#it's basically this shot of him but a little jazzed up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orchidyoonkook · 2 months ago

Text

PG | KTH

Title: PG

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point.

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends.

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother.

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out.

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too.

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two.

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay.

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him.

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long.

Every time you could get it.

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team.

For four years.

And then the university swim team.

For another four.

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then.

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would.

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you.

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet?

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile.

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong.

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you.

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung.

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt.

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that.

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught.

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt.

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart.

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water.

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool.

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days.

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun.

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really.

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped.

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking.

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that.

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches.

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets.

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?”

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat.

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes.

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?”

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him.

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager.

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit.

And it works like a charm.

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that.

Definitely not.

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again.

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding.

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air.

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend.

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say.

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand.

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end.

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother.

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction.

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen.

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool.

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel.

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you.

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch.

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge.

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell.

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims.

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven.

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday.

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for.

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids.

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you.

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed.

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break.

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you.

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually.

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit.

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer.

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks.

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close.

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you.

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there.

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed.

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends.

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays.

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating.

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother.

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall.

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent.

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained.

And yet.

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot.

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you.

But you push him away.

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t.

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend.

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’.

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more.

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment.

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air.

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages.

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself.

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did.

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left.

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist.

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think.

Because Fourteen isn't here.

And old habits die hard.

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt.

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising.

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner.

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him.

Safe.

You’re safe.

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body.

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous.

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years.

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung.

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan.

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety.

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions.

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight.

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood.

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor.

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment.

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by.

It’s private.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?”

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now.

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth.

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth.

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed.

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back.

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it.

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him.

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black.

Oh you are so fucked.

“As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like.

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine.

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once.

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up.

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth.

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips.

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does.

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes.

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck.

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows, the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing.

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it.

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine.

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it.

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night.

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere.

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you.

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone.

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part.

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently.

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end.

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.”

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders.

It makes you smile wickedly.

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you.

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick.

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything.

Yet.

“Can you behave for that long?”

You smirk.

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe.

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well.

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby.

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need.

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs.

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae.

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky.

Mesmerizing.

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his.

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him.

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge.

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat.

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure.

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you.

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks.

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips.

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees.

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it.

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well.

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you.

Taehyung.

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung.

Wants you.

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving.

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned.

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side.

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming.

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess.

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis.

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes.

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body.

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again.

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time.

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed.

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again.

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it.

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out.

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth.

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time.

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents.

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact.

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.”

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine.

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks.

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.”

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled.

Blissful.

Then pushes back in, methodically.

Torturous.

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is.

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over.

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas.

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well.

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you.

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough.

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own.

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless.

It’s a great move but it’s exerting.

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone.

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around.

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass.

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain.

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance.

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you.

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care.

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane.

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be.

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you.

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion.

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and drown in once another’s embrace.

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another.

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect.

Before consequences kick in and regrets form.

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets.

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning.

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away.

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning.

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out.

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies.

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground.

“All of it. Any of it.”

There.

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him.

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened.

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts.

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself.

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion.

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg.

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place.

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move.

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right.

An idea strikes.

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door.

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

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theglamorousferal · 5 months ago

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Just found out about the Enough Stuff Non-Profit in Illinois and it got me thinking about Crime Alley and about if there was a place like that, they’d work hard to keep it going.

Now I’m imagining Danny, ghost king with its coffers, things at relative peace, but not having to actively work. He’d want to still be able to give back I think even if it’s not actively fighting. What if Danny started an Enough Stuff shop. Everything there is free. Everything is donated. It runs on donations. (The first few months it runs on his savings; ghost money translates thankfully).

Danny lives in the apartment above the store and the store has two floors. Sam moves in next door and runs an apothecary and plant store. She ends up running a vegan bakery and coffee shop too. If you perform or write a poem, you get a free coffee and scone. If she has the chance, she’ll teach you about basic herbal remedies and also some basic first aid because while honey is an antibiotic, it doesn’t do shit for something needing stitches. Jazz moves in and opens a free pediatric clinic. Tucker can be found running the business side of the non-profits and pushing Sam to “just get an EMT certification already, you’re more than qualified, and you know you want to.” Val travels a lot, she’s an Olympic martial artist, but when she settles someplace to train it’s usually with the trio in their Frankenstein apartment made up of the top two floors of three connected buildings. Between Danny finding he enjoyed training from his years as a hero and Sam wanting to always be in top form there’s a gym there she can train in and Danny’s usually free. She helps with whoever needs it when she has free time so she doesn’t feel like a mooch for living there only part-time. She ends up saving some kid from a thug and deciding to train him up. This leads to the kid bringing more kids to learn from her. She ends up buying a building on the block and renovating it to be a gym and training facility for her and it gets added to the list of non-profits Tucker is running. (He only leaves his corner office, he insisted, during working hours for lunch or meetings and the occasional lunch meeting).

Tim losing his mind trying to find anything about them. Him constantly hitting firewalls of binary, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Esperanto and some other language he could only describe as auditory Zalgo text. Tim desperately wanting to investigate in person but he promised Jason he’d stay out of it until he asked.

Jason coming back from a long mission with the Outlaws seeing the “cute little trust fund kid’s experiment” not only flourishing, but growing. He goes to research them only to find they’re mostly squeaky clean. There’s some stuff about disturbance of the peace and minor property damage when a teenager, but that doesn’t mean anything for someone setting up in Crime Alley. He watches them for a while, listened to what his guys said about them and the general opinion. He decides they’re above board, but he’d still watch them.

Then he got shot. More accurately, a shot grazed just under his armpit where there was a gap in his armor. He ended up stumbling out of an alleyway and directly into the pathway of one red headed doctor.

Kinda want to add more Amity Parker’s at some point. Debating having Paulina run a fashion house in the fashion district because she couldn’t convince her dad to let her move to a place known as Crime Alley, and just spend a bunch of time at Danny’s shop and maybe drop off ‘fits she made there. Star and Wes running a local radio station. Dash becoming a mechanic (after freaking out about not making it in football). Kwan opens a vet clinic. Eventually the Amity Parker’s own a full two blocks of housing and businesses.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #anger management ship #hardcover ship #everlasting trio #everlasting insomniacs #amity park #ghost king au #ghost king danny

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 7 months ago

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jolene part 2

(aka remus having a fat crush on you) (basically part 1 from remus's perspective)

part 1

james potter x reader -> remus lupin x reader

@mishi-with-jazz you requested this, hope everyone enjoys :)

remus lupin prided himself on being smart. sure, he wouldn't go round bragging about it, but he knew he was clever. he was a good student, always achieving Os, and constantly top of the class (alongside lily). although recently, he didn't feel smart at all. that's because he had made a mistake. a big one. he had a massive crush on you. his best friend's girlfriend.

he hated himself for it. what kind of friend does that? but he couldn't help it. and anyway he had liked you first! way before james did, ever since third year. he felt selfish, thinking that, but it was the truth. james claimed he had liked you for ages, but remus knew that was nothing compared to the length of time he himself harboured feelings for you.

"hello darling." remus was broke from his thoughts by james' voice, and saw you had sat down next to james, across from him. across from him!!

you were beautiful, he couldn't help thinking when he saw you cheekily poked your tongue out at sirius. you had always been kind to him, ever since you sat next to each other in your very first year. potions, if he remembered correctly.

in fact, you even knew about his "furry little problem" as your boyfriend liked to call it. you found out in fourth year, and you were nothing but helpful to him. you promised not to tell anyone and hadn't treated him any differently. he was eternally grateful.

remus had not noticed he'd been gazing at you till you gave him a smile causing his cheeks to warm up and smile back, quickly looking away. he'd been caught staring. that was embarrassing. what if you thought he was a weirdo? what if james had noticed and forbid him from speaking to you? even worse.. what if james stopped being friends with him for fancying his girlfriend?

his panics stopped when he saw lily evans approach the table. he listened to you talk to her, thanking her, and then he noticed james' face. long before you had. before sirius aand peter had. he was blushing. was he serious? james was one of his best friends, don't get him wrong, but he had a girlfriend. it made it worse his girlfriend was you.

remus bit down on his marmalade toast, hard. he was angry for you.

"james are you okay?" he heard you ask curiously, causing him to feel a pang of sympathy for you.

he heard james brush you off, and suddenly it was like nothing had even happened. everyone seemed to have moved on. remus wasn't even sure that padfoot and wormtail had even noticed james' reaction to seeing lily.

he knew you had, though. you were quieter than usual. you looked.. sad.

he shot you a comforting smile, which you returned weakly.

at least you're smiling, even if it was forced.

sometime passed until you spoke up again

"i need to go to the library, does anyone want to come with?" you asked, looking hopefully at james.

"sorry love, got quidditch practice in ten minutes." james said with a sympathetic smile.

"it's fine." remus heard you mutter, you sounded a bit dejected.

"i'll go. i need to anyway, i need a book for the history of magic homework." remus surprised himself, not even processing what he had actually just said.

"thanks remus." you smile softly, and he follows you out of the hall.

you both walk in silence to the library, until remus decides to speak up.

"are you okay?" he asks, looking at your face.

"i'm fine, thanks though.." you said unconvincingly.

"are you sure? you look upset." he responds, giving you a worried smile.

"it's just... james. he's confusing." you sigh.

remus heart stopped. a small part of him hoped you'd tell him that you were planning to break up with james. he knew that was unlikely.

he gives you a nod to continue speaking and you smile in return.

"sometimes i think he still likes lily." you say, avoiding eye contact.

as much as remus wanted to tell you yes!! yes james still likes lily, but here i am and i like you a lot!! he knew he couldn't.

"don't be silly y/n." remus chuckles "james likes you, not lily. she's old news." he gives you a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"really?" you look at remus with such hopefulness, it made him hope what he was saying was true.

"really." he confirms. "james is crazy about you."

you smile at him, looking reassured.

"thanks remus." you say. "you're a great friend."

remus felt himself tense. friend. but of course that's all he was.. you had a boyfriend for godric's sake. he decided, however, he would like being your friend if it made you smile.

"it's no problem, really." he smiles at you and you carry on your journey to the library.

since that talk, you immediately felt closer to remus. you talked more and you both considered each other best friends.

weeks later, you were brought together again.

