landed punch to Changbin’s eye which split the skin there on his eyebrow. Changbin returned the favor in the same spot, creating the same effect. With crackled lips they swore at eachother, and you could only make out one phrase from Changbin’s mouth: 

“Don’t you. Fucking. Touch her.” 

The door swung, “Changbin?” 

Minho hugged his coat around himself, only to jump out of his skin at the scene in front of him. He dodged two of Jisung’s swings as he clambered over to his roommate to hold him back. He was nearly two seconds late: with a roar, the two boys landed terrible blows at eachother, knocking them both to the ground. 

“‘Bin--stop, STOP!” Minho wrapped his arms around his friend. 

Just as he did, two other boys exited from the venue: one of them tall with long black hair and the other with hair as white as the snow. 

“Fuck you.” Jisung growled dizzily, and his two friends swooped in to help him back to his feet. They too looked furious, but Jisung waved them off groggily. “Don’t w-waste your fucking time. Y-you--” He pointed directly at Changbin. “D-don’t waste your time...on her. I-I’m such a fucking fool.” 

“Sung, let’s get out of here.” Jisung’s tall friend urged him. “Anyone on that street could’ve called the cops.” 

Minho held Changbin up then looked to you and your startled friends eyes seriously. “We need to leave too.” 

“We need to get him to a hospital.” Felix’s voice cracked. 

“You think that he can afford a bill? N-no. We can’t do that. I’ll explain later...he’ll be fine. He’s done this to himself before. Idiot.” Minho slugged his roommates arm over his shoulder and Chan rushed to grab the other. 

Your legs shook when Felix helped you to your feet. Any second, you thought they would give out. Thick strands of blood and saliva caught on Changbin’s lip. Seeing him like that made you feel even sicker. It was all your fault. 

“M-My place is close-by. We can go there.” You locked eyes with Minho. 

“Okay. We’ll go there.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your hands trembled violently once you brought your key to your lock. They burned with the cold, and were wet from how you had clawed at the snow. 

“Here, let me.” Felix gently offered. 

Your apartment was an absolute wreck. Tiny as it was, you had managed to make a mess of it all with art supplies, dirty dishes, hundreds of sticky notes with reminders and textbooks. As you entered, you swept everything to the side with your feet. 

“W-what do we do?” Chan’s own fingers had turned pink from the cold where he held Changbin: head slumped and blinking hazily, then shivering furiously--the action thus making him groan out in pain. 

“He-he’s freezing. There’s blood...” You fell from Felix’s arms. “I-I have to help him.” Once more, tears welled in your eyes. “We need to get him warm. Get him in the shower and clean him off.” 

“Okay. Where’s the bathroom?” 

You guided the group of boys down your hall where it became a group effort to remove him of his soaked clothes. Your pants had also been soaked through, but that didn’t even phase you; not when blood stained his mouth. He slumped his body over into four pairs of arms. 

“I can take it from here.” You closed the door behind yourself. 

Just as you did, you caught Chan’s surprised and widened eyes after Minho had leaned back from his ear. “He’s the son of WHO?” 

You shimmied your own clothes off, ignoring your own shivering as you held him up. The act itself was difficult, and you had given up when it came to your undergarments. It didn’t matter much, so you left them on, along with his. All you wanted was to get the blood off of him--you couldn’t bear to see it. 

The warm water on your skin felt unreal: a blanket of warmth to dissolve away the chill that clung to your body. It was as if you were defrosting: melting away the illness, the poison, the doubt and the fear. For a moment, you let yourself think that it was that simple. 

“Y/n” 

At your feet, the water turned from clear to pink. 

“What is it?” You hushed above the sound of the shower, and Changbin rested his forehead on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why? You shouldn’t be sorry...I’m the one that should be.” 

“N-no.” He coughed, “I feel so sorry.” 

“Changbin--” 

“--Why him? Why him when he would treat y-you like shit? I-I know how he is.” 

“I-I don’t know...” 

It was a funny thing crying in the shower. It was somewhat like you weren’t crying at all with how your tears mixed with the stream. 

He sniffled, “I-I’m not mad at you. I mean...I was, but...I just don’t understand.” 

“Please, be mad at me. Be fucking furious. T-this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret--” 

Changbin chuckled, then rose his head, lips bloodied, one eye squinted, with a smile on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re holding me back. I didn’t have to do it this time.” 

At first, you didn’t know what it meant. But then, you realized. You had been clinging on to him for dear life: your arms completely wrapped around him, even now when he was standing on his own. 

“I thought that I gave a damn since it was him--it made me so fucking mad that it was him but...” 

“...What?” 

“Fuck me, but...I love you.” 

 You shook your head vehemently, tears crossing with the warm trickle of water.  “N-no, you don’t.”

He chuckled once more, “I think I’d know if I did or didn’t.” 

“Don’t say that.” Your chest shook. 

“Why?” 

“B-because you don’t mean it. You can’t love me.” 

“Why not?” 

His hands, bruised and pink cupped both sides of your face. 

“Someone like me...You can’t fucking love me.” 

“What? You’re not making any sense. Y/n, I think I’ve fucking loved you since the first night that I met you, and you can’t stop me from loving you. Listen, you don’t even have to love me back for now, but can you at least accept how I feel for you?” 

How was it you had been able to scream it before, but couldn’t find the words now? 

Heated steam filled up your shower, and dripped from the walls. His skin too dipped with drops of that water. You thought to yourself how the blood and the water mixed, the two colors didn’t work together at all. Why was all you could think of colors? 

“Okay?” He asked. 

Your own hands took to his soft cheeks, where you brushed away any streaks of red you could see there. 

You closed your yes after, succumbing to the feeling that the water brought you: melting, fading, dissolving, just like the way that watercolors blended from one to the other on a page. You felt Changbin press his forehead into yours. 

“I-I think that I love you too--but--I’m so scared. So fucking scared.” 

He let out a relieved “oh” then pressed his lips gently into yours. Each kiss after the other was more and more careful. He poured his whole being into your quivering lips. 

“Please don’t be scared. Don’t be scared of me. I swear that I won’t hurt you, I never want to. I mean it. Please don’t run from me.” 

Here you were, worrying that he was the one to run from you. You felt pathetic thinking how patient he had been with you, how much he had put up with, and what he had just done, all for you. 

He kissed more “pleases” into your mouth, then drew you flush against his chest. 

You held onto him tighter. “Do you mean it?” 

He nodded, then craned his neck to fill your mouth with more of his answers, and it did feel like the way that watercolors faded into one another. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Will he be okay?” 

Felix, Chan, you, and Minho sat on your couch with mugs warming your hands. In the past half hour or so, none of you had said much. 

Minho sighed. “He will be. He just needs to rest now. I’ll take him to the clinic tomorrow, see if anything is wrong. Knowing him...thick skulled asshole...” He scoffed with a smirk, “--He’s fine.” 

“T-that’s good.” Chan took a sip. “He fell asleep?” 

“Right after we got out of the shower. Lucky I stole some of Chan’s joggers back then. I put him in my bed and he was out like a light. Didn’t say that anything else hurt.” 

In unison, the four of you took another anxious sip. 

“He can stay here tonight? If that’s okay with you?” Minho asked. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t think he wants to move wither.” 

Felix looked about himself awkwardly. “Wellll I think that we should get going then. Y/n, call us if you need anything?” 

“Mmhm.” 

A silence filled the air. 

“Y/n, did you know?” Chan blurted out. 

“Me? Know what?” 

Minho shot the other man a deadly glare, then cleared his throat. “Bin’s dad is some high ranking politian. Someone so high that we’d know his name: that’s how he explained it to me. He left his whole life with them to rap. If he had gotten caught tonight, in the alley or some hospital with his real name, it would’ve been all over the news. He’s been trying his best to be invisible since high school...doesn’t want to tarnish the family reputation or something, even though they practically hate him....I don’t get it. They basically disowned him after he said he wanted to do rapping, not like he minded though. His surname isn’t even Seo.” 

“Do you know what it is? His surname?” 

“He’s never told me and I never asked.” 

Another silence fell over your group. 

“...He never told me.” You watched the steam of your tea. 

“And I didn’t tell you either, alright? This stays between us.” 

Felix mocked a zip over his lips. 

“Guess I’ll have to ask him about him about his artistic process another time then, hm?” Chan cracked his sarcasm with an airy laugh. 

“Guess so.” You tried your best to laugh back. “Thank you for tonight. All of you.” You met each boys eyes and each of them nodded in understanding. 

Felix clapped his friend’s back. “Let’s head out.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

One light was left on in your room: the strand of pink string lights that you hung over the wall your bed was against. The rest of your room was cluttered as well with clothes strewn about and your backpack contents scattered all across the floor. From your tiny and aged window, snow had accumulated in the corners, and further, the yellow and red lights of the city sparkled. Just as you were about to pull the plug for the lights, Changbin groaned out groggily. 

“Wait...what are you doing?” 

“Turning off the lights. I’m going to go to sleep too now. I wanna give you some space. I’ll go over on the couch.” 

“No!” He roused himself, “No. Don’t do that. Can you...stay in here?” 

“Sleep with you?” 

“If you want? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirked, ever cocky. Nothing took that from him. “Two bodies are warmer than one.” 

“Bin...” 

His smile really was just a bit too cute. 

“Mm. I like it when you call me that.” He reached out his arm to tempt you in. “Please? Come on.” 

You toyed with his forearm, shaking it a little like you were throwing a tantrum. “Do I have to?” 

“Hey! We just had a fuckin’ moment! I just bore my frickin’ heart for you.” 

“I’m just teasing. I will.” 

Right by his wrist, a puffy scar caught your eye, and you wondered if you had missed cleaning one of his wounds. You turned his arm over, revealing the gnarly scar: a stripe, about 3 inches long running parallel to his arm. 

“What’s this?” You studied it further. 

“Oh. That. Don’t get mad, but, tonight’s fight wasn’t my first. Some fucker with a watch or a bracelet or something tore the shit outta my arm this one time.” He inspected it himself, “It’s my battle scar. I’m kinda proud of it. If I hadn’t stepped in, who knows what he would’ve done to his girlfriend? There’s a special place in hell for guys like him.” 

Stormy grey eyes. 

Rosemary and cedarwood. 

You thought you had cried all the tears that would’ve been possible that night. Blurred memories, the ones that you had tried so desperately to forget came flooding over you. How you hadn’t known...was beyond you. 

“Hey...” Changbin scooched back up to wipe your tears. “Tears again? What’s wrong?” His thumbs wiped them away. “You can tell me?” 

“It-it was you??” 

“Me? Me what?” 

“On that night, in the alley when it was snowing, I-I was alone and he...” 

Changbin’s eyes too blew out, then his own tears gathered in the corners. “Holy shit...that was you too?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god.” 

Instinctually, he threw his arms around you, back into his scent that was just as clear as the real first night you had met him. Together, you both turned into babbling, sniffling messes. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Your voice shook. “I’ve always wanted to thank you. I-I can’t believe--” 

“--Come here.” 

Changbin swept you off your feet and wrapped all of his limbs around your body where he had pulled you into the bed, finally sweeping the covers over top of both your bodies with a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’ve gone though so much. Fuck, I don’t know how you’ve done it.” 

Your own hands snaked around his body. “Bin...”

“We’re kind of impossible aren’t we? All those years ago, and now...” 

“Thank you.” You kissed into his mouth, silencing him something much sweeter than your secrets. 

His body shifted, and he returned with his own kisses, each one slow and careful. He twisted his body to lean slightly over you, wincing at the pain that it caused him. 

“Fuck. That hurt.” He sighed with a tiny pout, “But, I don’t want to stop kissing you.” 

You bit a little smile into his lips. “Don’t push yourself.” 

“What? I can’t help it.” 

This time, you pushed him back to swiftly cast your legs on either side of his hips to straddle him. “This better?” 

He hummed out a happy yes, reaching down to pull your lips into his again. Like it always had been, you could’ve kissed him like this for ages, and time would slip into nothingness: a mere construct undefinable. Outside, the world was still dark and cold, but inside, the heat of your two bodies mingling banished it all away. 

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that I think that your art is beautiful.” Changbin broke momentarily, then pointed to your unframed paintings stuck to the walls with painters tape. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I don’t know why you keep them hidden here. The world should see them.” 

“Trying to get into my pants now? Who told you to say that?” 

From your string lights, his whole being was bathed in a soft pink light. 

“No one. But I mean it...you know, if I wasn’t debilitated, who knows what I would do to you right now.” 

“Woooow, you talk such big game.” 

He shot you a teasing glance. “I’ll fucking do it, fuck my probably broken-or- bruised ribs.”  

“No! Don’t do that.” You chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.” With a newfound confidence, you lowered your body to hover your lips over his own. “What if I go easy on you....nice and slow? Didn’t you say once that you liked to take things slow?” 

His eyes darkened as he mimicked your tone. “Anything as long as it’s with you.” After, his hands swept all the way down your back, lightly brushing up the fabric of your sleep-shirt, then to kneed into your ass. “Will you let me love you tonight?” 

“Will you let me love you back?” 

“Yes.” 

You shoved your hips down into his, grinding as purposefully as you could over his half-hard dick and shivering at the sensation over your clit. Both of your bodies trembled at the action. Under the cotton sheets and down comforter, there was nothing that could have felt cozier against the bare skin of your arms, and the way that his fingertips traced scribbles into your back. 

In seconds, he had pulled your shirt off your head, kissing little moans into your mouth once his hands had found your breasts. All the while, you kept your hips moving, reveling in the way that with each thrust of your hips you had felt yourself get wetter. He pulled and tweaked at your nipples which hardened them instantly, and you bowed down to kiss him on all the places where he didn’t know he had needed the attention: on the tip of his nose, in the corners of his mouth, over that scar on his chin, fluttering over his bruised eyelid, overtop the Band-Aid above his eyebrow, giving care to all the little scrapes on his cheeks. 

He had keened his hips upwards, now properly hardened from your friction against him. Even just like this, his length felt heavenly. With a careful prompt, he guided your torso upward, granting his mouth better access of your perky nipples which he took into his mouth greedily. Even greedier hands cascaded down your stomach to your boyshorts where he pulled at the elastic. After, he ghosted his touch over the thin fabric separating him from touching your clit. The sensation nearly sent you topping over, but rather you grabbed at the iron headboard to your bed to steady yourself. Changbin blew his words over your nipples with a cool air. 

“Can I?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” You chuckled out. 

“Of course I do.” He hooked two fingers to help you shake the fabric off your legs. “I always do.” 

First, he pulled you down into his lips; a distraction, then he coaxed his digits into your folds. You hadn’t known how embarrassingly wet you had become, but that was nothing compared to the reality of it. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers was loud enough to make you giggle, and for him to return it. 

“That excited huh?” His index finger rubbed faint circles around your clit. 

“W-what about it?” 

“I just think that its cute.” He removed his hand to show you the way that your arousal strung around his fingers. “‘So wet for me, aren’t you angel?” 

“Mmhm.” Your hips did their own helpless dance over the pads of his fingers once he had brought them back down. “S-shit.” 

A wicked smile spread over his face as he indulged in you more. Back and forth, he traced around your swollen clit, then down to your entrance, barely giving you any contact at all. 

“Remember our first night? Hmm? Remember what I did to you? ...I could do it again...” 

“B-Bin...” You gasped out his name at the thought. 

His tongue slicked over your bottom lip, “Would you like that?” His index and middle finger swept even rougher swipes over your clit which sent you mewling back on his tongue. 

“Yes? Or no? Use your words Beautiful.” 

That intense feeling, that unreal feeling...you would’ve been lying if you had said you hadn’t dreamed of it. 

“...yes. I want you to.” 

“Okay my love. Just relax. Lean on me if you have to, okay?” 

“It won’t hurt you?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

With your quivering thighs, his hand dipped back down and toyed with the heat of your folds and angrily sensitive clit. Your choked moans muffled into the crook of his neck where you had buried your face. Every single touch of his made your body feel as if it was aflame. Relentlessly, he switched from circling to stopping, every once and a while slipping a couple fingers to stretch out your entrance. He wouldn’t grant it to you fully yet, but his curved digits teased at your g-spot for only seconds at a time. 

In his ears, you filled them with “more, more, more’s” and little whimpers of “deeper, deeper, please, deeper.” 

“More? Is that what you want?” 

He winced terribly at the action, but he pushed you off from on top of him till you were flat on your back, screwing his fingers into you deeply. 

“I’ll give you as much as you want.” He kissed the words to your collarbones. 

All at once, his pace was renewed, and his fingers curved up sharply inside of your pussy to simulate your g-spot as roughly and quickly as he could. In his skill he gave your clit attention with his flattened thumb. The overwhelming feeling built in your core and inched closer second by second. Your control over your body slipped past you, and you fell completely into the feeling. 

You came with a uncontrollable shake of your whole body, and a release of pressure that made you into a moaning mess--that of which you didn’t need to be careful of if you had been too loud or not. Freely, you convulsed with that indescribable feeing, and your liquids wetted both your thighs and the fringes of the sheets which Changbin just barely removed from your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

In his adoration, the man above you proudly chuckled at your body still quivering with aftershocks. 

“Think you can take a little more after that? Take your time angel.” 

Your head spun, but it did so only for a moment. As you came down, Changbin kissed one, two, three, little kisses into your shoulder while he admired the way that your body shook. 

You nodded, laughing at the fact that you really did have no idea what time it was, nor could you even guess. 

“Do you have--” 

“--Dresser. O-over there.” A weak finger of yours pointed to your side table. 

A series of grunts slipped out of him, but he rolled himself over to take a condom from the strand and take care of it himself. He hid is tiny embarrassed smirk once he laid down. 

“Angel, I-I think that you’ll have to--” 

“--I know.” 

Back to your origional position, you aligned your entrance against his length which was still as red and hardened as ever. 

“Nice and slow right?” 

With one hand, you guided his dick into your velvet walls. 

“Oh shit.” Changbin pulled at your lip with is teeth upon the first roll of your hips. “Just like that. Just...like that.” 

It was beautiful, the way that he felt inside you. It had hurt a bit the first time, but now, it was different. The way that he filled you up was perfection: you were perfect for him, and he was for you. 

“D-don’t stop.” He pleaded while he scraped his nails down your back. 

To think, the one who had told you he didn’t say “please” was now at your mercy. It took everything you had not to let it go to your head. 

He angled his hips upward, pushing himself even deeper, and you nearly lost your composure at the feeling. Your core tightened again, and you let yourself grind over him, not stopping once. 

“F-fuck. Bin, ah! Shit--” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Became his breathless mantra. “Y-you fuck me so good angel.”

Clambering lips came colliding and you rode out your orgasm on his dick fiercely, connecting your mouth with his so he could feel every little bit of the pleasure that he gave you. He did the same, spilling his euphoric “ah ah’s” all over your lips and eventually to your neck where he sucked carelessly upon his own orgasm. You milked every last bit of him from his throbbing erection until he shook and begged you to stop his overstimulation. 

Perhaps because you were tired, or you craved the feeling, but not a bone in your body wanted to move. 

“Can we stay like this...for a while?” 

Changbin kissed his answer back to you. 

“For as long as you like.” 

Yes, the both of you had turned to sweating messes, and the scent of sex hung heavy around the both of you. Of course, it smelled just a little like rosemary and cedarwood. Wrapped up in one another like this, there was no telling where you began and he ended. 

Until the sun peaked at the horizon, he filled you to the brim with his “I love you’s” anywhere that he could manage: into the palms of your hands, into the love bites he had painted onto your chest, onto your ears which he nibbled, and, into your sleepy eyes which had held his for as long as you could, until the allure of sleep drew both of them closed. 

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

how about a thing where beej goes camping with Lydia or also with adam and Barbara and they all try to tell the scariest stories they can? guess who.

this one got away from me but it was super fun. thanks........ blake? guessing is harder than i thought

"And they were never, ever, seen again," Adam finishes, the flashlight under his chin casting his features in a harsh, strange light.

"Thank god," BJ says, with a snort. "I know, right? Couldn't have chosen a better group of assholes to go missing," Lydia grins.

The late night summer air is keeping them relatively cool, and the fire Adam, the literal boy scout, built for them isn't too high. It's got just enough life in it to heat up a few s'mores. BJ sticks his impaled marshmallow into the flame, and watches as it sets on fire, going from gently roasted to disgustingly burnt in a moment. He lifts it, blows it off, and then, ignoring the pain of touching the molten black sugar, peels the burnt skin off, and eats it, before putting the skinned and oozing marshmallow back in the fire, to repeat the process.

Barbara, who has been watching the process, giggles at him.

"Come on, you guys," Adam frowns. "That's my best one. It got me my storytelling badge!"

"You can't get them, Adam," Barbara says, simply, and when BJ lifts his charred marshmallow and peels the skin off, this time, she plucks it from his fingers, and eats it instead. She grimaces at the taste of burnt sugar. "Nothing scares the horror twins," she finishes, giving BJ an apologetic peck on the cheek for stealing his snack, and he puts an arm around her, and then presses his mouth to her ear.

"That's right," he growls, right into her ear, and she squeals, and pushes him away, laughing. "Me an' Lyds are old pros at scary stories. You guys don't stand a chance."

"So why don't you tell one?" Adam huffs, a little irritated, and normally, he'd feel bad for being the cause of it... But all's fair in love, war, and campfire tales.

He looks down to Lydia, and she stares up at him, chocolate and graham cracker smeared at the corners of her mouth. "What do you think? The Cannibal one?"

"M'tryna scare them, not make em vomit up their marshmallows," BJ laughs. "Maybe th' shoppin' mall one? Ya know, with th'-"

"The corpse fountain, yeah. I dunno.. that one's a little long."

The siblings are stuck considering, for a moment, as Barbara and Adam seem to grow more weary and agitated.

"Oh," BJ snaps his fingers, suddenly, startling his paramores, who both jump, just a little. "I got it. The Shambler."

"Ooooh," Lydia breaths. "The Shambler. Is that one.. safe, to tell?" she drops her voice, into a whisper.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Adam asks, and BJ hides his smile. The story's already begun.

