#i'm finally under a certain weight that i've been for years!

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Small self praise

So I've been trying to lose weight since the beginning of the year (like Jan 3rd). I've been taking some medicine that's really been helping me out because I've always struggled losing weight in the past by just doing the basic eat healthier/exercise more way. I'm down over 30lbs now and I wanna keep going! I'll eventually post before and after pics but not til I can really see a difference haha

[beomiracles]

「 GREED 」

DREAM RECALL your kind heart often led you down dangerous paths. So when there's a knock on your door and you find a beautiful man in dire need of your help, who are you to turn him down? Even if it may cost you your life.

pairings vampire!taehyun x afab!human reader warnings minor character death, descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury, DUB-CON (taehyun compels reader), blood drinking, oral (f. rec), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, breast play, marking, choking, manhandling, slight dumbification?, taehyun refers to reader only as 'human', prey/predator dynamics. please let me know if I missed any !!

wc -> 6.5k

#serene adds ✎... ahem the literal bible of warnings...anyway! guys I lowkey really like this one, it's my first ever vampire fic, which is crazy because I'm a diehard vampire fan (name any show/movie/book and I will know of it) so I'm surprised that I've managed to go this long without writing one. I really didn't intend for it to get this long and um like 1/3 is just smut... happy reading ! :3

The radio of your old car made a bruising noise before giving up completely, your last bit of civilization diminishing to nothing. Sighing you glance toward your GPS, but even that seemed futile. “I guess it’s just you and me now, Lola”, you state as you peer at your dog in the rear view mirror. 

Ahead, the narrow road made for a bumpy ride as you dwelled deeper into the forest. Surrounding you were pine trees, standing tall and proud, looming over you in an almost menacing way, as if to say; you are not welcome here. With both your phone and radio cut off, you were beginning to think that maybe there lay something in the unspoken words of the trees. This was no place for humans, yet you recognized the way the road turned, if ever so slightly, not to mention the familiar large stone that you had climbed so many times before. 

Soon the small cottage comes into view, and it was just as you had remembered it, save for the overgrown lawn that reaches its way through the old wooden planks of the porch. Your vehicle comes to a stop and as you step outside, the earthy smell of the forest greets you. Lola, on the other hand, sems skeptical; she fuzzes for a moment before finally getting out as you opened the trunk for her. “Oh don’t be so quick to judge it, you haven’t even seen the inside yet”, you give your dog a few pats before retrieving your large bag from the car. 

The old wooden steps creak under your weight as you make your way toward the front door. Rust had formed around the lock and it took more than a few tries to get the darned thing opened. With the push of your shoulder, the old door finally budges and you step inside. Nostalgia immediately fills your senses, it smells stuffy and old yet exactly like your childhood. The many summers you had spent cooped up in the small house, plenty of your drawings remaining on the wallpapered walls. 

It had been years since the passing of your parents, years since the house became yours, and years since anyone had even bothered to acknowledge its existence. In a way, you supposed you felt bad for the place, yet you hadn’t been able to come here without the painful memories of your parents flooding your mind. Not up until recently had you felt ready, ready to return here and remember the good things, the good memories. You wanted this house to remain a happy place for you. 

“Well it could definitely use a sweep, what’d you say, Lola?” The dog lets out a gruff of agreement as she noses at the dust covered sofa with a displeased look. Most of the place had been drowned in layers upon layers of dust and spiderwebs, you were certain that all kinds of animals lingered around the old building, seeking shelter from the harsh conditions the outside world provided. 

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, going through old photographs and personal belongings of both you and your parents. The downs of being an only child you supposed, not having anyone to share your grief with. It would’ve been nice to not be completely alone in the mess that your parents left, from arranging their funeral to selling their house back in the city. The project that was this cabin had all become too much, and thus you had put it off, admittedly for longer than you had originally intended. Though now that you were finally getting around to it, it was with a light heart rather than a heavy. 

By nightfall you had finished off practically all of the first floor. Flopping down on the now very much clean couch, you let out a tired sigh. Lola was sleeping peacefully on the carpet nearby and you leaned to give her a few pats before reaching for your phone. The device had been in and out of signal throughout the day, you figured you could try your luck with a call. 

Bringing it up to your ear, your phone rings, once, twice, three times before there’s a shift in the audio. “Hello?” The voice of your friend calls out on the other line and a small sigh of relief escapes your lips. “Jjunie? Hii, it’s me! Can you hear me?” You ask as there’s a small disturbance in the quality of the call. 

“Dimples?” he asks and you giggle, “who else?” Yeonjun lets out a huff of air and you hear the rustling of his mattress as he sits up, “I’ve been texting you like crazy, where have you been all day?” he questions, a tone of fake hurt lingering in his words. “I know”, you mumble as you pick at your cuticle, “I’ve barely had any service all day, it’s a miracle that this call even went through.” 

“I guess you’re really living that outdoor mindfulness life now huh?” he teases and you could’ve sworn that you heard the shit eating grin on his face. “Ha-ha”, you muse, “careful or I’ll make you spend the next week here with me. You could use a detox from that phone of yours.” Your friend snorts, “as if. My followers need me.” You roll your eyes, “you sure it’s not the other way around?” you ask to which Yeonjun responds with a row of profanities. 

Aside from a few break ups here and there the call runs smoothly and you’re relieved to be having a conversation with another human being for the first time today. After about twenty minutes of catching up, the subject suddenly shifts as Yeonjun’s voice grows wary. “You’ve heard about the stuff that’s been happening right?” 

You frown, "No? What stuff?” On the other side of the line, Yeonjun hesitates. “Well c’mon and tell me”, you press as you sit up a little straighter. Drawing in a long sigh, he then exhales, “well there’s been, bodies…” “Bodies?” you repeat, “you mean like…?” — “Dead bodies, yeah.” 

A small silence lingers in the air as you process the words of your friend. “Hikers”, he then adds and you gnaw on your bottom lip. “Well there’s plenty of good hiking trails around”, you mumble. It wasn’t unusual for people to try their luck up in this forest, during your summers spent here you had seen plenty of tents indicating someone’s stay. “Some are quite dangerous though and-” —- “That’s not why they died.” Yeonjun interrupts with a solemn voice and you feel your throat go dry. 

“Right…” you murmur as your gaze flickers toward Lola, “then how did they die?” Once more, your friend on the other line hesitates. “Please, Jjunie, I need to know, and I don’t exactly have any other way of finding out, other than going out there myself.” Outside of your window, the forest seemed darker than it had all those years ago; something bad had happened here. 

“They think it was an animal of some kind…” Yeonjun whispers and suddenly you feel a slight glimmer of hope. “Jjunie, trust me I’ve encountered plenty of-” — “This one’s different, Dimples.” Your friend interrupts you again, though his voice is now uncertain, “this thing, it’s smarter, it…it lures its way inside.” 

You swallow, “what do you mean?” Though you weren’t certain that you wanted to know. “It…the bodies, they never left their tents. It came to them.” The silence that follows is palpable and a shiver runs down your spine, despite the fact that you were covered head to toe in blankets. 

That night, you barely got any sleep. Your mind kept shifting back toward your conversation with Yeonjun as your gaze flickered to the window. You got up to close the curtains, but it did little to help the uncanny feeling seeping through your veins. Lola seemed to notice it too, she barely made a move to go outside, if only to use the bathroom. As three days passed, your phone refused to work and you became increasingly paranoid. 

By your fourth night at the cabin a heavy storm rolled around. This would also mark your fourth night without any signal whatsoever, the events of the outside world remaining unknown to you. The thunder roared outside, and if it wasn’t for Lola’s sensitive hearing, you probably would have missed the light knock to your front door. 

The persistent barking of your dog turns your attention toward said door, “what is it, Lola?” you ask to which your dog lets out a small whine. There’s a brief pause and for a moment everything is quiet, even the merciless storm outside seemed to hold its breath. Another knock against the old wood sends your heartbeat into a small spiral. You knew better than to open the door for just any stranger, besides, what business did another human being have in the middle of this forest? Unless… They were a hiker. 

Soon a raspy voice echoes out from the other side of the door. “P-please…please help me...” Your eyes widened, were they hurt, had something happened, and why were they alone? “Are you hurt?” you question as you get up and slowly inch toward the door, Lola trails behind you worriedly. 

It takes a moment before the voice replies, ragged breaths and soft grunts are all that can be heard. “...yes.” Their answer makes you hesitate, there was something uncanny about the voice, it felt almost strained. Upon noticing your evident doubt the voice pleads to you once more. “Please, please let me in. It hurts…” The voice morphs from a quiet plea into one of sheer desperation. 

“Who hurt you?” you ask, still wary as you keep one hand on the doorknob. Behind you, Lola whines in protest as she pulls her tail between her legs. The person on the other side of the door draws in a sharp breath, “I…I don’t know, it…I couldn’t see it clearly but it’ll come back I’m certain.. Please, please let me in!” it begs. 

Suddenly, you recall your last conversation with Yeonjun, about the animal preying on hikers. Could this be another of its victims? Whoever was on the other side of the door were in dire need of your help. With one final deep breath you unlock it and turn the handle. 

On your doorstep, you find a young man, slightly hunched over as he maintains a tight grip on his left arm. His breathing is labored and his clothes torn. It is not until he glances up at you, a hesitant yet hopeful look on his face that you finally see him. He was beautiful. Big dark eyes stare up at your own, his skin was smooth and perfect, yet sickly pale, you supposed it had to do with being out in this weather. 

“Oh my goodness…” you quietly mumble as you take in the state of the man. “Come in.” 

Upon urging him inside and shutting the door tightly behind you, you guide him to sit on one of the chairs by the dining table. The man thanks you over and over for your kindness as you rush to get him a warm blanket. “What’s your name?” you wonder as you place the quilt over his shoulders. He silently thanks you before replying, “Taehyun.” 

Just when you’re about to tell him your own, Lola emits a loud bark as she growls toward the man. Taehyun gives her a questioning glance but doesn’t seem to pay her any further attention. “Lola! Quit that!” you scold, embarrassed over your dog's odd behavior. “She isn’t usually like this, I don’t know what’s gotten into her…” you apologize as you swat the dog away with your hand. 

Taehyun gives you a small smile, “it’s alright, I’m certainly not the most pleasant thing to gaze upon at this given moment.” You thought his statement to be debatable as your eyes trail across his well built frame; stopping as they reach the large gash on his left arm. “Oh my, your…your arm”, you exclaim as you watch the way blood trickles from the fresh wound. Following your horrified gaze, Taehyun winces as he flexes his arm slightly. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you something for the pain!” You say as you scurry out of the kitchen and to your bedroom where you kept most of your essential supplies. Thankfully you had thought to bring along a medical kit, in case of an emergency like this. Though you were rather unsure if your meek bandage and lacking surgical skills would do much good to the large gash on his arm. Before exiting, you make sure to shut Lola in, not wanting her to cause yet another scene, she whines in protest as you do but you pay it little mind. 

Hastily, you return to the kitchen, and as you set the medkit down you begin rummaging through it. “I should have some kind of disinfectant here..” you mumble without lifting your gaze. It wasn’t until you went to check on the severity of his injuries once more that you froze in your tracks. The once large wound on his arm was…gone. You frown, “what…but I could’ve sworn…” 

The quiet chuckle emitting from the man before you makes your blood run cold as you lift your gaze to meet his. Taehyun’s once pleading eyes were now peering at you in an almost predatorial way as he studied your perplexed expression. “But I…” your words fall short as Taehyun suddenly rises from the chair, without taking his gaze off of you, he reaches a hand up to his neck, it makes a cracking sound as he tilts his head to the side, a small sigh escaping his lips. 

“You humans are far too kind.” His voice is low and as he takes a step forward, you immediately falter backward. The back of your legs hit the table behind you and you wince as you fumble to move around it. “Inviting just anyone into your home like that.” Taehyun’s eyes never leave you as a smirk etches its way to his lips. “My, your gullibleness is quite endearing.” 

You cast a quick glance around the old kitchen, your gaze falling on one of the larger knives. All you had to do was move one step to the right, reach out and… Taehyun’s eyes follow your own and he cocks an eyebrow. “I admire your plan of strategy, but a mere human’s tool will bring little harm to my kind.” 

His kind? Just what exactly was this man. You swallow a gulp as your gaze flickers between him and the knife, your heartbeat working overtime as you grasp for a decision. Despite his words you end up reaching for the knife, grabbing it tightly with both hands, you aim it toward the intruding man. “What do you want from me?” you grit out as you steady your feet against the wooden floor. 

Taehyun inhales slowly, letting his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment; as if savoring a pleasant scent. When he opens them again they’re a swirling pool of crimson. “Now you’re asking the right questions”, his voice lingers with desire as he slowly makes his way around the dining table. 

Like a deer in headlights you immediately dart in the opposite direction. Tumbling out of your kitchen and into the open spaced living room. Behind you, Taehyun laughs, an almost sinister laugh. Frantically you search for anything to shield yourself with. Settling on one of the armchairs in the corner, you quickly dip behind it. With your knees to your chest and back pressed against the soft cushion; you cover your mouth with your free hand, the other maintaining a tight grip on the knife. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath him as Taehyun slowly emerges from the kitchen. “Your determination to live is surely fascinating” he muses, the sound of his voice only becoming louder as he slowly approaches your corner. “Foolish human, you forget that I can hear the delectable sound of your heart beating from miles away.” 

Biting down on your hand, you will the tears away as you screw your eyes shut. “The human’s weak body gives them away before they even become aware of the dangers surrounding them.” The sounds of his footsteps come to a stop and you hold your breath, you don’t dare open your eyes, prolonging the moment for as long as possible. 

It is not until you feel his cold breath on your face that they snap open. The smirk plastered on his beautiful face as he watches you with much intrigue is enough for you to finally act. Your arm works faster than your brain as you swing the knife toward him. Taehyun lets out a faint hiss as he pulls back, thick red liquid seeps from the small cut on his cheek and his expression soon turns from smug into a scowl. 

Seizing your opportunity, you scramble to your feet as you dart for your bedroom. Though you barely make it 10ft before something hard crashes into you from behind. With inhumane speed Taehyun slams you up against the nearest wall. A cold hand wraps around your neck as he lifts you without much trouble. 