"you don't usually go to parties, do you remus?" you ask remus, who was holding up a drunk james.

gryffindor had just had a party to celebrate their quidditch win against slytherin and james, being captain of course, was drunk out of his mind.

he was touched you had noticed he didn't usually attend the parties. you were right. he didn't. but james and sirius were on the quidditch team, and he wanted to celebrate their win with them.

"n-no i don't, just wanted to support my friends." he decides to respond, and he knows what he said was apparently correct judging by the smile on you face.

he watched you talk to james comfortingly. merlin he wished you spoke to him like that. you were one of the nicest people he knew.

he zoned out a second but then sees your face, which instantly snaps him out of his daze.

"i'm not lily." he saw you grit your teeth. "would you rather have her take care of you?"

noticing your hurt words, he's quick to comfort you.

"don't worry y/n, he's drunk, he doesn't know any better." he tries to reassure you.

you nod back, but then collapse on a chair.

you looked sad. devastated. remus wanted nothing more to cheer you up.

"look.. y/n, i'll take him up to bed. do you want me to come back down so you can talk.. or do you want some space?" he asks.

"talk." you notice your abruptness and you feel your cheeks warm. "that'd be nice." you add on the end.

remus smiles at you and takes james up to their dorm, where sirius is left to deal with him.

"why's he such a lightweight?" sirius chuckles.

"i know. weakling." remus snorts. "he's fucked up though."

"he has?" sirius responds, with some surprise.

"yeah he's upset y/n." remus responds, frowning.

"prick." sirius rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to james.

"i'll be back.. soon." remus leaves his dorm, and goes back to where you're sat trying to regain yourself.

"hey.." you mutter when you see him, and he takes the seat next to you.

"talk to me." he smiles, sympathetically.

"it's james. again. you heard him. he's always thinking about lily! i'm his girlfriend, not her." a tear rolls down your face.

"oh y/n, don't cry." remus reaches out and brushes the tear away.

"sorry.. i'm pathetic. i just don't know what to do." you groan.

"look.. do you want my honest advice." remus scans your face.

you nod.

"talk to him about it tomorrow, if he doesn't take accountability for it. dump him. and i'm saying that as one of his best friends."

remus feels your gaze on him and feels his cheeks warm.

"oh remus." you lay your head on his shoulder, causing him to freeze up. he knew you weren't drunk but you were still a little tipsy.

he lets you lay there, you look tired.

"i wish james was more like you..." you mutter, drifting off.

remus's breath hitched. although this wasn't reliable at all (you weren't sober), this was progress.

looking at you with a small smile, he just couldn't help but love you.

#x reader #fanfic #harry potter x reader #fluff #angst #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black

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softbeej · 7 months ago

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alastor cumming from just getting his ears touched by reader?

oh you may!!

Jazz & Liquor (Alastor x Reader smut)

“Ah, whiskey is your poison, I see? Mind If I have a glass? Always puts me right to bed.” Alastor asked, as you were curled up in the library with a scratchy record playing in the background.

“Be my guest!” You insisted, pouring him a healthy glass which he took with a wink before sitting beside you on the sofa.

“Reading anything interesting?” He questioned. He must be really sleepy; he always got a bit more touchy feely and talkative with exhaustion.

You shook your head no, closing the book and giving him your full attention.

“Just a old mystery novel, is all...”

He nodded, listening but clearly uninterested, “What brings you down here? You’re usually up in the radio tower at this time. Is everything okay?”

The attention was finally on him, and he visibly perked up at this.

“I’ve not managed to get much sleep these past few nights. Just wanted a little change of scenery, you see. Oh, how boring it can get up there all on my lonesome. You can visit, you know?”

You smiled, he was basically begging you to spend time with him. If you were to go up there, what would he even have you do? There’s only one chair up there - strictly his. There’s not even a sofa up there, it’s almost as if he specifically designed the room to deter anyone from loitering up there. You supposed, he could have you sit on his lap as he worked. Or he could have you just sit cross legged at his feet.

You almost shook your head to get rid of these thoughts, “Well, thank you, Alastor. I’ll certainly keep that in mind- Oh!”

With that, Alastor’s head was on your lap. He’d slowly been sinking into you as you were speaking, before his head just grew too heavy and landed in your lap. Almost immediately after he realised, his lazy eyes shot open, blushing and utterly embarrassed as he started blabbing a string of apologies at you.

You shushed him immediately of course.

“Al, Al, it’s fine! You sleep, you clearly need too...” You insisted as you gently lowered his head back down. He pulled his legs up on the sofa too, getting more comfortable. You scanned the room for a blanket for him, but didn’t want to disturb him.

Your nails raked through his hair as his eyes fluttered closed. Then, he purred as you continued. Your face reddened and you almost gasped.

“You like that? Feel nice?”

He nodded, “Mm...”

He probably wanted to downplay how much he liked it, but his involuntary purring clearly gave him away.

You kept scratching his head, moving closer to the base of his ears, where his hair changed into fluffy fur. His purring grew louder and rougher, giving you butterflies. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out a strange noise.

“Keep going? Feels... Good...” He said. Whatever butterflies you were feeling, he was clearly feeling tenfold, if you had to guess by the strawberry red blush covering his cheeks.

“Relax, Alastor... I’m here, relax...” You cooed.

You smiled to yourself as you saw his cock hard in his pants, straining the fabric and threatening the seams. Would he will it to go away? Excuse himself as he sorted his situation? Or just lay there seeing it through to completion?

His heavy eyelids fluttered open a little to watch you with blown pupils as you continued scratching, paying special attention to his ears now. You smiled as they flitted and twitched at even the lightest touch, and how he shivered in sync. You noticed he started to buck his hips up ever so slightly, as a nice wet patch of precum began seeping through the crotch of his pants.

Not like he cared, though. Instead he bucked his hips up harder, eyebrows knitting together as his tummy grew hot with arousal. With a final couple of rubs of his ears, he came hard right in his pants with an almost pathetic moan. His face relaxed, but his hips kept twitching involuntarily with aftershocks of the intense orgasm. The next thing you knew, you heard a deep breath and looked down to see him fast asleep. He’d have to deal with that mess in the morning, you thought as you drifted off.

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #hazbin smut #alastor headcanons

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whaliiwatching · 1 year ago

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a taste of hannibal, a touch of megamind, a shot of venom (pours the whole damn bottle)

i love venom (2018) a lot, it’s my go-to movie when i’m bored or sad, i have seen it many many times. i saw it again a week or so ago with a bud and finally had the opportunity to pen down this lovely au i’ve been thinkin bout

i’ve got a much more fleshed out sketch of how this au plays out. not sure if i’ll write it yet

anyway some bullet points

noir (called, ofc, noir) arrives on earth-138 in the 1920s. his first host is robbie and they basically go through the venom movie, where noir slowly learns to love earth and humanity and all that jazz. up until the 50s or so they’re an investigative reporter and occasionally a scary vigilante superhero!

when robbie is killed (not ewaf style. i forbid it), it fucking devastates noir and he host-hops for a bit, doing fun anarchy things to keep up robbie’s legacy but also losing a few morals here and there. he can do a little murder and eat nazis as a treat

the symbiotes arrive en masse and osborn infects humans with them to turn into his fascist riot police army

through vampire-hunting-esque shenanigans, hobie and noir meet, and strike up a tenuous truce to fight the government. hobie does not like him at first, but noir very much does ;)

cue a slow burn gothic romance between a freedom fighter and a devoted monster <3

#spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #spider noir #hobie brown #noirpunk #theyre not spiderpeople in this au lol #the issue is i can write horror but i cant draw it lhkjdsf #which is why the Funnies #and the goddamn megamind scene. which somehow perfectly fits #see the fun part about it is that noir has to always be connected to hobie in order to survive #so we have Monster Who is Recklessly Devoted to Host and Host Who is Not Into This #noir’s hat and general look come from his assimilation to humanity over the last fifty or so years. hes not like other symbiotes #hes quirky. he wears a fedora. you ever seen him without that stupid hat on that’s WEIRD #two stupid old jokes in one! i like it #anyway yeah monster noir for the win #thanks discord! yall made me rework this entirely just to make it more fucked up horror <3

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postpendulum · 1 year ago

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Some deformed jumbled mess of whatever this idea is has been rattling around in my adhd riddled brain for weeks now and I'm finally forcing myself to write it down, it is barely fleshed out in the slightest (hence, "deformed") and only the main idea is in my brain right now so I'm basically making it up as I write this so, apologies.

The Fenton parents (for whatever reason) decide that Gotham is the perfect place to spend their summer vacation, and while their there through some

💫Wacky Shananagans💫

Danny ends up meeting (omg your never gonna guess this, it's so out of this world for me, who only has one dpxdc post so far and it's this ship as well, it's so wacky and wild, blow your brains out pew pew pew)

DAMIAN!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥💥‼‼‼‼💥💥💥💥💀💀💀💀💀:O

What the what!?!?!??!?,! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT????? I AINT MEVER DUN DIS BEFORE!!!!!!!!

Anyway basically they have a summer romance because idk mwa mwa kissy noises gay gay homosexual gay and whathajaga

And then idk I had this that that like, I saw someone say once somethen like "damn tho the most unrealistic thing about this show is that nobody at that damn school thought Danny was hot💀" and I thought like, "damn bitch that true tho." So like idk, I thought like, I'm pretty sure its psychological fact or whatever (this gonna be damn embarrassing if that isnt true tho cuss ona my possible options ideas plans whatever for college is psychology💀) that confidants makes people more attractive, so like, ig like Danny builds confidence over the summer with you know, getting a boyfriend, Damian not taking any of that whatever bullshit idk ahjaobznaja or maybe just ghost aura shit whatever idfk whatever you want.

Basically when he goes home at back to school after summer break is over people suddenly realize "oh shit wait whys he kinda hot tho," and the fuckers like randos, maybe a-listers, whoever's just a buncha people like flirting tryna shoot their shot whatever, but then Danny's just like, thinking about how much he loves his boyfriend and how much he can't wait to see him in person again and what not. I also like to think Danny probably didn't even tell anyone at school he got a boyfriend, like maybe he even forgot to tell Sam and Tucker because he was to busy being fucking lovestruck, I mean I doubt that would actually happening and it's more likely that he'd constantly be gushing to them about Damian rather then not and I actually like that idea a lot better now that I thing about it that other one was more of a funny little side thought idk. But yeah nobody knows besides like Sam Tucker and Jazz, so yeah.