"Well, because of what happened," Lydia says, like it's obvious.

"What happened?" Barbara's hooked, now, leaning forward, to look at the little girl from across the fire.

"Are you serious?" he plays into it, looking from Adam and Barbara like he can't believe they haven't heard. "Jesus, you guys, it was a real life horror show. Okay.. Around 1970 somethin', all these campers start to go missin'. Th' cops go to investigate, an' from th' woods, they keep hearin' this awful moanin' noise. They get to th' campground, an' all th' tents are just... empty. Like all these people just stood up in th' middle of th' night an' walked away, an' just never came back."

"They only found noses," Lydia says, which is a new detail, and he rolls with it. "Th' cops figured th' person-"

"Or thing," Lydia says, voice low.

"Musta been eatin' th' bodies, an' couldn't figure out how to cook up noses."

"I had hoped this wasn't a cannibal story," Barbara says, glumly, and Adam's brow furrows. "There's no way this happened."

"An' why's that?"

"Because I would have heard of it. This is classic campfire story hyperbole."

"I'll hyper your bole, Sexy."

"Anyways," Lydia drags them back on track. "It's probably a good thing you're not buying it. We can just stop telling you about the whole thing. That's safer, for everyone."

"Oh, and why's that?" Adam smiles, amused. "Because talking about it makes the Shambler come?"

He's skipped a few narrative beats, but that's the basic gist, yes.

"Don't say that name so loudly," BJ admonishes him.

"Oh, come on! I thought you guys were horror masters, this is just a retelling of a retelling of a copy!"

"Adam, seriously-" Lydia sells it, looking agitated.

"Shambler, Shambler, Shambler!" Adam challenges.

The bushes behind them rustle. Barbara jumps, and Adam turns, and squints into the darkness. "Probably just a squirrel."

"Sounded bigger than that," Barbara says, softly, almost like she's in on it. God, what a perfect audience member she makes.

Adam stands, and Barbara and BJ follow, only pausing when the bushes rustle again, and a guttural, low groan echoes around them. Whether he knows he's done it or not, Adam takes a step closer to the two of them, and a slight step away from the bushes. "... Okay, that.. That, uh.."

The rustling is on the other side of them, now, and they all three whip their heads around, as the moaning noises grow louder, and louder, closer and closer.

"Adam," Lydia whispers in horror, from the campfire, blood oozing from her mouth. "What.. what did you do?"

She drops, and Barbara lets out a scream, horrified, and both teens go rushing to Lydia's side-

And that's when BJ grabs them both around the shoulders, and gives them a shake. "BOO~!"

The two of them jump a mile high, and turn to look at him, glares on both their faces, as he doubles over, laughing. Lydia, from the dirt, rolls over, laughing too, fake blood still oozing down her mouth and down her chin.

"You guys, come on, that was too easy!" BJ barely manages. "Fake blood capsules," Lydia grins up at their confused faces.

The horror twins are pelted with marshmallows.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 9 - A Deal is Made

When Stan ran off, to Ford’s relief – he didn’t think he could handle any more of Bill’s cruelty towards his little brother – the demon didn’t chase after him. After his little display Bill turned to Ford with a wide, unnatural grin and lifted his arms like an actor bowing after a particularly brilliant performance.

“I do a wonderful Stanford impression, don’t I? It’s pretty easy. You’re like a broken record, Sixer, all repetitive and annoying. ‘My science project, my science project!’ But I really think I spiced it up a bit while still staying in character!”

Ford stabbed a finger at the demon wearing his skin. “You – how dare you?”

Bill merely shrugged and rifled through Ford’s pockets, letting out a little ‘ah’ of triumph when he pulled out a pocket knife. “Hah! I didn’t take you for the stabbing type.”

“It’s for self defense!” Ford fumed.

“Sure, sure, don’t wanna get eaten alive by monsters, excuses excuses.” Bill stepped back, sizing up a nearby tree. “I was looking for rope but this will work too.”

“Wait, what are you-”

Bill placed one hand against the tree’s bark and slammed the pocket knife into it, cutting through skin and flesh to bury the knife into hard wood. Ford hissed.

“That should do it!” Bill said cheerfully, watching blood drip down Ford’s wrist. “That looks like it’s gonna be a gusher, Sixer. I wouldn’t take the knife out if I were you. You never know, maybe you’ll bleed to death!”

Ford very deliberately kept his mouth shut about the placement of arteries in the human body. What Bill didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And getting stabbed through the hand couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

He soon found out, once Bill zipped away and he lunged back into his own body, that it did indeed hurt. Ford bit down a scream and fought to keep his hand still. Every twitch and tremor sent pain racing down his arm and he was very aware of the metal piercing through his hand, sharp edge rubbing up against skin and muscle and nerves.

Ford grabbed the handle of the pocket knife with his free hand (pain pain pain) and wrenched it out. This time he couldn’t smother the scream that bubbled from his lips. He dropped the bloody knife and clutched at his bleeding hand.

Calm. Calm down. He couldn’t help anyone if he was panicking.

Ford fumbled around in his pockets until he found a handkerchief, wrapping it around the seeping wound and tying it tight with his teeth. It wasn’t a long-term solution but it would stop dirt getting under the skin, and hopefully slow the bloodflow. Though the fabric was already getting stained with red.

Move. He didn’t have time to waste, Bill could have caught up to Stan already. Who knew what the demon would do? Ford took off through the trees in the direction he had seen Stan run, every step sending a flash of burning pain up his arm.

By the time he caught up with his brother he was lightheaded, a yellow triangle swimming in his vision – Stan looked so small, so confused in the demon’s shadow. Ford would not fail his brother again.

“STAN!”

 _______________________________________________________________

Ford was here. Stan’s gaze snapped up at his brother’s shout, the traitorous part of him whispering, ‘apologize, make him like you again’. He clenched his fists as Ford staggered into sight, looking kinda pale.

“Stan-” Ford caught a tree and clung to it as he struggled to regain his breath. He looked shaky, and Stan ached to go over and make sure he was alright. He took a few steps past the demon despite himself. “Stanley – listen to me, whatever Bill is telling you, it’s a lie-”

“Well well well well well!”

Stan was treated to the lovely sight of the skin on Bill’s back peeling open to reveal an eyeball, his body contorting and turning inside out until he was staring right at Ford with that neon yellow gaze.

“Just when I thought I’d taken care of you.”

Stan hesitated, the word striking a chord. “…taken care of? What does that mean?”

Bill drifted forward, placing himself in front of Stan but Ford looked right past the triangle, staring at Stan with desperation in his gaze. It made Stan’s stomach twist, made him feel guilty and angry and so very confused. He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away, Ford reaching after him.

“Stanley please. I’m sorry – I was stupid and cruel and I treated you badly because I was angry, but you didn’t deserve it. I saw what Bill said to you in my body and it’s not true, Stan, none of it’s true-”

“Shut up!” Stan stabbed a finger in Ford’s direction, glaring at him through tears. Ford didn’t even look scary anymore – just afraid, and that was the scariest thing. Adult Ford was supposed to be big and determined, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. “Just – just shut up! I don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Exactly!” Bill’s cheerful tone reverberated through the trees, making Stan shiver despite himself. “The man’s speaking nonsense, don’t listen to him.”

Stan wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t totally stupid either. He could see the ‘shut up’ glare the demon sent his brother. Bill was trying to be his friend, why was he hiding something from him?

Ford pushed himself off the tree to stand by himself, gaze still fixed on Stan. “The eyes, Stanley! What colour were my eyes, when I was saying those terrible things to you?”

“I dunno!” Stan yelled back.

What kind of stupid question was that? Stan didn’t want to think about that, he didn’t want to think about how he was a dead weight and a nuisance and how Ford was better off without him. But something – something about that encounter seemed off…

“Answer me, Stanley!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“What colour were my eyes?”

“Yellow!”

Wait.

Yellow?

“Please believe me.” Ford stepped closer, holding his hands out desperately. “Bill took over my body and he made me hurt you, more than I already have. He’s evil, he’s trying to take advantage of you and trick you into doing terrible things. And – I know you have no reason to believe me. I know I’ve treated you badly, since you arrive at Gravity Falls and before that. But please.”

Stan twisted his hands, anxiety swirling in his stomach and making him want to barf. He glanced up at the fuming demon.

“You’re all-powerful, right?”

“Stanley no-”

Bill’s body flashed lemon-yellow, his eye curling into a grin as he spun around to face Stan. “Sure I am kid! I can get you anything you want.”

“…anything I ask for? Anything at all?”

“You bet!”

“Stanley! He’s trying to trick you, he’s evil-”

“Oh shut it, Sixer!” Bill snapped his fingers and Ford’s body lurched sideways, sending him slamming into a tree with a yelp. He slumped to the grass. Stan dug his fingers into his palms. “See, kid? When you open the portal I’ll be even more powerful! Enough to give you anything you want.”

Stan looked between the prone body of his brother and the demon, and he made his decision. His hand reached out to snatch Bill’s.

“It’s a deal.”

Blue flames erupted across their joined hands, flicking over Stan’s skin but not burning, warm and tickly. Bill’s eye creased up in a grin.

“I knew you were the smart one! Now come on, name your price! Anything you want is yours, once you open the portal for me.”

Stan frowned, staring at their joined hands. The fire was the least weird thing about these last few days – it blazed warm and blue, spitting sparks every which way. Hypnotizing, almost. It was so much power – not his, of course – but flaming at his fingertips. He wanted it.

Bill released his hand, letting Stan’s drop down by his side. Stan stuffed them in his pockets, feeling the tingle of residual warmth against his skin.

“Well? I don’t have all day!” Bill heaved a sigh, folding his little stick arms. Stan’s mouth tasted sour. “What’s your price? A galaxy all of your own, right? Or a billion dollars?”

“…I want a hug.”

Silence reined in the clearing.

“Are you kidding me?” Bill’s eye hung open in disbelief. “I’m offering you your own galaxy and all you want is a flipping hug?”

Stan nodded. “Yep. And like you said, you gotta give it to me.” He opened his arms. “I want my hug now.”

Bill sighed in frustration. “I’m incorporeal, kid, I can’t give hugs. Why would I even want to touch a fleshbag like you in the first place?”

Stan put his hands on his hips. “You’re just gonna have to be corp-or-real. I know you can, you can touch and move things around! You gotta do the deal or the whole thing’s off, remember?” He scowled. “If I don’t get my hug you can’t use me to open the portal.”

“Ugh.” Bill’s form shimmered, becoming a little more corporeal – enough, at least, to interact with the physical world. The triangle’s ‘face’ screwed up. “Gross. Let’s get this over with already.”

He extended his stick-arms out with a grimace, and Stan flew in to hug him, wrapping tiny arms around the triangular body and squeezing tight. Bill let out a disgusted noise and patted his back awkwardly.

“There. There’s your hug.”

Stan pulled back enough to grin at him. “You give shit hugs.” Then he jammed the magic capsule into Bill’s huge eye.

 The triangle-

 Screamed.

 There was an explosion of light and colour and searing heat that scorched across his face and Stan was flying back, breath knocked out of his lungs. He slammed into something and that something wrapped its arms around him and swung him away from the blast, shielding him with its body.

 When Stan’s ears stopped ringing and the spots faded from his vision, the sight that met his eyes made him freeze.

 Bill was dripping, fizzling like a dying candle, his eye seeping down his figure and body glitching red in places, showing glimpses of scarlet-colored bricks and bits of muscle and scenes played in sepia like they were being shown on an old TV. The demon lurched towards them, fingers curled into half-melted claws and body pulsing with its deep, distorted voice like an earthquake.

 “STANLEY-”

  There was the pop of a rifle being discharged and a hole blew open Bill’s body. Something crackled like broken glass, and then the demon

shattered.

[sequencefairy]

shyan + the moon

how dare you ask for something that is so me?

---

Ryan can feel it already, the shifting starting under his skin. The calendar says the full moon will rise on Friday, but the pull of it has already begun, hooking like pins behind Ryan’s navel and dragging his eyes up off his computer monitor and towards the big windows to look at the sky. Ryan forces himself back to looking at the screen in front of him and resettles in his chair. The chair creaks, and Shane looks up. Ryan ducks his head to avoid Shane’s shrewd gaze. 

Shane knows. He has since that long haul trip to Ohio early on the BFU days. Ryan had always prided himself on being so very careful, so very cautious, so very aware of making sure not to schedule filming trips during the weekend when the moon would rise, full and fat, and drive him into the nearest woods and turn him into a rippling mass of fur and teeth and claws. Except, that filming trip had been rescheduled three times already by the time they were finally able to go, and there’d been nothing Ryan could do. It’s awfully hard to keep something like not exactly being entirely human under wraps living in each other’s pockets like they do on the road. 

So. Shane knows. He’s never really asked any questions, and seems content to let Ryan never have any kind of conversation about it. Ryan has noticed, however, that Shane has always been very good about not scheduling anything the weekend Ryan isn’t available. 

Ryan sighs, and tries to rein his focus back towards the video he’s editing. It works, more or less. 

Later, Shane corners him near the fridge along the back wall of the office.

“You’re fidgety,” Shane observes, not looking up from the coffee he’s doctoring to his particularly preferred shade of caramel.

Ryan drops the spoon he’s holding and it clatters to the floor. Shane still doesn’t look at him, but Ryan can feel the flush crawling up the back of his neck as he bends down to retrieve the spoon, gripping it tightly in his fist. He watches Shane look up at the calendar tacked onto the whiteboard over the sink, and nod to himself. 

“It’s this weekend, isn’t it?” 

“What’s this weekend?” Brittney asks, pushing between them to get at the basket of snacks set next to the sink. 

“Nothing,” Ryan says, taking an involuntary step back. This close to the moon, his senses are starting to heighten and the sugar-sweet scent of Brittney’s shampoo lingers on the back of his tongue. It makes him want to gag. Shane watches him over Brittney’s oblivious head, a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Do we have any more of those shrimp crackers?” she asks. 

“Dunno,” Shane says, his weighted gaze sliding off Ryan’s face and attention turning towards Brittney. It gives Ryan the out he needs and he takes it. 

The office is suddenly smothering. 

Ryan stalks back to his desk, drops the spoon onto his mousepad and grabs his coat off the back of his chair. He shoves his hands through the sleeves and then he’s gone, before anyone can say anything. 

Outside is better. Outside is fresh air and not a bombardment of smells that normally don’t bother him, except for when the moon gets close. Ryan takes a deep breath, and forces himself to relax into the exhale. He walks around the building towards the loading docks at the back and leans against a stack of pallets, tilting his head back to let the sunshine touch his face. 

Shane finds him there. 

“You okay?” Shane asks, approaching carefully, the way he might if Ryan was already sporting claws and teeth and not still passably human. 

“Just needed some air,” Ryan answers, leaning more fully against the stack of pallets. 

“Sure,” Shane says, in that way that means he’s agreeing with Ryan because he doesn’t want to argue with him. It makes Ryan bristle a little, to be dismissed, but also they already don’t talk about this so it’s entirely irrational. “You need to take the rest of the week off?” Shane asks. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. 

“No,” Ryan replies, shortly. He’s fine. He can handle it. It’s not like he hasn’t been handling it for years already. 

Shane lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, man,” he says, “just checking. You seem, I dunno, extra--” he cuts himself off with a twist of his mouth. 

“Extra, what?” 

“Something’s different this month, is all,” Shane says, after a moment. “Look, I’m not an expert, obviously, but like, you’re--there’s something more happening here.”

“It’s nothing, Shane,” Ryan says, suddenly exhausted and wishing they could go back to never talking about this like they haven’t ever before.

Shane hums, unconvinced. Before Ryan can blink, Shane’s stepped forward and into his space. Ryan’s reaction is immediate and instinctive. His hands come up and push, palms flat against Shane’s chest. 

“Don’t--don’t crowd me,” Ryan complains, when Shane doesn’t step back. This close, he has to crane his head back to look up into Shane’s face. There’s a flush riding high on Shane’s cheekbones and Ryan doesn’t understand why. 

Shane’s own hands wrap around Ryan’s wrists, fingers encircling them easily. Ryan sucks in a breath, getting a lungful of all the smells that Shane carries with him. The sharp clean scent of his deodorant, the musk of all the shadowed places on his body that never see the sun, the bitter caramel scent of the coffee he’d been drinking, the sticky-sweet funk of pot that barely clings to this coat. Ryan’s eyes slide shut, unbidden. 

Anyone else this close would send Ryan’s other senses into overdrive, but Shane’s still holding his wrists, and Ryan can feel the thump of Shane’s heart under his palms. It’s calming in a way that it shouldn’t be. Ryan wants to lean into Shane, and the thought brings him up short and makes him open his eyes. 

When he does, Ryan finds that Shane’s crowded in closer, that now he’s lose enough that when Shane blinks, Ryan can see the fall of every eyelash against the barely there freckles on Shane’s cheeks. He can see the silver coming in through the brown of Shane’s beard. 

“Ryan,” Shane says, something strained in his voice. 

“You--what’re you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” Shane says, and he looks as confused as he sounds. “I can’t--” Shane cuts himself off with a frustrated noise.

“I think--” Ryan moves to step back, but finds he has no where to go and that Shane’s hands tighten around his wrists instead of letting go. He pulls, flexing his fingers against Shane’s chest. “Hey! Let me go, asshole.” 

“No,” Shane says.  

“Shane,” Ryan says, very carefully, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

Shane steps closer, and Ryan finds himself bending his elbows to let him. Ryan’s heart thuds against his ribs, the pallets dig into the small of his back. 

“I can’t,” Shane says, maybe to himself, but he’s close enough now that Ryan can feel the breath of his voice. “Ry--” he says, eyes flicking down to Ryan’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. “I don’t understand what’s--I can’t--”

“Are you--what’s going on? Talk to me,” Ryan says, almost frantic. Shane’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and Ryan’s gaze snags there, heat blooming through his veins. His fingers tingle where they’re still pressed into the fabric of Shane’s shirt. Shane blinks. Ryan’s stomach turns over.     

“You just--Ryan, Christ,” Shane swears. 

“You too,” Ryan says, before he can stop himself. The heat in his blood has a purpose now, and it’s all running south. 

“Stop me,” Shane pleads. The tone of his voice makes Ryan’s head swim. He could no sooner stop Shane than he could stop the full moon transformation and lord knows, Ryan’s tried to stave that off at least a hundred times. It feels like Shane can’t stop himself either, like they’re locked into the riptide of whatever this is together, and Ryan stops fighting it the moment Shane’s mouth finds his. 

The relief of this surrender is sweeter even than giving in to the transformation after trying to hold it off, and Shane tastes like coming home.

Ryan’s hands slide from Shane’s chest up around his neck, pulling him in. Ryan tangles his fingers in Shane’s hair, and Shane’s hands find Ryan’s waist under his unzipped coat, fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt. 

When they break apart, Shane doesn’t lift his head immediately, just presses his forehead to Ryan’s. “What’s--is this some wolf thing? What’re you doing to me?” 

Ryan swallows. He shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t think so?” He looks at Shane’s mouth again, and then watches Shane’s throat move as he swallows. “God,” he says, “you have to kiss me again.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Ryan says, and pushes up on his toes to make sure that Shane does. 

.<>.

“Oh,” Beth says, when Ryan asks her about it at the community meeting a week later. Her blonde hair is pulled back off her face in a high ponytail, and her tawny eyes sparkle. “Yeah,” she says, curling her hands around the styrofoam cup of coffee on the table in front of her. “That happens.” 

“What happens?” Ryan asks, leaning back in his chair. He reaches up to tug at the bandana he borrowed from Shane’s collection that morning. He’s not used to having his neck covered and the sensation of the fabric against the still purpling bruise Shane left and keeps going back to worrying every time he gets anywhere near Ryan’s neck, makes Ryan want to squirm in his chair. 

Beth lifts her cup to her mouth to hide the smile. “Pheromones,” she says. 

“Pheromones?” 

“Yeah, you know, like, they tell people like us that we’re aroused,” she answers. 

“Shane’s not--” Ryan says, and then clamps his mouth shut. He’s not, right? He couldn’t be. Ryan would have noticed. He’s sure he would have noticed. Absolutely sure. There’s no way. And anyway, it’s not like--well, he and Shane did spend the entire weekend attached to each other at the mouth and several other places besides, so he guesses he can’t say anything about how Shane’s not the other thing that Beth’s implying. 

“Not everyone’s tied to the moon, like you, Ryan,” Beth says, knowing. “You should bring him next week.”

“No. Nope. Not happening.” 

Beth shrugs, and her ponytail slides over her shoulder. “Your call,” she says, “we’d love to meet him though.” 

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Cil and Von pls???

Funny enough, that's what @bi-julius-caesar wanted for their birthday! The exact prompt they asked for was 'Von humiliating Cil in front of Kohga and Sooga and Cil tries to hate fuck him but ends up getting fucked instead'. So, hope both of ya'll like it!

"With pleasure, Master Kohga."

Kohga loved having beefcakes to do what he said. And Cil was one of the many who were eager to obey. Like a show pony, he was eager to perform. In this case, he insisted on having him go head to head with Sooga. Not with weapons, but with their bodies, and bodies alone. Master Kohga was frisky today, it seemed. He watched angrily as Kohga held Sooga’s face, cooing in such a sugary sweet voice. The words fell on deaf words, lost in his frustration. Then he looked at him, and made a 'come here' motion with his finger. Cil damn near skipped over, but kept his proper form.

"I don't want you to go easy on him, understand? He needs to earn his prize."

"Understood. But pray tell, what IS the prize?"

Kohga thought about it for a second, before Cil saw that smirk of his (well not really SAW, but he felt it).

"Tell you what. Winner gets a kiss."

"...any kiss?"

"Eh what the hell, why not? Sure."

Oh he was going to murder him. Cil nodded, holding onto Kohga’s hand in his own, as a sign of respect.

"It shall be done, my Master. He will have to pry this trophy from my cold, lifeless corpse."