Your feet kick at the wall behind you as your body trashes against his grip. With his free hand, Taehyun wipes the blood from his cheek, the wound closing up before your eyes. In your haste you realize that you’ve lost your knife, your only hope. Letting out a huff of air, Taehyun’s gaze locks onto yours, “the others did not struggle this much”, he mutters. 

The others? As realization slowly seeps in, your eyes widen — it wasn’t an animal that had killed all those hikers. It was him. His tight grip on your neck restricts your intake of air and you barely manage to gasp out the word, “y-you..” Taehyun tilts his head to the side, a glimmer of curiosity flashing before his eyes. The grip on your neck falters, if only for a moment, as he lets you regain your breath in order to continue. 

“It was you. You killed all those people”, you splutter as your chest rises and falls in a heavy manner. He smirks, and from this close you’re able to make out the sharp fangs that prod against his bottom lip. “I see I have earned myself quite a reputation amongst your kind”, he comments before leaning in closer, eyes glinting with intrigue, “pray tell, what else have you heard of me?” 

You part your lips to reply before you stop yourself. As Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears you suddenly realize your mistake. “It lures its way inside. They never left their tents. It came to them.” He had come to you, he had knocked on your door and you had let him in. You hadn’t even left your house and the next time you would it would be in a body bag. 

Everything aligned, the pale skin, his inhumane strength and speed, his ability to heal, the crimson eyes, his fangs. He was a vampire and you had willingly invited him inside your house, ultimately signing your own death. 

“I let you in…” you whisper, disbelief evident across your face. “Ah, you are finally connecting the dots”, he mumbles, “I must admit you differ from the rest.” Cold fingers trace the outline of your face before trailing down your collarbone. His touch causes shivers to ripple through your body and Taehyun’s smirk grows. “Had I not been so insatiably hungry right now, I might have kept you around for a bit.” 

His gaze shifts from your mortified expression down to your neck. Contradicting to his previous tight hold on you, he now gently brushes along the exposed veins. “This forest has been vacant for weeks, I thought my last meal here had long since passed.” He brings a strand of your hair to his nose, inhaling the scent. 

“But then came you. And you smell absolutely divine.” His voice is low as his eyes flicker back to yours once more. Horrified, you shake your head as you push against his chest, your meek attempts at breaking free drew a breathy laugh from him. 

“Let us not struggle now.” The once feathery touch along your neck is replaced by a harsh and cold hand against your chin as he holds your face in place. And as your eyes come level with his own, you suddenly find it hard to look away. Dark pools of crimson pull you in, entrancing you as Taehyun mutters something under his breath. You know that it is wrong, but the longer you stare into his eyes the more you feel like giving yourself to him. Despite every instinct in you screaming for you to shut your eyes and pull back, you instead find yourself going limp in his grasp. 

“Much better”, he whispers as he loosens his hold on your chin. Your feet softly hit the ground again and you glance up at him. Somewhere in the back of your head, the urge to run still exists. But you don’t move, you stay unblinking as you gaze at him with a clouded expression. “You humans are almost beautiful when you don’t fret”, he mumbles as his cold fingers brush your hair back to expose your neck fully. 

His tongue drags across one of his fangs as he eyes the skin of your neck with anticipation. “Don’t worry, your sacrifice will not go to waste”, he assures as he leans in to press his cold lips against your warm skin. The feeling of his sharp fangs piercing the flesh of your neck causes your body to feel as if it were on fire. Yet all but a soft gasp is what leaves your lips at the intrusion. 

Everything hurt and you wanted nothing more than to push him off, pry his teeth from your weakening body. But your limbs felt strangely heavy, unable to move, your vision threatens to give out as your knees wobble. What was going on, why weren’t you doing anything? Taehyun groans against your skin, his hands harshly tugging at your hips to keep you in place.

Soon the burning sensation faded before it morphed into something dangerously similar to pleasure. Your body felt tingly, sensitive, every gulp of blood he took sent minor shock waves surging through you and you let out a small sigh at the feeling. To think that this was how you were to die, as nothing more but the next meal of a hungry creature, and in your last moments you found pleasure in it? The thought alone was enough to have your eyes drooping shut.  

Realization slowly creeps its way into your foggy mind — you were actually going to die. No one was coming to save you, you were all alone and this was how your last moments would play out? It was hard to feel any emotion, your mind far too clouded to even keep your eyes open, but if you could feel something, you supposed it would be despair. 

Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, you accept your lowly fate. Just as the darkness is about to consume you, everything suddenly stops. Was death really nothing? Was there no heaven, no hell? Just darkness? It takes you a moment to realize that you are in fact not dead, and that Taehyun has pulled himself away from your neck.  

Slowly, your eyes regain focus as you look at him, confused. You were certain that he was going to kill you, did he really intend to prolong your inevitable death, to make you suffer further? You thought him to be cruel but this was far worse than you had imagined. 

His eyes remain a dark crimson as they fixate on you, but they had lost their sharp edge, he no longer looked as if he was eyeing his next meal, but rather his gaze held something akin to desire. Taehyun’s tongue swipes across his lips, coated in your rich blood as he savors the remnants of it. His breath is shallow, though you wondered if vampires ever really became out of breath. 

“You taste…” he trails off, eyes fixating on the puncturers he’d previously caused on your neck, “...unlike any human I’ve ever had before.” He almost looked to be at a loss for words as he stared at you, you weren’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing, and you couldn’t find yourself to care. Your body felt weak, numb and not like your own anymore. Perhaps death had been the easy way out from your current situation. 

As his cold fingers brush along your exposed collarbone, your gaze flickers back up to his once more. The movements of your own limbs still felt restricted by the unknown force caused by Taehyun, and even if they weren’t, you were sure that your body wouldn’t be able to maintain an upright position, much less run away from the creature before you. 

“I wonder if the rest of you taste just as divine”, he murmurs. His peering gaze suddenly shifts toward your lips and before you have time to question his intentions further, he crashes his lips against your own. 

At first you remain unmoving, unblinking, Taehyun pays your unenthusiastic response little mind as he kisses you hungrily. The faint metallic taste of your own blood lingers on his tongue as he pushes it inside your mouth and your nose turns up in slight disgust. Suddenly your body jolts to life once more, as if the spell in which he had put you under was lifted the moment his lips pressed against your own. 

With newfound strength you push against his cold and hard chest in a desperate attempt to break free. Your fighting hands are met by his own as Taehyun pins them to your sides before taking the liberty to explore all of your body. Cold hands wandering beneath your loose t-shirt, earning him a small whimper from you. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes from your lips as his fingers rub over your perked nipples, squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts. His touch felt oddly enticing and your body suddenly craved more, a lot more. But as his lips found your neck, the memories of what had previously taken place, flashes before your eyes and suddenly it feels as if those sharp fangs pierced your skin all over again. You become dangerously aware of what is about to happen as one of Taehyun’s hands tug at the hem of your shorts and you immediately try to twist your body away from his invasive touch. 

“No! Wait- stop!” you shriek as your hands work to pry him off of you. There’s a brief pause as Taehyun once again pulls his lips from your neck. He doesn’t say anything as he looks at you, an impassive expression pending across his face. You swallow, “this- I, what’s happening? This isn’t…” The words fall from your lips in a hasty manner as you struggle to form coherent thoughts, afraid that he would grow impatient at your antics and just kill you off. Finally you settle on, “I don’t understand.” 

Taehyun looks at you as he cocks an eyebrow, an insatiable hunger swirling behind his eyes. “You do not understand the act of indulging in one's sexual desires?” He wonders as he studies you with a mix of apprehension and disbelief. Your mouth falls open as you blink, “...I, of course I do but…” 

“Then you must understand that a vampire’s hunger exceeds beyond just his thirst for blood”, he murmurs as his gaze returns to your lips. “You are a very pretty human.” He breathes, cold fingers trail along your chest, pushing your shirt up to reveal your soft stomach. His eyes twinkle in anticipation, “there are other ways for you to satiate me.” 

With that statement, he reconnects your lips in a kiss filled with yearning. You don’t have any time to react before you feel your feet lift from the ground. The surge that forms in your stomach at his rapid movements remind you of that when a roller coaster drops. Your back hits the soft cushion of the sofa as Taehyun swiftly takes place above you, his arms caging you in.  

With one harsh tug, he pulls your shirt up to reveal your breasts. The cool air causes goosebumps to bloom on your skin, Taehyun trails his fingers over the small bumps as his lips attach around one of your nipples. Sharp fangs graze over your sensitive skin and you shiver in a fear mixed arousal. “I can hear your blood rushing”, he groans against your breast before moving on to the next one, leaving red marks that would soon blossom into purple. Tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, he elicits a small moan from you. 

In a tantalizing slow manner he moves down your stomach, inhaling your scent before stopping above the hem of your shorts. He looks up at you, with that same expression that had terrified you not long ago, he looked ready to eat you whole. “Are you scared, human?” he asks, fingers dipping inside the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your gaze flickers between his hand and his eyes, you swallow, “no.” 

Taehyun smirks, “liar.” Without warning he pulls both your panties and shorts down, a small shriek leaving your lips at the action as your thighs instinctively squeeze together. “There is little point in denying me”, he grunts as his hand easily finds its way between your sealed legs. Upon reaching your already wet cunt, Taehyun’s smirk grows, “and in denying yourself.” You bite your lip, unable to hide the fact that his lips on your own had spurred you on further than you’d liked to. 

“My, are you pretty”, he mumbles as his crimson eyes fixate on the way his fingers glide against your folds. His subtle comment has blood rushing to your face and had it not been for the way your core ached to be touched, you would’ve probably even been embarrassed at the remark. Squirming beneath him, your hips buck in an attempt to seek any kind of relief. Taehyun’s gaze snaps to your face, “you humans are far too greedy”, he snarls, “never satisfied with what they have, you always want more.” 

Your back arches off the cushion as he pushes two fingers inside of you. “Is that what you want?” He curls his fingers, brushing them against that small bundle of nerves that never failed to make you go cross eyed whenever you pleasured yourself. “To be ruined to bits by a vampire, reduced to nothing at my mercy?”

You meekly nod, struggling to keep your eyes open at the intense waves of pleasure that overflow your senses. Taehyun huffs, “I knew that your kind was pathetic, but this sure takes the price.” His words barely register, you’re too lost in the way his fingers move inside of you, thumb pressing up against your clit in a menacing way. 

When he suddenly pulls his hand away, you cry out in displeasure as your eyes shoot open in search of his. You find him already looking at you intently, his gaze unwavering as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way blood rushes beneath your skin, listening to the supple beating of your heart. 

His hand glides across the soft flesh of your thighs, “I need to taste you again”, he says, his voice strained and hoarse as his stare drops to your glistening folds. Before you have the time to register his words, his head is between your legs and you let out a small yelp at the feel of his cold breath hovering over your sensitive cunt. 

The idea of him, his mouth, his fangs, so close to such a sensitive part of you was terrifying in itself, yet you couldn’t find it in you to push him away. A low groan rumbles from deep within his chest as Taehyun drags his tongue along your slit, leaving you gasping as your nails dig into the cushion of the sofa. 

He pulls back for a moment, his eyes never leaving your core as he licks his lips, as if he focused entirely on the taste of you. Then, without warning he dives back in and your thigh twitches as his lips latch onto your clit. Hungrily, he sucks and laps at your cunt and you wondered how this man had been close to killing you just moments prior. 

Pathetic whines leave your lips as his tongue pushes inside of you, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit. The harsh grip of his hands holds your thighs down as they threaten to close around his head. Moans and pleas fall from your lips but he pays them little mind, too focused on the way you taste, the way your body reacts to his touch. 

Your stomach draws into knots as you feel your orgasm approaching. Taehyun lets out a sound of contentment as he feels you clench around his tongue. “F-fuck…I’m..” your words are swallowed by the whine that leaves you as he pulls his head from between your legs, robbing you of the high that was just within your reach. 

“Again, you humans are consumed by your greed”, he tsk’s as he watches the way you squirm, pathetically chasing after your desired orgasm. He leans back on his knees as one of his hands frees his cock from his pants. “Patience”, he grunts as his pale hand glides along his shaft, “comes naturally when living for centuries. You humans only live to see a fragment of what I experience, yet you greedily take and take.” 

You swallow as your eyes shift from his intense gaze toward the hand wrapped around his cock. Like the rest of him, it was beautiful, flushed at the tip and slick with precum that spilled from the slit. Your cunt throbbed at the sight and you bit your lip in anticipation. Above you, Taehyun’s expression turns into a sneer, “do not think that I am here to fulfill your bottomless greed, human.” A small gasp leaves your lips as you feel the head of his cock pushing against your folds. 

With one harsh thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you, drawing a small shriek from you at the burning intrusion. Taehyun lets out a groan of satisfaction as his lips return to suck at the mark on your neck, the still fresh wound causing a throbbing pain to flare through your body, mixing with the feel of his cock deep inside of you. 

He moves slowly, taking his time to feel the way your body wrapped around him. The warmth of something so full of life entangled with the very epitome of death. The rapid beating of your heart against his unmoving one filling his senses. Your mind feels hazy and that familiar feeling of pleasure you had felt when he drained you of blood returned. With each slow thrust you felt him graze along every inch of you, the tip of his cock caressing the bundle of nerves that had you clenching around him. You had never felt so full before. 

His lips reconnect with yours, the taste of blood completely gone and now replaced by the remnants of your own fluids. And while it was certainly not something you had let previous partners do, it somehow felt right with him. Your hands loosen their grip on the cushion as they move across his body; the body you had longed to touch since he first appeared on your doorstep. 

Taehyun inhales against your lips as your warm fingers wander beneath his shirt and over his cold chest. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you were greedy, even on the brink of death you had let your desires consume you. But did it really matter? Your life was bound to end anyway. Once more, just once, you would let yourself be greedy. 

His hands glide across your body, squeezing and groping at every part of flesh he could access, relishing in how alive you felt, how your blood pulsated under his hands. Your legs move on their own, wrapping around his waist as you drew him in closer, making him groan into your mouth. 