On o think that's it for me I'm done good night y'all *cue mic drop*

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nexility-sims · 2 months ago

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟓 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | RENZO'S HOUSE, NAKAWE, OCTOBER 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Leonor stayed for a few days, treating Renzo’s guesthouse as a hideaway for avoiding the reality waiting outside its walls. Jim was there for only a blip of that time. He was more of an observer than a participant. At first Leonor found the camera blocking his face distracting, but she got used to it the way one might a deformity. It was part of him. He must have been a shy child. Maybe picking up photography gave him a way into the world—a means to navigate it, to notice without truly being seen. It soon made sense to her why he and Renzo had become friends. There was a basic similarity there, although Renzo had much worse luck at being unseeable. But, Jim’s departure was welcome. Renzo intended to go out with him, to introduce him to would-be mutual friends, but Jim ended up alone. Leonor had leaned against the kitchen counter without an ounce of guilt and watched as Renzo scrawled a list of addresses and phone numbers. ‘Pick up a pocket dictionary,’ he’d warned. ‘Your Uspanian is worse than mine, brother.’ So it was. Jim gave them a cheerful salute before he disappeared into the backyard’s foliage, and Leonor decided she admired the pluckiness of braving a foreign city, all alone and clearly out of place.

❧ this concludes a sweet three-part arc, and i think it's a good one ! partial to the bonfire wide shot, personally, but it's all nice and fluffy. (& idk what exactly she’s reading aloud but let’s say it’s faulkner, as i lay dying. rip 2 leonor.)

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

She slept through morning again the next day, waking up occasionally to find herself still alone in the bedroom, eyes squeezed shut while the sun warmed her face, determined to stay in the sheets as long as she could. At one point, she looked around as Renzo ducked into the room. He lingered by the door. That must have a been a wake-up call of sorts, or perhaps his attempt at being polite. The sound of his footsteps going downstairs receded, then the music began. It wasn’t gentle piano or upbeat jazz, as appropriate for lazy mornings, but thrashing drums and electric guitar riffs blaring, if muffled, through the floor. With her face in a pillow, Leonor smiled. ‘It just does something for me,’ he told her once. ‘Loud music. Where it hurts a little. Distracts me.’ She asked from what, and he shrugged, ‘Cravings.’ Lying in his bed with her eyes closed, she imagined him downstairs doing the same thing, perhaps on the rug or with his feet hanging off the edge of the lounge chair. He was as likely to be crouched down chewing his lefthand nails, pacing with a magazine, staring at the vinyl collection with his hands knotted in his hair.

But, she wasn’t ready to go find out what he was up to just yet. When she did get up, it was with a mission. She picked up the Polaroid camera on the bedside table and held it at arms’ length to snap a picture of herself. While it developed, she opened the drawer and rummaged around. This table was the least used of the two—the guest one, in a way. There were hard candies inside, a few pocket knives, and a datebook with nothing inside. She peeked inside the plastic shopping bag shoved behind the table’s lamp: cheap red wine and cough syrup, both unopened.

The rest of the room’s nooks and crannies held the same kind of intriguing, mundane miscellany. In the large wardrobe across from the bed, he kept the clothes he wore most often. There was a dresser elsewhere with socks, underwear, tee shirts, and party favors he didn’t leave out downstairs. His favorite leather jacket was hanging, tucked haphazardly in the center, flanked by plaid flannels and jeans. Feeling around in all of the pockets, she found empty cigarette packs, less loved lighters, spare change, loose pills and matches, and scraps of paper—circled phone numbers, stick men without faces, and titles to what she assumed were books and songs predominated. One nondescript receipt had “Call Nora,” large and underlined, on the back. Tossed on the bottom shelf, some of his beat-up boots and sneakers concealed wads of cash tucked inside them.

His books were filled with marginalia, and Leonor took pride in identifying what belonged to him and what had probably been there when he acquired it. Some were gifts. Some belonged to libraries thousands of miles away. Among some, she saw pages of a script. She scanned the dialogue and concluded she wanted to ask about it later. Was he going to transform himself into “Sam,” whom context clues suggested was very busy running a quirky jewelry emporium and impersonating his possibly deceased landlady? Leonor could imagine it. He would swallow the angst on these pages whole and do something incredible with it. It would be charming, too. Although he refused to watch it with her, she had seen his turn as a rancher with a chronically ill child and wept over it. But, she hoped he didn’t find “Sam” that appealing. It didn’t look like a Uspanian project, after all.

What piqued her interest most was packed away behind his armchair in a box of keepsakes. The binders she flipped through were photo albums. She couldn’t picture him doing any scrap-booking. Were they made for him, then? By who? She didn’t recognize anyone in the photos, except for Renzo himself. He was younger, clean shaven, usually smiling toothy grins that didn’t reach his eyes. There were also worn blankets, souvenirs from places she had never heard of, innocuous trinkets she viewed differently now that she knew the backstory behind the toy cube on top of his television set. Maybe he was what some called a pack rat, but she believed his junk all had stories attached—consequential ones that would feel to her as it from another universe.

Looking through this box, she reflected on the patchwork way his life had come together for her. He knew her biography from start to finish, with the emotional filler that accompanied recounting it. There wasn’t much to tell; it was a couple decades’ long and uneventful for, conservatively, twenty of those twenty-one years. It was less of a book and more of a pamphlet. “Born A Princess? Three Steps To Succeed.” His was longer, and she understood it as nothing but events, one after another, linked with knotted threads that looked like desperation, recklessness, craving. It wasn’t a book. It was the messy, unorganized, impenetrable cabinet of research that could become a collection of books someday, maybe. He had already lived four or five lives before she was old enough to seriously contemplate hers. Even then, she couldn’t conceive the kind of reinvention he alternatively stumbled or dove into without a second thought. Or, at any rate, she hadn’t really tried to.

What grabbed her amid the box’s treasures was a single framed photograph. She extracted it with care and held it in her hands for a long time. Music still thudded through the floor, so loud that she could feel it, but this was a peaceful moment. In the frame, what could only be his child self peeked at her from behind a notebook, and a woman who looked like his mother stared with the same heavy eyes. Only, hers were dark—browner than brown, black even, familiar in a different way.

Leonor stared at the photograph of them together until her vision blurred. She sniffed a few times and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands, letting the frame sit in her lap while she collected herself. Once she had, she stood up without much forethought and went to place it on the bedside table. There was space for it on his side, between the stack of books, alongside his ashtray and remote controller, with room to put it face down when needed. She sank to her knees. With her chin on folded arms, she resumed soaking in this rare glimpse of his first life. She struggled to picture what was beyond the frames of the photograph but tried anyway.

Her eyes drifted from his to his mother’s and back again. She did know what this woman had been like back then—a composite cobbled together from his mentionings, usually in some contrast to Leonor’s own mother, leaking unfathomable realities of his upbringing that made her balk and hold him tighter. ‘She wasn’t a bad mother,’ he claimed. ‘She’s just fucked up. Congenitally. And I am glad I got her variety of it instead of his, to be clear.’ Today, she lived in a place called Little Rock in a house Renzo bought for her. He noted that his father was with her more than ever, but that didn’t make much of a difference to anyone. 'He wants to move to Los Angeles,' Renzo recounted with a scoff. 'We told him, "Great, fuck off then!" No dice.'

As Leonor sat looking at the photograph, she wondered if there were others pictures in that house—whether she looked at them more than Renzo apparently did and whether she would agree with his assessment of their time together. Then, she tried to imagine them in a room together. There were huge windows, drenching the colorful furnishings in sunlight. In this fantasy, Leonor wore white, not because her mother had been dead for less than a year but because Renzo liked when she wore it. His mother liked her, too, and she liked Safya, who promptly breezed into the room, alive and bearing enough vitality to make up for what the three of them lacked.

At first, she suspected Renzo hadn’t noticed the photograph newly on display. That was fine, she decided. The prospect of having to explain herself sent a small chill up her spine. 'Oh, I found it' wouldn't suffice. He came into the room well after she had moved on to another, less invasive occupation. She was flipping through old music magazines on the balcony when he showed up at her shoulder, stripped down to just his white socks and announcing that she needed to come wash his hair. They could both fit in the bathtub without injury, most likely. Plus, he was proud of himself for having bought a hair dryer. It was the same one she had, in fact; that he didn’t know any other kind wasn’t important.

As they left the room so he could show her, he lingered to glance over his shoulder once, then a second time. His expression reflected in the bathroom mirror when he caught up with her was troubled, at least until their eyes met and seemed to distract him again.

[Muffled loud music, Leonor humming]

LEONOR | I’m excited to get the prints. RENZO | From Jim? Yeah. Good man. He misread you, though. LEONOR | You think so? Maybe … The candids were better.

RENZO | He wanted to impress you. Magazine spread treatment. LEONOR | Hm. It started like that, didn’t it? I’m offended, actually. RENZO | [chuckles] Oh, yeah? LEONOR | Like I can’t appreciate something simple.

RENZO | It’s an easy mistake to make, you know. LEONOR | That’s what you thought. RENZO | Big time. You wore pink sequins and a fucking tennis bracelet to a bar hang. Message loud and clear.

LEONOR | I felt ridiculous! It doesn’t come easy. I suppose it never needed to. I do like it, I really do—simplicity. Small things. Normalcy. RENZO | Normal is relative. LEONOR | You know what I mean. Like this. We have people for this. [Renzo laughs]

RENZO | I could tell—after a while, that very first night. Yeah, you started out awkward and uptight—maybe that was discomfort, maybe it was judgment—but I saw it. Genuine interest. Curiosity. Fucking rare.

LEONOR | Really? RENZO | You’re complicated, Nora. So sincere it makes me sad sometimes. Sweet—bittersweet. And surprising. I love that about you.

LEONOR | It would be better if you read it. I can’t do the accent. RENZO | Drawl. It’s a drawl. Anyway, I like listening. Doing this. LEONOR | Being together. RENZO | Being together.

LEONOR | Speaking of … I wanted to ask something. Hear me out?

LEONOR | I want to go to an event with you. Not one of mine; one of yours. Something real. Professional. That you care about. Maybe there’s nothing anytime soon, but when there is … I want to be there.

LEONOR | What? Is that crazy? RENZO | No, it’s not. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. LEONOR | Why? RENZO | You know why.

LEONOR | You don’t want to reconsider. RENZO | Don’t know.