And he meant it. He doubt Kohga would let their match get that far, but if it came down to it, he absolutely would. Anything for that kiss he needed oh so badly. For that kiss he deserved. He stepped in front of Sooga, and drew his blade. He double checked his hair in the reflection of the blade, before digging it into the floor. Sooga followed suit, both blades wedging into the wooden floors.

"I appreciate your seriousness, Cil. You and I both know that we strive to please our Master."

"Of course. He deserves nothing but the best. As in, me."

Sooga huffed. Good, he was getting under his skin. Cil stretched for a moment (maybe showing off a bit for Kohga), making sure his body was ready. Sooga followed suit, before nodding. He was ready.

"You recall the rules."

"No weapons, no yiga special techniques. Just our body's strength, and our wits. And of course, mask stays on. On our Master's mark, if he may grace us."

Kohga loved this part, they could tell. He was about to start, when Von joined him, clearly excited.

"Aye my BOYS! Master Kohga, I can watch right?"

"Long as you don't interfere again."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Shutting up right after this-good luck guys!"

He gave them a thumbs up, and Cil rolled his eyes. Ugh. Ever supportive, Von was. Kohga helped himself to a drink, before sitting up in his chair.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

Cil was so motivated by the idea of getting his prize, he leapt for it first, bringing his fist down right into Sooga’s chest. Sooga got pushed back a bit, but didn't hesitate to grab Cil's arm, yanking him into a nasty headbutt. It was a cheap move, unlike him honestly. It was weird, until he heard Kohga holler behind them. It was a show for their master, not effiencity. Oh the cheek. He felt himself snarl at such a cheap trick.

"Oh you kiss ass!"

"You're just upset that he prefers looking at me."

Cil grit his teeth, before he dove for him in essentially a tackle. These little sprawling sessions were really just 'beat the shit out of someone until they're either unresponsive, or quit'. So tackling, although it was a bit barbaric, was pretty acceptable. Given how loud Von swore, it was quite a spectacle as well. He kept himself on top of him, starting to bring his fists down onto him. He aimed for his chest, his shoulders, even his head. Sooga kept trying to block, and Cil was happy he did.

"That's it, give me more of you to hurt!"

He wanted to bruise him. Wanted to walk away from this in absolute shame. Like a wounded street dog. He clasped his hands together, about to bring the combined force of his fists, when he was suddenly forced onto his back. Sooga had damn strong legs, and he often used them to his advantage.

"Your fury shall be the end of you, Cil."

He grabbed him by his head, about to slam it onto the floor, when he was interrupted by a very loud, VERY annoying Von.

"COME O N CIL, YOU GOT THIS BUDDY!"

It was annoying, and just the distraction he needed. He brought his fist up to his stomach, giving him just enough time to squirm out of his grasp. He managed to get Sooga’s head in his arms, in a headlock if you will. Sooga squirmed so adorably, he could pop his head like a cherry.

"That's it. Thrash. I'll crush your head like a fucking egg. I could watch the blood trickle down your ears as I make your brain mush. Or you could give up, and I could claim my prize. The one I d-"

He didn't get to finish. See, there was an issue with Von being both of their friends. He never picked a side, and always wanted things to be even. So, of course, it was his turn to help Sooga.

"SOOGA PULL HIS HAIR."

"NO WAIT-"

Too late. Sooga had reached up, dug his fingers into his hair, and pulled. It undid all the hard work it took to get it looking so pretty, and it made Cil moan. Loudly. He had just pulled it so hard, his blood was already pumping- it just happened. The cheers from everyone watching suddenly became a confused silence, and Cil hated that when he looked down, Sooga was obviously very uncomfortable. Cil let go of him, and turned to look at Von. Good. He knew he was in more shit than a horse stable.

He walked away, grabbing his blade on the way out. A foot soldier, their little referee, cocked his head to the side.

"Is this a forfeit?"

"...yes. Unfortunately, I yield."

He tucked his sword away, and as he walked out of the arena, and grabbed Von by his shoulder. Once they were out of the ring, and into Cil's room, Von FINALLY started to panic, hands up in defense.

"Cil don't be mad I didn't think you were gonna-"

"You made him ruin my hair. You made him humiliate me in public,"

Cil stepped towards him, slowly, and Von stepped back, clearly trying to get away from him. He made it a good distance away, before his back was against a wall. Cil put his hand up, keeping Von trapped. He wasn't going anywhere, they both knew it.

"You made everyone realize WE do things together. You made me come off as some sort of whore. You not only brought shame to me and me and our Master, but you made me LOSE. I deserved that prize. But thanks to you, I lost. LOOK AT ME."

Cil grabbed him by his throat, and listening to his choked up words of protest were music to his ears.

"I'm going to make you regret having a voice. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to use you until I decide I'm not fucking mad at you anymore."

He threw Von onto his bed, crawled on top of him, and just when he was about to peel those clothes off, Von coiled some of his hair in his hand, and pulled. Like a a horse, he turned docile under his hand, suddenly not feeling so angry. Von laughed, pushing their masks aside, just enough to reveal their mouths. Never enough for their faces.

"Aye...so angry and so bitter, buddy. Easy does it. I know how you get when you don't get what you want. Come here. I'll give you a kiss."

Was it Kohga? Absolutely not. But after getting all riled up from a fight, he'd take it. He pressed his lips against his, swearing under his breath. Him and and Von have had a few...choice encounters, so this wasn't new. But Cil still hated it. There was still that shame, that bitter taste of defeat, not getting who he wanted. And Von knew it. It was silent, yet obvious. Yet, Von acted as if that awkwardness didn't exist. Cil sighed. He was still angry, but his cock was taking away some of that stress.

"You're a pest. And I'm still angry."

"You're always angry. Now come on, clothes off."

He waited till Von let go of his hair, before he sat up, removing everything but his mask. Von gave a loud, headache inducing whistle.

"Dunno why you had to strip, you could've just flexed this off, god damn."

Cil was about to insult him for such mindless flattery, when Von held his cock in his fingers. He toyed with the tip with his thumb, watching as Cil melted on top of him. Cil huffed in his face, annoyed still.

"You shouldn't make me feel good. But you know what I need."

"I've known a few cocks, my guy, they more or less need the same thing. But yours is the cutest!"

"Not this again..."

Cil smacked his mask with his hand, groaning. Von laughed, clearly finding it funny.

"I'm sorry but it's such a cute lil cock! It's like a wittle itty bitty carrot! You know how sometimes it doesn't grow right but you love it anyway because its special?"

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to hang your corpse on-"

He was silenced when Von scooted down, and put his cock past his lips. He stiffened up for a minute, before relaxing, digging his fingers through Von's mop of hair.

"Ugh. So messy. Your stupid hair. You should let me fix it properly. If I have to hold it while I use your mouth, it should at least not look sloppy."

"Aw, is that a date?"

Von looked up at him; kissing at his tip. Cil scoffed, pushing himself back into his mouth. Much better use of his lips than the constant smart mouth.

"It isn't. It's a standard that I want...met."

He could tell Von knew. He was already getting close. That's what fighting did to a true yiga. Made them aroused, eager for more. Von peeled away, watching as the little cock ached for more.

"Well I want MY dick to meet that ass, so on your front, princess."

"I grow weary of that nickname."

He complied however, trading Von spots. He laid on his stomach, letting Von apread his ass, and rub his thumb over his asshole.

"But you're SUCH a pillow princess! You lay there, pushing against me and waiting for me to help you cum. And you look pretty too. Nice hair, a damn nice back. You take care of yourself, I REALLY can't believe you don't get fucked more often. Think its the attitude. But I like it."

Cil grabbed onto one of the pillows, tensing once Von dragged his tongue against his asshole.

"Don't....say that while you're doing such things. It's...v...vile."

It was gross. He kissed the same lips that kissed his asshole, and he loved it. Von's tongue moved in little circles, drool cascading down and meeting his aching cock. Von chuckled, pulling away after a second.

"You just mad because it's not Kohga saying it. Ease up big guy, you're gonna get what's comin' to you."

He was about to bark at him, recalling why he was mad to begin with, when he felt goosebumps at his skin. Right. Von was...well equipped, unlike himself. It felt good grinding against him.

"Just...ugh. Be silent and put it in already."

"Such a grumpy wumpykins. Fine."

He leaned down to kiss his jaw, before he adjusted his clothes, and pressed his bare cock against his ass. Cil tried not to, but he found himself pressing against against him, body needing SOMEONE to touch him.

"You remember the rule."

"Right right, finish on the ass, not inside, and tell you so you act like you don't like it- I know I know."

Cil didn't want to admit that he wanted him to just fuck him already. But thankfully, Von let him get away with that one, and pushed his cock inside his ass. He held him still, as his size was STILL a bit much for him. He groaned as his body tried to accommodate, trying not to tear open the pillow in his hands.

"SLOWLY, you fucking moblin."

"This IS slow, you just don't get fucked enough to be used to it."

He was going to back talk further, when Von grabbed some more of his hair, giving it a gentle pull as he started to slowly roll into his ass.

"I...oooh...mmmph."

He hated the sounds he made when he felt stuffed. But it felt so...good. Von chuckled, hand roaming from his hip, up his back.

"That's it. You've got no dick, and ass is pancake flat, but when you finally get tamed...damn you sound so pretty. You like it when you get a good stretch, eh?"

"I DESERVE a cock. The fact that it's yours is unfortunate."

"Sharp tongue for a man with a thick dick in his ass. Lemme taste it."

He laid on him again, pressing his lips against his, and letting his tongue roam over his. Von knew he hated kissing so much, but this time he was grateful, as it helped keep his moans muffled, if only slightly. They sat there for a moment, sweat glistening off their bodies and swears filling the air. Then Von started to move properly. He started to buck his hips into his, balls smacking against his own as their hips bucked together.

"Shit Von...You’re throbbing inside of me. It's shameful."

"Funny way of saying you really like my dick. It's fine, I like this ass of yours. Looks good when you're taking it. Don't think I've fucked someone so big and delicate."

"I'm NOT deli-"

He was cut off when Von yanked his hair, starting to pound into his ass.

"Not delicate? Look at you fumblin' over yourself as I fuck that ass like a toy. My cute, baby dicked princess~"

He couldn’t even scold him. His vision was too hazy, his mouth was too busy biting into the pillow. It felt just. So good, letting this man use him to please his cock.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna bust a FAT fucking nut because of you. Come on, let's see what kinda load those little balls of yours can give me."

Cil was the first to cum, whining loudly once he finally hit that peak. He sat there in his mess of sweat and cum, before Von joined him. He pulled his pretty hair, pulling out just in time to cum on his ass, and on his back. Von still kept moving, albeit much slower, snearing his thick cream in between his cheeks. Von grumbled against his sudden mouth full of feathers.

"They're...not small."

"Size of chickaloo tree nuts. But I love 'em anyway, princess."

Von finally got off of him, laying right next to him. Cil sat there, trying to recover. He silently listened as Von lit up one of his cigarettes, helping himself to a nice smoke, blowing rings into the air. Cil inhaled, before slowly exhaling.

"Why I insist on entertaining you, I have no clue."

"Because I got a fat dick. And I'm funny as hell."

"Funny looking, you mean."

Cil didn't move as he shifted his gaze to meet his. Von grinned, taking another puff, before leaning over and smacking his ass. Least, what was supposed to be his ass.

"Ha! After all this time, my guy still got jokes! I love it! Good to see I took a...load off."

"Stop."

"Even though it was very HARD."

"VON."

Von grinned like the idiot he was. Cil hated to admit it to himself but...well. he did get the gold medal, but silver was just as good. For now.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you please write one where it’s slytherin! Sirius and gryffindor!james. Can you make it that they find out their mates like they have creature inherences ( since their both pure bloods). At Hogwarts btw if it was unclear. Don’t feel pressured to write this if you’re busy.

((A/N: I’ve never written creature inheritance before, so it’s a little choppy))

Personally, Sirius thought this whole thing was a load of shite. Not like it was fake, because it was definitely real, but it was an absolute pain in the arse. It was going through puberty again, and he'd hated it the first time, thanks. And also? This was worse. He felt like a bloody toddler again, unable to control his magic. It's not like it was lashing out at random or summat, but his spells rarely turned out the way he wanted. Too much power or not enough, and he never knew which way it would go.

Regulus kept assuring him that he'd be ecstatic when he finally settled and got his creature inheritance, but Sirius would prefer to just be comfortable now. Besides, the only creature in the Black line was Veela. Sirius had too many people staring at him without adding a magical element to it. Did he mention the whole process was shite? Because it was. In addition to his magic not responding like it should, his entire scalp itched and his eyes responded to any big change in lighting with pain and his gums ached like a fucker. It made eating ridiculously difficult, and it had been that way for three weeks straight. It was supposed to all even out on his birthday, but that didn't make it any less miserable to live through.

He would love to commiserate about it with someone, but there were only a few other people in Hogwarts that had the possibility for a creature inheritance, and he wasn't exactly friends with any of them. He wasn't friends with anyone other than Regulus actually, so commiserating-- if it was going to happen at all-- would have to wait a few years.

When Sirius got his creature inheritance-- gasp! Veela! what a surprise!-- he walked into the Great Hall and wanted to walk right back out again. He didn't really know how to control the allure. Make that, the allure was running rampant and he couldn't make heads or tails of it-- the fire throwing part had been easy; he hadn't even had to practice-- but even that wasn't enough to make him want to leave. He took one glance at the Gryffindor Table, saw one James Potter, and realised there was a connection.

His parents had sent him a book about Veela inheritances when he started showing signs, and there had been a section on mates. Recognizable on sight. And that's what James Potter was. Sirius had two words for that: 'hell' and 'no'. It's not like Potter was bad looking or an unforgivable arse, but he didn't exactly like any Slytherins, and Sirius was one. He knew that mates weren't something that could be avoided, but how the hell did he explain that to Potter? 'Hi, I know the most time we've spent together was in detention from hexing each other for like, the entirety of fourth year, but you're bloody gorgeous and also we're mates? Wanna hook up sometime? Maybe spend the rest of our lives together?' Yeah. That wouldn't go well.

Sirius wished he could leave-- after all, who needed breakfast every single day?-- but there were appearances to keep up, and everyone would give him shite if he left right now. He was supposed to not act any different now that he had his creature inheritance. He was supposed to pretend he felt the same and didn't think he was better than anyone and all that rot. Nevermind that Sirius had thought he was better than everyone else from the age of five.

He didn't bother to keep in a sigh as he walked to the Slytherin Table.

"What?" Regulus asked, because of course Regulus was with him-- just to be clear: not complaining.

"Everyone's staring."

"Of course they are. You're the first wizard to get a creature inheritance at Hogwarts in the last decade."

"Hooray," Sirius said flatly. "I'll just pose for photos then, shall I?"

"There's no need to be a prick."

"How long have you known me?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, which was pretty much the response that Sirius had expected.

*

Sirius might have stared at James. A lot. It wasn't his fault, okay? There was no ignoring your magic screaming at you to go be with someone, but Sirius refused to give in so easily-- just to give him something to do, his classes were kind of boring right now.

So he stared, but he didn't talk to James. Maybe he should make friendly chit-chat between classes so that they had a foundation other than rivalry and the other person being gorgeous. And okay, it's not like they were total strangers, but being friendly with each other wasn't something they were familiar with. Like he said, rivalry. 

He got caught by James one time in the corridor, but he didn't bother to pretend like he hadn't been staring. It was only the two of them, after all. An empty corridor was a rare thing this close to the Great Hall, but not so surprising this time since it was dinnertime. They were probably the only people not eating right now.

"Is there a reason you're looking at me all the time?" James asked.

"Yes," Sirius said and didn't elaborate.

As expected, James looked bewildered. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"No. What were you in the library for?"

"Books," James said. He was trying to make his voice flat, but it was obvious to Sirius that he was hiding something.

He cocked his head curiously-- an unfortunate habit he'd picked up since his creature inheritance, replacing his usual skeptical eyebrow raise. "For what?"

He shifted, holding his bag tighter like he thought Sirius would snatch them from three meters away. "Nothing," he muttered unconvincingly.

"C'mon, who am I going to tell?"

"Stop mocking me."

"I wasn't aware that was something I was doing."

James glared at him.

It was probably the mate part of him that found it attractive, but Sirius had never had the smartest taste when it came to men. "Honestly. It was an innocent question."

"So you weren't staring at me because you... y'know, know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sirius said honestly.

James sighed, relaxing from the somewhat rigid posture he'd been holding. "That's good. Or- I guess bad? If you knew, I could ask- but no, we're not friends."

"What's got you in a spin?"

James chewed on his lip.

Sirius's heart beat a little harder in his chest at seeing that-- his imagination was more than happy to provide him with ideas about James's mouth-- but he was going to ignore that for the moment. There were more pressing matters, like what the hell James was talking about. "Honestly, who would I tell?"

"Your brother."

"Right, but who would he tell?" Regulus didn't have any friends either. Their parents had made a point to tell them that they could only trust family, and now look at them. "And who would care?"

"Most people care about creature inheritances. You should've heard the way everyone fawned over you when you presented."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, I have eyes, love; I'm well aware of how much attention people were paying me." Then, because it was more important, he said, "So that's what this is? You're coming into a creature inheritance too?"

"No," he said instantly, then he shifted. "Maybe. I dunno, that's what the books are for. I thought you could, like, tell from looking at me or summat."

"I don't have a creature sensor."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" James asked defensively. "Nobody knows anything about creature inheritances unless they have it, and then they keep it in the family because it's personal. It's not like I could just ask you."

"Couldn't you ask your parents? Like you said, it's a family matter."

"There's no history of it in the Potter line. Whoever was a creature that married in? They never recorded it. I went over the bloody family tree with a fine tooth comb, and I came up blank."

"I don't know how much help I'd be. Different families, different creatures," Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

"I don't need specifics, but- Merlin, did it buggering itch like this for you? I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin."

"Can't say that happened to me, no. Mostly it felt like my teeth were about to fall out."

"Right," James said, nodding, "Veela have fangs."

Sirius cocked his head again. "Most people don't know that." 

James blushed. It wasn't very noticeable, but Sirius had eyes on him-- he had a theory that he had enhanced eyesight specifically when it came to his mate, but there was nothing to verify that; it just felt like he was capable of noticing more about him since becoming a creature. "I've done some research."

Sirius hummed, smiling.

*

"Nice wings," Sirius said, trying to keep from looking overly delighted.

One of James's wings snagged against a suit of armor because he'd been walking too close to the wall. "They're a pain in the arse," he muttered, flushing bright red as he tried-- and failed-- to get himself out.

Sirius walked over and stepped behind him. It was a lot easier to do it from this angle. Push, nudge, and he was free. "I kind of thought your wings would be red."

James turned to face him, and Sirius had to step back or risk getting hit in the head with a wing. "Why? Because I'm in Gryffindor?"

"That, and because you look so good in it. I'm not sure black is your colour."

"I look great in black, and you know it," James said.

He did, but Sirius wasn't about to say that. "Do these things not go away?" Sirius asked, looking at the wings curiously. This was the first time he'd seen him since his birthday, and it was no exaggeration to say that James had never looked better. Ill-coloured wings aside. It's not like the black feathers made him look bad or summat, but red would look better.

"If they do, I haven't figured out how." Then James squinted at him. "Did you change your hair?"

"No? It's the same it always is." Which is to say, fabulous. But he hadn't changed it at all. When he'd become a Veela- oh, maybe that's what it was. It had looked different to him in the mirror after that, but Regulus had said he didn't notice anything. "It did change on my birthday though. Maybe you can finally see it."

James reached out, strands of Sirius's hair sliding through his fingers. "It's beautiful," he breathed.

"I get that a lot," Sirius managed to say while sounding normal, but all he wanted to do was step closer and lean into it.

*

Unsurprisingly, James was the one to kiss him first. Sirius kept wanting to, but he also kept chickening out. So it wasn't really a surprise that James made the first move. What was a surprise, was about a month into their relationship-- still a month away from the end of the school year-- and James stopped a rather delightful snog to say, "Does this seem kind of sudden to you?"

"Er, no, we had to sit through like ten hours of class in order to get here."

James chuckled, pressing leisurely kisses to his cheek and down his neck. "No, I mean..."

"You mean?" Sirius prodded when he didn't continue, running his hands down James's back and into his wings. His fingers worked on straightening his feather automatically.

"I dunno. Like, I always fancied you, but after my creature inheritance, it's like I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"I know what you mean. Probably the whole 'mate' thing."

Abruptly, James stopped what he was doing and tilted his head up to look at him. "What mate thing?"

"That creatures have." When James still looked confused, he added, "Because we're mates?"

"Like... soulmates?"

"I guess? There wasn't a whole lot of information about it in the books my parents sent me. I don't think they thought I'd meet my mate at Hogwarts." Sirius snickered. "Their heads would explode if they knew it was you."

"Wait," James said, sitting up, "you knew about this?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Since your birthday?"

"Yeah."

James looked upset, which Sirius didn't understand in the slightest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sirius sat up when it was clear that James wasn't willing to let this slide. "Because we weren't exactly friends? You say that you fancied me back then, but it sure as hell didn't look like it. What was I supposed to do? I wasn't going to walk up to you and say we were destined for each other. You would've hexed me."

"I would not have."

"Sure," Sirius said flatly.

"Alright, so I might have overreacted if you told me, but it's not like you wouldn't have too in my place."

"Is there a reason this is bothering you?" Sirius asked. "It all worked out. I didn't trick you into anything by not telling you."

James opened his mouth to answer, then paused and frowned. "That's true," he said, sounding a touch bewildered. "I mean, this goes both ways, doesn't it? You didn't tell me, and I didn't tell you when I first noticed something was going on so..."

"So we can keep kissing?" Sirius said hopefully.

"You're so bloody weird."

"That sounds like a yes."

James snickered. "It's a yes."

*

"Woah," James said, eyes wide.

Sirius may or may not have snarled unkindly at being woken up before he was ready. "Sorry," he muttered. It was a gut reaction to flash his fangs when he wasn't happy, and when he was tired, it just sort of happened. He yawned, fangs retracting.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Mm."

"Really though, you have to get up. You'll get caught if you leave any later."