He breaks the kiss to look at you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure as your lips part in a silent moan. Cold fingers dig into your cheeks as he keeps your head in place. “Foolish human”, he grunts, “I could kill you right now.” His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, “either you are too dumb to even comprehend the danger of your situation, or you’re just too fucking desperate to care.” 

Without warning he pushes his thumb inside your mouth, you respond eagerly by swirling your tongue around it. “Considering the way your pussy so desperately sucks me in, I would assume the latter”, he sneers before pulling his thumb from your mouth, smearing your saliva across your lips and cheek. 

His thrusts grow ragged as he presses his lips against yours. You know that he’s close, and you were too, if only you could… Your hand slides between your bodies and down your stomach, but before reaching where you need it the most, cold fingers wrap around your wrist. “Stupid human”, Taehyun groans as yanks your hand away. 

The whine that escapes your lips is soon replaced by a soft gasp as his fingers circle your clit. Your legs around his waist tremble as you finish around his cock, a cry of pleasure emitting from deep within your throat as your nails dig into his arms whilst you continuously clench around him. 

Taehyun’s lips travel down your neck, licking over the previous bruises he’d left before hovering above the sensitive bite marks. You’ve barely come down from your high when you feel his hips stutter, the warm liquid that shoots up inside of you makes you completely unguarded for when his fangs re-pierce your neck.

The shock only lasts a moment as Taehyun rocks his hips into you, all the while he takes gulp after gulp of your blood. As you lay there panting, you think that you might just actually die, but then you feel him pull back, the sensation of his fangs withdrawing makes you shiver. 

His tongue drags across the punctures, licking up the very last droplet of blood before he leans back to look at you. Despite everything, you still thought he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Even as thick blood coated his lips and chin, his uncanny and red eyes peering at you; contrasting his sickly pale skin, you found yourself in awe. 

Taehyun’s gaze shifts from your neck to your eyes, no matter how hard you tried; you couldn’t possibly decipher a single thought going through his head. “Perhaps there is more to you than just your pretty face, human”, he murmurs as his tongue swipes across his lips. 

“I intend to keep you.”

taglist ✎... @mitchko11 @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @yunjinsbbg @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @beomtasticc (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[kairoot]

EICS. 💌 (05.) last time i saw you

WARNINGS ▸ 1.5K words, mentions of being tired and pretty depressed, let me know if i missed anything (i do not condone any of these things and this is not made to represent any of the idols' personality or behavior. it is simply for fictional purposes.)

SYNOPSIS ▸ you and jake broke up about a year ago and he made it his mission to forget everything about you. you've always wanted to send him a text or even a voicemail about how much you missed him but you always held back. that was until you two met again.

—

Too many days had gone by since the party at Heeseung’s and Jake’s head was swirling. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He’d spent most of his time alone for the past two weeks, his phone turned off and his dorm door shut. For whatever reason, he couldn’t get the thought of Y/n out of his head, ever since he saw her.

Jake lied in bed, staring at the ceiling. There were clothes scattered over the floor and bed while his room reeked with the smell of day-old ramen. His papers for classes were unfinished and spread out on his desk with open emails about his absences from school. He blinked slowly as his brain came up with all of the most impossible scenarios of him and Y/n. Like them getting back together. It seemed utterly impossible to Jake.

There was a rhythmic knock on his door that knocked him out of his trance. He didn’t move, though, hoping whoever was there would move on and go about their day. But he was sadly mistaken.

The knock came again, only it was louder and more demanding. Jake huffed, swinging his legs over the bed to stand up. He trudged to the front door, swinging it open with a pout on his face.

“Wha—“

He cut his sentence short when he saw his mom smiling up at him and his dad with a slightly smaller grin. His eyes went wide as he tried processing the fact that they were actually there. He had mixed reactions; ecstatic and annoyed.

During Y/n and Jake's time together, Jake’s parents were not too fond of Y/n and they always made it known to the both of them. Whether Y/n was at their house and his parents gave her a certain look or mumbled something under their breath.

Jake's mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right words. His mom's smile faltered slightly as she took in the state of his dorm. "Jake, honey, what's going on? We've been worried sick."

Jake ran a hand through his messy hair, stepping aside to let them in. "I'm fine, Mom. Just... a lot on my mind."

His dad glanced around the cluttered room, his expression a mix of concern and disapproval. "Doesn't look like you're fine, son. This place is a mess."

Jake sighed, closing the door behind them. "I've just been busy with classes and stuff. Didn't have time to clean up."

His mom walked over to the desk, picking up a crumpled paper. "These don't look like assignments, Jake. What's really going on?"

Jake hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor. He could feel the weight of his parents' gaze on him, and it made the knot in his stomach tighten. "It's... it's Y/n," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His mom's face softened, but his dad's expression hardened. "That girl again? Jake, we told you—"

"Don't," Jake interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. "Just don't. I don't need a lecture right now."

His mom put a hand on his dad's arm, silencing him. She turned back to Jake, her eyes filled with concern. "What happened, sweetheart?"

Jake took a deep breath, the memories flooding back. "I saw her at Heeseung's party a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then, I can't stop thinking about her. I thought I was over her, but... I miss her. A lot."

His mom reached out, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to miss someone, Jake. But you can't let it consume you. You need to take care of yourself."

Jake nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. "I know, but it's hard. Everything reminds me of her. And knowing how you guys felt about her back then... it doesn't help."

"But you never gave her a chance," Jake shot back. "You didn't see how happy she made me."

There was a tense silence before his mom spoke again. "Maybe we were too harsh. If she's on your mind this much, maybe you need to talk to her. See if there's still something there."

Jake looked at her, surprised. "You think so?"

She nodded, a small smile forming. "Sometimes, we need to follow our hearts, even if it means taking a risk."

Jake felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he needed to reach out to Y/n, to see if there was still a chance for them. As his parents helped him tidy up his dorm, Jake's mind was already racing with possibilities. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of clarity.

That night, after his parents left, Jake sat at his desk, staring at his phone. His fingers hovered over Y/n's contact, his heart pounding.

Y/n sat at a table in the bustling cafeteria, focusing intently on her lunch to avoid her friends' probing looks. Yunjin, Harvey, and Jurin were discussing the latest gossip, but Y/n felt their eyes darting to her, silently urging her to join the conversation.

"Y/n, you've been quiet all day," Yunjin finally said, her voice laced with concern. "What's up?"

Y/n shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile. "Just tired, that's all. Long night of studying."

Harvey narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. "Is this about Jake? We all saw the way you looked at each other at Heeseung's party."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, but she shook her head firmly. "I'm over Jake. Seeing him again just reminded me of why it didn't work out. I don't need him."

Jurin leaned forward, her expression empathetic. "But you miss him, don't you? It's okay to admit that."

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of their concern. "Yeah, I miss him sometimes. But that doesn't mean we should be together. I need to focus on myself, on what makes me happy without relying on him."

Yunjin smiled softly. "That's a good mindset. But remember, it's okay to feel sad or nostalgic. Just don't let it control you."

Harvey nodded. "And we're here to help you through it. You don't have to do this alone."

Jurin chimed in, her voice gentle. "Yeah, we're your friends. We've got your back, no matter what."

Y/n felt a surge of gratitude for her friends' support. "Thanks, guys. It really helps knowing you're here for me."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Y/n gathered her things, feeling a sense of resolve. She didn't need Jake to be happy. She had her friends, her goals, and her own strength. And that was enough.

Walking to their next class, Yunjin looped her arm through Y/n's. "Let's make a pact. No more moping over boys. We're focusing on ourselves and our future."

Harvey laughed. "Hear, hear! Here's to strong, independent women."

Jurin grinned. "And to friends who stick together through everything."

Y/n smiled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. With her friends by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges came her way. And as they walked down the hall, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. She didn't need Jake to complete her; she was already whole.

Sunghoon, Riki, and Heeseung sat in the campus café, their usual hangout spot between classes. The table was littered with half-empty coffee cups and textbooks, but the conversation was far from academic.

"Has anyone seen Jake lately?" Riki asked, stirring his iced coffee absently. "He hasn't shown up to any of our classes this week."

Heeseung shook his head, his brow furrowed in concern. "Nope. His dorm's been shut tight every time I checked. I tried calling him, but he’s not picking up."

Sunghoon sat silently, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on his phone. He had been uncharacteristically quiet and tense, his mood casting a shadow over their usual banter.

Heeseung exchanged a look with Riki, then leaned forward. "Sunghoon, what's up with you? You've been in a mood all day."

Sunghoon's grip tightened on his phone, but he didn't respond.

Riki frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. "Come on, man. We're all worried about Jake, but you're acting like something else is bothering you."

Sunghoon finally looked up, his eyes flashing with anger. "It’s nothing. Just focus on Jake."

Heeseung sighed, trying to keep his patience. "We know he saw Y/n at the party. It's probably why he's been off. But we can't help if you don't talk to us."

Sunghoon's jaw tightened, and he looked away. He was still fuming about how none of them had shown up to his big game last weekend, but he wasn't about to bring it up now. They had more pressing issues to deal with.

Riki tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. "Maybe we should call Jay. He was at the party too, and he might have some insight."

Heeseung nodded. "Good idea. I'll give him a call."

Heeseung stepped away to make the call while Sunghoon and Riki waited, the tension between them palpable. After a few minutes, Heeseung returned, shaking his head. "No answer. We’ll have to figure this out ourselves."

Riki sighed. "Alright, then. Let’s just go to Jake’s dorm. He can’t ignore us if we’re standing right in front of him."

Sunghoon's expression softened slightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Yeah, let’s go."

—

prev / masterlist / next

MILAN’S NOTE ▸ kinda hate this but I FINALLY UPDATED EICS I MISSED THIS SMAU SM I LOVD IT WITH ALL OF MY HEART

TAGLIST: @jwsdoll @kgneptun @thesunoosshining @lostwonderwall l @ariadores @haechansbbg @mrchweeee @instant-joy @jiseokzzz @n-eetune @wntersmina @wonyofile-deactivated20240614 @jebetwo @sussycheetos @ilovecats923 @hyuckscore @laylasmother @jakehooni @fertiliezedtoesw @ghostiiess @zyvlxqht @adr1an47 @sasfransisco @reallyspaghetti @143ikeu @enhaslxt @judeduartewannabe @ilovejungwonandhaechan @belovedsthings @mnxnii @hoonsbbokie (message, comment, or send a ask to be added)

[inkskinned]

something i've been thinking a lot about is that just surviving is often both the least rewarding recovery experience and also the absolute most critical skill.

i think many of us have spent the last few years of our life just... holding the line. our legs trembling under all that weight. many of us backslid in the sand; and that was agonizing. we have spent so much of our life pushing, and to be forced backwards... we are already so exhausted. it is unimaginable to think we must remake the progress that had already been hard-won.

there's a graph that exists of how you can roughly expect any artistic skill to grow. we all go through periods of rapid growth and discovery; only to plateau. there is often a little sorrow in the plateau, because we're not moving quickly. we don't see those huge strides. there's no obvious sense we're learning.

but the art we're making in that plateau matters. it can still be effective, evocative, exciting. you can still feel inspired, happy, creative in that plateau; because the skills you have are growing, it's just that you're a spot where you don't need to focus on skill-building, you've finally reached a place where you can focus on actually making things. and at some point, without you expecting it, and as long as you work for it - another sharp increase in skill will happen. if you ask any of us how we did it, most of us would tell you the same thing: i just kept trying.

i have spent a lot of my life believing that just-surviving was the same thing as stagnating. i don't have any tangible goals or desires and the idea of making longterm plans makes me want to set my hair on fire. i am fucking tired. i don't want another year of scrambling, of falling down, of slipping in the mud. I love my friends, but i'm watching them settle down, have a life, get what they want: and i'm still here, in the part where i beg my life to be barely functional.

i think... maybe this whole time it wasn't standing still. it was still learning. it was still growing. i just got used to the plateau and forgot that "even surviving" isn't something i used to be able to take for granted. that in all this horrible, thankless effort - certain things are easy enough now. i can forget them.

i have spent so much time hating that i'm not getting better faster. i forgot that it used to be unthinkable to me to even consider recovery. these last years; i've been comparing my plateau to my eras of quick-discovery. i've been unfair to myself. no, the progress isn't as obvious. that doesn't mean it's not still-happening.

we make the mistake of saying "this year i want to live, not just survive," as if the effort of just surviving is useless, or could be shrugged off. the effort of surviving is beautiful. your years spent like barely-here are enough. you're not wasting time. you're not wasting your one precious life. "just holding on" means you were able to actually find and grab the rope. you're here; and the effort of your survival is work. you've been seeking the sky when it used to be impossible to imagine putting down roots. i know it is hard, and i hope you are able to feel better soon. i hope we both reach our next quick-climb. and i know - the weight might never ease up.

it's just that, over time, with effort: we will get strong enough.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀: 𝘉𝘈𝘊𝘒 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: returning back home isn't entirely unwelcome, it's just the guilt and shame that is. things are tense between you and your mom, and you want nothing more than to fix it, but you have to fix yourself first.

word count: 2078

warnings: withdrawal symptoms, the reader is an alcoholic, cigarettes, addiction, allusions to reader's father being sick.

a/n: HII!! so i'm kind of nervous but also excited because i've never posted a series before! i have a loose idea of what i want to do with this story, so i'm riding with vibes right now! i hope you guys like this and let me know how you feel!!

masterlist | series masterlist | AO3

Your head hurts. 

You’ve never been a particularly good flier, the jetlag you experience every time you land never fails to make you feel sick.

The terminal you stood in was loud, the large area booming with people since you had landed in the early afternoon. It was warm in Quantico, Virginia, and it was still the beginning of September. The skies were clear from what you could see through the glass roof, the clouds a welcoming softened contrast to the turmoil stirring within you.

You squint up at the sky through your sunglasses and your already bitten down nails find themselves trying to pick at the peeled skin of your cuticles, but your movements pause at the absent added weight of an engagement ring. 

It’s like a punch to the gut, but you don’t have much time to think when you spot your mother standing off to the side near the entrance. You’d already been through baggage claim, your whole life amounted to two full suitcases. They were just clothes, everything you had back in New York belonged to him.