LEONOR | Do you remember Arturo? RENZO | [sighs] Sure. LEONOR | The worst part about … all of that? I ended things where there was no way he’d get any closure—at all. I just kicked him out. He was going to go weep for Mama, with my family. That was certain. Then, I made him nothing with a few words.

LEONOR | Eventually, it occurred to me that it wasn’t actually an impulsive choice. Having him around that morning made me feel awful—I wanted to crawl out of my skin just looking at him; isn’t that terrible?—but … Grief makes it all bigger, doesn’t it? RENZO | It does, yeah. Too big. LEONOR | Five years. Living Mama’s life. I didn’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone. I told myself, later, that he must’ve known —felt it?—so it was okay. Not explaining or apologizing. Hurting him .

LEONOR | I gave him everything. I didn’t owe him anything else. He could figure that out on his own. RENZO | Alright, a little fucked up. LEONOR | [chuckles] Yeah. Not that I regret anything.

LEONOR | Don’t do that to me. I don’t need a promise, reassurances, whatever. It’s a request, that’s all. When the time comes, do it with your eyes wide open, okay?

LEONOR | —seriously, you could put on a dress shirt but not pants or shoes? I bet it’s a stunt. I think you like the attention. RENZO | Me? You know me better than that.

RENZO | Can’t a man be comfortable in his own yard? [Leonor laughs]

RENZO | I wish you didn’t have to leave. Wish you could stay in bed all day instead of talking to some fucking journalist for television. LEONOR | Me too. But it’s work. I have to go. Reality calls.

RENZO | This one isn’t just work. It’s going to hurt. Not ready, are you? LEONOR | Do you have to ask? RENZO | You didn’t bring it up again. Last opportunity.

LEONOR | [whispers] It’s so close. A year. It didn’t feel like anything—I knew it would happen, that’s all—and now I can feel it. Right here, in my chest. Bigger and bigger. RENZO | I know. LEONOR | Will it always be like this? RENZO | Yes. Sometimes it gets easier. Sometimes it doesn’t.

LEONOR | And if it doesn’t? RENZO | You can handle it. LEONOR | How do you know that? RENZO | Hell if I know. Being beat over the head with life experience. Knowing you. Lucky guess? Gut feelings are truth, usually.

RENZO | No tears. You’ll mess up your eyeliner. LEONOR | It’s okay. They all want to see me cry anyway. RENZO | Yeah, well, fuck that—I don’t.

LEONOR | Maybe later? Ruin my eyeliner, I mean. RENZO | Happy tears, sure. We can arrange that. LEONOR | Good. I need something to look forward to.

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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nichuuu · 2 years ago

Text

Beats Me - 1: Squeaker

Shin Ryujin

Tags: Smut, Subby Ryujin, Teasing, Foreplay, Really shitty story

Words: 5k+

You weren’t afraid to admit that you’ve never felt so lost in all your life.

The university campus was sprawling as it was, but in the midst of trying to find the recording studio, you’ve somehow found that this place seemed to be bigger than it was. The halls seemed to constantly shift themselves, twisting and warping the layout of the campus as you struggled to locate that damn Arts block.

After about 20 minutes of sheepishly asking for directions, craning your head to look at signs that always seemed to be pointing in the wrong way and lots of cussing, you finally managed to locate the studio—15 minutes later than you were supposed to reach—and frantically knocked on the door. The muffled music coming from inside stopped.

The heavy looking oak door swung open.

“The fuck do you want?” The girl at the door crudely asked.

“H-Hi… I’m uh… I’m here to try out for the band?” You meekly replied.

She scanned you up and down.

“You’re the squeaker drummer?” She questioned. You didn’t exactly know what the word squeaker meant, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Y-Yeah…” You said. She checked her watch.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she remarked.

“S-Sorry… Got lost…” You apologised. She shot you a glare.

“Getting lost isn’t an excuse, you should’ve—”

“God dammit Yeji! Just let the damn boy inside!” A voice came from within. The lady in front of you—who you assumed was Yeji—shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line.

You were scared of her already.

“Get in and get your ass on the drum kit,” the scary woman barked, stepping aside to let you in.

You’ve never run into a room so quickly in your life.

You stepped in, quickly noting that the entire room was full of girls. They all stared at you, and you gave a shy bow before haul assing towards the vacant drum set and setting your bag down. You contemplated on adjusting the height of your seat, but the fact that you could still feel that lady glaring at you made you think otherwise.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out your drumsticks.

“Do you have an iPad or anything we can use to give you your charts?” The scary lady asked, shutting the door.

“Uh… No,” You replied. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hopeless” She muttered.

Not the best first impression. You thought to yourself.

“Yeji, Don’t you feel like you’re scaring him a little?” The woman behind the microphone voiced her opinion.

“I would treat him better if he was on time,” Yeji hissed.

“You and your ‘Professionalism’,” The lady behind the microphone sighed. She turned to you.

“Hello! Sorry for the… Harsh welcome,” She said. “What’s your name?”

“O-Oh uh… M-Myeong-seok,” you stammered.

“Nice to meet you Myeong-seok,” She smiled. “Just do your best today, we’ll see how you fair.”

You nodded and picked up your sticks. The lady behind the microphone turned back to the front.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You, from the top!” She announced.

Having played that song before, you found yourself with new found confidence as you sat up straight in your stool.

You said a silent prayer before the guitar riff came, launching you into the first song.

The session went better than expected. Even though you felt like a toddler lost in a supermarket half the time, you managed to grasp a basic beat through most of the songs they played. They did some Rock, some pop, did some jazz and a few other funky genres you weren’t too familiar with, but you never stopped to ask questions, fearing another tongue lashing from Yeji.

To your delight, you managed to secure your spot as their new drummer. The news came like a spark of joy, but the spark was instantly extinguished by Yeji, who informed you that the band was to do a gig at a nearby bar in a week's time. You had exactly one week to get your shit together, learn the pieces and memorise your charts.

“No stress,” The Bassist unhelpfully added. She looked scary too.

You’d gotten a grasp of their names. Guitarist 1 was a girl they called “Kkura”, the pianist’s name was Ji-min, or “Karina” as they called her at times. Guitarist 2 was scary lady Yeji, the Bassist Ryujin and the vocalist Eunbi. You prayed you got their names right.

The band practised on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each practice starting at 4pm sharp. You took note of that, noting from your earlier interaction with Yeji that she despised tardiness.

“Be punctual or I’ll have your head on a pike,” Yeji snarled before leaving the room with her guitar strapped to her back.

“Don’t mind her, she’s a little moody today,” Eunbi assured you. You could only nod, the fear leaving your body as soon as Yeji walked out the door. Eunbi proceeded to toss you a set of keys.

“Keys to the studio, everyone gets one set.” She explained. “Come in whenever you want to practise. Just don’t break anything in here or the school will have us knee deep in debt.”

You stared at the keys in your hand, processing the fact that you were now a part of a legitimate… Well… Somewhat legitimate band.

“See you this Friday Myeong-seok,” Eunbi waved.

“S-See you!” You waved back. She left the room together with Ji-min, leaving you alone with Ryujin who was still busy winding up her wire. You decided to leave her to it, pocketing the keys to the studio and slipping your sticks back into your bag. Being as silent as you could, you shouldered your backpack and got up to leave.

“Yo squeaker.”

She was staring right at you. You could feel it.

As mentioned before, she struck you as a scary person, with her bob cut and leather jacket giving you the vibe of an 80s gang member. She looked ike the type of girl who would beat you up for staring for too long. You slowly turned to face the bassist, and you were pleasantly surprised to find a smile on her face.

“Good stuff today… You were pretty sick on the kit,” She complimented.

“O-Oh… T-Thanks?” You replied, failing to hide the fear in your voice.

“Chill man, I won’t eat you,” She assured you, sensing your tension. “Do I really look that scary? Is it the jacket?”

You hesitated before nodding a little. She smirked and shrugged it off her shoulders.

“I wear it cause I’m cold. But if it makes you afraid of me, I’ll take it off,” She mused, the black leather slipping off her shoulders to reveal the crop top beneath it. “Name’s Ryujin by the way.”

“I uh… I kinda know….” You told her nervously. She raised her eyebrows.

“You are one sharp feller,” She remarked.

“Well… I… I just… Listen,” You explained. The short-haired girl scoffed.

“Don’t we all?”

You managed a chuckle, finding yourself easing up a little.

Maybe she wasn’t so scary…

“You free tomorrow Squeaker?” She asked, zipping the bag containing her bass guitar shut.

“W-Why?” You couldn’t help but inquire.

“I wanna practise with you. Bassists and Drummers go hand in hand, I need your cues and your beat to help me,” She explained, slinging her bass over her shoulder. “Think you can come in at around 2:30pm?”

You quickly ran through tomorrow's schedule in your head. Lectures ended by 2pm tomorrow, leaving you ample time to get to the studio.

“S-Sure… I can make it,” You agreed. Ryujin flashed you a smile.

“Coolsies. See you tomorrow then,” she said, giving you finger guns. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you replied with a nervous thumbs up. She laughed and punched your shoulder lightly.

“Ease up bucko, we don’t bite,” She winked. “Lock up, for me okay Squeaker?”

You nodded. Ryujin waved before swaggering out of the room, helping you switch off the lights on the way out.

She seems chill. You thought to yourself, fishing the keys out of your pocket. You exited the room and locked the door, marking the end of your day as you headed off towards the exit. The sun had begun to set on the campus by the time you walked out of the gates.

“2:30pm… 2:30pm…” You muttered to yourself over and over as you set off. You vowed not to be late.

The next day rolled around. You sat through lectures as usual, listening to your Prof drone on and on about something related to ethics, or maybe it was morals…

Hell, it was so convoluted you didn’t know anymore.

As soon as 2pm struck, you were up and out of your seat, heading towards the exit. The beauty of not having a good professor was the fact that they couldn’t care less about when you left their lectures.

You made your way to the recording studio with much less difficulty this time. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and turned on the lights and air conditioning, the practice space whirring to life as you shut the door—which was as heavy as it looked—behind you. You beelined it for the kit and fished your sticks out of your bag. You got out your tuning key, which you brought today since the kit sounded like shit the day before, and got to work on adjusting the kit. Yes… You have to tune drum sets too, you know?

When you finished, there was still 20 minutes till Ryujin was due to arrive, so you settled on getting some practice in. Luckily for you, you happened to bring your charts that you painstakingly printed last night (that hole in your wallet will never be patched) and set the folder containing the sheets down on the score stand.