"Don't care," Sirius said, snuggling his face into the pillow.

"You told me to make sure you get up."

"Past-me was an idiot."

"I trust past-you more than tired-you."

Sirius opened one eye to glare at him. When that did nothing, he turned to pouting. "Are you really going to throw me out?"

"Using your allure is A. cheating and B. not going to work."

"I should date someone who's nicer to me," Sirius grumbled, slowly pushing himself up with another yawn.

James snorted. "You have fun with that." He nuzzled at Sirius's cheek before giving him a quick kiss.

[ddarker-dreams]

Online Love. Yan Shigaraki x Reader [Part 3]

Part 1

Part 2

From: [First] 9:45 PM

today was so much fuuuun (＾▽＾)

From: [First] 9:45 PM

thank you for spending time with me tomo-kun... let’s get together soon again, okay??（´・｀ ）♡

“Soon, huh?”

Shigaraki’s words are intended for no one. He strains his eyes on his phone, looking over each word you sent. He knows he should respond, but all words escape him as his mind remains blank. Grimacing at these unknown feelings, he finally thinks of a half decent response.

To: [First] 9:50 PM

We can

For some, he knows the short response wouldn’t be satisfactory. But for you, Shigaraki never needs to present himself other than how he is. You never critique his struggle with social etiquette, or set expectations for him. Maybe that’s the reason why he’s so drawn to you, unable to escape your thrall.

Minutes pass since he sent the message, his phone in hand awaiting your response. On nights like this, where there’s no League business to attend to, he can offer you his full attention. Normally the two of you would duo and play an MMOPRG until the early hours of the morning.

Earlier at the mall you mentioned that you had made plans with friends in the morning, and wouldn’t be able to play tonight. Shigaraki had nodded his head at the time, but now that he’s all alone without your company, it hits him.

He misses you. 

The thought alone is fleeting, but makes his stomach churn nonetheless. It was so unlike him, to have such doting feelings for someone. The sickeningly sweet sensation left a bitter taste in his mouth. To think that a murderer like him would have his knees turned to jelly by you so much as smiling.

Shigaraki hears a buzz, realizing that’s your response. Wasting no time, bloodshot eyes look over your response.

From: [First] 9:52 PM

i can’t wait!!!! i felt sad leaving, but yknow, life and all right? ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Shigaraki fights off waves of exhaustion, not wanting to miss out on interaction with you.

From: [First] 9:53 PM

u should come over my place next! i dunno if u will like my set up, it’s not the sleekest but it works just fine... 

From: [First] 9:54 PM 

wait that sounds kinda weird doesnt it??? im sorry if i sound pushy or anything, i just think itd be fun to game together, even if we just do gacha games! none of my friends are into this stuff so i’ve always wondered what it’d be like to just chill at home instead of going out (´Ａ｀。)

This is how you always are, getting flustered over the littlest things. Shigaraki doesn’t understand why you find so many things embarrassing, but there’s a cute quality to it. 

Being alone with you in private would be a dream come true, but could he really contain himself? 

In public there was a constant public presence that forced him to not act out. It would be excruciatingly difficult to not hold you and never let go if given the chance. Shigaraki is aware of himself enough to know that he acts out on impulse often. 

To: [First] 9:55 PM

That sounds better than going out, whatever you want 

Even if watching you squirm in an attempt to validate your previous words is tempting, he wants to affirm your plans as fast as he can. The mere thought of being alone with you is enough to cause his heart to beat at an unhealthy rate, a grin stretching across his face.

He would have every aspect of you then. All of your attention would be on him, all of your cute idiosyncrasies on display for him and him alone. Shigaraki wouldn’t have to concern himself with a Hero randomly appearing and exposing him, or deal with the looks he got in public for his shrouded appearance.

It’d only be you.

His hand grips his phone tighter in excitement, vision growing blurry.

You, you, you, you, you, you--

From: [First] 9:57 PM

aa what a relief *:ﾟ*⋆ฺ(*´◡`) i’ll have to think of a good date!

From: [First] 9:58 PM

tomo-kun... thank u for everything. i like talking to u

Shigaraki inhales through his nose sharply, unsure if he read the words displayed on his phone right. He reads it once, then twice. Three times. Then four.

From: [First] 10:00 PM

i’m a lil sappy aren’t i? hopefully u dont mind. i was just thinking that i can really be myself around u. u always listen to me and never complain about my rambling, it just makes me happyyy ー( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

From: [First] 10:03 PM

i’ve been called annoying a few times. it’s probably true but u never make me feel like im bothering u. idk why im saying all this lmaooo

How anyone could degrade you in that manner is beside him. He would kill anyone if they spoke about you like that, but Shigaraki realizes that wouldn’t be a comforting sentiment to send right now. Ah, shit. How do you comfort people again? It’s not exactly his forte... 

To: [First] 10:08 PM

You’re fine, don’t worry 

To: [First] 10:08 PM

It’s nice talking 

Shigaraki’s fingernails begin to scrape against the sensitive skin of his neck, his lip being gnawed at relentlessly. Will you find this off putting? Should he have said something else? Or did he say too much and weird you out. If you ever were to reject him in any form, even he is unsure of what he’d do.

From: [First] 10:10 PM

tomo-kuuuuuuun (´;︵;`)

From: [First] 10:10 PM

thank u, it means a lot. i should probably head off soon... it’s getting late

From: [First] 10:11 PM

goodnight <333 thank u for today! i’ll talk to u tomorrow and we can game if ur up to it!

Ceasing his harmful actions, Shigaraki pulls his hand away to respond. Ignoring the warmth of blood traveling down his neck, he hurriedly types a response to you. 

To: [First] 10:11 PM

Goodnight [First]

From: [First] 10:12 PM

o(≧∇≦o)

He thinks he might be in love after all.

[morgana-ren]

Imagine being at a Halloween party thrown by Dabi and someone in a Leatherface costume keeps following you. It turns out to be Shigaraki. You comment on how his human skin mask is cool and how it looks so real, and oddly looks like Bakugo's face. He laughs, tosses it away and leads you to a field of pumpkins, where he non cons you, while Spooky Scary Skeletons plays in the background.

Okay listen, I know this was probably sent in 200 percent as a joke, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit down for an hour and make it work. It’s been a weird week. I can make weird work. 

Like imagine kinda knowing Dabi before the league goes super big. You don’t know too much about him, but he’s a friend of a friend and so on and he’s got the dangerous bad boy appeal alongside those haunting blue eyes, so all ya friends hover around him. So lets say you get invited to his spooky-dooky Halloween party he’s throwin’ in an old warehouse. It’s sort of his last hurrah cause it’s a lot harder to try and bone civvie girls when you’re a wanted villain with your face on the news attached to a criminal group, so he’s gunna throw it back tonight and take what he can get, you feel?

So you and ya friends get all cute and dolled up in your costumes and head out to this bash that’s taking place on the wrong side of the tracks in some godforsaken warehouse. It’s in the industrial zone, which is comprised of nothing but abandoned buildings, squat houses, and old warehouses. You’re pretty sure he just found one and broke the chain on the door and called it a night. That should be your first clue, but fuck it, what’s life without a little risk?

Anyway, a few hours pass and admittedly, you’re a lil’ drunk. That being said, you could swear this dude in a leatherface costume is stalking you. Maybe not stalking you, per say, but he’s definitely trying hard to be where you are. It’s not like he’s easy to confuse with anyone else; his costume is super unique, and if you’re being honest, a little disturbing. It legit looks like that kid Bakugo from the Sports Festival but forcefully mutated in with the classic Leatherface look. Whoever it is, they’ve definitely got an edgy sense of humor. It should spook you, but it’s Halloween for fucks sake! At least they’re putting some effort in! It’s no coincidence that you see him literally everywhere you go, so maybe he likes you?

Maybe he’s cute under that creepy mask.

It’s worth a shot (get it, shot?), so you let him follow you to the bar and sit down next to an equally empty seat, hoping to give off the vibe of ‘quit being creepy and come talk to me.’ 

A few seconds later and surprise surprise, he sits down right beside you. No sense in pretending this is anything other than what it is, so you turn right to him and offer to buy him a drink. 

He stares at you for a minute, beady pupils surveying you beneath that godawful mask he’s donning before he nods. He doesn’t tell you what he wants, so you just order him whatever mixture of gasoline and fruit you get. He just stares at you while you sip at your own drink, and you can’t help but laugh. His eyes are fuckin’ intense, and while you’re already a little tipsy, it’s pretty clear he’s dead sober. Luckily, alcohol gives you a charming ice breaker. 

“It’s probably a little difficult to drink with that terrifying thing on your face, but I really appreciate your dedication to the look.” 

Behind the holes of the mask, his eyes crinkle near the edges. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling, but he’s definitely reacting to what you’re saying. He must’ve decided that he likes you, because he finally reaches behind his head and loosens whatever makeshift strap that’s tangled in his silver, ‘fake’ blood matted hair. 

As he lets it fall away from his face, you study what’s underneath. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little chapped with dry skin and more than a few blisters on his pale lips, but he’s cute and the costume has you intrigued. For all you know, it could be liquid latex. The guy seems pretty dedicated after all. It makes you wonder what is Halloween paint and what’s his actual skin. You kinda wanna lick him and find out.

Shut up, alcohol. 

“It’s homemade.” He rasps out, voice cracking and strained like he hasn’t spoken in days. After a sip of his own drink, he slips a subtle smile as he sees you eying the grotesque costume piece. “I’m glad you like it.”

It’s gross to say the least. Whatever it’s made out of, it’s certainly not plastic or rubber like most masks. It smells atrocious, especially coupled with the must and cheap booze of the warehouse, and it makes you a little queasy as it flops around in his lap a little too lifelike for your liking. It even has pores, for Christ’s sake. Tearing your gaze away from it isn’t easy, but if you look much longer, you’re not really sure what your stomach is gunna do, so you turn your attentions to the owner instead. 

“Are you making a statement or just not a fan of the would-be hero types?”

He giggles a little even though you’re not entirely sure what you said was funny. “I guess you could say it’s both.” 

You sit in an awkward silence, sipping at your drink for a few minutes before another wave of alcohol induced courage lights a fire under your ass. If he won’t talk, you sure as fuck will.

“So, are you a friend of Dabi’s or-” He scoffs, loud and hard, lip curling in distaste. “No. I’m unfortunate enough to know him. We work together.” 

“Really? I always wondered what he did for a living.” 

It takes him a second to realize that’s you’re prodding, and a minute longer to come up with an answer. “I guess you could say we’re sort of... activists or something.” 

“Is that so? He never really struck me as the generous type.”

“He’s not.” He grins like a fox in a henhouse, mischievous and sly like he knows something you don’t. “And I’m not either.” 

“Then why be an activist?” 

His smirk fades, and he nurses his drink, flicking his eyes away from you. “I dunno.”

“What kind of activist are you? Like social or environmental or-” 

“Uh-” He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “Political.” 

“Oh, that’s cool! What kind of politics are you guys into? You seem like the anarchy sort to me, but I don’t wanna judge-”

“Are you always this nosy?”

His sudden hostility takes you back a little. Sure, you’re drunk and annoying, but that seems a bit excessive. Maybe this isn’t the tree you want to be barking up tonight. 

“Sorry. I was just trying to get to know you.” 

You turn your body away from him slightly, returning your gaze to the rusted metal behind the makeshift bar. You can see him glaring you down out of your periphery but opt to ignore it. Regardless, he stares for a few more moments before downing the rest of the drink you apparently wasted your money on.  “Well, don’t.” 

Whatever, man. It’s a fucking Halloween party. You can find a different jerk-ass to hook up with, one who at least pretends to be nice until the night is over. Dicks are a dime a dozen in a place like this, and the ‘super mysterious, if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bullshit charade he’s playing is grating on your nerves. Part of you wants to tell him off for being so rude, but the other part is telling you to just shut up, project your disinterest, and wait for him to leave.

You huff a small sigh, blowing the air out of your puckered lips as you roll your eyes behind closed lids. Your side of the conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and suddenly everything in the room is more interesting than he is. Yet even with the uncomfortable awkward air around you both, he doesn’t leave. He just continues scanning you over as you do your best to give him the cold shoulder. So he really thinks there’s any sort of comeback from that, huh?

Apparently he does. He’s not very good with social hints either. You’ve almost tuned him out when you feel a bony hand clutching your upper arm. 

“Hey, come with me. This place is boring and I’ve got something I want to show you.” 

You turn, shooting him a disbelieving glare, but he’s already slid off his bar stool and is pulling you along with him. He doesn’t bother to wait for your answer, weaving through the crowds and dragging you behind him even as you try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp. Had you been in your right mind, you might have screamed or shoved him and told him to get lost, but your liquor marinated mind makes it difficult. He’s kinda right, after all. This place has gotten boring. All your friends left you behind an hour ago to go find their own conquests and dancing by yourself gets pretty lame after a minute. It’s not like you had anything better to do. 

Alright, fine. Follow the rude guy. He seems pretty adamant about it anyway. 

You try to justify it by telling yourself maybe he’s just super socially awkward or doesn’t have much experience with girls. He could also be one of those super brash, brutally honest people that just says whatever comes to mind. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a mean way. A trailing history of terrible taste in men leaves his unbridled rudeness with a bad taste in your mouth, but it wasn’t like you were planning on seeing him again after tonight. Ride the dick and then ride off into the sunset. 

You both dodge through the groups of people together as he yanks you towards the very back of the warehouse. The couple of doors he leads you through have a fairly prominent ‘Do Not Enter’ sign cautioning at eye level, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded, pulling you through the heavy doors despite the clear warning. A few hallways and dim, empty corridors later and he’s ushering you into something resembling a claustrophobic courtyard outside that joins the warehouse with a few of the surrounding buildings.

It’s very dark outside, and aside from the slight shine of ugly yellow tinted streetlights peeking through the alleyway, you can’t see much of anything. You can’t imagine what on Earth it is out here that he wants to show you, but you doubt you’ll even be able to see it. Anxiety starts to bloom in your chest as your drunk mind starts to realize that you’ve followed a stranger out into a very dark, very isolated area.

“H-hey, I never got your name.”

He laughs softly, coming up behind you and gripping your shoulders in a way that feels all too tight. Steering you forward, he leans in, feet falling in line with your steps.

“You’re right. My bad, that’s awfully rude of me.”

He pushes you forward in a way that seems a bit intense for having just met before latching his hands lazily around the base of your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t know what Dabi does for a living, or else you never would have been stupid enough to follow me out here.”

Okay, it’s Halloween and all, but his brand of prank is starting to feel a little too real. The macabre costume and total boorishness should have been the insight you needed to come to the conclusion that this guy just isn’t quite right in the head, but between the alcohol and your desire to give him the benefit of the doubt, it just never quite clicked for you.

“It’s Shigaraki, by the way. My name. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

His wet breath on your neck isn’t the only reason you get shivers. You have heard that name before, only never spoken so casually. His fingers tighten around the tensing muscles in your throat as you swallow down a bombardment of emotion. Panic. Fear. Realization.

There’s a million and ten things going through your mind right now, the foremost of which is why. You aren’t a hero, nor are you a particularly fervent hero supporter. You’re not related to any heroes, and frankly, there’s no one further from the social/cultural hub that is hero society. Isn’t that what this guy gets his rocks off to? At least from the news snippets, that’s the impression you gathered.

You want to ask him why you. Maybe its a selfish question but it’s a question none the less, and one people tend to ask when their place on the mortal coil is being threatened. Yet, no matter how you try to spit out the words, your tongue stills in your dry mouth and refuses to cooperate. The pounding in your chest is giving way to a headache and a serious case of sick, and you swear between the loud pulsing of blood in your veins, you can hear him giggling behind you.

You think maybe that’s a strong enough cue to leave. You can ask him why when you’re separated by a thick layer of glass at Tartarus.

You know, it’s easy to sit back in the comfort of your own home and laugh at the clumsy heroine in any given horror movie who fumbles away from the killer like a newborn fawn just discovering its own lanky legs, but you’re quick to understand just why that troupe is so popular. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to turn on your heel and shove him hard on the chest, and even when you manage, it’s so weak and pathetic that it barely knocks him off balance. It only just gives you enough space that you can dart in the opposite direction. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but it’s not on the forefront of your mind as you pound pavement beneath your shitty costume shoes and shout “Stay away from me!” like some cliche damsel in distress.

Your adrenaline fueled getaway is short lived. A few seconds after beginning your feverish sprint away from what you know to be a very dangerous young fellow, the front of your foot catches on something and sends you toppling to the ground only a few feet from where you began your initial rush. Your fall is less than graceful, and the shriek that emits from your throat before your body thuds to the dirt like a sack of potatoes is far less sexy than anything in any horror movie. The bag you’ve been clutching, filled with nothing but the bare essentials and a half empty flask, is flung from your fingers. Your assailant doesn’t slow-walk towards you in a menacing manner while wielding a knife, but practically jogs over, wheezing with nasally laughter as he grabs you by the hair.

“I bet that went a lot better in your head, huh?”

A lot of things went a lot better in your head, to be fair. That scene. This night. Your life in general. But the little pity party you’re throwing yourself does little to garner his sympathies. No amount of hiccuping and crying fat gobs of tears that leak from your lashes and down into the Halloween makeup it took you hours to do elicits any response from him but what he had already planned on.

His laughter finally dies down and the fingers threaded through your hair manhandle you to your knees before roughly casting you down onto something. Something hollow yet sturdy greets your sensitive, liquor addled stomach as he forces you down and bends you over it. It feels slightly waxy, yet organic to the touch, and seems to wobble around slightly the more he kicks and prods you into a position you’ve seen one too many times in those shitty free pornos.

Pumpkin. It’s a fucking pumpkin.

You can smell the leaves and grass and sodden soil as he positions your hips up in the air, shucking off the costume apron he’d been wearing. Dirt embeds under your finger nails as you struggle to drag the rest of your body over the pumpkin to make your escape, but the hand that isn’t currently fumbling with his zipper is still tightly anchored in your hair, holding you in place. He hisses out a few words warning you against struggling too hard, his quirk is uncontrollable after all.

He makes quick work of the cheap costume bottom, inhaling a ragged breath and digging his jagged nails in a little too tightly to your skin when your ass becomes bared to the cool night air. The sight of you must’ve made him impatient, as he settles for simply yanking up your top along your back to expose your tits instead of going through the effort to try and get it off you. If what you’ve heard is true, he could simply dust it and be rid of it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the most centered form of mind right now, and it doesn’t appear like it’s your death he’s after.

No, it seems like he’s after something much more intimate than death.

Your mind is acutely aware of what’s about to happen, but it’s trapped in your paralyzed body, unable to force your heavy limbs to move with the weight of the panic. He’s freed himself from his pants, knuckles bumping against the cleft of your ass with every jerk of the cock that you thank God is hidden from your vision. After a few rigorous pumps, he withdraws for a moment before spitting and dribbling his slick saliva into the palm of his hand, coating his cock and using it as a makeshift lubricant.

When he’s finished making spitting sounds that make your stomach church, he lines his hips against your reluctantly spread legs and you feel the hot, thick tip prodding against the tautly pulled walls of your entrance. It’s enough to renew your childlike kicking and whining, babbling and pleading for him to stop. Regardless, he pays you no mind, opting only to yank his hand from the roots of your hair. It stings and he takes several strands of hair with it, but you don’t have time to focus on the pain as his fingertips dig into the fat of your cheeks, flexing and forcing you to look up at him as he hunches his wiry frame over yours.

It’s hard to see through the haze of tears that blear your vision and thick black makeup caking around your eyes, but you can make out that he’s smiling. If you can call it that, that is. Cracked lips wet and parted, breathing hot, moist breath down onto your forehead. Lips curled upward in a nasty, smarmy grin. A slimy tongue trails along his teeth as he practically drools down onto your shoulder like you’re a thick cut of venison and he’s a rabid wolf ready to sink in his canines.

“You know, I never cared much for Halloween,” His hips cant forward ever so slightly and begins to push the tip inside your unwilling hole. Slowly, slowly at first, but soon with more force. It hurts, morphing from a dull ache into an intense sting the more his girthy length is stuffed snug inside between your thighs. “But Dabi was right- it’s a lot more fun when you dress up.”

To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulses his hips forward, sinking himself all the way inside and watching with a sick sense of glee as your face contorts in pain. He rolls his hips experimentally against your backside a few times, hissing in slight discomfort at the bittersweet tightness that strangles his flesh inside of yours. It stills him only for a brief moment, long enough for you to truly grasp the horrendous sensation of your body molding to accommodate something too large for it to have been ready to take.

However uncomfortable he may be, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. It seems like a cruel joke that the wanted villain who set his sights on you that night would also have a monster cock, but Halloween was always the devil’s little prank show. He’s crammed it inside you with no regard for the damage it might do, pain radiating in the deep of your stomach as his cockhead is scrunched firmly against the wall of your cervix. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt, but not to escape. You’re aware you’re too firmly impaled on him for that to be an option, so you settle for trying to give yourself any sensation at all that will lessen the unholy tear of your already sensitive pussy.

Eventually he decides he’s had enough of memorizing your pretty, anguished face, and his movements begin anew. Hips pistoning in a building rhythm, flesh of his thighs slapping obscenely against your bare ass. The protruding stem of the pumpkin grates into your abdomen, forcing pained, breathy ‘ah’s from you with every powerful hump. The anguishing drag of his cock assaulting your insides begins to blend together one after the next, and you do your best to block out the animalistic grunts and a sickening moans he emits with every thrust.

Eventually he lets your face go in favor of sinking his fingers just below your waist to anchor you in place as he pounds away, and you take the opportunity to drop your head in defeat and clench your eyes shut. He’ll get bored of you or he’ll cum. It’s what comes after that you should really be worried about. By the sounds he’s making, he’s far from losing interest. He seems to be getting a bit carried away, muttering something along the lines of “take it, slut” and needing to celebrate holidays more often.

That’s when you hear it.