The nervousness after finally seeing your mother again made your throat close and nerves light up like wildfire. You felt that familiar itch of need under your skin, like you wish you could peel back the flesh and scratch at your bones. 

You could settle for taking a deep breath.

You made your way towards her as she waved hesitantly; she looked older, the brightened coloring of her hair no longer shined its youthful color, instead, it was replaced by almost a full head of gray. It looked good on her, but you have a feeling she aged faster than she probably should have because of certain circumstances.

This was why you dreaded coming back here, back to Virginia, back home; you weren’t ready to face the guilt and grief that you had fought so desperately to try and run from. You felt completely out of your depth, like you didn’t deserve to come back after what you did. 

It surprised you when your mother willingly answered your phone call – seeing though she hadn’t bothered to try and reach out to you even though your number was still the same – you were to blame for it though, there were only so many instances where someone can stand being ignored before they just give up all together.

“Mom.” You breathed out, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. You push your glasses up into your hair and you know you look like shit. You had called her and left right after it happened, so yesterday's running makeup still sat dried on your face. You tried to make yourself presentable during the flight, but there was only so much you could do with airline water and a tissue.

It wasn’t just the makeup, and you know it; it was the dark circles under your eyes due to basically years of shit sleep – and even days without it – bloodshot eyes and sunken features, on top of your tremoring figure due to withdrawal.

She gives you a once over, a quick, fleeting up and down look, but you can see it, the absolute devastation and concern written on her face.

“Hi.” Is all she says. “Is that it?” She gestures down to your suitcases. “Yep, that’s all of it.” Another look. “Okay.”

It’s awkward and tense and no one knows what to say. You sure as hell don’t, because if you open your mouth, you’re not sure what would come out. An apology? A snarky remark or an ugly comment? You’re a mix of emotions right now, and all you can focus on is the want for a cigarette and a drink.

It doesn’t take long to approach the car, and it’s the same shitty Kia Sedan that your dad had let you drive when you were just a teenager with a permit. You soften at the sight and your mom pops the trunk open with ease. She takes your suitcases from you, and you don’t stop her. When she gets fretful like this, you just have to let her do her thing and take care of you.

‘Even though I don’t deserve it’ you can’t help but think bitterly.

It still smells the same when you sit in the passenger seat of it, the faux leather seats still withered and chipping.

“So…” Your mom begins. You can see her grip on the steering wheel is tight, her posture tense as though she doesn’t know what to do now that you’re here. You can’t stand it. She used to be so confident, so self-assured. Maybe not everything stayed the same.

“How are you?” She questions meekly. “Tired and jetlagged.” You choose to indulge her. “Right.” She says, tone light. “How about you?” You ask, “How are things?” You know there’s so much she wants to say, but she doesn’t want to risk starting a fight, so she settles for, “I’ve been fine.”

“Right.” You reiterate, nodding while turning your head to stare out the window. 

“Your first AA meeting is in a few days.”

Down to business, thank God. “Alright.”

“I really need you to stick to this, okay? We had an agreement.” The trust between the two of you is completely broken, and you have no idea how to fix it. There’s so much about her you need to relearn, half a decade of missed moments and memories that could’ve been made.

“Okay.”

“And you’ll call my therapist?”

“Yes mom.” 

“I’m serious. I want you to try and put in an effort. I know things are hard right now, but I really want to help you, and I can’t if you won’t work with me. I refuse to let you turn into some couch surfing drunk that does nothing but self-destructs the whole day –”

“God, mom I said okay!” You snap.

It goes silent. Just great.

It’s mid-afternoon when you finally make it home.

That’s what really takes the cake.

The lawn is well kept, your mom most likely paying someone to come out here. Before you left, your mom’s arthritis had been getting worse, but she rarely cared about herself when your father was sick.

The porch was decorated with all sorts of plants either sitting or hanging off the railings, a different assortment of windchimes and crystal sun catchers scattered about the awning.

You take the initiative to get the suitcases out yourself as your mom starts for the front door. A sick sense of nostalgia settles over you. The street was still the same; your house was one in three within the little cul-de-sac, sidewalks still marred with childlike chalk drawings, lawns scattered about with chairs, bikes, and toys.

Your eyes fell on the house across from yours and that same itch found itself resurfacing.

When you got inside you could have thrown up; it felt like a weight was being placed on your chest, your heart aching as you took in the family photos on the walls. You knew you were shaking by now, your tremoring getting worse and sweat perspiring on your brow. You felt so bare without your protective vices.

“I’m gonna make lunch, okay? I’ll give you some time to set up.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” You say through your dry throat. She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before giving it a squeeze.

You keep your gaze focused forward as you brace the hall to your old childhood bedroom, which was on the right at the end. 

Opening the door, you take in what looks like a snapshot in history, the room so untouched that it was frozen in time. 

The blankets on your bed were left askew like you had left them the night of your departure, your side table decorated with a box of tissues, your old sketchbook, and a cup of pens and pencils sat on top of it.

Your desk is still holding old textbooks and what not, but you had practically stripped the room clean when you left.

You abandon your suitcases to sit on your bed, and when you do, a small gust of dust flurries around you and you can’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that it was funny, but if you didn’t react in some sort of way, you would’ve cried.

You felt so emotionally unbalanced, and you blinked hard to rid yourself from the burning behind your eyelids. Just then, you remembered something.

Standing up, you make your way to your closet, opening the sketched doors to dig around for a shoe box, when you find it, you make a small ‘whoop!’ sound. It opened to reveal your old smoke stash. You were young and taking care of your dying father pushed you to pick up cigarettes. 

You hid it as a courtesy to your mom, but you’re sure that now at the ripe age of twenty-seven, you don’t need to be that careful. You take out the old carton and it still has a whole role of filters left. Then you flicked the gear on the lighter and it lit up. Finally, a win.

“I’m gonna step out for a bit, okay?” You announce to your mom as you retreat down the hall. “Oh?” She says in surprise. “Where are you going?” You wave off her question. “Just gonna sit out on the porch for a second. Is that cool?”

You know your mom is worried about you, now that you are trying to get clean, she feels as though she has to keep an eye on you. You went completely cold turkey, the last drink you had was the day before you flew out.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” She rushes to say. “I’ll be back inside before the food’s done, okay?” You reassure her. You’re trying to get used to finding an old balance with her, because you missed her, more than anything. You want her to trust you again.

“Okay.”

You find yourself sitting in that familiar spot on the porch step, the same one you’d sit on when your dad couldn’t sleep and you’d find yourself out here in the middle of the night. Someone else used to sit with you too.

Your eyes flicker over to the house across the street while you light up the cigarette between your lips. The nicotine and tobacco helps to ease the itch in your veins and you sighed, blowing the air out with it.

There was another relationship you needed to fix.

You haven’t seen or talked to Spencer in years, but he was your best friend up until you left for New York with your then boyfriend. I mean… it’s not often you’d meet a twelve-year-old that goes to college. He was the exact opposite of the boy next door with his big nerdy glasses and meek demeanor, like he didn’t know how to carry himself.

You knew the bullying was bad, so you were his only friend.

You liked that he was smart, and he knew how to listen, you loved his mom, and you were there for Spencer when her schizophrenia started to get bad. Two hurt people that found themselves acting as a crutch to the other.

That same sickening feeling of guilt reappeared, and you took in another deep drag of smoke. You held it there, longer than you probably should have and when you released it, you were dizzy, and your throat burned uncomfortably. 

Your blinks were slow, and you grew nauseous.

“Fuck.” You murmured, running the filter up and down the bottom of your shoe to put it out before flicking it away. 

You hang your head between your legs and attempt to ground yourself.

“Hon?” Your mom calls out from behind the screen door. “Are you okay?” She rubs up and down your shoulders and you sniffle. “Yeah just…” You take a deep breath. “Just a little nauseous.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything because you’re a grown woman that could make her own decisions, but don’t make me take those things away too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her chiding.

“Yes, mother.” You say dryly but without any malice. It’s nice to be able to joke like this with her. 

“Now, how about a sandwich? I bet it tastes better than those things.”

“Ham and cheese?” You question hopefully and finally lift your head. You’re greeted with her fond smile that makes her look younger. “Yes, baby. Ham and cheese.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[underdark-dreams]

WIP Preview: Birds & Bees Ch.3

Have been slowly cooking on a doozy of a final chapter for my Rolan x Tav rut fic Birds and Bees, featuring plenty of smut, feelings, and smut-with-feelings. (why not all three?)

But first a preview of the pure smut, for everyone who has followed & patiently waited for updates! I love you all!

“I should take a sample of your blood this week,” Tav said with sudden inspiration. “Blood alchemy during a heat cycle…not sure it’s ever been tried.”

“Really?” Rolan was kissing idly across her shoulder blades while she lay reading on her stomach. “If you truly want to, I’d give you a vial. Not sure what applications you'd expect to get out of it.”

“I can think of one very lucrative one.”

She flipped through a few more pages before she caught Rolan looking at her quizzically.

“Aphrodisiacs?” She gave a wave of her hand, as if it was quite obvious. “If I could bottle up some of that magic, I'd be a rich woman.”

Rolan looked a bit scandalized before he caught the corners of her mouth twitching. His eyes glinted.

“You’re insufferable.” He clicked his tongue at her. “I’ve trusted you during a very delicate time, you know.”

“Hmmm.” She continued lazily through her book. “Maybe I'll just save it up for myself, then. You only go into rut every year or two, don't you? I might want to store away some of that virility for a rainy day.”

“You absolute menace—”

She felt a thrill like that of a misbehaving child before Rolan pounced on her. His hands landed beside her elbows as his warm weight pressed her body deliciously into the mattress.

“I'm perfectly capable of getting you off any time of any year.” The thick ridges of his length slid hard over her rear, punctuating his statement.

“But I've never slept with you outside your cycle, have I? I'd have no way of knowing,” she protested lightly, though the way she arched and rubbed back against his cock undercut her teasing completely.

Rolan nipped at a spot behind her shoulder that made her shiver, and his baritone ghosted beside her ear. “I can think of a few well-proven methods.”

His fingers reached to drag her prop book away out of her grip. Then his body heat left her. Before Tav could look back, she felt his hands hook under the front of her pelvis and tug, lifting her ass upward off the mattress. He kept pulling until she’d been forced to scoot her knees all the way up under her hips and drop her shoulders.

With her chest pressed down against the sheets and her ass propped vulgarly upward, she felt an exposing rush of cool air across the wet spot between her legs. More aching desire was already pooling at her entrance, and she was certain Rolan was taking a very long look at the view she was presenting him.

Just as she tried to crane her neck against the sheets to see his face, Rolan’s hot breath ghosted across her cunt.

A trembling whine caught in her throat. She found herself arching her back as far as she could, giving him a full view and complete access, shamelessly eager for the feel of his mouth on her.

Rolan’s fingers cupped around her thighs. When the tip of his nose brushed near her entrance, she heard him inhale deeply against her.

The small gesture was obscene and shockingly arousing. She bit back a gasp. She throbbed between her legs and felt a drop of slick leak out and roll down her inner thigh. Without pause, Rolan’s hot tongue swept it from her skin.

“Gods,” he groaned, and she felt his mouth vibrate against her thigh. “You are utterly delicious. Do you know what you do to me?”

[heylittleriotact]

WIP Wednesday

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx (I appreciate you for keeping me so on my toes with these! More Dragon Age though, I'm afraid 🫠)

There is a mighty hunger circulating the Dragon Age fandom for all sorts of angsty and painful creations centred around a certain necromancer's handling of a certain event that happens in act 3. It's currently in the rambly-word-vomit phase where things get dumped on paper with little thought as to whether or not they're relevant or interesting or even make sense. Under the cut so as to avoid spoilers <3

Moribund

adjective

1. near death

2.  stagnant; without force or vitality

Because you’re worried about me, or insecure about you?

We’ll talk back home, Emmrich… I promise. 

The accusation and the assurance cycled through his mind relentlessly from the exact moment she ceased to exist in their world, sent physically into the Fade by the Dread Wolf. The words had been careening through his head for days now, along with the ones he had spoken that had set the whole affair off: One of us needs to consider my mortality. 

A foolish assertion in hindsight: Amina was always considering mortality. His, hers, and everyone else’s. If life was a sentence in a book, death was simply the appropriate punctuation that marked the end of it: without it, the sentence lost all of its weight and meaning. 

She always spoke so romantically about the inevitability of that final mystery - the peace and freedom from pain and fear that would come with it, and the comforting guarantee of an end in a world where one could seldom rely on the guarantee of anything: food, fortune… love. It was a beloved natural order, responsible for everything from the stars in the sky to the worms in the dirt. She was enchanted by mortality.

He dragged his hands through his disheveled hair, hunched over an old and fragile tome, whose text wavered and blurred. A tear splashed on the page, and not wanting to damage the delicate paper even in his state, he wiped it away with care. 

Never mind the apology he never got to make: he never got to tell her how much he admired her for that… how he envied her maturity and well-organized mind, and the fact that even despite his countless accomplishments and years of experience, she possessed an enterprising confidence he could never educate himself into.

“We go to sleep each night operating under the assumption that we’ll wake up in the morning,” she said to him not a week earlier. “Skipping out on sleep because I might die in the night is only likely to hasten my demise… and I might end up choking to death on my breakfast anyway. Ugh.” A shrug and an indulging smile, and she had breezed past him, leaving him to ponder that thought, the scent of cedar, peppermint, and rosewater in her wake.

“Oh darling…” He said to no one, “I’m so sorry…”

He forced himself to turn the page and continue reading even though all of the words had blended into incomprehensible nonsense days earlier, and he was little closer to finding a way to free Rook from Solas’ trap. It had been a fortnight already - was she even still alive? Had she languished away alone, her mortal body unable to sustain itself in a prison designed for immortal gods? 

If she had died, were those final moments peaceful, like drifting off to sleep? Or were they desperate seconds that stretched into eternity as she realized her impending and unavoidable demise, her entire being gripped with loneliness and terror as life slipped from her grasp like the finest of sand…

“No.” The assertion possessed defiance he didn’t think he was capable of. “I cannot think like that.”