You quickly got to work, doing your thing on the kit as you waited patiently for Ryujin to arrive. She came in 10 minutes later than she should have, something that Yeji would’ve definitely killed her over, but thank god she wasn’t here.

“My bad Squeaker. Prof decided to go on a tangent about his divorce,” She apologised, setting her Bass Guitar down on the couch and unzipping the bag containing it.

“And how are we today?” She asked, pulling her instrument out its bag.

“Good… I guess,” You replied.

“Splendid,” She answered in English with a British accent. You chuckled at the randomness of the girl.

You waited patiently for her to hook her instrument up, fiddling with your drumsticks as she slug her Bass over her shoulder and plucked a string, a deep note filtering out of the amp behind her.

“That is sexy,” She mused, nodding her head in approval. “Alright Squeaker, let’s get to work.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking the excess wire off her foot before signaling that she was ready to begin.

The session went as you expected, the two of you going through each piece and taking notes on your respective scores. At some point, Ryujin stopped to get a sandwich from downstairs, but she was kind enough to get you an iced Americano.

“This is on me,” She said, tossing you the bottle that contained your beverage. You set your sticks down just in time to catch the bottle before it could hit you square in the face. Ryujin cackled at her bad throw before getting back to her instrument.

You went on afterwards, rejuvenated by the coffee bought by Ryujin as the two of you continued with practice. As goofy as she could be, Ryujin was surprisingly skilled with her instrument, hitting catchy fills and a few high-skill licks that left you wide eyed. You got the chance to mess around for a bit, pulling some shenanigans of your own on the kit that got nods of approval from your practice buddy.

“Good shit today,” She sighed with satisfaction as the two of you packed up for the day. It was somehow already late in the evening.

You hummed in agreement, neatly getting your scores back in order and getting them back inside your bag.

“Let’s get dinner, my treat,” Ryujin suggested.

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna waste your money,” you politely declined.

“Wasn’t an offer. We’re getting dinner Squeaker,” She grinned. She never seemed to run out of surprises…

You locked the room up and set off with Ryujin, settling on a tonkatsu place near campus. She ordered a round of alcohol for the two of you.

“So… How long have you been drumming for Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, sipping her glass of beer.

“For a few years now… Started when I was eight,” You answered. “Took some classes for a while then stopped because of money issues, but I joined Concert Band in middle school and highschool. They had kits there so I just practised.”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows, nodding in approval. You decided to try your hand at carrying a conversation, something you were never really good at.

“W-What about you? H-How long have you been playing Bass?” You asked. Ryujin took another sip of beer.

“Me? Not too long… Started a few years back after graduating from College. Wanted to do something with my life, you know?” She replied, wiping the foam off her mouth.

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of your beer. You understood what she meant.

“Besides, playing Bass was a good substitute for sleeping with guys,” She added out of nowhere. The TMI statement almost made you choke on your beer.

“W-What?” You coughed, flabbergasted. Ryujin shrugged.

“I was fresh out of high school and lonely as fuck okay?” She defended herself. “I slept with a couple of guys… And maybe one or two girls… But I needed something to do didn’t I?”

You didn’t know how to respond, and you preferred to keep it that way.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She interrogated you. “It wasn’t even my fault half the time! I just had a few drinks with the guy, and the next thing you know it I’m being railed on my hands and knees. I don’t even know how I got there, honest.”

No words could describe how you felt about the sharp turn this conversation had taken.

“Come on Squeaker, stop giving me that look,” She sighed, picking up her beer cup and swirling the liquid gently. “For all you know, what I described might just happen tonight…”

“MOVING ON!” You exclaimed, almost in a scream. Your attempt to change the subject of the conversation earned you a few nasty glares from members of the public, but you’d rather be shamed than talking about sex with a girl you just met yesterday. You had done the deed once with your ex, but you didn’t particularly derive any sort of pleasure from speaking about the subject.

Ryujin giggled to herself and sat back in her seat.

“Alright alright… You’re uncomfortable, I get it,” Ryujin teased in a sing-song voice. The blush on your face was un-concealable as you kept your eyes glued to the beer in front of you.

“How did you find out about us Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, deciding to drive the conversation back towards music. You inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, finding the courage to look Ryujin in the eye again.

“W-Well uh… Someone handed me a flyer for your band during orientation and—”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Ryujin stopped you. “Orientation? You’re a freshie?”

“U-Uh… Yea… Military Service,” You explained.

“God damn! That means you’re older than me!” She mused.

“W-What? H-How does this affect anything?” You inquired.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about affecting shit?” She asked. “I’m just making an observation Squeaker.”

Your hopes of her ceasing to call you “Squeaker” were dashed. You’d have to live with the nickname from now on.

“Sorry for interrupting, you were talking about flyers?” Ryujin urged you to continue.

“R-Right,” You continued, getting back on track from where you left off. “I saw the flyer, saw that you guys needed a drummer, so I contacted… Eunbi I think… Who’s phone number was on the flyer?”

“Eunbi’s” Ryujin confirmed.

“Right, yea… So… That’s how I got the try out I guess…” You said. Ryujin looked unimpressed.

“Wow… That was far from what I expected,” She told you flatly. “I was thinking that you had some moral conflict or something, but no. You just saw the flyer and decided to go for it?”

“U-Uh… Yea…” You answered, unsure how you’d disappointed her.

“Ew, boring,” She said rather bluntly. “What took you so long to come in then? We’re in the middle of the first semester.”

“Uh… Eunbi… Eunbi didn’t reply to me till last week…” You explained.

“That’s pretty fucking hilarious,” Ryujin sniggered. You shrugged.

“It is what it is,” You said frankly.

At that juncture, the waiter came with your food. Two plates of freshly fried Tonkatsu, paired with a bowl of steamed rice, was laid on the table.

“Oh damn… This looks good,” Ryujin remarked, a hint of glee in her voice. You agreed with her, but you just didn’t vocalise the opinion. Ryujin handed you a set of cutlery from the drawer on her end.

“Dig in Squeaker,” She told you as you took the cutlery from her. You didn’t need to be told twice.

The food was as delicious as it looked, and it went perfectly with the icy beer that you sipped intermittently.

The breaded cutlet disappeared from both your plates almost as quickly as it came. The speed at which you both wolfed down that meal was a little worrying for you, but the satisfaction derived from that meal somehow seemed to neutralise all that. Satisfied with the food, Ryujin called for the bill.

“Hey… Let me pay for a little bit of it at least,” You offered.

“Nope, my treat,” She declined.

True to her word, Ryujin made the waiter stay far away from you as she handed over her card. As much as your morals gnawed at your conscience to pay Ryujin for the cost of your meal, a small voice in your head knew that she’d just reject it.

The bill came back, and the waiter returned Ryujin her credit card. With a smile, she thanked the staff and kept her card.

“Thanks Ryujin,” You said. She waved it off.

“No worries Squeaker,” She grinned, standing up from her seat. “If you don’t mind, could you help me with my Bass? Might need you to carry it home for me.”

You quickly got up and helped her carry her Bass guitar. It was the least you could do to repay her for her generosity.

“Thanks Squeaker. My apartment isn't too far from here, just help me carry it till we get there,” She said, gathering her things.

“Damn… You have an apartment?” You asked.

“Parents wanted me out of the house so badly that they bought me one,” She explained, a proud smirk on her face.

“W-What? Why?”

She looked you in the eye.

“I brought home too many boys for their liking,” She simply said, adding a wink at the end of her sentence. “Come on, Squeaker! Help me carry this damn guitar back so you can get home before midnight!”

You travelled a few streets down, Ryujin’s Bass slung over your shoulder as you followed her back to her apartment complex. The weight of the guitar made you understand the pain of actually needing to bring your own instrument from home.

You made it back to her apartment. You knew her remark of getting you home by midnight was a lie when she pulled you in together with her.

“You can leave your shoes here,” She instructed, shutting her apartment door behind her.

“I really don’t think I should be here…” You began.

“Oh for fucks sake Squeaker. Stop being so nervous about everything!” She teased.

You could only sigh and slide off your sneakers. Ryujin’s apartment was small but cosy, and surprisingly neat as well. She had all sorts of vintage posters decorating her walls, a couple of fairy lights adorning the window sill and a few photos on her shelves and cabinets. You spotted an amp in the corner of the room, and you figured that you should place the Bass Guitar down.

“What can I fix you up with? Booze? Juice? Tea?” Ryujin asked, walking over to her fridge and opening it up. You headed over to the amp to set down her guitar.

“Tea sounds nice,” You said.

“Booze it is!” Ryujin called back.

“I said—Ah never mind…” You sighed, a gut feeling telling you that there was no point in arguing.

After placing down her Bass, she invited you to have a seat on her couch. She had a few cans of beer in her arms that she set down on the coffee table.

She cracked open two cans, handing one to you and taking one for herself before relaxing on her couch. You sat there rigidly, both hands on the cold can.

“Why are you so tense?” Ryujin questioned. “Am I making you nervous?”

“N-No… I’m just… Jittery when it comes to new things and new people… It’s in my blood,” You explained. She smirked.

“That’s why we have alcohol dude,” She reasoned, tapping the beer can in your hand. “Drink up, loosen up!”

She clinked cans with you and guzzled down the entire can, shooting you a look that pressure you to do the same. You hesitantly raised the lip of the can to your mouth and tipped it back. The cold, icy and bitter beverage flowed into your mouth, burning your throat on its way down.

“There you go, that’s the spirit!” Ryujin encouraged you as you gulped down what was left of the first can. Your outings with your platoon had built up your alcohol tolerance, but you still weren’t exactly the best when it came to alcohol.

“Good job. Now have another can,” Ryujin said, cracking open two more cans and handing one to you.

“I don’t think I should—”

“Just fucking fucking drink it.”

The second can turned into a third, and the third can into a fourth. By the fifth can, you were starting to get a little woozy, and you knew that you should stop. Ryujin however, seemed to be very against that.

The sixth can went down easily, and the seventh even easier.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you somehow found yourself stripped down to your undies in Ryujin’s bedroom, furiously making out with her. Her tongue explored the insides of your mouth hungrily, the taste of beer still in her mouth. This entire day had been a trap, but you just didn’t know it.