Spooky, scary, skeletons send shivers down your spine

At first, you think it’s a joke. Like you’re having some sort of twisted nightmare and reality has finally decided to throw you a bone to lead your consciousness back home. But his manic fucking never stops and neither does the pain.

Shrieking souls with shock your soul, seal your doom tonight

A few blinks to clear the fresh wave of agony and one hand digging into the side of the pumpkin to stable yourself enough against his rutting to search for the source of the noise. There’s a glowing light a few feet from you, flashing and vibrating but just out of reach.

Your phone. It’s your phone. Your bag had landed not far from where he had you pinned, and your phone had been thrown from the bag.

Your new October ringtone plays through the damaged speakers, flashing your best friends face on the screen. She’s looking for you, probably wondering where you went. She’d never find you here. No one would.

We’re so sorry skeletons, you’re so misunderstood

Help is so close, yet so far away. Your sobs begin anew, feeling his cock pulse as he whines something about breeding his pretty little bitch into your ear. He’s cumming inside you, papping his hips against you in a shallow, offbeat rhythm. You can feel it, hear it squelching and leaking down your thighs. He came. Inside you. And judging from what few words you can make out between your agonized cries, he has every intention of doing it again.

You just want to socialize but I don’t think we should

[hankwritten]

Crinoline

Demoman/Soldier, 3k

Request for hyper messed up, Masquerades

“You’ve already managed to get cocktail sauce on your finery. Fantastic.” Spy pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose, nails making little indents the sequined cloth that had replaced his usual mask. He’d also changed into a different name for the evening, but Jane had aggressively forgotten it; he would always be Spy, and that was that.

“No one’s looking at our frilly blouses, crouton,” Jane said. “It is amazing they aren’t blinded entirely with how much glitter we’re wearing, let alone see past all this glitz-crap to notice a little shrimp juice.”

“You’d be surprised how keenly the eyes in this room are watching.”

This, Jane speculated, was not said to him in particular, but rather Spy talking to himself as his gaze swept over the party. He did that sometimes. Just babbled about like Jane was another piece of fancy furniture.

“Just lie low,” Spy reminded him. “Keep your ears open, see if you can learn something that might be to our advantage. You remember what we’re going here, yes?”

“We are getting the war back on!” Jane brightened instantly.

“No,” Spy hissed, covering Jane’s mouth with a gloved palm, glancing around in case anyone had heard them. “Not tonight, at the very least. We are merely looking for an opportunity that, should the King wish it, we could use to spark something out of the stagnant peace Cerulea has been forced into.”

That all sounded like getting the war back on to Jane. “Cssfr,” he corrected around Spy’s hand. Spy rolled his eyes, and withdrew it. “Ceasefire,” Jane repeated. “Not peace.”

“Yes, yes, whatever satisfies your constant and vocal bloodlust,” Spy waved away. “That doesn’t change our job. Rub some elbows. Blend in.”

“These dinky little masks really going to keep anyone from recognizing us?” Jane self-consciously pushed at his half mask as he said it. “Maybe they’re inviting Ceruleans into their shindig, but that doesn’t make us in particular welcome.”

“You wear a helm on the battlefield. Trust me, as long as you don’t start shouting ‘die Scarlet scum’ in that baritone you oh so love to show off, no one’s going to match a voice to a name. We are anonymous, General. Just as everyone else.”

Jane growled. He didn’t belong here among fancy wines and stinky cheeses—he should be back out on that battlefield, but as long as doddering nobles were clicking their heels at ceasefire, he was stuck here playing spy. The men and women around him talked of peace and stability but, he could smell the venom underneath, rancor in every vein as they patted themselves on the back for plugging a dam with a thumb. Too much bad blood had been spilt, and no grand masquerade would un-spill it.

They were all pampered up with elegant gowns and find doublets that could buy a whole company’s supply of swords, wearing masks that shed their national identities in the spirit of camaraderie. Or hid them, in Jane’s case. His mask was an even balance of red, white, and blue, no clue as to the terror of the man underneath, who’d last summer stood across enemy lines from some of the very people in this room.

“I see you’re giving this your upmost concentration,” Spy deadpanned as Jane scanned the ballroom. “Let us split up then. I have no doubt that will make at least one of us more efficient.”

Jane let him go with a shrug.

At least the food was good. He helped himself to more shrimp, and walked through the chatting masks as their voices turned to noise around them. In the center people danced, swaying in time to the music, an overwhelming concerto that filled the vaulted ceilings despite their size. Despite his contempt…maybe it was a little beautiful. It chased and swelled-

And at its crescendo, Jane caught sight of him.

A man, dressed in black and gold, a long sash tied over one shoulder and stretching down to cover his arm, stood still as the crowd undulated around him—an anchor among swaying kelp. Instead of the standard upper mask to cover the eyes, his instead hid the entire left half of his face, not even a gap in the lacquer for an eyehole. What could be seen was impossibly handsome: dark skin, immaculately kept facial hair that revealed the strength of his jaw, a smile that quirked as he tilted back his drink. As though he knew something no one else in the world did.

Jane was so struck, he couldn’t even glance away when he turned and met his eyes. The mystery man’s grin grew even wider.

A heat in his cheeks, Jane beat a hasty retreat into the throngs, berating himself all the while. What was that about? He couldn’t be getting all flustered at random strangers he met eyes with across a crowded ballroom, not when there was a mission on.

He shook himself, and took a drink off the nearest tray. It was time to eavesdrop, then. The Scarlet King hadn’t show up yet, but Redmond was half-dead anyway, and he had plenty favored families underneath him that might have a key to the kingdom. Or a key to the kingdom’s destruction, preferably. He’d almost managed to make another circuit of the ballroom when someone crashed into his side.

“Ach, sorry there lad,” a rich voice greeted him, steadying Jane’s drink so it didn’t go flying over them both. “Seems we both came at each other a bit fast, eh?”

Jane lifted his head, and his mouth went dry. It was the same stranger from before, now inches away from him, a warm hand around Jane’s wrist.

“You.” Jane had meant it to come out as an accusation, but his tongue wouldn’t behave the way he wanted it to. “Are you following me?”

“Me? Nah,” the man said. “This was probably a coincidence. Hand of fate. Couldn’t be that I saw a good looking man and came over because I thought he might be interesting to talk to.”

“Well jokes on you, buster. I have been told many times that I am a terrible conversational partner!”

“Dunno ‘bout that,” he replied with a twinkle in his single visible eye. “We’ve only been talking for half a minute and I’m already having a much better time than I was before.”

Jane found he couldn’t look away from that smile, that he hadn’t yet pushed the friendly hand away. It took a concentrated effort to avert his gaze. “You’ve got some odd tastes then.”

“Maybe. But I would like to talk with you more…If that’s alright?”

For the first time the easy charm slipped slightly from the man’s face, and Jane couldn’t help but feel bad for being so brusque. Mission, he reminded himself, but…dammit.

“It’s alright,” Jane said, a little too eagerly. “I mean, I would like that. To talk to you more. Even if you mince your words obtuse and confusing ways!”

The stranger chuckled, patient and mild. “Glad my obtusedness isn’t off-putting.”

“Your obtusedness also isn’t a word.”

“Isn’t it? Maybe I’m just mincering it.” He grinned as Jane snorted, and offered, “you want to take a step outside? You look a little warm.”

He was, hot around the collar where this man had made him feel in minutes with just a few flirtatious words. The veranda was sweet relief then, looking over the sprawling gardens, staircases on either side that could take you down into mazelike hedges below. Several couples milled about in the cool night air, but far fewer than inside, and Jane already felt better.

“Place is like a sardine can,” Jane noted as he leaned backwards against the railing.

“Aye, seems like the whole country’s in there.”

It struck Jane that he didn’t know which country he meant, that he might’ve quite possibly been lured out here by a Scarlet. He didn’t want to believe that though; it was better to think this wasn’t his hated enemy, that as long as he didn’t know he could pretend they were both blue at heart. Or, hell, even the neighboring countries of Amberny and Chartruel had sent delegates to mooch off the finger food, why couldn’t it be one of them?

So actively was he blocking out alternatives, he realized it was his turn to speak, and the stranger had been waiting on him for a minute now. “So,” he began, haltingly, “what’s your name?”

“Oh you can’t just ask that at a masquerade, laddie,” the black-masked man teased, leaning next to Jane. “Where’s your sense of mystery?”

Jane grit his teeth, reminded unflattering of Spy. “Fine then. What do I call you?”

“Hm. How about Finn?”

“If that’s what you like, fish boy.”

Finn snorted, and tilted his head back. Jane mirrored him, glancing at the stars that spilled out above the castle’s spires, white lights sparkling next to the golden squares of arrow slits. Their arms brushed, the faintest touch as Finn leaned toward him, and Jane was sure he was going to ask for his name.

Instead he said, “care for a walk?”

Jane glanced at the hedges behind him. ��In there?”

“I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

“How dare you! My sense of direction is impeccable! I have entered the wilderness between Cerulea and Scarlend twenty-eight times on purpose, just to find my way back out again!”

Jane wound up getting them lost for thirty minutes. It was nice though, the good sort of lost where you’re not really trying to find your way back home, just learning more out about where you are. Finn talked all the while. It was nice to hear him talk, and Jane couldn’t believe how easily he could slide from one topic to another, how suddenly he’d be telling a story about wizards and dragons then jump to economics and Jane would still be hanging on his every word. At some point during their journey, they had started holding hands. Jane wasn’t sure who initiated.

They swung their hands between them, and as Jane gazed sidelong at his newly acquired companion, he thought he’d never known a more perfect human. He didn’t even care if he turned out he was Scarlet, he just wanted to keep listening to this man and never stops.

The music grew louder as they ascended the steps back to the veranda. Finn gazed inside, the sounds of shoes tapping on polished floor almost drowning out the joyous laughter of intoxicated guests.

“…Would you do the honor of dancing with me?” he asked.

Immediately, Jane was yanked rudely to the present. He remembered he didn’t belong here, that nights of passion and softly whispered words wouldn’t take blood and corrosion from his bones.

“I don’t know how,” Jane said, a truth if it had to be.

“Can I show you?”

He didn’t belong here, but Finn looked at him so hopefully, with such adoration in his eyes…

“Alright,” Jane found himself saying.

Finn lead him back the ballroom, the masked side facing Jane so there was only the etched gold to know him by. It felt as though every veiled eye was upon them, watching Jane, knowing he would falter before even taking the first step.

Finn stopped, arms raised, a smile across his cheek as he waited for Jane to join him. He did, falteringly, and the music began.

The steps flowed like water. Finn the stream and Jane the leaf being carried along, left after right after left again. The waltz was as simple as they came, but every few seconds terror set into Jane’s legs, and they threatened to seize up on him. Every time he was sure he would fall. He never did. He was pushed, and pulled, and the rawness in his throat was hard to tell apart from exhalation.

“Why did you come talk to me?” he couldn’t help but ask in between gulps of air. He could hardly breath from the tension, but still he asked. “We barely looked at each other, why me?”

“You were…different,” Finn said as they spun dangerously close to another couple on the floor. “Everyone around here is so stuck up their own arses, and there was just something about you that…”

“Different’s not always a good thing.”

“Mmm. Sometimes you take a chance on different. Might find the most interesting person you’ve ever met.”

Jane had been ‘interesting’ before. It was always said with an air of disdain, the assumption that they meant something else entirely when they said ‘interesting’ behind their gloved hands. But not when Finn said it. From Finn it was an embrace, tight like the hand in the small of his back.

He pressed his face where Finn’s neck met his collarbone.

The dance was the longest moment of Jane’s life, yet over far too quickly. A grand bell chimed the hour.

“Ach, I’ve got to go for a bit,” Finn said, parting gently from Jane’s grasp. “Can I meet you by the fountain?”

“The fountain?”

“Where I first bumped into you.”

Jane’s eyes landed on it, giant golden serpent with water flying from its nostrils into the pool below. By the time he’d looked back, his companion had already wedged himself partway into the crowd.

It felt like he was dreamwalking. Every moment with the lights so bright and the smell of food and perfume clogging his nostrils made him think he’d been put under a spell, and that’s why he was having a hard time making it to the fountain. Maybe he should find Spy. Explain to him that there was magic at work here. Or, if that wasn’t the case, then that he’d fallen head over heels for a warlock in a black and gold mask.

“Where have you been?”

Oh, he’d found Spy after all. Or Spy had found him? How long had he been standing under the fountain, staring dreamily out at the bustling partygoers.

“Met someone,” Jane said.

“Met someone?” Spy groaned. “We are not here meet people unless we are seducing them out of information. Which, judging by that look on your face, you did not.”

“The only look on my face is the final thing my enemies see before I send them to their graves! I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s nothing new,” Spy frowned. He glanced over his shoulder. “And we’re out of time. The night is almost over.”

Jane followed Spy’s gaze to the plinth standing over the ballroom, where it appeared the King was putting in an appearance after all. How he was still alive Jane would never guess, though if he had to hazard one he’d say dark magic of some sort.

But, as Redmond’s creaky voice addressed his subjects—half stiflingly welcoming his guests and half grumbling that they would have been victorious if the war had gone on—Jane found himself drawn to a very different sight on the plinth. Surrounding their ailing King, all waiting for him to crumble to dust so they could personally lay siege to his heirless throne, the noble families of Scarlend gathered. The oldest of money, whose purses kept the red armies armed and dangerous.

The dream shattered like a bucket of water dumped over his head.

“Spy,” Jane tugged his sleeve, never taking his eyes off the plinth. “Who are they?”

Spy idly cocked his head in the direction Jane was gesturing. “The DeGroots, I believe. They have the strongest claim to Redmond’s throne, but whether they’ll have the actual gumption to beat out the Bidwells remains to be seen.”

The King’s favored aristocrats. And there, standing uncomfortably among the clan all wearing similarly designed masks, was Finn.

Or Tavish as Jane gleaned while Spy continued to prattle on, running over exactly he thought each family’s chances were for snagging the crown. He barely noticed as Jane grew colder, lead in his gut weighing him to the floor.

Tavish looked immensely uncomfortable, as though he’d rather be anywhere else besides behind the King as he made his speech. He kept trying to shuffle himself behind his relations despite his height, but a stern looking woman whose mask covered her whole face kept pulling him forward again. When Redmond was finally ushered back to his pallet chair, ending rather suddenly mid-tirade and collapsing into it, Tavish was the first to make his escape.

Jane didn’t hear Spy’s snide comments to do better. He didn’t move as people began to push past him to get to the fountain, or notice that he was alone again. All he could do was stand there as his heart crumpled.

He couldn’t be here under the fountain, he realized suddenly. This was where he and F- he and Tavish had planned to meet up. If they were seen together any more than they already had been…

Even as he thought it, he caught sight of gold flitting through the crowd. He pushed, shoving against the people who’d been bumping him a moment before, desperately trying to make enough space to pass. His feet took him outside, to the gardens, and he breathed in relief as a breeze pulled at the scarf around his neck. Good. The night was almost over. A little longer and he would disappear from the party, never to be seen again.

“There you are!”

Jane froze as the sound of fine shoes walked through the garden’s tended gravel.

“Been looking all over for you,” Tavish said, and then froze when Jane whipped around. The stared at each other for several seconds, neither saying a word, Jane’s mouth a firm line. “…You saw me up there, didn’t you?”

“You’re a DeGroot,” Jane replied. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Ach…bloody hell…” Tavish rubbed the back of his neck. “Look I just…I wanted nobody to know me for once. You don’t know what it’s like being with people like them all the time and I…” He looked up. “And I really liked pretending for a night.”

“Don’t look at me like this doesn’t change everything.”

“Why does it have to?” Tavish took a step toward him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I-”

“Because you’re Scarlet, maggot,” Jane hissed, ignoring how Tavish’s declaration still made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t let this man have control of his heart, he couldn’t.

That finally made him get it. “…And I take it you aren’t?” The silence was the only answer he needed. But when it kept going the visible half of Tavish’s face scowled, and he said, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Please tell me this doesn’t have to matter.”

He reached forward to take Jane’s hands.

“You still don’t get it!” Jane said, yanking away. “It does matter, and you know why?”

Jane reached up and ripped off his mask.

Several fearful seconds ticked by, Tavish’s mind visibly ticking away at the new information before his eye widened in shock. He took a step back. “You’re one of the Generals.”

And goddammit it hurt to watch the betrayal climb across Tavish’s face. It hurt, and now Jane knew what he had put Tavish through just a moment ago.

“…We’re both dead if we keep this up,” Jane said. “My side or your side, won’t matter which one catches us.”

“I…” Tavish wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t blame him. If they’d met a month ago, they would have killed each other no questions asked.

“I’m sorry.” The genuine regret leaked out of Jane and into their secluded corner of garden. “For what its worth…you’re the most amazing person I’ve met too.”

A line of silver ran from the corner of Tavish’s eye, catching in the full moon.

Jane couldn’t help it. He reached forward and wiped it away, wishing he could do something to fix this, almost wishing he’d never said anything at all. What did it matter? What did it really matter when he risked his life every day he put on his armor and charged off into battle? It was for a far less worthwhile end than the person in front of him.

The thumb that had brushed aside the tears moved sideways. Tavish tensed, but didn’t stop him when Jane’s nail slipped underneath the mask and drew it away.

There was no eye beneath. Jane had begun to suspect that was the case, but even if he hadn’t there was nothing that could shock him about Tavish’s appearance, nothing that could turn him aside. The hand not holding the mask rose up to warmed skin, wanting to be closer, to feel more of him.

He brought their mouths together. His eyelashes flicked wet where they touched against Tavish’s cheek, and when Tavish pressed down to meet him, he let the kiss turn hungry. Their tongues flit against each other, searching, wanting desperately to know one another.

“…I still don’t care,” Tavish whispered desperately in-between kisses. “I don’t even want what they have planned for me I just…”

“I know.”

And that was the part where Jane should’ve said ‘I know, but’, where he should have reminded Tavish of their respective loyalties. Their duties. But if he was going to abandon every one of his principals, he might as well do it in style.

So when Tavish pressed their foreheads together and said, “take me with you,” Jane stalwartly replied, “okay.”

They found Spy an hour later, one of them ruddy-faced and the other very ruffled.

“Oh good,” Spy sighed. “I suppose this is the someone…who you……..met……..” His voice trailed off as he fully took in the figure at Jane’s side.

“Spy!” Jane declared. “I have found a way to start the war back on!”

“‘Lo,” Tavish waved, still a bit dazed.

“…..”

“Tavish here has agreed to elope with me!” He said, squeezing Tavish around the shoulders. “We are going to run away to Cerulea together, and he’s going to stick it his parents!”

“More like my Mum, but aye.” Tavish looked sideways at Jane with adoration.

“…Yes I suppose that would quite piss them off,” Spy said faintly.

“Great! So we can grab another horse then?”

That snapped Spy back into focus. “Three day’s ride, two if we push the horses…that should keep us ahead of their retinue…”

He began to mumble calculations to himself, and Jane was glad to have him around for once. Schemes were exactly the sort of thing Spy excelled at.

His head jerked up. “It’s a serviceable plan. Dangerous, and not what we were sent here to do, but running off with the crown prince will surely achieve our goal. Hurry! Every minute in the saddle is one less without arrows aimed at our backs.”

“He always like that?” Tavish asked as they were swept out in the flood of guests.

“You get used to it.”

“Suppose I will. I’ll get used to a lot of things.”

The two of them giggled, and Spy rolled his eyes as they hurried into the night.

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »20

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 11.9k ▎ ch.warnings: profanity, mentions of hospitals, side character yandere themes, graphic desc. of violence, mentions of blood, some angst :( , but also tooth rotting fluff, jealousy, smut, dom!tae, sub!koo, rimjob, fingering, oral/mouthfucking, wall fucking (LUBE IS IMPORTANT THIS IS JUST FICTION LMAO)

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​​​​ ♡♡♡

Jungkook had insisted on getting them a cab for the way home, and he was sure it took almost ten minutes of constant back and forth bantering between the two before he let Taehyung have his way of walking instead. He desperately needed the exercise, it seemed, so the younger eventually caved in, keeping a decently slow pace as he held his boyfriend's hand all the way home. More often than not, he'd glance over and catch Tae doing the same, only to be greeted by the boxy smile he knew too well. Fuck, the way Jungkook loves the guy...

"And we're home." Jungkook chimed as he closed the apartment door behind them before kicking off his shoes. He still held onto Tae's hand, letting the elder take the environment back in. It was the same as it had always been. But a bit messier... he honestly hadn't spent much time at his own apartment for the past weeks, as he would more often than not end up at Jisoo's.

Taehyung was instantly met with the comforting smell of Jungkook’s mild laundry detergent, his school bag carelessly littered on the ground, the bright sunlight peeking in through the windows... And, the vase of mismatched flowers..? He didn’t expect Jungkook to keep them— after everything that happened, that is. They’ve lost a significant amount of their bright color, yet they still managed to look beautiful. Just like his boyfriend, who had visibly lost a good amount of sleep. Now with the sun’s natural light, the faint eye bags were clear on the younger.... Had he thanked Kook for staying at the hospital until nearly three in the morning? “And we’re home.” Taehyung softly repeated, fingers having yet to part from the younger’s whilst he led them towards the couch. He urged Jungkook to sit down, only for him to take a seat on the latter’s lap. His arms circled around Kook’s neck, gaze twinkling with overpowering fondness as he stared down at him. “Hey, dumbass..” Taehyung smiled. “I love you. Thanks for waiting at the hospital until.. really late at night..” The elder shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno if I thanked you for that yet.” With the most gentle of touches, the pads of Tae’s warm thumbs brushed the delicate skin underneath Jungkook's eyes, wishing it could erase the obvious signs of fatigue.

Jungkook's hands settled to grasp Tae's slim waist, looking up at him with his dark, doe eyes. He hadn't stopped to really feel the exhaustion in his body until now. Because he hadn't felt like he could relax until he had his boyfriend in his own care-- the only care he trusted truly wanted nothing but the best. "I love you too." He felt his eyes sting a bit from the lack of sleep, leaning his cheek into the palm of Taehyung's hand before kissing it, eyes still admiring the view above. "I'm just happy you're okay...also, you're staying home tomorrow too. Doctors orders." Kook smiled. "but at least you have my PlayStation, and you can text me--" he paused to recollect his memories. "actually, I might need a new phone." He was pretty sure it broke, laying somewhere in the kitchen with a cracked screen.