She isn’t dead… she can’t be dead for the simple fact that there’s so much I need to say to her…

Denial, this was called, and it was a common coping mechanism amongst the bereaved. The mind was tremendously skilled at protecting itself during times of immense emotional and psychological strain. Comforting rationale would parse itself into a neatly packaged alternative that was easier to confront than the truth - a temporary neurological repair not meant to last forever, but rather allow one to withstand the immediate shock of a loss. But was he suffering the rigors of grief, or was he on the right path with his stubborn refusal to accept anything that didn’t result in Amina warm and safe in his arms?

“If anyone can get her out of that dreadful place it's you, Volkarin.” He heaved a sigh and straightened in his chair, his spine protesting at the sudden shift in positioning. He ran a hand pensively over his chin as he stared at the pages of the book, decently lengthy stubble rasping under his skin. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead with even a day’s growth shading his jaw, but these were extenuating circumstances indeed. 

That’s what he told himself at least, knowing that the truth of the matter was that he couldn’t even bear to look at himself in his shaving mirror for the guilt that he carried. 

[sparkplug02]

Good Omens Season 3: I forgive you

I've seen the theory that, in the final fifteen minutes of Season 2, Episode 6, Aziraphale was trying to signal to Crowley that something was wrong and was lying for the first part of that conversation (someone, don't remember who, made a point about how Aziraphale makes more hand motions when he's hiding something). Crowley missed the signs and that led to further miscommunication, etc.

I don't really think this is the case. I think the character development potential for Aziraphale and Crowley to learn from this makes more sense.

However,

IF Aziraphale were trying to signal Crowley, I can only imagine what Crowley's reaction would be upon realizing this and realizing that he missed those signals and that the conversation ended the way it did instead of getting the message. If Aziraphale was trying to say "help, the Metatron is listening and I have to bullshit my way through this, please improvise with me on this to save both of us from immediate danger" and Crowley took it as "I'm throwing away everything we've worked for since Notmaggedon and abandoning you," the Crowley's response of "how could you do this, I'm not going to help you" is maybe not ideal.

I can just imagine Crowley realizing what Aziraphale really mean, realizing that he said 'no,' to that, and that he left Aziraphale when he was asking for help. Crowley might feel guilty about that, and I can imagine a bit of shouting at the sky (possibly in the rain), and let's just say, for dramatic effect, of course, that this realization comes at a high-stakes moment. Something about "always too late."

Until he remembers the last thing Aziraphale said to him before he walked out: "I forgive you."

Not for the kiss (definitely not for the kiss, nothing to forgive there). Not for being a demon or refusing to go to Heaven. No, no, none of that.

Crowley has saved Aziraphale hundreds of times, and this one time, arguably when it might have mattered the most, Crowley missed the signs (again, I don't think this is actually the case, but go with me on this). If this high-stakes moment presented some kind of danger to Aziraphale or a large step closer to the end of the world, then Crowley would probably blame himself for whatever happened or might have happened to Aziraphale. He might think that Aziraphale would hate him for refusing to help when he asked for it and needed it.

But Aziraphale might have known this would happen too. He would have known that Crowley would blame himself since he's been told ever since his Fall that he is in the wrong. Aziraphale, knowing and hoping that the conversation in the bookshop wouldn't be their last but would have to suffice until they met and spoke again, spoke to a future Crowley. Crowley who realized the hidden meaning of his act after talking with the Metatron. Crowley who was bearing the approaching end of the world alone because they were truly separated for the first time in six thousand years. Crowley who blamed himself for anything that might have happened. Not bookshop Crowley, who hadn't gotten there yet.

Bookshop Crowley said "Don't bother."

Future Crowley, threatening to break under the weight of his new discovery, would remember that preemptive forgiveness when he needed it most. He might need it to believe that they still have a chance, that despite being separated they are still on THEIR side, not Heaven's or Hell's. This isn't over. This was the plan, to a certain extent. Maybe Crowley didn't recognize it at first, but he's caught up now and they have work to do.

And maybe Aziraphale's reaction to Crowley's confession was just a cover. As soon as this is all over, maybe they can try again.

[christmassavestheyear]

hey, darlings.

a lot of you would have heard today that liam payne has passed away in argentina. i have plenty of strong opinions about what happened, but i'm not inclined to share them. tbh the social climate about this has been far from its best, and i'm really struggling with being online right now. we all know, especially those of us that are significantly younger than our idols, that we are somewhat likely to outlive the celebrities and artists that we love. i have been painfully aware of that fact since bob saget passed nearly three years ago now, and i knew somewhere in me that the odds are, i would outlive many of the people that i currently look up to. but the last thing i expected, with this knowledge, was to wake up on a random thursday to news that liam payne had fallen to his death. that someone who i have loved for so long, who's art i have grown up with, who's music made a considerable difference in my life. my relationship with my sister is built on the foundation of our shared love for the six albums liam created both in the band and solo, and his story of addiction and sobriety is something that was really important to my own mental health and my ongoing recovery. i don't think it's fair for me to say that i loved him like i knew him. i didn't know him. he wasn't a tourist attraction for me to just admire. i love his art, and i love the person he was publicly. i'm grieving the loss of his life. i'm grieving for all the people he should've had the opportunity to become. i'm grieving for all of the art he will never get to make. i'm grieving for the millions of young people who have lost someone they valued and looked up to, and i'm grieving for his loved ones who now have to live with this, and his son especially. ultimately, i think this death has brought on grief that i have been repressing for the last few weeks. i've really struggled with allowing myself the luxury of feeling certain recent losses of relationships and loved ones, and this was kind of... the last straw, in a way. enough weight to finally tip the scales. as i said; i'm really struggling with the climate online at the moment. the way people were treating liam was disgusting beforehand, and it's worse now. i truthfully just want to shut off all my electronics, curl under the sheets and cry. but i can't do that right now; life goes on. what i can do, for my own peace of mind and my own grief right now, is take a step back. i'll be withdrawing from some upcoming ficfests, and i'll be pulling away from the fandom a little bit. my beloved mutuals, i will still be around and talking to you all. but i won't be creating or consuming anything related to the boys and especially liam for a little while. i just... i need some space. it's too much for me right now. i'm burnt out, i'm exhausted, i'm grieving. i dont know if i'll be able to exist in that fandom space again any time soon, or at all. i'll be pulling out of fandom events and i'll be working out what my limits are for existing in this space. and i'll be praying for not only liam, his girlfriend, and his friends, but especially for bear. i implore you all to keep them, if not in your prayers, in your thoughts.

liam, i miss you. i'll carry you with me. i hope you've found peace, now. 🕊

nunca se fue, porque un pedacito de su alma se quedó aquí en el cielo, en las flores, en la gente, en mí - gio carba

[ruporas]

I don't know if this is a heavy question to ask- it may be. Feel free to ignore it.

But I was questioning myself if it was even an okay thing to ship Tristamp! vash x tristamp! wolfwood due to the age gap???

In the manga it was proven ww was of age (since the treatments went over a course of years) but it wasn't so clear in tristamp, especially with the whole forced growth sequence being more cut short than the manga. He may be in the body of a man but, isn't he still a child? is what I mean to ask.

At the end of the day I know they are all fictional and to block if I don't like but it still has me wondering.

I've seen a lot of people simultaneously pull "dni pedos" (which is more than okay and I agree) but then also go and ship what they ship.

I'm just genuinely confused I think. Is there something I am missing? or is he still a child in a man's body?

I don't know who else to ask, because I also know at the end of the day you're just an artist on the other end of the line. I'm sorry 😭

yeah, it's confusing because stampede never states it directly, but i'm certain that wolfwood is an adult from the brief glimpses of time shown in stampede itself and in trusting the studio themselves.

as we saw with rollo, he was experimented on for 5 years before ending up like this

and then we see him again in this same state 20 years later in episode 5. we get concrete numbers for rollo who we can estimate to be in his 20s when he dies. see here too that elendira, 20 years ago, also still looks like that, the same in the present. i'm saying all of this to dissuade any arguments that might be like "wolfwood should look older and not the same as he did in the flashback of ep 6" because there are only so many 3d models orange studio can make and design. i also think that ep 5 itself is meant to exemplify the quick years that can go by when in reference to a flashback.

the mention of wolfwood aging "in just a few months" shouldn't be an indicator of his age because narrative-wise, they only brought that up to emphasize him being a s+ grade and unique and to highlight how much he's suffered in just a short period of time. wolfwood's flashback is put together in one(1) episode, much of it is used to highlight the bond between him and livio in their childhood because that's the point of his arc. because of that, any scenes that shows him working under the eye of michael are all cut because it isn't important at this time of the show. there's a huge time gap missing in wolfwood's history because studio orange chose specific years to give weight to the arc they wanted to present to us first.

this is like the only scene we get of him doing his job under the eom, at the beginning of ep 6

and him here is different from how he is here.

so from the show itself, i think those are the obvious points that suggests wolfwood is not Still 10 years old when he gets sent to retrieve vash.

in reference to my second point of believing in the studio -- because they heavily based stampede off of maximum, i find it Hard to believe they'd randomly make wolfwood a minor because it genuinely serves no benefit to his story to make that change. there would be less weight to his bond with vash because wolfwood has always been the character to challenge vash, they're meant to be equals. much of maximum and 98, Even Badlands Rumble, play up the significance of vash and wolfwood's relationship and how the two can argue and depend on each other as people with similar life experiences. orange studio pour love into stampede and respects nightow and his craft and as a result, i think they'd keep vash and wolfwood on the same level in this adaption too.

all and all, they're both adults in previous versions and they're both adults in this version. final phase will probably give room for more of wolfwood's past experiences now that we know most of vash's story, maybe that would resolve any confusion.

hope that helps!

[licncourt]

Headcanons about Loustat's first kiss? When? HOW? 👀

Woof okay sorry I've been MIA. The horrors etc...BUT I love this question so I'm glad I can finally do it.

I kind of wrote what imagine for their first kiss in ch 1 of my collab fic, but it's also kind of a standalone excerpt so I'll post it under a cut as a sort of ficlet if anyone is interested!

Outside of that though, I'm pretty open to the details differing (there are a few different scenarios I really like), just with the same overall vibe. I mean, it's Interview-era Loustat so it has to be kind of toxique but with whatever weird, almost-intimacy they had.

Regardless, I think it happened at PdL, there's no way they made it four years without some funny business given the everything

Almost for certain it was a heat of the moment love/hate type of thing, probably an argument that finally made the tension between them snap. How long could they realistically yell in each other's faces without making out lbr

I think it would have to be in a moment of heightened emotion like that because Louis is Louis and while Lestat is down bad, anything remotely resembling wooing or emotional vulnerability would stand between him and going for it properly

If Lestat was the one to initiate, I think it would be an impulsive decision in the middle of a Louis tirade, he just lays one on him mid vitriolic sermony bitchfest. Less yapping more tongue action, Louis' hot when he's angry but also very annoying so it works out for Lestat

If Louis initiates it, it's probably because he finally snapped under the weight of his own repression and Lestat's hot boy factor. They're arguing and for a second Lestat looks JUST right so Louis pounces on him like a horny coyote, hellfire be damned

No matter what it's all in. This is not a nervous peck or after dinner kiss, teeth would be breaking if they were human and it's a little feral. Kind of a collision

Something inanimate definitely gets broken also, maybe a lamp, a table leg, a door jamb, whatever. IWTV Loustat = collateral

The only options I see as a possibility post-kiss would be things escalating into some sort of blood sharing/sex/both depending on your preference, or both of them realizing what they did more immediately which makes Louis lose his shit and Lestat slam the emotional walls down so they both run off right away. Either way they avoid each other for a couple weeks after before repeating the cycle in various iterations until the Claudia dynamic shift

Lestat

Surveying the grounds of Pointe du Lac after dark in the height of a cold snap was not at all what Lestat wished to be doing on a January night, but he was quite used to not getting what he wanted, especially when Louis was involved. The man in question was nearly always cold anyway, and Lestat had half a mind to think this outing was some sort of punishment for him under the feeble excuse of preparation for re-sowing the following month. The offer to stay behind was predictably (and smugly) extended, but he refused to give Louis the satisfaction, nor any reason to solidify his misguided belief in his sole ownership of the plantation, legal deeds be damned.

Whatever the case, Louis would regret his decision, Lestat would make sure of it. Louis may have been succeeding in making them both miserable, but he had been just as successful at making himself a captive subject. The ground was damp beneath them and the mud, cold in the winter air, made the horses’ steps heavy. All the better, Lestat usually lost his hostage once they reached the house. Louis had a way of doing that, slipping through the cracks like a dormouse where even the cat couldn’t follow. It was out in the open that the cat had the advantage.

“I heard Charles Laurent proposed marriage for you and his daughter.” Lestat nudged his horse closer to Louis’ until their steps fell in time. “Béatrice, was it?”

“He did.”

Lestat hardened his stare, willing Louis to meet his gaze through the dark drape of hair that had fallen from its ribbon. It shrouded his expression rather entirely from view and Lestat wondered if he’d left it there on purpose. It wouldn’t be the pettiest thing Louis had done to shut him out. He pawed at the mouse again.

“I also heard you declined.”

“Yes.” A disappointing squeak indeed.

“How come? It is an excellent family, they do well in sugarcane. And Mademoiselle Béatrice is very beautiful.”

In lieu of an answer, Louis urged his horse to a near-trot that Lestat matched easily a moment later. Louis’ chest lifted in a silent sigh before he apparently resigned himself to conceding the bare minimum.

“They do. And she is.”

Louis was always so prim when he rode, enough to make Lestat twitchy. Heels dropped in the stirrups, elbows tight to his hips, back straight enough to look painful. Chin in the air of course, but that wasn’t relegated to the equestrian realm. At least the protrusions of the saddle pushed his thighs forward to improve the view, even if his other assets were covered by his tail coat. Unfortunate that. Louis was clenched tight enough that the view would surely have been sublime.

“Well?” Lestat asked, letting his mare sidle uncomfortably close again, their riding boots nearly touching.

Louis jerked his horse right quickly enough that the stallion’s hind quarters bumped his own horse’s shoulder. “I do not have to explain myself to you, Lestat,” he snapped, any appearance of leisure fully abandoned as he tried to break for the house. The attempt was half-hearted though and Lestat cut him off easily, the stallion balking and dancing in half-circles until Louis regained control of its head.