Her mouth left yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you as she gazed into your eyes. A smirk tugged up the corner of her lip as she slowly got down on her knees. Her sports bra supporting her bust gave you an excellent view of her plunging cleavage as she tugged down your boxers. Your cock sprung out from its restraints, twitching out in the open as Ryujin grasped a hold of it, slender fingers wrapping around your length as she pumped your cock. She licked her lips in delight.

She wasted no time in wrapping her lips around your cock and taking you straight into the depths of her mouth. The eye contact she maintained with you almost drove you over the edge as she rocked back and forth, building a steady pace as she slurped on your dick. Her hands supported themselves on your thighs as she drove you deeper and deeper, the head of your cock poking the entrance to her throat. You couldn’t bear to keep watching her bob up and down your cock for too long, and you forced yourself to look up. The moans leaving your mouth kept coming in a steady stream, your hands finding themselves entangled in locks of Ryujin’s hair as the woman you just met yesterday devoured your shaft. Her tongue busied itself, swirling around your sensitive head and delivering occasional flicks to the underside of your member. She was clearly experienced in giving head.

“Jesus Ryujin…” You managed to moan through the haze of your tipsiness and pleasure. Ryujin lets your cock pop out of her mouth, stroking your shaft—now slick with her saliva—with a corkscrew motion.

“My mouth is good… But playing Bass over the years has made my hands even better,” She giggles. Her fingers grip your throbbing shaft tighter, her palm pressing into the underside as she forces you to watch her stroke you. She shifts the pressure to her pointer finger and thumb, squeezing the tip of your sensitive head. Your head whips back, your mouth opening wide to let out a soft sigh.

“That’s it squeaker… Moan for me…” Ryujin encouraged, increasing the intensity of her hand’s assault on your penis. “Tell me how good my hand feels…”

“Fuck… It’s so damn good,” You hiss through your teeth. That smirk crosses her face again.

“That’s what I thought…” She whispers. “But enough of this foreplay… I want this inside me.”

She lets go of your cock, a move that was both disappointing yet somehow relieving to you as she gets up on her feet. Ryujin makes quick work of her sports bra, tossing it into the growing pile of clothes before quickly pulling down her panties and kicking them away. You now knew what was hiding below that leather jacket…

It was safe to say that Ryujin could easily make a man throb just by looking at her body. Her curves were in all the right places, her snatched waist accentuating her figure and that round, plump ass looking ever so delectable. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you gonna keep fucking me with your eyes? Or are you gonna get over here and fuck me for real?” She asked. You didn’t need a second invitation to walk over and grip her waist firmly. Your cock pressed against her defined abs, the skin in contact with your slick dick glistening as traces of her own saliva are left on her. She gripped you by your cock and pulled you over to the bed, where she laid down on her back and spread her legs wide. The pink flesh of her glistening pussy was a sight to behold, her folds slick with her fluids and the insides of her thighs flushed with arousal.

“You can eat me out another day,” She hissed, reading your thoughts. “Just put your cock in me and fuck me like an animal.”

While the former statement made you slightly disappointed, the latter was too appealing to be turned down.

You were above Ryujin in a matter of seconds. Her hand held onto the base of your shaft, lining your head up with her entrance. Giving you the slightest of nods, you popped your hips and buried yourself inside her tight body, entering the Bassist for the first time.

A sharp gasp left her lips, her legs wrapping around your waist. Her heels pushed you deeper into her tight little cunt, her slick warm walls gripping you firmly as she whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You weren’t sure where you found the strength in you, maybe it was the alcohol messing with you. You pounded Ryujin mercilessly, her body rocking violently with each thrust as her cute tits jiggled deliciously. The cries that left her mouth mixed well together with the background of skin slapping against skin. The squelch that came from your cock entering her over and over again was one of pure lewdness, akin to music in your ears.

You found a steady pace, fucking Ryujin with long hard strokes. Her eyes widened with each entrance, a sigh and the occasional cuss leaving her mouth every time you drove yourself into her wet little pussy relentlessly. Ryujin was a beautiful mess beneath you, and she also seemed to be very vocal when she wasn’t mewling into your shoulder.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck… That’s it… Squeaker… Fuck my little pussy…”

Her body bounced deliciously, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as her moans began increasing in intensity and volume. Her bed creaked in protest, rattling and shaking under the force of your thrusts. Ryujin dug her nails into your back, an outlet to release the pleasure that crashed into her body in rapid waves.

As much as you wanted to fuck Ryujin like this forever, her skillful foreplay mere minutes ago didn’t allow you to last too long inside the bliss that was Ryujin’s pussy.

“Ryujin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” You grunted. She managed a smirk that quickly twisted into a lewd expression as he slammed back into her.

“On me… Cum… On me…” She rasped.

Your pace quickened, each breath you took becoming shallower and shallower as you pumped yourself furiously into Ryujin’s tight body. The pressure continued to build at the base of your cock, slowly working its way up from your tingling balls to the tip of your cock. A few thrusts later, you finally couldn’t take it and withdrew yourself out of Ryujin’s cunt. You furiously stroke your shaft with your right hand, and with one, two, three pumps, you explode onto Ryujin’s hot body. Her abs become the canvas for your load, hot bursts of semen painting her abdomen in ropes of white as your orgasm takes you. Your hand never stops stroking your cock, pushing out rope after rope of your seed as you empty yourself onto Ryujin. She sighs softly with each shot onto her, closing her eyes to savour the feel of your warm cum splattering her body.

It takes you a while to recover from your high, but Ryujin was patient enough to wait for you, idly playing with the cum on her tummy as she watched you with a smirk.

“Was… I that good?” She giggled. You managed a nod.

“Amazing…” You breathe. She sits up on the bed.

“Then you’re in for round two of this amazing experience.”

She got up and bent herself over her desk.

Your still hard shaft throbbed at the sight of her round, plump ass protruded out and ready to be taken.

“I want you to make me cum like this… And don’t you dare stop till I’m a screaming mess,” She hissed aggressively.

Rejuvenated by her lewd words, you get up and take your position behind her. With an open palm, you deliver a slap to her right ass cheek, enjoying the sight of the plump flesh rippling from the impact. Ryujin clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Quit playing with my ass and rail me Squeaker,” She growls.

“Impatient are we?” You ask. She shoots you a glare.

“When did you start talking so much?” She asked.

“When did you start being such a slut?” You fired back.

“I’m not a slut,” She argued.

“Then what are you?” You questioned. That seemed to make Ryujin think for a bit.

You decided to use that window to surprise her.

“I’m a—FUCK!” She screamed, her snarky response cut off by you penetrating her once more. She somehow felt even tighter in this position.

“Got you,” You grinned, your cock throbbing inside her wet, slick heat. She glares at you and opens her mouth to try and say something, but her words turn into a moan when you slam back into her, the delicious flesh of her ass rippling as the base of your crotch makes contact with her juicy cheeks.

“You have a great ass Ryujin,” You compliment her.

“T-Thank you…” She manages. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” You reply.

Reaching forward, you grasp a palmful of her tits and give it a squeeze. She supports herself against her desk as you begin to rock her body once more, drilling yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her moans fill the room, a delicious arc of her back forming as she tilts her head back to look you in the eyes.

“Pull… My hair…”

Happy to follow through with her request, you make a makeshift ponytail with a handful of her dark hair and yank back. She lets out a sharp gasp, her walls tightening as you clench your fist tighter around the lock of hair.

“Yes yes yes yes…” She pants, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she struggles to grip the desk properly. Her walls were tightening around you by the second.

You pull back harder on her hair, pulling her upright. You wrap one arm in front of her, pulling her towards you. Her back flushes against your chest, her eyelids snapping open as she makes eye contact with you.

“I’m cumming… Oh god I’m fucking cumming…” She gasps, gripping your forearms in a vice grip.

She continues to let unfiltered gasps leave her throat before she finally reaches her high. Like the beautiful mess she already was, she screams at the top of her lungs, her insides clenching onto your cock as she twitches in your arms. You fuck her relentlessly through her orgasm, chasing your own high as your sensitive member feel every pulse, every twitch of her freshly fucked pussy, your cock spearing her repeatedly. You fuck her twitching body like there was no tommorow, hips thrusting furiously till you hit your second orgasm for the night.

Pulling your dick out just in time, resting it on her plump ass and stroking yourself to completion. Her butt glistens with your cum, some of the slimy, slick fluid sliding off the curve of her round bottom and dripping onto the floor. Your shaft glistens with your mixed juices.

You both struggle to catch your breaths, panting against each other as you rest your head on Ryujin’s shoulder.

“Tell… Tell no one about this… Got it?” Ryujin manages to pant after some time. You nod weakly against her, fully drained this time. She slips out of your arms and wraps a hand around your waist.

“Come on… Squeaker… Looks like you’ll be crashing with me tonight…”

You didn’t have any energy to argue against her, so you join her in crashing into her mattress and settling in for the night. As sleep took over your body, you felt Ryujin cuddling up against you.

“We… We’ll talk about this tomorrow…” She whispers. “Goodnight Squeaker.”

You managed a one-worded reply.

“Night…”

Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall into the welcome arms of rest.

_________________________________________

What is popping. I’m not dead guys, I just don’t use tumblr as much (I swear I’ll try and be a little more active). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one and I apologise if it’s bad, I read through it once and decided: Eh... Fuck it, let’s post. Contemplating on making this a series if you guys like it enough. I suck at smut so I’m not too sure if this even has the quality to be a series but eh... I’ll leave it to democracy to decide if this is worthy enough. You guys let me know if you want to see this turn into a series.

Have a nice day :))

Also, Legend for some of the terms I used:

Squeaker: Newbie. I stole it from Whiplash lol.

Charts: Slang for sheet music. Also referred to as “Scores”

Snare: The goofy part of the drum set that gives you the funny “Kat” sound. I think google will explain it better.

Tuning Key: Key that tunes. (Wow!!!)

Score stand: The thing that holds your sheet music

#kpop #itzy #smut #ryujin #mature

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spiral-writing-stuff · 1 year ago

Note

hi hi! i saw ur requests were open? (sorry if theyre closed)

Can i request a Akutagawa x gender neutral teen reader? (Platonic ofcou) basically reader looks up to Akutagawa and sees him as a older brother figure and akutagawa sees them as a younger sibling :3 can it be angst also? like where one of them is badly hurt and the other is crying and all that jazz

pls and thank you <3

authors note: Don’t worry! If my bio says requests are open then they are! I just take a while to write because there’s a lot of stuff going on in my life, so I’m really sorry this took so long! Im thinking of splitting this into 2-3 parts because I’m still thinking of how to write the rest of the story, I have the plot already in my head but I just need to put it into words. This request is sooo cute big brother akutagawa is just such a great concept:,) Also so sorry if the angst isn’t good lol I’m not very good at writing creative sad stuff! (Please give me feedback!😭) also sorry if it’s too angsty i think I went a little overboard again. I might edit this story later.