A defeated, deep groan slipped past Taehyung, who childishly threw his head back in distaste. The elder didn’t know who the hell he was, but he suddenly missed school.. Maybe he simply missed his routine of waiting for Jungkook in the common room, or the taste of crappy breakfast with their friends. Either way, it was trippy. “Kook, I was trying to soften you up so you’d forget..” He pouted, resuming to look down into his boyfriend’s tired eyes. “Why would you need a new phone?” Like the whipped man he was, Taehyung began pressing a trail of innocent kisses all over Jungkook’s face, clueless of the reason.

Jungkook ignored the question, deliberately avoiding it by indulging in the kisses by pressing Tae down on his lap, "Just clumsy." he whispered as he chased the elders lips with his own until he managed to catch them in a sweet kiss, pressing their mouths together with a quiet, content hum. "Are you hungry? I have some delicious, unhealthy instant noodles with your name on it."

Jungkook didn’t need to ask Tae twice, the elder was already on his antsy feet. He’d been craving something other than a side of soggy noodles and rice. Hospital food wasn’t exactly the best, but he remained thankful. If it was up to him, Tae would’ve easily settled for a hefty granola bar. Extending out a hand, he helped pull Kook’s athletic body from off the couch, deeply refusing to admit that his boyfriend was getting a bit harder to carry around. The elder wondered how he’d built so much muscle.. He had to catch up, before Kook got too strong for his own good.

~

“You’re staring at me..” Taehyung mumbled through a mouthful, looking up from his bowl to stare back at the younger, questioning what he found so eye-catching.

Jungkook stirred his noodles mindlessly as his eyes had been fixed on his boyfriend. The other night, Taehyung's father had said things that kept replaying in his mind on a constant loop, unable to let it go... "The night your dad came to the hospital..." he paused to make sure Tae was keeping up, taking a breath himself as he brought the noodles to his lips, blowing on the steamy food to cool it down. "He said that you'd move away for college..." the thought alone had kook slowly losing his appetite, putting the bowl back down without taking that bite. "what's up with that?" He tried really hard to not sound upset, because he wasn't even sure it was true. There's no way it could be, because if it was.. his boyfriend would tell him, right?

Ah, that..

Taehyung mirrored Jungkook’s on edge pose of sitting, swallowing down his previous bite of food before tucking the bowl aside. Figuratively, not literally. If it was up to him, Tae wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. His boyfriend didn’t seem likely to let it go, however. “My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps, or whatever.” Taehyung sighed. “wants me to study business and work for his company.” The elder didn’t like the silence, where had their sweet moment gone? “There’s this prestigious college in America that he’s got his eyes on. And he’s set on getting me a spot..” Now that he thought about it, the time difference was bound to be a bitch. “I mean, it’s a possibility but nothing has been decided yet.” As much as he was reassuring Kook, he was reassuring himself.

Jungkook didn't know how to feel about this, the uncertainty in Taehyung's voice telling him that he didn't seem too into the idea either... But it was still a possibility. ''Do you want to go?'' Kook asked, the food forgotten as he scooted closer to Tae, their thighs pressing together. ''I..'' He wanted to say that he didn't want his boyfriend to go, but it would be selfish in a sense. Maybe Taehyung did want to. Hell, Koo's never asked what the hell the elder even dreamed of becoming.

“I don’t know what I want.” He was truthful with his response. Tae was in his late teens, he didn’t think anyone his age knew exactly what their sole purpose in life was. And if they did, they’d be glad to know Kim Taehyung envied them. Not knowing what to offer to the world oftentimes took a toll on him. Other than basketball, Tae didn’t think he was good at much else.. Once school turned into an old page, what the hell was he going to tackle next? A cashier at a store? A fast food worker? The elder needed needed some stability in his rollercoaster of a life.

“Maybe I was meant to be a businessman or some shit. I’ll never know if I don’t.. try, I guess.” Taehyung turned to look at his boyfriend, spotting the faint look of sadness in the younger’s expression. “Babe.. whatever happens, we’ll make it work, alright?” His hands cupped Jungkook’s face, craning his neck down to hopefully catch a glimpse of those doe eyes. “We still have time left before I get to really think about any of that.”

Jungkook's shoulders relax a bit at the reassurance, nodding as his cheeks are slightly squished. A faint smile pulled on his pouty lips, reaching to wrap his arms around Taehyung and pull him close, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose into the elders neck, breathing him in. ''Whatever you choose, we'll make it work.'' A selfish part of him hoped that he didn't have to watch his boyfriend leave, though. But that was still a future problem, he didn't need to worry now. Jungkook pulled back after a moment of simply enjoying Tae's touch, his doe eyes admiring how Taehyung already looked so much better than he did at the hospital. ''Sorry for bringing it up-- let's just finish dinner. I'm fucking spent..'' He chuckled, one hand moving up to swipe his thumb across Tae's jaw softly. ''I love you.''

“So I’ve heard..” Taehyung chuckled, leisurely leaning forward to engulf Jungkook’s lips in a slow, devoted kiss. His thumbs caressed over his boyfriend’s silk-like cheeks, noses brushing against one another as he deepened the shared, warm touch between their mouths. A second later, and Tae pulled away. “I love you too,” a big part of him wished he would’ve said it sooner, but Taehyung swore he’d make up for it by reminding Kook every chance he got.

After they finish eating their dinner, they indulge themselves in an anime— Jungkook’s pick. The night flew by with countless of questions on Taehyung’s end,

‘Why did he do that?’

‘What’s gonna happen next?’

‘This anime is making me wanna rip all my fucking hair out— that was a stupid move!’

Yeah, he was one of those people. Once the movie was done, it was time to sleep.

“I missed your bed just as much as I missed you.” The elder spread out his arms and legs on the comforter, laying with only his underwear intact.

"I missed having you in my bed." Jungkook coyly snickered as he sat down at the edge of the bed after discarding his pants, pulling his shirt over his head to carelessly throw it to the floor to join the other fabrics. "Haven't slept much since you weren't in it." He confessed quietly. And it was true. He'd never rocked eye bags the way he did until they were broken up, and he wasn't the usual chirpy morning person since then either. Kook crawled onto the bed, hovering on top of Taehyung to give his face several playful kisses, the muscles in his arms flexing as he was practically doing a pushup to kiss his boyfriend, heaving himself up just slightly out of care to not put his body weight on Tae. He still wasn't completely recovered after all, and hurting him on the first night back wouldn't be that smart.

Taehyung patted the empty spot next to him, waiting until Jungkook was situated by his side to pull the icy-cool covers over their warm bodies. The chilly touch only lasted for a couple of seconds, soon overtaken by the same warmth that kept them cozy in each other’s arms.

“I’m fucking tired..” Taehyung sluggishly mumbled into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, prodding the tip of his nose against the skin. These days he enjoyed being the little spoon.. Maybe it was due to the fact he felt weaker than usual, but something about the way Kook’s chest rocked him to sleep, the way his arms protectively closed in around him; making him feel all the more small— it was intoxicating as hell. “G’night, Kook.” With one chaste kiss to his jaw, Tae’s cheek found its place in Jungkook's firm, yet soft pec, the comfortable heat drawing him into the gates of dreamland.

~

The next morning arrived too soon in Jungkook's opinion. As the alarm went off, a sleepy groan vibrated in his throat, reaching over to silence the clock by the nightstand before glancing down at the man sleeping soundly on his chest. He hadn't moved an inch since they fell asleep.

"Morning." Kook whispered softly as he embraced his boyfriend in his arms, pressing his nose into the elders hair to savor the moment before he had to force himself up for his traditional morning shower. Truth is, he hadn't slept this well in weeks, and even if he got the proper sleep he desperately needed; his morning energy was still yet to be found until he would step into the bathroom. "Ugh... I don't want to go to school.." he whined as he held Taehyung closer, tightening the hold as if the boy would disappear if he didn't hold on to him.

But he had to get up.

Carefully, Kook squirmed out of the bed to gently let Taehyung take the space he was previously in, the heated space he left behind keeping Tae warm. Kook got up on his feet, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his cheek before turning to rummage through his drawers for clean clothes, stripping off his boxers on the way.

Despite the loud interruption of the alarm clock he’d grown to hate, Taehyung’s eyes remained closed. He simply slurred over his groggy words, letting Jungkook know that he heard him— somewhat. “Go to school..” The elder immediately took over his boyfriend’s side of the bed, snuggling extra close to the remaining space of warmth as if it was Kook himself. Jungkook might’ve left him for the shower, but his distinct, pleasant scent had yet to leave the untidy sheets that embraced Taehyung’s lean body, streaming down his bare shoulders. T he muffled sound of the shower coming down like rain quickly soothed him back to sleep. Tae wanted to say ‘goodbye, have a nice day at school’ to his boyfriend before he left, but his body appeared to have other plans. Oh well.. he’ll see Jungkook afterwards. After all, they spent every waking second together.

Jungkook got dressed after his shower and headed back to the bedroom, ruffling his hair with the towel as he watched his boyfriend who had fallen back asleep. He didn't want to wake him, he needed the rest after all, so he opted to simply press a gentle kiss on his temple before grabbing his backpack and leaving. He wanted this day over with so he could go back home.

But things never go as planned for Jeon Jungkook...

Half of the day had gone by fairly smoothly, eating his lunch with his hyungs as they continuously asked about Taehyung.

''Is he okay?''

''Yeah,'' Jungkook smiled, ''He was discharged last night, so I took him home.''

''Oh my god!'' Jimin finally looked up from his phone to flash a wide squinted grin, ''So you're both really good this time?''

''Yeah, we are.'' Kook confirmed once more, feeling giddy about it himself. He just wanted to go home and kiss him right this second. His hyungs were happy for him, finally the tense drama seemed to have cooled down, now they just needed their last missing piece of the group to return.

~

Jungkook was heading to his next class, he was a bit late, when he spotted a, unfortunately, familiar face in the empty hallway that had his back facing him. But there's still no way he wouldn't recognize Ash from a mile away.

Why was he at school? Didn't the cops take care of him?

Ash had always been freakishly skillful at detecting every little glance— every single glimpse that was directed towards him. He fed off of the attention; his highly alert senses notified him whenever he had a pair of intrusive eyes on him. It caused the muscles in his back to twitch ever so slightly, the heaviness getting to be uncomfortable. It was no surprise when Ash turned around, surprisingly meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Kookie..?” He whispered underneath his hitched breath, pleased they were alone in the vacant hallway. It was just the two of them, the way it should’ve been. The way it should always be.. Jungkook’s heart belonged to him, he knew it. The younger surely must’ve come back to his senses. Now that Taehyung wasn’t in the way, Jungkook could be his once again. The boy was still alive, what a fuckin’ shame. But it was now that counted, at least he got rid of him for the time being..

This time, Ash would hold onto Jungkook tight. Their love would make Tae wish he was dead.

The man was brave, taking a few steps towards Kook. A wicked smile stretched from ear to ear. He couldn't wait to get him back. “Jungkookie, long time no see. Did you miss me?”

Jungkook stood his ground, the fear he once had for the man lingering in the back of his head-- but it was drowning out with the fury that was pending, like a fuse slowly trailing towards a ticking time bomb. Not to mention, Kook was much stronger this time around. He was not the same boy that Ash had cornered in his own house. "Drop the bullshit. I know what you did." He hissed out his venomous words, the muscles in his torso flexing as he straightened his posture. "Why are you even allowed in school?" He asked, genuinely wondering why the hell he wasn't expelled for what he did.

"Tsk, Kookie." Ash clicked his tongue, seemingly unfazed by the younger. But in all honesty, he did feel the intimidating aura oozing off of the boy. It was frightening, and arousing all at once. Ash's father was a big name for a reason, getting the boy out of trouble whenever needed. This was no exception. A little money always solved everything. "Don't you see, I was only protecting you from getting hurt by Taehyung. He is no good for you. I hated that he kept making you sad." He simply stated as he took another step closer.

"You did nothing to help. You're a psycho." Jungkooks voice was laced with warning, clenching his fists. "He almost fucking died!"

‘But he didn’t, sadly.’ That’s what Ash wished he could’ve said, but even he knew better than to irk Jungkook at a moment like this. He’s never seen the younger look so distraught, everything about him screamed ‘angry’. Ash noticed the way Jungkook’s fists trembled at his sides, even then, he stayed put. It didn’t matter if the younger was irritated, Kook was talking to him. That’s all he wanted, to hear the boy’s honey voice once again.

“Taehyung’s not right for you, Kookie. Why can’t you see that?” Ash remained scarily calm, already used to the cutting hostility oozing from the younger. “Look at you— you’re feeling this way because of him!” He extended out a hand towards his past lover’s clenched fist, wanting to reassure him with the faintest of touches. “Forget about Taehyung, he’s not that special. All of us would’ve still lived on if he’d died.”

Those words were all that was needed to flick a switch inside of Jungkook, and his eyes darkened to nothing but a swirl of blank rage. His temperament had always been bad, but he's never felt this kind, the feeling was a mix between numbness and a series of explosions inside of his chest. His body moved on it's own, the clenched fist hurling forward until he drove his knuckles into Ash's jaw. The punch was so powerful that it immediately brought the man down on his ass, and before both of them knew it, Jungkook followed down on the floor to straddle the man's torso. "You." He snarled as another punch echoed in the hallway, "will never-" another crack of Ash's nose crushing, drawing blood that stained his face and Kooks knuckles, "even THINK about touching my boyfriend!" At this point, punches were growing frequent as Jungkook went into a blacked out frenzy, his dark, stringy curls sticking to the clammy skin of his forehead. He saw red, and he couldn't control how badly he wanted to hurt the person who tried to kill the only thing Jungkook truly loved. There was no mercy in the way he kept going, and going, and going until there was blood dribbling profusely from Ash's mouth and nose. Somebody had to stop him. The back of his mind screamed for him to--- but he couldn't. The anger in him had taken over, and it was as if all his pent up anger from everything he's been through was being released at this very moment.

The abrupt interruption of grunts and heavy punches arising from the otherwise silent hallway caught the attention of a few teachers. A few scurried over to the centre of the commotion, trying their hardest to pull a raging Jungkook off of Ash whilst the rest calmed down the prying students peeking out of the doorways, sneakily recording the aftermath of the fight. If they hadn’t broken up the younger’s punches when they did, Ash would have not been laying on the bloodied ground with an unsettling, weakened smile on his busted lips. Little Jungkookie was all grown up..

The teachers tried calming Jungkook down, but the boy was in too deep of a haze.

“Alright, put the phones down!” After harshly scolding the group of students, their attention was back on Kook. They had each one of the latter’s rigid arms in their tight grasp, preventing him from acting on the impulse of lunging at Ash; whom was receiving medical help from the school nurse. The view was one of a crime scene, there was blood shed everywhere— on Jungkook’s knuckles, clothes, floor, and now on the nurse’s hands as she led Ash to the health room. Meanwhile, Kook was headed towards the principal’s office. Whatever his motive was, it was unacceptable. There had to be consequences.

Jungkook was yet to come down from his rage until he was standing outside of the door to the principal's office. The teachers holding him didn't let him go, but opened the door to drag him inside towards the chair in front of the desk, where a very surprised principal was seated.

''Jeon?'' He said as he leaned forward in his chair, observing the mess that is one of his top students. He'd never ever been in this office for any reason whatsoever, so seeing this man... It wasn't the boy any of the staff recognized. ''What on earth happened?''

The teachers had finally let go of the young boy, standing behind the chair as they explained the recent events. Jungkook had severely harmed another student.

''This is not acceptable, Jeon..'' The principal was obviously upset and disappointed in him, ''Do you have anything to say?''

Jungkook's nostrils flared as he took deep breaths, eyes avoiding any of the adults, instead keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. ''He deserved it.'' he breathed out quietly, voice strained. His shoulders heaved up and down heavily as he finally noticed the blood on his hands, observing the bruised skin on his knuckles. He'd thrown punches so hard it scraped his own skin off.

The principal sighed, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he saw the pain and anger linger in Jungkook. But this wasn't something that could be justified by any means. ''Jeon Jungkook.. You're expelled from the school until further notice.''

Jungkook's eyes finally shot up to stare at the elder man, getting up on his feet so fast that the teachers behind him lunge forward to place a hand on each of his shoulders-- scared that he'd attack... Like he was some kind of animal.

''Wait, sir-- Let me explain!''

''Dismissed. Leave the premises immediately. I'm sorry Jeon.''

And yet, Ash never faced any consequences. Instead, Jungkook lost everything he'd been working his ass off for.

Fuck... What now?

Jungkook shrugged the hands away from his shoulders, hissing a 'Fine' before storming out the door. He didn't even notice the many looks and whispers coming his way as he headed down the hallways, and it wasn't until he was finally out on the street that everything slowly started to sink in.

''Fuck.... Fuck!'" he cursed, feeling his tears well up in his eyes. Wiping his cheek with his hand, he cursed once more as the blood on his hands smeared it-- but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to go home and take a shower, not a single thought on anything but crawling into his bed to process his previous meltdown. He didn't even want to face his hyungs, so he headed home. Slowly he made his way up the stairs to his apartment, fishing for the keys in his pocket. Another series of curses slipped through his lips as he dropped his keys too many times that he wanted to admit, his hands were aching, shaking... Finally, he managed to unlock the door and step inside, hoping that his boyfriend would still be asleep so he could take a quick shower and not look like he had been involved in a fight club.

~

“What the fuck! I fucking killed that guy, this is bullshit..” Taehyung shouted at the ‘Game Over’ displayed on the screen of the TV. They had to put it in bold letters, as if Tae wasn’t already feeling the discouraging ache in his chest— and hands. The thumbs that were previously working on the buttons of the controller were sore, their quick movements and utmost attention wasted. He’d woken up a few hours after Jungkook’s subtle departure, completely disoriented whilst he sat on his boyfriend’s bed, in his boyfriend’s room. However, his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. It’d taken him a few too many seconds to remember, the common symptoms of a heavy sleep having yet to subdue from his mind. The rest of the day was far from eventful, especially without Jungkook by his side. Taehyung would’ve spammed the younger’s phone with borderline annoying text messages, but he’d been too busy playing video games to actually go through with it. In fact, his cellphone remained in the back pocket of his pants. Which remained on the floor of Jungkook’s bedroom.. Wanting to quench his sudden want for his boyfriend’s smell, Taehyung stole a change of the boy’s comfortable clothes. The shirt seemed way too big on him, but the sweatpants fit him okay. “Fuck.. let’s try again.” The elder heard the familiar chiming of keys, unaware of the time. It had to be after three, Kook was finally home. “Baby, hey. I’m playi— Jungkook-ah, what happened?” Taehyung might’ve not seen the younger leave for school, but he was sure Jungkook didn’t leave looking the way he did. The remote fell onto the couch, and Tae quickly shuffled on his feet. “Kook.. what— what the hell happened? Why are you all bloodied up?” Taehyung’s worried eyes inspected over the bruising on his inflamed knuckles, warm hands reaching outwards to cup his boyfriend’s solemn face. “You got in a fight? With who.. Jungkook, what the hell are you doing getting into fights?” His noticeable concern didn’t leave any room for answers, simply spitting out one question after the other.

Jungkook's eyes were glazed with an unnamed emotion, avoiding Tae's worried eyes as he looked to the side, then the other, before they finally landed back on his boyfriend. At least Taehyung was okay. He had Taehyung. Without a word, a shaky sigh pushed through his nostrils as he wrapped his arms around Taehyung's slim waist to pull him in for a hug, shrugging away from the hold on his face to bury his nose into the elders neck. "I'm sorry. I promised you not to..." Koo sighed again, this time feeling the remaining scatters of his anger mix with the sadness of the consequences he had to deal with, and it showed in the way his body was trembling with every word. "I just got so angry, everything blacked out, I... he.. fuck..." He didn't give any specifics, his mind too blurred by everything repeating itself in the back of his mind. The one thing keeping him grounded was the warmth of Taehyung.

If Taehyung wasn’t already taken aback by the unforeseen, soul-stirring embrace, Jungkook’s unsteady confession surely had him wide eyed.

‘He’...

The soft palm of his hand swept over Jungkook’s back, the other held on to the latter’s nape, thumb pressing circular motions over the taut skin.

Who was, ‘he’..

“You’re okay, angel.” Whatever it was that was bothering him, Tae wanted to get rid of it. “I’m here.”

‘I promised you not to...’

‘He’.

At that moment, it clicked. Jungkook was talking about Ash. The realization made Taehyung hug him even tighter, even closer. The younger needed him at this moment, so to blame him for acting on his impulses wouldn’t be the smartest idea.

“Deep breaths, Kook..”

Jungkook did as told, taking deep ragged breaths until they were steady enough for him to feel himself relax even the slightest. When he finally did, he still took another moment to just feel Taehyung's comfort-- as if everything happening around him wasn't his reality in this very moment. Just him and Tae.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured into the elders neck once more, tightening the hold around his waist, "I fucked everything up." And just like that, he felt himself crumble again, quiet sobs causing his shoulders to shake. He didn't regret beating Ash up, but being expelled? His scholarships went down the drain. His hard work wasted. He'd lost everything.

No basketball... No money. That idea of a part time job had to become a full time one at this point.

“Hey, don’t talk down to yourself, alright? There’s nothing you should be sorry for..” Taehyung turned his head to stamp a kiss onto the younger’s temple. “We’re going to figure this out. Together.” Tae didn’t exactly know what happened, but he’d been invited to the principal’s office far too many times in the past. The older man was kind, yet extremely stern when it came down to it. A bloody fight in the halls of his school? Expulsion was deemed the best fit. Fuck.. Taehyung knew how seriously Jungkook took his studies. The news must’ve been equivalent to getting a bag of bricks thrown at his chest. “If you’re worried about money.. I’ll help you.” The elder pulled away to gaze into his glazed eyes. “Just— just tell me you want me to work and I’ll start looking for a job. This place feels like my own.”