“Au contraire, mon cher. It is my livelihood at stake as well.” The endearment made Louis’ jaw tighten even further, but he let his horse fall back in step with Lestat’s.

“Are you so desperate to expand our wealth—my wealth—that you would marry me off like a medieval widow at the first offer?” Louis’ eyes flashed sharp and olivine at him in the lantern light. He looked so much like the portrait of his father in the foyer, the same cruel mouth on a fairer face.

“As if this is the first. Formal or otherwise.”

This seemed to disquiet Louis greatly, his tone shifting from serpentine anger to something a tad hysterical. “You would truly have me do such a thing? Move a woman into our home? Marry her? What do you suppose will become of you in such a situation?” There was an undercurrent to the protests that negged at Lestat’s ear, some suggestion of weakness he couldn’t name. Still, there was blood in the water and a source needed to be determined.

He laughed, as amused as he was intrigued by his companion’s clumsy parry. “Don’t be ridiculous, Louis. I’ll ensure she does not last to the first harvest.” There was a clump of gangling irises as they passed a marshy area. He reached down and ripped the flower heads off. “A few months would be sufficient to solidify your holdings over the Laurent estate, and then I can make it appear like the most tragic accident. I will even allow you to bed her a time or two before I do the deed, generous as I am.”

“You are as shameless and despicable as ever I see.” Louis sounded as much bored as disgusted, but Lestat smirked to himself at the way the horse pranced and tossed its head at its rider’s turmoil.

“So you intend to deny any profitable union with the fairer sex until we are both forced to leave the prospect behind and flee familiar company in a few years time?”

“I apologize, monsieur. Are your current accommodations so insufficient?” Lestat could almost imagine his ears pinned like the horse’s as he was cornered. “And here I was under the impression that you wanted for nothing while contributing just as much.”

“And it would be such a burden for you to endure the intimate company of a beautiful woman for a few months simply as an insurance policy?” The objections were so great that Lestat found he was genuinely asking in spite of his frustration. “Wed Mademoiselle Laurent, fuck her long enough to get the estate in your name, and then you’ll be rid of her! Honestly, any reasonable man would be chomping at the bit for such an opportunity.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

Lestat dropped his face into his hand, rubbing at the frustration gathering in his temples. “She is hardly your only option, Louis, Christ! The Blanchet girl was all but thrusting her bosom in your face all evening last Tuesday. She would’ve lifted her skirts at a single beckon. And don’t tell me that isn’t so or that you didn’t notice.”

Something about that assertion, likely the irrefutable truth of it, upset Louis visibly and impossibly further. At the very least, he didn’t seem prepared to argue that particular point.

“Of course I noticed. I don’t believe a blind man could’ve missed it.”

Perhaps Monsieur de Pointe du Lac could simply stand to be rejected more often.

“Then why in God’s name are you so obstinate? All your prattle about being a good Catholic and you refuse to perform the one duty which might bring you some tangible benefit?”

“I am not the slave to my faith you believe me to be. I doubt the thing that condemns me to hell will be remaining a bachelor.”

Even digging his heels in like a stubborn hog, Louis looked radiant in the moonlight, skin glowing white as fairy linen and feu-follet eyes enticing enough to follow to one’s death in the swamp. It was infuriating really. It made Lestat want to knock him from his horse and straight into the muck.

“Well, in that case, shall we go whoring? There is a new brothel a short ride into the city and you are in truly dire need. What do you prefer? Brunettes? Redheads? What about blondes? You seem like the type for blondes.” One could only hope.

“I will do nothing of the sort. You may do as you please—heaven knows I can’t stop you—but I will not be involved.”

“And why is that?” he asked, curiosity still piqued despite the outwardly ordinary nature of their disagreement.

“It is impious. Fornication.” Fornication. Lestat could show him fornication, starting with planting an absolutely punishing kiss on that haughty mouth. Nothing he’d seen Louis doing as a mortal came even close to being anything titillating enough to earn such a salacious title.

“I thought you weren’t a slave to your God.” There were at least hundred better potential retorts, but he was preoccupied with Louis now in an entirely different way, staring unabashedly and imagining the many methods by which he could turn the lustrous curtain of his hair to sweaty clumps or reduce his fancy words to primal noises.

“It’s not one or the other. I’m not perfect, but I try, where I can, to be godly.”

He snapped his head to the right, meeting Louis’ gaze before he could turn to avoid eye contact. “Bollocks.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you’re lying,” he said, eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you taking pleasure with women. You did so the very night I first saw you, there on the docks.” The house was in view now, and Lestat was half-compelled to try and suck the truth straight from his companion’s veins before he lost his chance.

Louis’ cool demeanor remained static as Lestat glared daggers at him, seeming perfectly unconcerned with that possibility. As if he knew as well as Lestat did that it would never happen. “Well, I made a great many mistakes in the months after my brother’s passing.” He shifted the reins awkwardly in his hands. “I have no desire to engage in such behavior.”

And there, in the clipped condemnation of a righteous man, was the truth Lestat had failed to see before. It was painfully obvious, simple enough that it seemed ridiculous he’d not suspected before.

Louis could not read the minds of mortals, but Lestat could. He had seen a great many things in his companion’s before the turning. Most of all he had seen how Louis looked at him, enthralled by his supernatural radiance certainly, but not only that. There was desire there as well, for more than immortality, lustful admiration followed by a flood of nauseating shame that gave Lestat sympathy pangs.

Even with the Veil of Silence now in place, he didn’t miss Louis’ gaze on him, the way his eyes were drawn by the deep ‘v’ of Lestat’s undershirts or the way they lingered on the shape of his lower half in breeches. It had been a marvelous turn of events, that they were already alike in…sexual predilections. How splendid! But he had been wrong, at least in part. Louis was not, it seemed, quite so much like himself as Lestat had previously assumed.

“Is it because you’re a homosexual?”

The brashness of his question brought exactly the desired result. Not an answer, of course, no more than indignant, scandalized curses as Louis turned his horse toward the house at a near-run, but it was too late. Lestat followed quickly, chasing the smell of fear on the wind.

Louis made surprisingly little effort to avoid him at the house, and Lestat found him easily in the drawing room, removing his boots and coat in front of the fire. He didn’t acknowledge the arrival with a greeting or even a glance, though he was sure to have heard Lestat enter. Even once he turned away from the hearth, Louis remained silent, fixing his ribbon as he looked down at a pile of accounting documents on the side table.

Lestat tossed his coat on the chair, waistcoat, riding gloves, and his own ribbon going with it, leaving him in breeches and undershirt, curls shaken loose. He stretched, making sure the taper of his waist was clearly visible in silhouette, leaving his arms up to fluff his hair into place. Louis always objected to his traipsing about so undressed. Perhaps he should’ve been taking it as a compliment.

When he turned back from the display (a bit more quickly than normal), Louis was giving him a particularly doe-eyed look. He hadn’t moved from his place by the table, but it was obvious where his attention had shifted when given a semblance of privacy. He startled when Lestat spun to look at him, and what followed was a truly atrocious poker face, smacking with guilt and panic like a child caught stealing sweets.

“Fear is not the first reaction of an innocent man merely questioned on a crime he did not commit.”

“You don’t frighten me,” Louis said, valiantly steady in voice, but only just.

“I do now.”

To his great surprise, Louis didn’t protest, seemingly accepting his fate with the melancholy stoicism of a condemned philosopher. It was almost unnerving to see the patron saint of losing battles so eerily content with this defeat. The display tugged at Lestat’s heartstrings enough to conjure his merciful side, and he let his eyes roam freely over the form in front of him, taking in the view in an obscenely conspicuous manner.

Even more surprising was the way Louis’ expression hardened and the anger returned to his face. Before he could take more than a step forward, Louis had backed up in equal measure.

“There’s nothing you can do to me,” Louis said, voice hushed but dripping venom. “I’m more powerful than you in any way that matters. Your mockery is all you have.”

“You think I’m mocking you?” Lestat took another step closer that Louis mirrored, then another.

“When have you ever done otherwise?” It was impressive really, the way Louis stood his ground, how he puffed his chest and set his jaw with the second-nature arrogance that Lestat had found himself so charmed by months ago, undiminished in the face of supernatural power and potential blackmail alike.

It was that self-destructive defiance that had first enlightened Lestat to this discovery of his kindred spirit, and it was what drove him forward now, what compelled him to cover the final distance between them until Louis’ back bumped into the wall and to press their mouths together. For all his posturing, Lestat kept the force behind it minimal, just enough insistent pressure to make his point (and his intentions) clear.

The performance must have been convincing enough, because it was only seconds before the mouth against his softened to the kiss. The fire was hot to his back, the arms that wrapped around his neck even cooler in contrast. He pressed his palms against the crushed velvet of the damask wallpaper, bracketing Louis’ head on either side for a spare moment before succumbing to the urge to increase their contact, stroking lightly at the skin of his jaw up to his temple.

Louis was tired, terribly so, and such a lonely creature. Lestat knew this of course, it was part of the siren call that had drawn him close and held him so completely in thrall, but it was only now, as awful as it sounded even in his mind, that the pity came, the burning desire to ease that loneliness rather than admire its lovely darkness like a Siam ruby or a Rembrandt.

Even more enchanting than Louis’ loneliness was watching his fleeting absolution from it, the way his eyes stayed gentle and half-lidded when they parted, how they closed again when Lestat cupped his cheek and or sighed as kisses were pressed to his neck. Lestat stayed there a long while, inhaling the scent of blood and cold skin and floral water at the juncture of his neck, content to allow the uncertainty of the future remain there for now.

-

[leonawriter]

When I think of all the different detco pairings, I usually think of the main ones, and so I'm all "yeah I ship all canon plus a few non-canon (AKA queer) on the side!" and actually I just... when I think about it?

It's funny, but there are a few side pairings that I'm not a big fan of. Some not as bad as others, sure, but still.

(under a cut for criticism and salt)

Shiratori, for instance, has changed a lot ever since he was introduced. Not talking about M3, more his initial plot line where he's basically only there to act as a roadblock to Takagi and Sato getting together. He wasn't especially likeable, mostly throwing his weight around as a "marriage candidate" and stalking anything potentially like a date.

I have to wonder if Gosho's views on his earlier characterisation of certain characters and plots has changed, since then. I was already in the fandom when the Sato/Takagi kiss happened, which would mean the other officers couldn't keep pursuing Sato in the same way and Gosho would have to figure out what to do with the ones he'd previously only used for that purpose.

But then we have things like the bookend gags in Bride of Halloween only a few years ago where there are fake "wedding" and "funeral" events that are gatecrashed by Sato's... "admirers," and I wonder how much has actually changed.

Shiratori himself has Kobayashi, the kids' schoolteacher, but... the fact that he'd only met her for a short time as a kid to the point that he thought someone who turned out to be a murderer was her just because they did the same sort of paper craft with their cup holders was a little... frustrating.

Every time I've gone through that I've been "that could have been her. That literally could have been her. She could have changed, and her life experiences could have shaped her and made her a different person, and you would have to live with that." It'd be such a great story to tell, that sometimes that just happens. And he could meet Kobayashi and get to know her as an adult, as a new person, with no assumptions and no sense of her being a replacement goldfish for someone who was a replacement goldfish for.... her.

Overall I don't have anything with regards to those two that makes me actively dislike them, it's just... "man, that could have been SO much better written."

The other one I'd say I have salt over - and for similar reasons, too! - would be Chiba and Naeko. Because again, they met as small tiny children, and never forgot each other, and grew up, and... haven't changed one bit.

Honestly, just... he could at least spice that up by making it so that one of them had attempted to date other people, and it didn't work out because they're hung up on a memory. But that just makes me think of them finally finding each other, and they're so caught up with how they remember the other being, that they don't even recognise each other at first! That? That'd be fun.

The thing I really dislike about Chiba/Naeko is that she tries to effectively control him for her own purposes; she pushes him (anonymously, which is even creepier!) to lose weight (which because we're in comic book time happens really quickly, which is concerning) and then when other women start finding her guy attractive, she encourages him (effectively) to put that weight back on and be unattractive to others again. Never mind whether or not he's healthier or happier either way, oh no! It's all about her feelings, insecurities, and not wanting competition.

It's like - the pairings are so very hit and miss. He'll either write something so good, or he'll write something and you wonder if he's ever been able to experience the world outside of his art studio in order to have friendships with women, or learn about modern issues and so on.

...I also dislike Kyougoku's misogyny toward Sonoko, which is a much bigger issue, what with him policing the way she dresses and being way too controlling of who she hangs out with, projecting his insecurity that she even might date other men onto her, no matter what she'd say about it, no matter if it's her idol-crush on Kaitou Kid (which is different from romantic love), or just... hanging out with friends who aren't girls.

Dude needs to lay off, seriously.

[hecckyeah]

been thinking about au/adhd and our subtle superpowers lately.

I'm a stimmer. I didn't realize it until probably a year ago, but I truly cannot sit still ever at all for any reason unless my life depends on it. as a child I used to spin and spin and spin in the living room until I fell down, and I would flap my arms while spinning because it sped me up then slowed me down. and now thinking back, I don't remember any of my siblings doing that at all. I used to plug my ears very very very often to escape from noises that didn't seem to bother anyone else, like the sound of electricity and the dishwasher running and styrofoam scraping against a cardboard box.

I've also realized that I am incredibly sensory seeking. more specifically with my mouth, my fingers, and my feet.

wearing barefoot minimalist shoes that let me feel the ground has done WONDERS for me in general, so that my feet don't feel like they're trapped in boxes. I grew up barefoot every chance I got and I still despise socks.

I tap rhythms out almost constantly. I have patterns that I tap by, depending on the time signature of whatever tune is in my head, and if I can't tap my fingers, I'll rub my teeth together just slightly so I can hear that tapping tapping tapping rhythm all the live long day and I love it. never gets old

I also chew on my lips and can't let my mouth sit still. I think that's why I always feel like snacking even when I'm not hungry, and why gum has been my best friend forever. when I'm nervous or stressed out I tend to make weird expressions with my mouth, like biting a lip or clacking my teeth or scrunching my face.

all things I thought were perfectly normal

I think I'm saying this because for the longest time I thought things didn't apply to me. I thought that just because I was good in school and high functioning, that I was neurotypical. but there is a certain freedom in finally letting go of expectations and walls that we set up to box ourselves in.