Sorry this took so long!

I also couldn’t decide if reader is older or younger than Gin so you guys decide.

I Hope it’s what you wanted!!<3

On a Silver Night

Content/Warnings: angst, gore, blood/injury, abuse/child abuse, death, Dazai being a bastard, lmk if I missed anything

For as long as you can remember, Ryūnosuke was always protecting you and gin, as if you two are the thing he lives for. which you both are at this point He has always tried his hardest to defend you, gin, and the other children from thieves and abusive adults, he didn’t do it to be righteous, nor did he do it to feel better about himself, he just did. At least, that’s what you thought, it was hard deciphering his intent because everything he did, he did with the same, emotionless stare. People would always mention this fact. Even when he was killing, stealing, or when you found some food or someone told a joke, he always had the same blank expression. You thought it was funny sometimes though he never once showed any emotion, that didn’t matter to you, his actions spoke clearer than any words could.

Like when he would sometimes hug you and gin to keep you warm during cold nights, when he found food he would share it with the two of you first. And if anyone dared to threaten or try to hurt any of you they would be dead in an instant by Rashōmon’s sharp fangs. Yes, his facial expressions didn’t matter, he was trying his hardest to keep you and Gin from experiencing the harsh cruelty of the word, but he was still just a boy himself. There wasn’t much a malnourished and frail child could do, yet he persisted, despite how many times he’d fallen. You looked up to him and had a deep respect for him because of this.

Even though it was a horrible situation all of you were living in, you were happy just to be with your older brother, sister and the other children. Among all the other children, You, Gin and Ryūnosuke were the ones you were closest to.

Until that fateful day, when a group of criminals murdered all the other children in cold blood, leaving You and Gin injured, and Ryūnosuke thirsty for blood.

~ ~ ~

Gin had helped Akutagawa escape but you three got separated amidst the chaos and confusion, you held Gin’s hand tightly as you two ran and ran until you two were exhausted, collapsing onto the damp, cold ground. The air was foggy and cold, the night dark while the moon illuminated your surroundings with a silver light. After a few minutes of struggling to catch your breath you got up from the dirty ground and remembered only Gin was with you, Ryūnosuke had ran off in search of the criminals who killed your friends. Fear and panic shot through your body, terrified that Ryū was going to get himself killed.

“G-gin! W-we have to find Ryū!” You said to Gin in a rushed shaky voice. She swiftly nodded.

You two began running, this time slower due to how tired you both were. You were heading in the direction of where the shipment was said to be taking place.

“Gin! I think we’re almost there—“ you stopped when you saw a tall man walking in your direction with a shorter person. The shorter person had a black coat draped over his shoulders, the man seemed to be waking directly to you now, a smile on his face.

“Be careful Gin.. s-stand behind me..” you got in front of Gin just in case, until you realized the shorter person was Ryūnosuke, his eyes were slightly puffy and tearful, he had been crying. your heart dropping at the sight. Immediately you throw yourself at Ryū pulling him away from the mysterious man

“Just who are you and what are you doing with my big brother?!” You frantically yell at the man, hiding Ryū and Gin behind you

The man glares at you with boredom in his face, as if this was all nothing to him, but then he started to smirk slightly “Brother? Oh, I knew Akutagawa had a sister but I didn’t know he had another sibling. What’s your name?” He said with a mischievous face, He reached out his hand to seemingly pat your head but you smacked it away immediately, surprising him a bit “you didn’t answer my question-“ you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around “Y/n…cough it’s okay..you don’t have to worry..” Ryū weakly said to you. Your heart ached at the sight of his bloodied and bruised face, looking down you can see he has bloody scratches on his knees, arms and legs, his entire body was hurt.

“Hm? Oh, right! Sorry about that! Where are my manners?” He said rather loudly “My name is Dazai Osamu, I just got promoted to a Mafia Executive today, Which means, I now have the authority to do certain things. like taking anyone as my subordinate, and your brother here has accepted my offer.” Dazai said soft-spoken yet somehow overbearing with a kind smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You were confused by the man’s statement, many thoughts ran through your mind;

“Would Ryūnosuke really agree to join the mafia? Especially join through this guy? How would we be guaranteed safety? What if this is just a trap to exploit Ryū’s ability? What if he kills us?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a dangerous, slightly condescending soft voice “you don’t have to worry, if i wanted you dead, I would have done so the second I laid eyes on you.” He said to you, it’s as if he read your mind. He was staring into your eyes as you stared back, his eyes void of any emotion, much like your brother’s, except you found a deep cruelness to them, it terrified you.

“Well, it was just gonna be Akutagawa here and his sister, but I can make arrangements, just for you.” His eyes went back to a neutral state “I promise,” he puts his hand on his chest “that the three of you will be fed, clothed, housed and compensated accordingly, as long as you work under me, no one else in the mafia will dare harm you.” Dazai reached his hand out to you, a sweet smile on his face

“so Y/n, do we have a deal?”

~ ~ ~

To be continued.

Notes: it is 5am as I write this, can you believe I’ve been writing and tweaking this since April 7th??!? And this isn’t even that long. What ADHD does to a mf

Honestly I’m not sure if I should continue this, obviously if more people wanna read it than yeah since I have the story already in my head, just need the motivation. So comment and tell me that you want more!!!

Anyways hope y’all enjoyed. Stay hydrated!

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lxmbr · 1 year ago

Text

so ive written out a crap ton of fanfic ideas..for you to try

i genuinely don't know if I'm okay. wtf is wrong with me omg lmao

ALL OF THESE PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL WRITERS GO LOOK AT THEIR BLOGS!!

these are all Nijisanji En, mainly the boys. If it has the checkmark it doesnt mean u cant do it! if you really like it i'd still love to see it.

‼️🩷THE LINKS OF THE FANFICS I PUT ARE NOT MINE. I TAKE ZERO CREDIT. THEYRE JUST THE VERSIONS AND FICS OTHER PEOPLE HAVE DONE. IF THEYRE YOUR FANFICS, PLEASE DM FOR REMOVAL I WILL 100% TAKE THEM DOWN!! 🩷‼️

I AM NOT WRITING SMUT!! im sorry i do not feel comfortable writing smut in detail, thats just me..of course i will write suggestive things but i will not be writing smut! please refrain from requesting the smutty stuff..understand that i will ignore it.

hear me out on a lot of these okay 🥹. ive been saving them up for like a month or so now. not all of these are for everyone. if you see one you dont like, ignore it. someone else will probably do it

TAKE CREATIVE LIBERTYY!!

🔞: nsfw/smut

☁️: sfw/fluff

⭐: crack/silly

💔: angst/sad

💭: headcannons/reactions

💌: one shots

✔️: been done/I've seen one like it

‼️: in progress/im writing this!!

all gn reader and most are established relationship! and you can keep mysta, yugo, and nina in there! (although there won't be much NijiEn Girls)

⚠️IF YOU USE ANY OF THESE IDEAS, PLEASE TAG ME⚠️ not all of these are ones ive requested, again some ive just seen that happen to be similar to the idea

🔞💭Luxiem/Iluna/Noctyx seeing you in a cosplay of a character they really like/a sexy costume

☁️💭Luxiem hcs treating you on your period

fanfix - not mine!

fanfic - not mine!

☁️🔞💭Luxiem reactions(?) to you dancing competitively (for ex: kpop dances)

⭐💌☁️💭ike eveland reacting to you using some Swedish words he taught you in a sentence. (could be a curse word, a color, or a simple word to point out something. ex: balloon! or in Swedish, ballong!)

⭐☁️💌💭Noctyx hcs you crying over something silly (for ex: you lost your keys or the cat looked at you in a weird way)

☁️⭐💭💌NijiEn foreign: them reacting to you learning their native language! ‼️

☁️🔞💭Luxiems reaction to you proposing to them before they could to you

janes fanfic!

🔞💌Sitting on Vox's lap while he does his asmr steam

⭐☁️ 💌You and Ike eveland as geese (inspired by the untitled goose game stream)

☁️🔞💌When you meet meixul for the first time‼️

🔞💌💭Luxiem reacting to you touching yourself in their clothes

🔞💭💌 NijiEn boys reacting to you dry humping them

💭💌☁️ Luxiem when you fall asleep on them

🔞💭☁️ Luxiem when you have baby fever ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️⭐ Luxiem when you want to do their hair

💭🔞💌☁️ NijiEn Boys/Merryweather/Shxtou with their puppygirl ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

☁️💭💔 Luxiem comforting you after a fight with your parents/gaurdians

🔞💌 Luxiem's favorite dirty talk

🔞💌☁️💭 Luxiems wedding night with you ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️⭐💭 Luxiem when shu accidentally turns you into a baby for a day ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💭💌�� Luxiem when you wear lingerie for them

🔞💌☁️💭⭐ NijiEn (whoever) getting high🍃 with them!

💭☁️💌🔞 Luxiem/Noctyx when they're jealous

💌🔞☁️💭 Ike eveland, feeding into his yandere tendencies (for ex: offering him to put a tracking device on you. basically just a super willing reader that encourages his unhealthy actions and urges)

🔞💌💭 The names you call Luxiem/Noctyx/iluna in bed‼️

💭☁️💌⭐ When you're luxiems oshi/vtuber crush and you guys collab for the first time‼️

💌💭☁️🔞 Luxiem when the other members purposely flirt with you to piss the other member off (for ex: ike likes u/ur dating ike, and the other members purposefully flirt with you to make him mad. and so on for the other members) ‼️

⭐☁️💭💌🔞 Luxiem coming home to you and your child (or your young cousin or little sibling. like 5 yrs old or smn) to you listening/singing/rapping to their part in hope in the dark or jazz on the clock

☁️💭⭐💌🔞 Luxiem reacting to a partner loud in bed ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️💭🔞 Luxiem reacting to the cliche porn situation - u getting stuck in something (for ex...the washing machine lmfao) ✔️

🔞💭☁️💌⭐ Luxiem reacting to calling them senpai

🔞💭☁️💌 Luxiem when their cat!girl purrs at their affection

💭💌☁️⭐ Luxiem reacting to you having lepidoptraphobia (self insert oop)

☁️⭐💭💌 when Luxiem tells you the latest gossip

🔞💭💌 Luxiem getting aroused at the sight of your blood

I'll be adding more just try to keep up! pls post your questions ill answer them, again pretty please tag me..id LOVE to see your takes on these. ill try to update as much as possible :)

do you guys think i should write some of my own? I'd be down to write a couple..pls let me know 🥹

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yetanothergreyjedi · 4 months ago

Text

Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong

Ao3

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Chapter 2

Dean orders the largest burger on the menu, Bobby orders something with potatoes that will absolutely have him commenting that he could make a better one himself. Sam orders a salad. Danny orders chocolate chip pancakes off the breakfast menu and Dean looses any reservations he had about refering to the young man as 'kid'. Realistically he's probably not much younger than Sam, but if he has a problem with it he can start acting like an adult.