Jungkook slowly loosened his grip around his boyfriend until he simply rested his hands on his hips, pulling back just enough to look at him. "Yeah?" A small smile tugged at his lips, when did Taehyung become so... sweet? He's become more and more domestic the more they were together, the boy nothing like the aggressive mess he used to be. Well, an enhanced, better version. But now... Kook started to feel like he's the one becoming a worse version of himself.

"Focus on school first." Kook hissed quietly when he felt the sting in his knuckles as he accidentally brushed them against the fabrics of Tae's shirt. "ouch.... man, I need a shower." But the thought of washing with his hands made him cringe a bit.

Gently, Tae’s fingers advanced downwards to wrap around Jungkook’s wrist, bringing the younger’s hand up to his face for closer inspection. A thin layer of skin had come loose from his knuckles, giving the blood more raw area to resurface. “No, what you need is a deep cleanup. Uh, let me get the..” It was then that Taehyung realized he didn’t know where to start. “The.. shit, how do you do this?” He masked it well, but in that very moment, Taehyung felt like he was deserving of the title for the shittiest boyfriend in the world. Kook needed him, yet he couldn’t care for him in the ways he was supposed to. “I’m sorry.” Tae rubbed a hand over his nape when suddenly someone else came to mind.. He wasn’t necessarily fond of this person, but if it meant that Jungkook wouldn’t be in pain anymore, he’d reach out to the devil himself. “We’re going to Jisoo’s, she’d know what to do.”

Jungkook inspected his knuckles as well, wincing at the sight of the skin. It stung really bad... He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that Tae suggested to visit Jisoo, however understanding by the fact that.. well, Tae was pretty clueless when it came to these things. ''Yeah, that's a good idea.'' Kook agreed mindlessly. Jisoo always knew what to do. And she'd be thrilled to see that Taehyung made it okay-- but... maybe not by the fact that Jungkook looked like he'd killed a person. ''Right now?'' He asked sheepishly, wiping his cheek with the palm of his hand to remove some of the dried blood.

Tae snuck an arm around Jungkook’s waist, partly to guide him outside, and the other to rub off their relationship in Jisoo’s face. Call him petty, he doesn’t give a fuck. “Yeah, right now.” He was glad the woman was simply a few steps to their left, arriving at her door in a matter of seconds.

It didn’t take long for Jisoo to appear after a couple knocks, her expression of relief when seeing Taehyung shifting into one of horror when her tired eyes fell on Jungkook. She didn’t know how to feel. “Uhm.. wha— what happened? Oh my goodness, come in, come in!” The woman shut the door behind them, urging Kook to sit down on the couch. Tae sat down next to him, one of his hands possessively placed on his boyfriend’s thigh. “Tell me what happened, you look like you killed a person..” Jisoo came back with a small box in her hold, pulling up a chair in front of Jungkook before reaching for the latter’s bleeding hand, worry evident in her face.

Jungkook felt vaguely trapped in between the two, one possessively squeezed to his side as the other was sitting straight in front of him. He was used to Jisoo's close proximity, none of it even making him blink twice when she picked up his hand, the touch all too familiar. He supposed he did almost kill a person, a part of him wondered what would've happened if nobody had stopped him. But obviously he wasn't going to mention that. ''Ah.. It's complicated.'' Jungkook tried to avoid the question, he didn't want her to worry about his temper, knowing she knows that it isn't his best quality. He hissed when she brought out the disinfectant, cautiously wiping his wounds clean to avoid any further swelling.

''I don't believe this is nothing,'' Jisoo pressed further, her eyes moving up to meet the youngers. It felt odd that the close proximity between the two didn't feel... well, odd.

''Got into a fight, that's all..'' A one sided fight, but Ash deserved it. Jungkook would do it all over again without any regret.

Jisoo hummed, still not believing him entirely. She had sharper eyes than you'd think, noting how only Jungkook's knuckles were the parts that were actually bruised, while the rest of him was simply just stained with blood. Most likely not his own. She also noted Taehyung's hand slowly moving up and down Jungkook's thigh as to soothe his pain, internally scolding herself for actually feeling a pang of jealousy.

''But..'' Jungkook sighed quietly, he did trust Jisoo with a lot of things. There's no way he could keep a big thing like this from her, however bad it sounds. ''I got expelled.''

The disinfecting of the cuts on his damaged skin took a small pause. Jisoo’s light brown eyes were nearly the size of a ping pong ball, staring up at Kook with utter shock.

Jungkook got expelled..? Her friend Jungkook?

“Oh. Damn, that’s.. that’s horrible.” The other hand that didn’t have the latter’s own bruised one on her lap reached out to smooth over Jungkook’s bicep, trying to soothe him with a simple touch. She didn’t mean anything flirtatious from it.. kind of. But Taehyung knew better. After catching them kissing, every glance from Jisoo felt wrong.. invasive. “If you need help with anything.. money, food— anything, just, reach out to me.”

“Don’t worry. He’s gonna be turning to me for any help.” Taehyung spoke for the first time since he stepped foot into her apartment. His tone of voice wasn’t spiteful, but it wasn’t kind either..

“Oh.. uhm, yeah. Yeah I mean, I get it. Sure.” The tension between the two couldn’t even be cut with a knife. The woman inhaled before continuing to mend for Jungkook’s wounds, trying her hardest to not be affected by the hostility in her own apartment. “Anyways.. Yuna keeps asking for you, Googie.” Jisoo flashed a quick smile, hoping to ease the uncomfortable tension in the room. Babies automatically made everything better.. right?

Jungkook was oblivious to the tension between the two, feeling the smile tug on his lips at the mention of little Yuna. ''Yeah? Where is she?'' He asked, momentarily forgetting about the problems that was his ban from school, and the future. He always felt weak for the little child and her pure joy. ''Maybe she wouldn't want to see me looking all messed up, though..'' He remembered, lifting his hand to look at how the irritation of his wounds had gone down significantly from the cleaning.

Jisoo seemed pleased that Kook was unaware, even more so that the mention of Yuna brought a smile to his face. He needed it.. “She’s taking a much needed nap. You know.. all that crying, pooping, and peeing is tiring.” The woman chuckled at her own joke, stealing a curious glance at Taehyung. He remained poker faced, the topic of babies not working on him. Jisoo softly cleared her throat, spreading the lukewarm gel over Jungkook’s prominent knuckles. “And she always wants to see you, by the way. She loves you, trust me.” It was true, Yuna’s never been more infatuated with a man in her life. She hadn’t experienced much of life yet, but the way her squeaky squeals grew in size at the sight of Kook was endearing.

Jungkook's toothy grin grew further at the thought of Yuna's little joyful squeals, a light chuckle emitting from his lips. That little girl had a piece of Kooks heart, that was for sure. "I'll have to come play with her soon, I bet she will go crazy if she can't mess up my hair soon." He loved children, and just thinking about it made his heart feel lighter.

A moment of silence followed, Jungkook was quietly looking at Jisoo as she did the same, the odd moment of having the two people who must care about him the most was both.. weird yet comforting. However, the younger was in dire need of a shower...

"Alright noona," he said as he placed his hands on his thighs to get ready to head out, "Were gonna go, I need to get out of these clo-.. well I need a shower." He didn't want to overshare like he usually would, especially not with his boyfriend around. Things were different again. "Thank you for taking care of me." The underlying meaning of his words were there, she always took care of him-- time and time again. He reached out to give her a soft squeeze on her hand before getting out of the couch, Taehyung quickly followed behind him like a puppy until they were at the door.

It was official, Taehyung was jealous. He admitted it hurt somewhere deep within to watch Jisoo and Jungkook interact. Not out loud, but internally counts.. The way they stared at one another prompted a powerful clench in his chest— and fists. Their shared inside jokes, ‘Googie’, how they didn’t seem uncomfortable when she unhesitantly rested Kook’s hand on her bare lap, as if it was a natural occurrence for them. I t made Tae wonder if they’ve gone further than a simple kiss. Just because it was something he didn’t wish to accept, it didn’t mean that it couldn’t have been a reality.. He was grateful for Jisoo in certain aspects. But when it came to flirting with his handsome boyfriend? She messed with the wrong guy. Taehyung wasn’t blind. He saw and cherished all of the younger’s attractive qualities. It made him cocky to know others couldn’t express their desire the way he could.. Oh and did he express it. Multiple times.

Once they’d made the short walk back to Jungkook’s apartment, Tae slammed the door behind him, walking closer to Kook until his hands comfortably rested on his hips. “Glad you’re feeling better.” Not a second longer, Taehyung attached his longing lips to his boyfriend’s neck, sucking on the skin like he’d never done before. The hands that rested on each hip snaked down to Jungkook’s ass, groping the plump flesh in between his long fingers. Bless whoever invented sweatpants.

“I caught you ‘n Jisoo kissing.” Tae squeezed harder, sucked rougher. It appeared as if he was talking about the weather, not putting much mind into it. Whatever happened, happened. “You have no fucking idea how jealous that makes me..” The elder growled into his ear. “did you fuck too? Hm?”

Jungkook groaned quietly at the sudden intimacy, immediately granting the elder more access to his neck by craning it to the side. Tae's hot breath fanned his ear, causing his ass muscles to tense up in his grasp. Wait, Taehyung saw them kissing? When? "Ah..." he whined as he placed his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders. "Mm....'m sorry.. it just.. " he paused to focus on another breath, overly responsive to the dominance Taehyung oozed-- it's been so long since Kook was on the receiving end of this. "It j-just kinda happened.."

Jungkook’s blatant response only fed into Taehyung’s jealousy, a hint of anger was thrown into the boiling mix. “It just kinda happened, huh..” Frustrated, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to believe that was the best apology Kook had to offer. His indecisive hands slid upwards to grip onto Jungkook’s waist, keeping the latter on his feet whilst Taehyung’s teeth tugged at an abused patch on his thick, accessible neck. Curious, the elder glanced up at him through the microscopic openings in his dark eyelashes. His tipped jaw flexed with every bite, lick, and inch of attention he was putting into Jungkook, withdrawing his wet lips when pleased with the final product. Taehyung looked into his boyfriend’s doe eyes, noticeably determined as he spoke. “I’m gonna make rough love to you, and you’re gonna take every second of it.” This time, Taehyung wasn’t playing around. He had to show everyone whom Jungkook belonged to, otherwise they’d try to steal him. That just couldn’t happen. “Off to the bed, baby. I wanna shove my dick inside that tight little ass of yours— and soon.”

A breathy 'yes' was all Jungkook could muster to say as he immediately did as he was ordered to do, heading towards the bed. He stood by the edge, the back of his knees pressing against the foot of the bed as he kept his darkened, needy gaze on his boyfriend. He had missed this side of Taehyung, he had to admit. It reminded him of the strong, stubborn asshole he fell in love with. Without a word, he stripped his stained clothes off until he was wearing nothing at all, no patience left for what's to come. And besides, if he could read the elders eyes right, there was no patience left in him either. Just pure, jealous, possessive lust. Kook remained standing however, not daring to do anything else until told so.

“Fuck, I love it when you get desperate.” Taehyung took his time to closely examine every dip, rounded edge, and margin of Jungkook’s naked body. And goddamn, was it a sight to see... There came a time where he couldn’t handle seeing. Instead, he needed to feel. It’s been way too long. Part of him forgot about what made his boyfriend’s fleshy, warm insides so addicting.. Taehyung stepped closer to the younger, now able to make out the goosebumps running along his milky skin. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?” His lips ghosted over Jungkook’s, his neck, and ears. “Even the way you’re oozing precum is adorable.” Taehyung brushed the tip of their noses together, breathing onto his face. “You’re adorable, that’s all you are at the moment.” His bigger hands tightly squeezed onto Jungkook’s hips, sure to leave a mark. “But you know what should bring you shame? Fucking someone else behind my back.” He pressed their foreheads together, hungry eyes lusting over a quick taste of his boyfriend’s rosy lips. But he wouldn’t. Until Jungkook came out with a different, heartfelt apology, Taehyung would hold back. I n the blink of an eye, the elder’s pointer finger was pointed at the vacant bed. “On all fours, make sure you stick out that pretty little ass.”

Jungkook's hitched breath got caught in his throat in the form of a muffled whine from Taehyung's rough hands, the way he hisses his words out turned the younger on so fucking much. It surely was confusing as it mixed with his guilt for what he'd done while they were broken up. He didn't utter a word. And honestly, he probably wouldn't be able to even if he tried. Being so easily subdued by the elder, despite his larger and obviously more powerful frame, he crumbled into a little boy that just wanted to please as soon as Tae speaks. Jungkook turned on his heels to climb up on the bed on his knees, glancing over his shoulder through his dark locks at his boyfriend before slowly getting down on all fours, keeping his torso up with his elbows on leverage. It took him a few seconds too long to lower himself a bit further, arching his back just a tad bit to give his ass that extra bit of a plump look. A soft sigh escaped his lips, a bit embarrassed by how exposed he suddenly felt. He'd been like this in front of Taehyung several times previously, but this time felt different. Kook felt the heated stare laying heavy on his body.

The elder practically foamed at the mouth, entranced from the way Jungkook desperately clenched around nothingness. He imagined it were his raw cock that was getting squeezed in between his boyfriend’s sloppy walls, silently begging him to never leave his dripping chambers. “Such a pretty ass..” Taehyung licked over his lips, both hands smoothing over each cheek. He harshly squeezed the skin, watching it jut out from between his fingers. “And an even prettier little hole.” Without a heads up, Tae leaned down to slowly swipe his flattened tongue over the crack running along Jungkook’s back, initiating a bit of extra pressure on the latter’s puckered entrance. He paused to watch the way his boyfriend’s body quivered, only to do it again, and again. Taehyung parted Kook’s rosy cheeks even further, leaning back in to place kitten licks over the younger’s hole. The elder’s eyes remained closed, and a hue of red washed over his cheeks. He would’ve never thought he’d be eating out someone’s ass, but here he was.. Enjoying every fucking second of it. “So sweet.” Taehyung lowly mumbled against Jungkook’s sensitive spot, opening his eyes to stick his middle finger inside, continuing to press open mouthed kisses around the rim.

Kook whined out his boyfriend's name in quiet whimpers, pressing his cheek against the soft duvet. His breathing gradually grew heavier with every ounce of attention he was given, the warmth of the elders wet tongue a new sensation itself. "Oh..fuck..." his whines grew along with his heavy breaths, bordering on moans at this point when he felt Taehyung's long finger spread his tight hole open. He tried his best to relax his muscles, but everytime another praise was thrown his way he felt his body reacting on it's own. He couldn't control the instinctual response of his body trying to move closer to feel Taehyung's finger deeper, his neediness presenting itself in the way his skin was burning, precum dribbling down onto the sheets below him. And not to mention the pathetic sounds emitting from his throat. "More, please..."

“More?” Taehyung’s slick finger moved inside of him, but not as fast as Jungkook wanted. The elder wanted to be a tease, only thrusting the single digit in and out of his boyfriend at the speed he deemed acceptable. “Shit, you’re squeezing so fucking hard.” Tae’s free hand slowly slid up the prominent line cutting through the middle of Jungkook’s back, stopping at the latter’s raven hair to give it a harsh tug. His boyfriend’s curls were long enough where he could twirl his fingers within the strands, as if they became one. “So fucking warm ‘n tight..” Taehyung’s teeth harshly tugged at his bottom lip, feeling the room’s cool air clash against his dampened finger the second he unplugged it out of Jungkook, no longer embraced by the younger’s soft tunnels. With his lower body still fully clothed, Tae pressed the growing bulge prodding at his fabrics against Kook’s wet entrance. The other hand grasped onto the younger’s hip, feeling the accumulating sweat gradually build up on Jungkook’s skin whilst he held him in place. “Think you owe me a better apology, baby.” Tae began grinding his hips into his boyfriend. “Fuck.. I’m still angry.” Vividly picturing that he had his cock tucked deep inside of him, Taehyung’s pelvis roughly slammed against Kook’s ass. “Apologize.” Another thrust, and another, another.. “If I like it then maybe I’ll let you take off my clothes, pretty thing. You wanna be stuffed with my fat dick, don’t you?”

Jungkook turned his neck to get a glimpse of his boyfriend with his own large, needy eyes. "I'm s-sorr-ah!" His whiny voice was interrupted by a particularly hard thrust, his chest falling down on the sheets as he lost balance to keep himself up. His cheek rubbed against the soft fabrics, eyes welling up with tears due to the aching between his legs mixed with the constant tease against his hips, wishing it was Taehyung's cock spreading his ass open instead. "Please, Taehyung!" He put an effort into speaking this time, taking a shaky breath with the occasional gasp. "please, I'm sorry-- I don't want anybody else, all I could think of was how she wasn't you... please, please..." the sheet below the younger was stained with his precum, and the fat tears that slowly trickled down from his cheeks. "I need you, please, only you..."

“Damn right.” Taehyung’s fingers tugged harder at his boyfriend’s mess of hair, raspy moans of his own audible to the stuffed ears as he pressed himself harder against Jungkook’s mishandled opening, swiveling his hips mercilessly. He never would’ve thought seeing tears in Kook’s doe eyes would arouse him in any scenario, but here he was, hornier than ever knowing he was the reason for the younger’s crystal beads of water trickling down his face. The front of his bulge had a minor wet spot, and Tae could feel the dampness with every dry thrust against his boyfriend. He couldn’t take it anymore. “You got lucky,” He leaned down to whisper into his ear, “now, get up and undress me.”

Jungkook had to take a second to collect himself, using his strong but wobbly arms to push himself up to his knees and turn around to face his still fully clothed boyfriend. It felt quite weird in contrast, as he himself was fully naked, skin glistening with sweat and precum. Not to mention the tears still rolling down his damp cheeks. They weren't sad tears though.. just, needy, overwhelming emotions of want for his Taehyung. He reached out with both hands to tug the hem of the elders shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head to finally reveal his torso. Kook felt his mouth salivating already, his own greediness growing even further as he wasted no time in equalizing their amount of clothes, unbuttoning Tae's pants so quickly he almost ripped it with his strength. Finally, he peeled his pants down along with his underwear, doe eyes watching in admiration as his turgid cock springs up to taunt Jungkook. God, did he want a taste... Kooks eyes flickered up to meet Tae's, the whiny pitch in his voice something only this man got to hear from the younger. " Fuck my mouth, please... want you to. I'll take it all."

A deep, taunting chuckle emitted from the pit of Taehyung’s throat, one hand reaching outwards to cup the side of Jungkook’s tear-streaked face. “Good boy for saying please.” Tae stared down into his glassy eyes, the bulging head of his cock doing the same. “Of course you’ll take it all.” His thumb brushed away the string of salty water cascading down his rosy, glowing cheek. “Open up.” And just like that, he withdrew his gentle touch. There was a lesson to be taught. “A-ah.. fuck yeah..” The second the tip popped in past his boyfriend’s plush lips, Taehyung threw his head back with a moan. “Good boy.” His fingers held on to a handful of Jungkook’s hair yet again, this time he had a motive. Slowly, Tae thrusted into the boy’s warm mouth, wanting to start off easy. “So fucking good for me..”

Jungkook's jaw went slack to allow Taehyung's thick length to push into his warm mouth, drool already trickling down the corners of his lips. As he took it deeper, the restricted air flow forced him to focus on breathing through his nose, a faint groan vibrating in his chest at the tangy taste of Tae's precum coating his tongue. Kook put his palms flat on the bed, on all fours. It made him feel dirty, his body reacting so easily to every praise and harsh tug in his long locks, eyebrows gradually drawn together as he focuses on doing well to please his boyfriend.

The sinful sight from beneath him was the boost Taehyung needed to fuck harder into his boyfriend’s mouth, feeling Jungkook’s nose repeatedly prod his pelvis with every sloppy, squelching thrust. “Such a fuckin’ tight little mouth..” His long fingers curled tighter around the younger’s hair, harshly yanking him forward time and time again to meet his fast-moving hips, “My tight little mouth, ah fuck..” He could feel it. If he continued for a second longer, he’d burst his warm seed into his boyfriend’s mouth. The elder didn’t want that, the only place he wanted to spill himself into was Jungkook’s ass— at least for now.. “You did good, baby boy.” Ignoring the faint whines, Taehyung pulled out his soaked cock. Slobber ran down his rough length, as it did Kook’s chin. He found it adorable. Tae smirked down at his boyfriend. “Bet you’ll like this.” With one hand on his wet dick, he carefully smacked his length against the skin of Jungkook’s face, gently slapping it across his cheeks, nose, and chin. “You like that, huh. Your boyfriend’s fat cock all over your face..”

Kook flinched at the initial smack against his cheek, the wetness creating several strings of saliva and precum sticking to the skin of his face. He looked up at his boyfriend with a gaze filled with nothing but submission, like an innocent puppy obediently taking whatever he's given. And the truth is, he did love it. The slight degradation to it had his own cock aching as it remained untouched. ''I don't like it... I love it.'' He countered with a slight brattiness to his tone, but not too much as to where it would seem like he's putting up an attitude. He licked his plushy lips clean off of the juices staining them, eyes following Tae's rigid cock as it painted his skin in a layer of their juices, until his eyes fell back to meet Taehyung's. The teasing was riling the younger up so much that it made him impatient and whiny. If continued for too long, he might pick up an attitude after all. ''Please... more...'' He carefully asked, eyes still not averting Tae's, staring up at him with his doe eyes that were swirling with need and admiration. He wanted so much more, he'd missed feeling the very cock that was taunting him, he just wanted to have it shoved deep inside of him right now.