I thought that constantly losing friends and never feeling connected to anyone and feeling out of place everywhere, like everyone had a secret cheat code that they failed to give me as a teenager was just.... growing up. I thought everyone felt like that.

and when I learned that that is not usually the typical experience, I felt wildly out of place and sidelined and felt like I was the one at fault. like I just needed to try harder and maybe people would like me. I just needed to layer on the mask even more and maybe I would learn the secrets of society.

but of course it didn't happen like that.

I have to fight every day for a place here. for reassurance that I'm someone and I exist even though the world is strange and feels like a giant puzzle to crack and leaves me exhausted and even more tempted to disappear into the familiar comforts that I've constructed around myself. I have to remind myself that it's okay to feel out of place. that the things I do as coping mechanisms aren't dumb and don't make me any less valuable.

so what if I have to get up and walk during a meeting under the pretense of using the bathroom because if I don't see something new I will either fall asleep or physically explode? so what if I need to chew gum to feel like a human? so what if I have to wear the same brand and weight of socks every day or I can't function? so what if I take a few twirls around the room because it realigns the pieces in my brain that are threatening to shatter into a million pieces?

so what if I feel more at home in nature and without people around me constantly?

I wasn't made for this manufactured world. I was made with sensitive feet that can detect all kinds of textures on the forest floor. I was made with ears that are constantly on high alert and a brain that pieces puzzles together faster than I can blink, purely on intuition. I was made for constant motion, for riding horses and sailing boats and walking long distances over constantly changing landscapes, able to quickly make sense of my surroundings based on pattern recognition.

and if I need a few tools to adjust to the world I was born into, so what?

it's sad that autistic/adhd people are seen as the odd ones out.

underneath all this awkwardness and explosive enthusiasm and sensitivity to my environment, I'm just a human who longs for connection and purpose.

[averseunhinged]

sup! i'm halfway thru a 30 day course of antibiotics and most of my fun writing time has been converted into gonna die if i don't nap immediately time. so, i've just been toddling along, but there's finally enough of something coherent to share.

this is another bit of i never said i had the answer, the sequel to 24/7 sylvia plath. i cannot express enough what hot messes klaus and caroline are in this. things do get slightly more relaxed later in the series, but they have to get out of s4 first, and hahahahahaha.

Being in the mere vicinity of the Gilberts’ home was excruciating. The place where his brother was murdered, where he was held with the body, where he’d had to make a decision, perhaps the first real choice he’d made in years, rather than a series of gut reactions along a path he’d long ago set for himself. Now, he felt the place as he always did the tingling prickle along his nerves hailing danger.

Caroline was staring at him silently, her face fallen into the hard blankness that made him more and more desperate to reach her each time it appeared. She wasn’t conscious of it; he was certain enough of that much. He knew her now. She didn’t think he knew her, but he did. Or maybe she did realize how far he’d penetrated the masks and walls and moats and fucking dragons with which she’d surrounded herself and could not abide it.

Caroline had two emotions she was comfortable expressing: a sort of weaponized optimism, grown increasingly brittle over the months he had known her, and cutting irritation. She was sarcastic, unintentionally calculating, sometimes deliberately manipulative, had a cruel streak the width and breadth of the Mississippi, and he adored her for all of it.

But by God, he wished she’d give him something to work with.

He wanted to leave. To run away and free himself from the double agony of both Kol and Caroline just out of his reach. But there was a creeping premonition through the weave of him that said leaving would permanently set himself and Caroline on separate paths. No maybe. No someday. No potential. Just two different lives, always lived apart.

Or perhaps it was that flicker in her eyes, the stuttering projector of unavoidable thoughts and inconvenient desires. She tried to bury it beneath the weight of his innumerous atrocities, but it was there in the way she looked at him. No matter the impassivity in her face, she was thinking. An overactive mind, his Caroline. One dismissed by nearly everyone she knew. Klaus tried to avoid their mistakes.

And he was thankful he did, because moments (too many breaths, in and out, waiting for her to banish him) later, that flicker happened again. It started a chain reaction chasing across her face, first her forehead wrinkling and then a pretty, pouting frown that was far more charming than it had any right to be.

She took a step towards him, a shuffling lurch that seemed not entirely under her control. He held his breath and waited through another step and then another one, until she was less than an arm’s length away. It had always been the sweetest form of torture, having her so close to him, while she was still so far from his. She lifted her right hand, and with the barest pressure of her fingertips, traced where the veins around his eyes would raise and blacken when the monster emerged. Her touch grew in confidence, pressing in and smoothing over his cheekbone. He could hardly contain the shudder of pleasure twisting through his spine when she ran her fingers through the shorn curls at his temple and skated around his ear, before she came to rest, palm firmly cupping his cheek.

It was too much. It was all he wanted. Her eyes on him and no-one else. Her mind filled with him the way his was with her whenever she was near, everyone and everything else become a blurred, inconsequential hum. Her skin against his, connecting him to her, to this moment. He couldn’t bear it, the press of her undeserved affection, her easy palliation of the marauding beast within him, and the way she continued staring at him, cutting him open as relentlessly as he had seeped into her.

And because he couldn't step away, couldn't force himself to lose her willing touch, he had to close his eyes to protect himself. She pulled in a breath. The universe stilled and Klaus prepared himself for what she might say.

“I need to take a shower.”

Well. She'd never been predictable, had she?

“I'm going to use yours.”

And there was that cruelty again.

“I mean one in your giant, creepy mansion. Not...not yours specifically.” Her voice wavered, faltering along with whatever unwitting courage she'd found.

He adored this part of her, too, the way she went from self-possessed confidence to awkward sweetness she no longer wore very well. It was as ill-fitting on her as Mystic Falls was becoming. Had they ever known what to do with her, this modern little dictator? Or had they always tried to shape her into what they wanted and finally washed their hands of her when she simply could not, no matter her efforts. She'd grow out of it all--this town, these people, her childhood unsurety--sooner rather than later.

It was all the more precious, catching her in these last moments of girlish embarrassment, the apples of her cheeks flushed fuchsia.

Caroline bit her lip and looked away. “It's the vervain? My house is on town water, so I've been showering at the boardinghouse, but everyone’s gone, and that place is scary even during the day, and I'm really not happy with—" Caroline broke off and sighed. “Anything. I'm not happy with anything, lately.”

For a moment, Klaus was paralyzed by the thought of Kol's skin sizzling under the Gilberts' attack. It took Caroline murmuring his name to realize he'd drifted off, looking in the window of this house he now loathed, his hand tightened around hers and brought down to his chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her face softening despite everything.

“Caroline,” he warned.

“Yeah,” she blurted quickly. “Yup. Definitely fine with not talking about…literally any of this. That is not our thing.”

“Finally admitting we do have a thing?”

“Never.” The apple of her cheek rounded, one corner of her mouth cheating up shyly.

The least of her smiles, but he’d take it.

“Why are you doing this? You hated me a moment ago.”

“I’m not--” Caroline trailed off as she tugged at her hand in his grip. “Klaus.”

“Caroline.” He ducked his head, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Not tonight.”

It was her turn to shut her eyes to avoid his gaze. She took a calming breath before opening them and meeting him head on. “I don’t want to be here anymore. We can talk. And I’ll even try to be less squirrelly than usual. Just please not here.

[cutiedwaekki]

a cute carnival au !! jisung works as a carny, either aiding other acts or performing his own jester/trickster act, and meets his new rival jeongin the acrobat. wanting to sabotage the other to maintain his popularity, he tries to get jeongin to ruin his diet, but each one of his plans backfires on himself and causes him to gain weight instead. meanwhile jisung has been viewing jeongin as his enemy, jeongin has actually started falling for the comedic performer, especially since hes started gaining !! bonus points if they decide to perform together as a duo in the end instead of competing acts ☺️💜

the concept ? I love it.

The idea ? Perfect.

I wish you ? A happy birthday

Hotel ? Trivago.

HAHAHA

CIRCUS

Jisung was at the hall of his fame. Having worked in the circus for years, he was finally receiving the recognition he had always craving for.

He wanted to be a ringleader, the one who would present the circus shows and finish them off with his own part: magic ~.

As he prepared in his dressing room, he rehearsed his lines.

-May i have attention my ladies and gentlemen, the show can-

- "Han-ah , han-ah, han-ah !!"

- "What now Felix? You know I have to know my lines for tonight".

Indeed, despite all this, what Jisung had to learn from was his haughty nature, which only his best friend Felix could manage.

Felix was also part of the circus, coming in second with his juggling tricks just before Hyunjin, who was literally playing with fire.

But anyway, enough about the program, after all Jisung didn't care, he only cared about one thing: the show started and ended with him and him only!

-It's Mr Bahng, he wants to see you!

Confused, Jisung put down his paper and followed Felix to Director Bahng's office room. He's the head of this circus, the one who manages everything from A to Z, looking after everyone's well-being.

What a load of crap! He spends most of his day stuffing his face with popcorn while we sweat! Thought Han

But once in his office, he was surprised to see that next to Chan was a young boy. Not much taller than him, with blond hair and visibly shy.

-Here he comes! Jisung, meet Jeongin, our new recruit", exclaimed Chan, gently pushing Jeongin towards Jisung to greet him.

But Jisung barely reacted to this information. So he had an assistant, so what?

-You called me here just for that?

- "Don't be so haughty, Sungie, everyone knows you don't do anything except go over your lines!"

- "It's my duty as the show's leader to know my lines!"

This made Jeongin chuckle and earn a sideways glance from Jisung.

I already don't like this one , he thought.

But the worst was yet to come

-"As you know, Changbin decided to change his talent presentation for ... some reason ... and so there's no fun left to close the show".

Meh rather say that these "certain reasons" were due to his fat ass who couldn't swing without risking breaking something.

-Why do you need acrobat to end up the show? I'm here with my magic trick!"

- "But Minho is just doing magic by cutting Seungmin, you know I agreed that you'd do the end only until I find a replacement! I'm sorry, but from tonight you'll have to be content with doing the show's introduction."

Han's mouth fell, so Chan stole his moment of glory from an incompetent youngster.

It's best not to describe all the sins that came out of Jisung ace's mouth at this point, but let's just say he was clearly very angry with Chan.

On his way out, he was closely followed by Jeingin, who would be under his orders for a while until the show began.

-I... I'm sorry, I didn't know I was going to take someone's place-".

- "Spare me your lame excuses, I've got other things to do.

And so Jisung walked away, leaving a lost and confused Jeongin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jisung was angry, very angry. He was angry at Chan for his decision and at Jeongin for his talent.

Because yes, that evening he had been grandiose, a star among the stars that everyone had applauded and Jisung had been so speechless that he had apologized to the youngest for what he had said earlier. And everyone knew that the great Han Jisung never apologized!

So he now hated Jeongin, who had humiliated him by making him demean himself in order to apologize.

He wanted to get the last part of the show, it was his not Jeongin's!

Then a thought popped into his head. After all, Changbin had become a clown because he'd become dangerously too fat to be an acrobat.

What if he did the same to Jeongin? After all, the youngest seemed to admire him and followed him whenever he saw him, so it would be easy to fatten him up, sabotage his show and get his place back!

Yah you're a genius he muttered to himself.

His plan was about to start today

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

-Innie yah! Come I have something for you!"

Jeongin turned and walked impatiently into Jisung's dressing room; for two weeks now he had been part of the circus troupe, everyone had been so kind to him but he much preferred Jisung; he saw in him the soul of someone he could trust, someone who knew how to take responsibility for his mistakes, the proof being that the one and only time he had spoken badly to him, he had come to apologize!

(The other times, Jisung ignored him, but Jeingin took it as a moment when they missed each other).

- "What is it hyung?" he asked curiously as he caught a whiff of a strangely attractive scent.

- "Changbin hyung gave me all these cinnamon buns and I thought you'd like them, since you know... you're the baby bread of the group".

Jeongin then started to blush, it's true he was nicknamed that, but when it came out of Jisung's mouth, it was totally different.

-Oh ... I'd love to, hyung, but ... with tonight's show, I've got to maintain a strict diet, otherwise I'll miss my turn and ruin the whole performance".

Jeongin pouted as Jisung, taken with pity, advanced one of the buns to slui oiur the fakre to smell the sweet scent of sicre and cinnamon mixed together.

-Just one won't make you miss the whole show, right? I'll eat one with you if you like, so if you miss out then I will too".

Wow, even Jisung surprised himself with his own words, which came out so naturally it gave him the shivers.

But at least it worked, because Jisung accepted the bread and ate it happily while Jisung had to do the same.

Unfortunately, no sooner had Jeongin taken a bite of his bread than Minho called him over.

-Oh no, hyung, i got to go! Thanks anyway for the bread" he said before leaving.

Jisung then left alone with a barely devoured cinnamon bread and a full basket that he hadn't been able to give to Jeongin.

-Well ... I'm not going to waste such good food right?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And these moments went on and on, becoming too frequent.

Jisung would bring a whole bunch of food to Jeongin, who would either politely refuse or eat only a little, leaving the rest for Jisung, who didn't like waste food.

As a result, two months passed and two different visions of the situation emerged on both sides.

-He offers you food every week?

- "yes"

- "Just for you?"

- "Yes"

- "And he complimented you?"

- "Yes"

- "Man ... i think Jisung's in love with you."

Jeongin blushed, although charmed by this idea, after all it seemed clear that he was acting like this because he was shy and had trouble expressing his feelings properly, right?

-Thank you Seungmin Hyung, you're a great help!

But on the other hand...

- "Suck in your belly!"

- "I already do it, I don't want to do any better"

- "Jisung ah I think this corset has become too small for you"

- "You're talking nonsense Felix, try tightening, no one can be too big for a corset!

And Jisung was the exception, after all that gorging on so many sweets every week had caused his otherfiidly thin waistline, which he accentuated with a red-threaded black corset, to expand, as did his tummy, which was beginning to hang out of his black shirt.

And let's not even talk about his thighs, which had become so thick they were fortifying with every step he took. He'd gone from a dream body to a chubby one in such a short space of time that people dared to compare him to Changbin! Yes, Changbin the old acrobat who become a clown , a clown so fat that people laughed more at his fat body than at his tricks!

-The Jisung said, "You've put on weight! Don't worry, we can ask Haewon to make an plus-sized outfit that would be better for-" .

-I'd rather die than admit that i'm now olus-sized! I'm going to wear that corset , period!

In the end, he made the show wearing one of Changbin's old stage outfits, which miraculously seemed perfection, and let's just say that during his presentation, a certain acrobat had his eyes riveted on him.

- "Looks like someone's enjoying the view~"

-"'Hush shut up hyung the others might hear you "

Seungmin simply chuckled, it was obvious that Jeongin also had a soft spot for Jisung, but that evening, he was totally captivated by his body, after all, he was usually wearing a corset to hide his growing belly, but this day, for the first time, he wore a checked shirt that seemed to fit him perfectly even if it does seems a bit tight on his midsection.

Jeongin then imagined how cute his hyung would look if this shirt pressed against his swollen belly. How with just a few more pounds this shirt could also become really tight on him.

-Why is your face so red, Innie?

- "For nothing hyung .. for nothing"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jisung was definitely defeated.

For one thing, he hadn't recovered by the end of the show, and now Jeongin had become so popular that Chan even suggested he take a seat next to him at the beginning of the show!

Secondly: his plan had failed, Jeongin hadn't taken a single pound, but Jisung was swelling up like a blimp.

And, of course, this second point was also a good point, as he had seen more people de coming since he had stopped wearing corsets.

Maybe fat admirer that just wanted to see how their favorite carny turned to a total hog in just a few month

And third: Jeongin didn't stop sticking to him h24 nonstop. And since then, he even offered him sweets and other delicacies in large quantities.

Was he trying to fatten him up? So the little acrobat was vicious? Jisung had to watch out for him at all costs.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

-Hyung, I brought you some cookies from your favorite bakery.

- "How do you know my favorite bakery, you idiot?

- "Felix hyung told me"

Jisung clicked his tongue on his puck before sighing, even Felix was betraying him now.

But then again he's not going to turn down free food right?

He didn't bother to thank Jeongin as he grabbed the box and devoured one, followed by a second and before Jeongin even realized what was happening, Jisung had just finished and was rubbing his belly as he sat heavily on his seat.

-"Well, if you've got nothing else to do, I'll be off," Jisung began before rising from his chair. It took him longer than usual to get up, but he had to understand that his whole body had become so heavy that he had to exert himself for such small things.

A great effort that tore his pant in two, letting the sound reverberate throughout the room that everyone present had heard what had just happened.

Jeongi was both shocked and excited, while Jisung was flushed with shame. He turned to Jisung and let his rage do the talking.

-Are you satisfied now? You stole my place and now I'm a lazy pig! Look at me I'm a fat slob with a lazy fat ass!!! I hate you Yang Jeongin! I hate you!!!" He said before waddling off.

Jeongin was hurt by his words, but he didn't let them stop him, he saw his crush in pain and by his own fault ! He had to go and confort him

He followed him and didn't toruva him anywhere where he was normally. Not in the dressing room, not in his bedroom and certainly not in the toilets or fitting rooms.

He was about to give up when he heard sobbing not far away, near the still-closed dart shooting range.

He stepped forward and saw Jisung crying, the poor selblait so helpless and weak that the youngest felt sick to his stomach at the sight.

He approached him shyly and put his hand on his shoulder before speaking in a low voice "hyung".

Jisung looked up and didn't even bother to get angry "What? Have you come to gloat over your victory in front of me?"

-No ... I just wanted to cheer you up".

- "I don't need tour pity, I understand you're perfect and I'm not"

-"Don't say that, you're extraordinary! You're so talented, when you do your show at the start I have butterflies in my stomach"

Jisung stopped in his tracks and turned to Jeongin confuse "Do you really think so?"

-Obviously that I think so! Tiut the world finds you talented Jisung hyung! "

There was a silence as the two looked at each other in silence.

Suddenly Jeongin cleared his throat before adding

-You know, if I decided to join this circus, it's because in the evenings before exams I loved going to the circus, it allowed me to relax and make me realize that there was more to my life than books and teaching.

And then ... there was that evening when I saw you ... you shone, your look showed that you loved what you were doing, it made me want to throw everything away and become an acrobat and here I am! I'm sorry that you thought I was stealing your place hyung, I was just in awe of you and I-

But as Jeongin spoke, he was suddenly stopped by a pair of lips that landed on his own, Jisung's own lips, he was kissing him!

The kiss was both short and simple, yet lingering and passionate. All kinds of emotions flowed through the two bodies as they kissed again.

This time Jisung spoke up

-"I'm sorry for what I said, I was jealous of you and your talent, but I guess deep down I just couldn't face the fact that I was crazy about you".

Jeingin smiled shyly before kissing his hyung again with tenderness.

-"There's a first time for everything, as they say, there's only one step between love and hate".

Jisung chuckled before kissing him again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

-Where the hell have you been? We've been waiting for you for hours! Chan shouted as he saw how the two new lovers had arrived totally out of breath and in bad shape, their hair and clothes in disarray.

-' Jisung change your shirt, it doesn't fit you at all! And you Jeongin put on your outfit, the show starts in less than an hour!"

Chan clapped his hands to make them hurry as they both went to get into their show clothes.

That evening, Jisung agreed to wear the plus-size outfit Haewon had prepared, after all a certain acrobat had expressed his admiration for his plump body and finally accepted that his extra kilos made him cruelly seductive.

And that evening, a certain acrobat had drooled a little too much over his boyfriend's presentation.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"So you want to share the stage at the beginning AND the end?" Asked Chan confused as the two mutually agreed

- "Yes, for presentation Sungie- I mean Jisung hyung does some magic tricks where I appear as his assitant and"

Jisung then cut Jeongin off to continue "And in the last stage Jeongin comes on stage and I'm his assistant who comes to pick him up and make him disappear!"

Chan was confused by these rather messy exolanation but the couole seemed so passioned et determined by this idea that he ends up accepting

And he was right, that stage was such a success that Jeongin and Jisung's part became one of the circus's main attractions.

But by this time, the coupke were taking advantage of their day off to go to the funfair, they had decided to take a ride on the ferris wheel , admiring the fireworks in the sky with their hand squeezed tight and our fingers intertwined .

-"You want to know something fun?"

Jeongin then turned to Jisung, curious.

-"At first, my plan was to make you bigger so that you would become like Changbin hyung, so that I could have my stage again".

Jeingin then laughed at this sudden declaration before placing his hand on his lover's growing belly. In recent times, Jisung's weight had increased tenfold, to the point where he was now forbidden to take some attraction like the rollercoaster in the fairground, which was both frustrating for Jisung and exciting for Jeongin.

-"Hyung, you're such an idiot but it's so cute".

Jisung then puffed out his cheeks, making is double chin stand out.

-"But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

- "Of course , your my favorite plump idiot ."

Jeongin kissed his idiot's cheeks before lying down beside him to watch the fireworks.

[zeldurz]

What kinda dinky ass cybernetics did they give Veers in A Little Help from my Friends??!

The short answer? This kind:

The long and rambling answer with all the meta and thought I've put into this but never written down until now? Follow me under the cut, Friend, and let's talk (cw for medical stuff, discussions of amputation)

First, let me preface this with the fact that I am neither a medical professional nor someone with any personal experience with traumatic limb loss and/or physical disabilities. I am, however, a service technician for very complicated and expensive pieces of lab equipment, and a lot of that bleeds into the mechanical aspects of Veers' cybernetic limbs. I have done a fair bit of research for this fic, and I'll try to throw my sources on this if I can find them again.

A meta perspective:

Longtime readers will know I have a certain type of fic that I gravitate towards (@madelgard lovingly described it as “romantic medical despair”), and one of the this I like to explore is 'what if there was more to healthcare in Star Wars than just “magic healing goo” and “robot limbs that behave exactly like human limbs in every way” (and whatever Andor was doing with the MedSpike I guess). In particular, I've never been fond of the way that characters (with the exception of Vader, but we'll get to him) don't really deal with the disabling and the traumatic aspects of losing a limb, and I wanted to explore that in a fic. Since Veers loses a leg in Legends and is seriously injured in canon, he seemed the perfect candidate for this sort of angsty fic (he also didn't want a cybernetic prosthetic in legends because of the 'stigma' apparently, which sounds fake but I took to mean that he and cybernetics didn't work well together).

For this sort of speculative science, I like to base it in as much real science as possible, and then extrapolate based on the rules of the universe I'm working in. In this case, I wanted to figure out how the prosthetics should work, so they I could break them in realistic ways that made sense for the story I wanted to tell. There were two major considerations for designing the prosthetics and how they work:

What do they need to do to fulfill the same role as biological limbs? Range of motion is an obvious consideration, but balance, physical sensation, and temperature regulation (1) are all essential things provided by a flesh and blood limb that a modern day prosthetic may or may not provide. Veers' case is further complicated by the fact that he has a bilateral (both legs) trans-femoral (mid thigh) amputation – in modern times, he would likely go through several iterations of prosthetic before he got the final versions with jointed knees at his full height (2)

How are they going to do this? While bionic limbs have come a long way in the past few years (3), science fiction gives us a lot of leeway here on things like “weight” and “battery life”. Even so, they aren't one to one analogs, and I think there's a lot of potential for angst, especially regarding the direct interface with the patient's nervous system.

As the prosthetics are mechanical devices, they would be prone to wear and tear just like anything else. Where biological flesh heals and regenerates (usually) over time, self-healing prosthetics are not necessarily achievable or practical, and so certain components (batteries, soles of the feet, synthetic skin, etc) would need to be replaced as time passes. Additionally, if we are operating under the assumption that the limb is fully articulated, it would likely have a control system or on-board computer of some sort – and in my experience, those need to be calibrated on a regular basis, both to account for electronic noise, and any kind of drift in the sensors/drive motors/other components. The only issue is that instead of flashing an LED to find dead pixels on a camera or scanning a range of values to look for the highest signal output on a detector, there's a human person on the other end of the interface. So instead of 'what value gives me the best reading across my mass spectrum' it's 'what value of nerve signal provides the best connection', and unfortunately for Veers, that translates as “pain” (is this a slightly unrealistic approach to this? Maybe. But we do at least see the droid in ESB testing Luke's level of sensation in his hand at the end of the movie, and apparently no one in Star Wars has heard of 'sedating the patient while we attach a new hand' so I feel like it's not out of the realm of possibility)

(1) I had initially thought that Veers would be more frequently cold after losing both his legs, but after reading these two papers, it seems he would have the opposite problem, due to a lack of surface area. This means not only do we have to consider the thermal properties of the materials the prosthetics are made of, but also their ability to effectively distribute body heat when necessary.

(2) I found these two articles about the recovery of a woman with similar injuries to those I've given Veers in this verse very helpful for looking at potential timelines, pitfalls, and the process he might be looking at

(3) this article gives a very good overview of the current state of things and how these limbs interface with the human they are attached to. The process for Direct nerveinterfacing described here is most analogous to how I imagine cybernetic limbs would work in Star Wars, although they are obviously much more advanced

In Universe:

With all of that being said, why do Veers' legs suck specifically? Why does Jerjerrod spend so much time complaining about them?

Well, it all comes down to our favourite asthmatic sith cyborg: while I imagine limb loss is actually fairly uncommon in the GFFA (Skywalkers notwithstanding, blasters and explosives are typically energy weapons, and imo are more likely to cause burns etc than traumatic amputation), the Executor absolutely has to have at least one cybernetics expert on board, to tend to its resident cyborg. However, Vader and Veers differ in a few very fundamental ways, and if said expert is only used to treating Vader and no one else, I would imagine this means that Veers winds up with prosthetics that serve the function of getting him back in the field, but aren't actually designed for him (not to mention the fact that the Imperial Healthcare System probably isn't super focused on Patient Health and Safety, and not getting into the cost aspect of this – Veers is valuable enough to build prosthetics for, but is he valuable enough for top of the line durable materials when he almost died in battle once already and canonically keeps getting sent on suicide missions? Probably not).

The Force. In at least some iterations, Vader relies extensively on the Force to do even basic things such as “moving his heavy limbs” and “not being in excruciating pain all the time” - I seem to recall reading that Palpatine uses Vader's suit to ensure his apprentice is too distracted by pain to have the energy to overthrow him, and that the only part of Vader that wasn't in pain all the time was his original bionic hand from AotC. If Veers, who isn't Force sensitive, has prosthetics designed in a similar way to Vader's suit but no way to compensate for it, it's going to take a hell of a toll on him. Also, if Vader hasn't strangled the doctor for hurting him yet, then Veers is probably just making shit up (or so a doctor or medical droid might assume)

Lifestyle. Veers is physically fit and does a lot of different activities with his legs (yes including “wrestling” Tiaan) – he travels to different planets and terrains with different gravities, he runs, he jumps, he plays sports – whereas Vader... doesn't. This contributes to what the prosthetics actually need to be designed to withstand (Veers isn't going to be doing spacewalks with only his prosthetics, but he's also not going to want to walk stiff-legged and menacingly all the time). Additionally, if your system is calibrated to a specific height/weight/body temp/whatever, that's going to change slightly over time – but its going to change a lot more in Veers; Vader has a self -contained air supply with scrubbers for removing pathogens, a feeding tube, and minimal muscle mass that would change those parameters that the calibrations would be accounting for, but Veers might, say, decide to take up a new sport, or get the flu for three weeks, or anything else that could change his body dramatically enough to upset the equilibrium between him and his prosthetics.

I also wanted to do something with phantom pain and how it affects people who have lost limbs, plus play with the idea of how having something wired directly into the nervous system might have lasting consequences, which is where the ONCP comes from. Symptom and treatment-wise, I've loosely based it on thalamic pain syndrome (as suggested to me by the lovely @pianopadawan), although the underlying cause is very different.

If you've read though all that, thank you for coming to my lecture. Tune in next time for 'how long does it take for a Star Destroyer to restart the reactor from cold' and/or 'lets talk about mental healthcare or lack thereof in the Imperial Navy'