Truth was, Taehyung had been stripping himself of his own desires. He too wanted to stuff his cock inside of his boyfriend, fill him up to the brim with every droplet of his cum that shot out of him. It was harder than he’d thought, as if Tae was punishing himself in the midst of it. The stare of desperation Jungkook was giving him.. it drew him in like no other. It was as if Taehyung could see his own wants through the younger’s brown irises. He had to be inside of him, Jungkook wanted it just as much. “Get up.” He bossed the younger around, pumping himself a few times before stepping into Kook’s lewd bubble. With both hands placed on his boyfriend’s waist, Tae led them both to the wall. “Hope you love this just as much.” He swiftly leaned in to catch Jungkook’s glistening lips with his own, muffling his boyfriend’s squeaky moans. The moment Taehyung pulled away panting, he reached for the younger’s legs, picking him up without much effort. He made sure they were tightly secured around his flexed torso, adjusting Kook’s body with both hands on his bare ass. “Ah fucking hell..” Taehyung pushed his cock was all the way in, keeping still to get used to the familiar tightness. He pressed Jungkook’s back against the same wall, hiding his red face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck as he slowly began to move. “The tightest I swear to fucking god.. you’re squeezing around my cock so well.”

Jungkook's muffled moans became clear as day the very moment the kiss was broken, a loud, raspy groan in pleasure and pain striking the room. "Fuck, it's big.. so big, ah.." he whines, the way Taehyungs girth stretched his ass was a mix of pain and bliss that rushed through his entire body when his boyfriend moved inside of him. Kook hooked his arms around Tae's neck, locking himself onto him as if he never wanted to let go. If he could stay this way forever he would. "Feels good... feels so fucking good.." the youngers mind quickly turned into a haze, vision blurred with his lust as he threw his head back against the wall. His eyes fluttered shut, mouth hanging open in breathy gasps for air. It was insane to him how weak he was for every single touch, praise, and even punishments that he was given.

“My cock’s big, hm?” Taehyung withdrew from his hiding spot on his boyfriend’s sweaty neck, relishing in the mix of whines and grunts that slipped past Jungkook’s agape lips. “Baby, ‘m gonna make you feel even better.” The elder pulled out all the way, giving himself a moment to catch his breath— to center himself, and then slammed his hips forward as hard as he could. “A-ahh..” He dragged out, loving the way Jungkook’s body shivered, how his ass tensed up in the palms of his hands. Tae’s whole body was slick with sweat, and the slide of his dick was fast and easy. Almost too easy. “I fucking love you..” He slammed deep inside of him a second time, close enough to taste the salty, dripping sweat on Jungkook’s neck. “Love fucking you.” Another harsh slap of his pelvis, the sound echoing throughout the room. “Fuck.. love—” The words couldn’t seem to come out, not with the way his boyfriend’s insides were pulling him in. Taehyung wouldn’t stop there, however. “Love kissing you so much.” He snapped into him, the mushroom tip rubbing against Jungkook’s prostate. “Love being your— f-fuck.. I love being your best friend and your boyfriend in one— ah..” Being so deep inside of the man he loved, it played with Tae’s emotions. He loved this man, and he wanted to remind him of that whilst he made love to him.

Jungkook's moans echoed in the apartment, louder with each thrust that perfectly rammed just the right spot inside of him to build up the heat that pooled in his lower stomach. ''G-god...yes-- fuck, I love you-uu!'' He cried out, unaware of the tears that had started to trickle down the corners of his eyes, still keeping them tightly shut. Kook held onto his boyfriend, digging his blunt nails into his shoulders. ''Taehyu-ung...'' Jungkook breathed out his lover's name in between whines that were grew more high pitched-- indicating that he was getting closer and closer to his own end. ''I'm gonna cum if you keep going, please, please don't stop... Haa....Harder...'' Kook's voice lowered as he almost growled out his words almost as a demand. Just.. Feeling his cock being rubbed between their slick bodies, and his ass constantly rammed into-- on top of the emotional praise.. It was too much. Kook was practically crying, begging for more to get rid of the aching that throbbed within his entire being.

As if he was a machine wired to satisfy all of Jungkook’s needs, Taehyung pushed aside the soreness building up in his flexed arms. His rounded nails sank into the reddened skin of his boyfriend’s plump ass, holding him tighter— fucking him harder until Tae felt his knees buckle up, legs slightly quivering underneath their weight. “Cum with me baby, ‘m close too..” His brows knitted closer together, and his face scrunched up into the same ugly expression, letting his boyfriend know that he was right there with him; barely hanging on to the edge. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm in Taehyung’s thrusts never faltered. “Fuuuck..!” The sound he made laid somewhere between a grunt and a moan, whatever it was— Tae was extremely close. “S-so good baby, shit-- good boy.” He spilled out barely coherent praises until all he could mutter was a long, strained moan. Taehyung spilled his cum into his boyfriend’s warm ass, painting Jungkook’s stretched walls with the dripping liquid. He continued to lazily slam into him, fucking his cum deeper into Kook until he just.. couldn’t. The energy he once possessed was spent into pleasing the younger, and damn was it worth it.. “I love you, dumbass..” Tae mumbled onto his neck, his heavy panting fanning at the skin. “That was fucking great. Ten out of ten would hit again.” The sound of his tired chuckles echoed throughout the room, replacing the sound of their moans.

Jungkook's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut the exact moment he felt Tae's hot spurts of cum filling him up. His own cum painted their sweaty stomachs, rubbing the liquid together as his boyfriend kept lazily moving inside of him. When the sensitivity hit him further, his body started to shake and squirm in the elders hold, his out of breath voice was shaking. "I love..lo-ove..you-u too.. ah..." his hands moved to stroke his boyfriends hair, gently running his fingers through the messy curls, "so good, ten out of ten would let hit me again..." kook countered, his voice a bit less strained as he slowly collected himself. He unhooked his legs to place his feet on the floor, attempting to stand properly. Shit, he was gonna be sore tomorrow. E ven as he stood properly, his hands remained tangled into Taehyung's hair, looking at his just as fucked out and exhausted state. "I love you.... you're not.. still mad at me right?" He tilted his head, hands moving to cup Taes face, "About noona."

Taehyung shook his head, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist to balance him, “I don’t think I was ever mad, more so.. jealous. I mean, we weren’t together during that time so..” He leaned forward to press a kiss onto Jungkook’s nose. “I’m still a little jealous, but I’ll survive.” Once sure that his boyfriend could stand on his own, Tae stretched his aching arms over his head. “Speaking of surviving, will you?” Along with a raise of his brow, the elder’s lips morphed into a sly smirk. “I went all out, and I’m not sorry.” His hand reached back to pat Jungkook’s ass, seeing bits of him cum dribble down the latter’s thighs.

Jungkook groaned as he stretched his own body. His legs lightly quivered when he carried his full weight on his own feet, knowing he's gonna rock a limp for the next day or so. Brings back memories for sure, from their first time that left Kook a limping idiot that barely could participate in basket practice. "Okay," kook sighs in relief, "I'll survive, just... I really need that shower now.." He really did, beating up Ash and getting thoroughly fucked was more than enough to make him feel like he needed to be boiled in water at this point to feel clean. On unstable legs, he still managed to keep himself steady enough to grab his boyfriends hand and lead the two of them to his bathroom, turning on the hot water of the familiar shower. Even the small squeak as he turned the water on was comforting in a sense. It was always there, and somehow he had never thought about it until now. Trivial things that just melt into your life.

Like Taehyung. He really couldn't imagine his life if the elder didn't exist in his life. "Taehyung.." Kook murmured out in the tiled room that slowly began to fog up with the heated water, reaching out to make sure it was just the temperature he wanted before stepping in. "you should move in with me." Technically, they already did kind of life together; but not officially. The elder still had most of his stuff at his own house, and kook wanted to change that. He wanted to make sure there was nothing that tied Tae to that shithole.

When the younger tiredly called out his name, Taehyung expected another‘I love you’ or a breathless kiss. What he didn’t see coming was the proposition Jungkook had thrown at him; the latter seemed sure, like he’d made up his mind ages ago. It wasn’t something light. No, his boyfriend was offering him a place to live. Permanently.

“Are you.. are you serious?” Taehyung didn’t quite know how to act, how to feel. Did Kook take pity on him? Was this a decision they were going to regret later down the road? No one knew. Apart from the occasional negative thoughts, the clouds parted, letting in the light. Far more positive views resurfaced, covering those that previously sent a tingle of anxiety down Taehyung’s spine. The hot stream of water never bothered him, but now that he was more aware of his senses— how he truly felt, Tae took a step back. Maybe that’s what he needed in his life, a new start, to be less.. stressed, anxious. And Jungkook was his, the fresh start that he’d been longing for all along. “I-I’d love to.” A wide, breathtaking smile shone brighter than the bruises on his skin. The elder’s eyes glazed over, and to try and cover up his emotions, Taehyung threw himself into his boyfriend’s arms. “Thank you.”

Jungkook's anxiety was immediately pushed away when he felt his boyfriend in his arms, the only few words he needed to hear. Tae suddenly felt so small in his arms, the duality of this man's personality was unbelievable. He hugged Taehyung for a while, feeling his own eyes tear up at the revelation. He was gonna live together with his boyfriend. Away from the abusive father. Closer to him. A deep sigh in relief had his shoulders sinking as he placed kisses on Tae's forehead, a wide toothy grin of his own to match the brightness he was given. "I'm so happy!" Koo chirped, "you make me happy." His smile softened as he slowly begun to guide them both underneath the stream of water, letting it rinse the sweat off their clammy skin.

Proving the unthinkable, Taehyung’s boxy grin grew in size, his eyes nearly disappearing into upside down smiles of their own. His whole body was beaming, the elder was the happiest he’s ever been in days. The night Jungkook asked him out remained his happiest memory, but at the moment; as they stood under the hot shower, this was definitely a close second. Both were giant leaps into their relationship, and Tae couldn’t be any prouder. “You make me happy too, Kook.” He pulled away just enough to look into his boyfriend’s tender eyes, their sore bodies still bundled together in an embrace. “Fuck.. I just, I still can’t believe it. I’m gonna be living with you,” Taehyung laughed in disbelief. “And don’t worry! I’ll start working soon for the both of us if you want me to. I-I’ll help you with the monthly rent, the bills, everything. This is our home, after all.” A safe place away from their shitty parents, and a place where they could be their disgustingly cheesy selfs, domestic; idiots in love. What more could Tae want? “Just, promise you won’t get tired of me?”

"As if I'd get tired of this? I can barely stand the moments where you're not with me." Jungkook added to the cheesy moment as he reached for the loofah to soap it up and begin to gently run it over Tae's skin. Kook loved taking care of him, whether it be to spoil him with his love, feed him, or just... wash his skin after making love. All of it was for him, their own private moments. "Don't worry about money, you have to finish school." Jungkook mused out loud, letting the loofah scrub across Taes chest and firm abdomen, "I'll be able to work more now."

Truth is, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd do now that he no longer could be in school; but he could figure it out. If he could make it this long by himself, he could definitely make it with the motivation of keeping Taehyung safe and happy. He'd be lying to himself if he'd say that it didn't absolutely suck that he was expelled, all his hard work thrown away for nothing. He knows if his father knew, he'd definitely shoot him a shit eating smirk followed by some disgusting comment blaming Taehyung for this.

The thought alone had Kook unknowingly clenching his jaw. This wasn't going to be easy, he knew this. But since when was anything easy for him? And with Taehyung by his side; he knew he would be okay.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over  way  too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't  bleeding  to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite.  I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was  so  scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did  care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die!  (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were  literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "-  And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!"  A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!"  The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!"  The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright  vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

...

...

Please save me...

...

...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

[sylvain-writes]

A Taste (TMNT Leonardo x Reader)

Rated: T (no underage drinking) Prompt/Inspired by @whygz comic (drunk!Leo x sona)

Mikey's 21st is loud. 

You haven’t been able to check your voicemail yet, but now you understand why Leo texted you a reminder to use the far entrance to the lair.  Music pours out from the common room, you’re surprised it can’t be heard from street level.  Raph and Donnie have really outdone themselves for their little brother.  The place has transformed into a nightclub, of sorts.  Dark, with shocks of strobing color, there’s just enough light in the room for you to make out the shapes of the turtles and their dates as they bop and gyrate to the music.  

You make your way through the ‘dancefloor’ with waves and a smile to the small crowd and a big hug to Mikey.  Then it’s off to find somewhere to rest your ear drums for a while.  You make the mistake of walking past the speakers again; they’re loud enough that you're squinting, as though that helps your ears filter out the noise.  In a way, you suppose, it does.  It helps you focus on Leo's lips as he welcomes you to the makeshift bar the guys have set up next to the kitchen.

Greeting Leo isn’t as easy as the quick waves to his brothers.  With him, it’s tempting to go in for a hug, to test a kiss on the cheek.  With him, you have to be more careful; it’s tempting to ask for more than what he’s willing to give. 

You drum your hands on the bar top and look over the selection of hard alcohol, mixers, and beers.  Maybe a drink or two will help you unwind.  It should take the edge off of the anxiety.  You had thought it would ease up once you were seated next to your best friend.  But surprisingly, your heart seems to be beating faster.  You feel like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin and all Leo’s done so far is lean into your side and say hello.  Of course, because of the music, he has to speak directly at your ear in order for you to hear him at all.  

His voice is smooth and his breath is hot as he comments on his brothers’ ideas of fun.  He’s complaining more than you think he really means.  In fact, he seems to talk just to deflect from his own nervous energy.

Even so, you’re grateful he’s started a conversation for you, though it’s stilted and rambly and mostly about how much things have changed in the past few years.  You nod along and offer your support.  It makes sense now, the way he bounces his knees under the table; you know change makes Leo nervous.  It’s one of the reasons you keep your feelings for him to yourself.  You don’t want to scare him off.  You don’t want things to change in your friendship, if it means they’ll change for the worse.

As you consider ‘worse’ and push away fantasies of ‘better’, the vodka and cranberry juice call your name, but you’re not sure you really want all that.  So, you turn your sights on the array of artisan beers to your left.

Leo’s still talking about how scary it can be to take a leap from one role to the next, and you wonder if he’s thinking about giving Mikey some new responsibilities on their team.  You ask as much and Leo looks a little surprised, but then waves off the idea.  His train of thought is all over the place, you think he may be confusing himself.

Over his shoulder, you see the others dancing provocatively with their dates, and it looks like fun, but you'll have to miss out. The only one you want holding you that close is the turtle nursing a beer and occasionally sparing you a glance so intense it makes you look away.

There had to have been a time, you think, before you had solidified your place in the friendzone.  You think, maybe, there had been some opportunity that you missed, where you and Leo could have tried to be something more to each other.

Finally, Leo slips out of his own musings long enough to follow your eye line to the drinks in front of him.  “You thirsty?” 

You shrug and your arm just barely brushes Leo’s as you move.  Shivers run over your skin from that small point of contact.  “I dunno what to try.”  It’s true.  You’d like to avoid hard alcohol and its ‘loose-tongue’ side effects, but the fancy selection of alternatives isn’t one you’d have picked for yourself.

Leo’s cheeks are dark under his mask.  Being tipsy brings an adorable flush to his smiling expression.  “This is really good,” he says, holding up the bottle like it’s some kind of prize.  “Wanna taste?”

You take a peek at the label, but it’s not like you have anything to lose.  With a smile, you welcome the offer, “Sure!”  It’s not the first time you’ve shared a drink, and you think that it’ll be nice to not waste an entire bottle of someone’s peanut butter ale or cherry lager.  But as you wait for Leo to hand you the drink, you end up watching him press the bottle to his lips and tilt his head back.  “So…” you cock your head to the side in question, “can I taste it or...?”

“Yeah-” Leo holds up his hand to ask for “-one sec-”

 And then he kisses you.  

He takes your head in his hands, pulls you halfway out of your chair, and brings your mouths together in an honest to goodness kiss.  Your eyes go wide, but his eyes flutter closed.  The kiss is closed-lipped and soft, and it doesn’t really give you a taste of the beer at all.  You could almost laugh.  You think you would, if your body could catch up with your racing thoughts.  If your heart could slow down enough for you to catch your breath.

Leo breaks the kiss and his eyes blink at you.  Noting your shocked expression and the fact that you didn’t kiss him back, his rambling starts up again.  "I'm sorry, was that not--  I shouldn't have just--"  

He starts to pull away, but you place your hand over his as it retreats to the table.  The caress of your thumb over his knuckles draws his attention to your hands, hypnotizing him as he stumbles through an apology neither of you really wants him to finish.  You don’t want his apologies; you want him to kiss you again.  

After a silence between you that seems to go on forever and somehow drowns out the techno hip hop all around you, Leo turns his palm up to take your hand. “Do you wanna dance?” he asks, although you thought he never would.  

You’re mostly hidden from his brothers by the large arcade machines, but still, you’re grateful the boys have the place dark enough to pass for a nightclub.  It's easier like this, with your back against Leo’s chest.  It’s easier not having to find the words for what you feel.  

It isn’t long before you’re giving into the music and the wills of your bodies.  You and Leo fit together so easily, your hips rolling against his.  The beat washes over you and when you close your eyes, all you care about is Leo's breath on your neck, his hands on your waist, his pelvis pressed against you from behind.  He brushes your hair away from your ear like he had at the bar so that you could hear him over the music.  Only this time, he doesn’t speak.  Instead, he peppers a trail of kisses down your neck to your shoulder and your whole body gives a shiver.  You turn in his arms to capture the next kiss with your lips.  

He pulls you closer and sways into you in rhythm to the song.  You move with him, luxuriating in the warmth that pools and swirls in your belly.  You can feel his arousal brush against you and you press in closer.  You moan and deepen the kiss, but his body responds too favorably to stay in the common room and he asks you to follow him to his bedroom instead.

You nod against his forehead, but he’s still got you by the waist.  He’s still holding you to him and dancing as slow as the music allows.  The smell of hops and ginger fills the air between you as he tries to catch his breath. You remind him of his suggestion to go somewhere more private and all of the sudden, he can't get to his room quick enough.  

It isn’t until he closes the bedroom door and leans back against it that you notice just how glassy Leo’s eyes are.  How lazy his smile.  How slowly he moves toward you.  He kisses you again, but he's so obviously drunk that you stop yourself from pressing your body against his again.

"I don't think we should take this further tonight."

At your words, the blood drains from Leo's cheeks and a new tension overtakes him.  "Oh, I-- I didn't mean to-- We don't have to go further. Of course.  We don't have to.  I understand."

But he's so flustered and apologetic, you wonder if he really does.  "Not tonight.  I don’t think we should go further tonight,” you clarify.  “You're drunk… and my best friend… and-"  You help him to sit at his bed as you struggle to explain why this is a bad idea.  

His eyes shine as they look up at you, glassy and sad.  When he says, “I love you,” for the first time, it sounds like his heart is breaking.

Your face goes tight with the effort it takes not to frown.  Your heart is breaking, too.  "Tell me again when you're sober."  You don’t think that, in the light of day, Leo will be feeling quite the same way.

But Leo rubs his hands over his thighs and swallows hard.  He’s not backing down.  "I'd like to tell you… everyday… if that'd be ok."

It doesn’t feel real.  You can’t let yourself believe him when he’s like this.  You don’t know if he’s ever been drunk before, but you’ve certainly never seen him so loose with his words or affections.  He isn’t in his right mind and you won’t take advantage of the sudden clarity alcohol has brought to him.  

Mindful to keep the boundaries you set, you kiss Leo’s forehead and say goodnight.  Nonetheless, after closing the door behind you, you linger in the tunnel outside his room.  You know you have a voicemail from him still unopened from earlier today.  You open it, just to hear his voice again.  To hear him sober.  To remind yourself that he’s a friend and not really looking for anything more.

But the Leo that you hear on the recording is wrought with just as much anxiety as the one that sat with you at the bar before your kiss.  "Hey, it's me,” he says, and your heart melts a little.  You love how he can say those three words and the world stops spinning. 

The voicemail continues, “The guys are heading out for supplies for tonight,” and Leo’s confidence begins to falter, “I was hoping you'd come by early.”  His voice lifts at the end, like a question.  “There's something I wanna ask you. Well, tell you.”  Then, Leo heaves a sigh and laughs at himself a little.  You turn toward his room and stare as you listen to the rest.  “Well, there's something I wanna talk to you about.  So, come on by when you get this, or whenever. I just…-” another sigh “-I'm really looking forward to seeing you."

As you stand in front of Leo’s door, every nerve in your body seems to be firing at once.  They send fuzzy tingles over your skin, distracting you from the feeling of the doorknob in your hand.  You knock and, at the sound of Leo’s voice, ease the door open.

Leo is still sitting where you left him, on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“I just got your message,” you explain and he raises his eyes to yours.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier so we could talk before the party.”

“Yeah, I-”  Leo shifts and hugs his arms over his chest.  “If you had come earlier, I would have said…”  His gaze drops to your feet until you helpfully supply the rest of his confession.

“That you love me.”

Leo nods as you take steps toward the bed.  “I would have asked you to be mine--my date--for tonight.”

A slow smile spreads across your face.  “I would have said, ‘yes’.”  When Leo looks up at your words, your smile grows.

Hope shines in his eyes, but there’s caution there, as well.  “And after tonight?  Would you-”

You reach out and touch his cheek, then lean down to his ear like he’s done so many times to you already this evening.  “Ask me in the morning.”  

The stroke of your hand along his jawline is full of affection.  The press of your lips between his eyes holds a promise.  You know, even in his intoxicated state, he won’t misread this goodbye as a rejection.  You pull away and he blinks up at you.  Then, before you can move too far from reach, he catches your hand.  You can’t help but hum in amusement as he pulls you closer.  

He asks, “Did you like it?” and your expression pinches in confusion.  The only thing you don’t like about the night is that it needs to end.  But the assurance of tomorrow thrills you.

“The ginger beer,” he clarifies. “Did you like it?”

“Oh,” you say, having forgotten all about the drink Leo had offered before stealing his kiss.  “I couldn’t really tell.”

“Hmm,” he considers your answer with more gravity than it warrants.  Then, with a light touch, Leo’s hands alight to your hips.  He smiles playfully as he guides you to sit in his lap.  “Maybe-” he says as his gaze lingers on your mouth “-maybe, you should have one last taste, before you go.”

The smile you reflect back at him says ‘just this one,’ but you lean in and your lips murmur, “Sure” against his.