No. Dean isn't huffy about the handstand thing. Why do you ask?

"So it's following you, but you haven't seen it. Like haven't seen it like, invisible or like being watched from afar or what?" Then again, the kid was asking good questions.

"Like its invisible, but can't hide its presence, realizes its making a mess then pisses off."

"Because its afraid of being noticed or because it doesn't want to do harm?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Vibes."

"Gut instinct," Sam adds, which makes more sense than 'vibes'.

"It shattered every window in the place. I don't think its scared."

"Fair."

"I know a psychic, a couple hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby suggested.

"Hell, yeah. Its worth a shot."

"A psychic..." Danny tapped the table, "Okay, sure. Why not?"

---

"What the hell is this?"

"An ipod jack... It's been my car for a year, Dean."

And what could he say to that? Instead Dean points sout the part that is far worse than douching up his car with modern niceties. "Its pink."

"Yeah... well, it's not mine, it's Jazz's. She left it in here and if I move it I'll forget to bring it back to her."

"Huh," Dean had no idea what he expected. Maybe some comment about how pink wasn't that bad? He turned the key and some girly romance song filled the compartment. "Really?"

Sam smiled a little at the song, and Dean hit pause on the device instead of throwing it into the back seat.

"Soo, she your girlfriend or what"

"That's complicated."

"Of course it is, the hunting making things weird?"

"No, actually. Her family hunts."

"But not her?"

"Only when necessary, she's in medical school."

"I'm, uh, noticing some parallels, Sammy."

Sam laughs. "Thats part of why its complicated."

"Just part, huh?"

"Yeah,"

"What about Ruby? She still around?"

"Probably. She shows up when she thinks she can make a case for wanting the greater good or whatever... there was a whole thing. When I was still convinced I could bring you back..." Sam trails off, clearly deciding how much to say. Sam had tried to bring him back?And failed? Did Bobby know about any of this? "That's done now.”

"Huh...You been using your freaky E.S.P. stuff?"

"Every time I think its behind me something weird happens."

"What?"

"It shows up at weird times, stressful situations. Afterwards its hard to tell if it was real or not."

"Sam..."

"I know, look, one thing at a time okay? We worry about this for now."

---

"I am curious... why aren't you doing this yourself?" Pamela asks Danny.

"You're a psychic?" Bobby asks.

"...I guess I could count? I tend to only talk to the dead when they're right in front of me."

This, of course, meant Pamela forgot she had been flirting in favor of talking shop with Danny. Which meant he didn't get a chance to chat with the lovely lady, instead got to listen to her quiz him on ‘'energies'' and 'conduits' and other psychic mumbo-jumbo. Like really, he just got outta jail, why can’t he enjoy it? It's probably for the best though, the kid, in his own words, "knew enough to do some incredibly stupid things." So, Dean figured letting Pamela explain the basics of a safe seance was probably saving someone a whole mess.

Not that he thought Danny would intentionally be stupid about it. They'd have done this four hours ago in the back of the kid's van, if he'd thought he could, and who knows how that would've ended.

He's less willing to accept it when Pam decides Danny should be the one touching Dean's shoulder.

"Jesus, kid! You been holding ice cubes?!"

"Don't judge my hobbies." Kid quips, settling his hand back over the handprint. "Just poor circulation, chillax."

Dean immediately regrets glancing at his brother. At least Sammy has the decency to stifle his smirk, but really, taking your not-actually-brother-in-law-because-its-complicated's side over your own flesh and blood: Rude! Just rude.

"Okay." Pam begins, her tone both sharp and comforting. The unspoken command is heard and they somber, close their eyes.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She begins, her voice clear and authoritative.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." She repeats, energy runs between their circle linked hands. Dean couldn't let go even if he tried. What was this?

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." Something turns on, a television or a radio, Dean doesn't know. He's a link in a chain meant to bind, every sense is dull except the feeling of clasping hands and the brand on his shoulders. Accept the single sound that rings in perfect clarity.

"I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?" Dean repeats, how he says it, he isn't quite sure, chainlinks don't have mouths.

"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back."

"Warning, not threatening." Gasps the link that connects Pamela to this link. The static grows, the space beneath them shakes. The world itself wants to tear the links free from the chain, but they hold. Power runs freely between them, they are as much a conduit as they are a chain. They will not break, they cannot break, keeping hands linked is effortless.

"I conjure and command you, show me your face." Pamela chants. The cacophony around them grows louder and more hazy, her voice is clear through each repetition.

Another link says something. This link does not hear it.

"I almost got it. I command you, show me your face! Show me your face n—"

"No," The link between them breathes.

The link in the chain is a body. The body is Dean. The burn on Dean's shoulder ache's with the absence of a relieving cold removed.

Dean crashes backwards. The impact of his back on the floor knocks the wind from his lungs. Sound returns. Breaking glass and splintering furniture, someone is screaming. He gasps. Three, four, five breaths before he's aware of the broken chair beneath him. He grabs a leg of it, and holds it like a weapon as he scrambles to his feet.

Bobby has already gotten to Pamela, she's covering her face and muttering about sight. Dean catches a glimpse and turns to Danny as Bobby shouts to call 9-1-1.

He can hear Sam stumble over scattered items in the direction of the phone. He kneels in front of his brother's friend.

Danny's eyes are closed, but he has eyelids, so Dean thinks that's a good sign for now. Blood is gushing from the kid's nose.

"He's beautiful." The kid whispers, clearly dazed.

"You okay, kid?"

" 'm not'a kid, 'm 24, plus all that time that didn't happen, so I'm even older than I am."

"Right, Sammy's calling the 9-1-1, you're gonna be—"

Danny jerked away like someone had soaked their hands in ice water before grabbing his shoulder. "No hospitals."

Dean remembered that the kid was also a hunter, but a lot more vivid than that, was the image of Pam's eyes seared out. "Okay, okay, let me see your eyes, then we'll decide what to do."

Danny obeyed. He blinked his eyes open, and while bright green irises' surrounded with angry red lines, they were like, normal levels of bloodshot and not 'stared into eye gouging power' bloodshot. So that was good, better than Dean had hoped. "Okay, you come with us while Bobby handles the EMT's."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise."

Danny nods. "He's beautiful, Dean. Like something past hoping, like the things that live in the silver."

"Um." Dean regretted his choices.

"Neverborn and Neverdead for sure. But not the embodiment of a concept I dont think. Maybe something like a wisp? If wisps liked to burn your corneas off."

"I don't think it was a wisp, buddy."

"No, Castiel isn't a wisp name. Wisps have names like:" Danny whistled a few notes.

"Are you sure you don't need a hospital?"

He wiped his nose with his sleeve. This succeeded only in smearing the blood around his face and getting his sleeve dirty. . "Yeah'm sure. Don't ask me to do anything with depth perception though."

"Danny, I don't think—"

"You promised." And Dean had promised.

---

"What'd Bobby say?"

"Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U." Sam returned to their table.

"And blind, because of us."

"No, it looked a lot worse than it is, she should retain some eyesight, but we still have no clue who we're dealing with."

"We're dealing with Castiel." Danny muttered from where he was hiding his face from the "oppressive concept of LED lights". Dean was pretty sure the lights in here were normal, but he wasn't gonna argue with the kid who might be concussed about if the diner lights were a reasonable brightness.

"That doesn't exactly help us, though."

"Sure it does, With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."

"You're crazy. Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?"

"Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, Danny's..." Sam looks at Danny, who may as well be a sweatshirt artfully arranged on the table. "You want to have a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I looked, there are signs of Demons in town."

"Okay." Dean doesn't like where this is going, but he's aware of how strongly he doesn't want this to be a demonic plot, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something."

Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it again as the waitress approaches. Ah the awkward silence of 'don't freak out the locals.' They didn't have that in Hell, he doesn't miss it.

Three plates, each with a perfect slice of pie, makes their way to the table. They didn't have this in Hell either, this, Dean missed a lot. The sweatshirt on the table must agree, because it revives into a human person and pulls his plate to himself. It's the first thing the kid did since the seance that doesn't make Dean regret letting him skip the hospital.

Then, before Dean can dig into his own slice with the same intense focus, their waitress joins them at the table.

"You angling for a tip?"

"I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us." She smiles as her eyes go absent of light. Then the man behind her does the same, then the cook in the kitchen. The front door locks with a resounding click.

"Oh, you will not." Danny hisses. And Dean tenses, for a moment, just a silly, ridiculous moment, he thought the kid was going to throw himself across the table, attack the demon with tooth and claw. Dean tenses, ready to drag the kid off the demon, because not even it deserves his full wrath. But Danny doesn't move, because that would be insane. The kid is not that insane, Dean has seen 0 behavior that would make him expect such a ridiculous action.

The demon locks eyes with the kid, several seconds pass, then moment is gone, and only Danny's half-given threat hangs in the air. The kid goes back to his pie. The demon turns to Dean as if nothing had happened.

"Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck." She tries to play it cool, to pretend that she wasn't just as rattled by... whatever Danny had done— and rest assured Dean will find out what that was— but she was rattled, and the threat of her backup did nothing to help her regain control.

She tells him nothing they didn't already know. Dean tells her nothing she didn't already know. Dean doesn't bluff, because for some reason they don't need to bluff. They finish their pie, pay and leave.

A block down the road, when the feeling of being watched by a predator fades, he turns to the kid.

"What. Was. That?"

"Uh... the demons? I thought you guys dealt with those semi-regularly?"

"No. What you did."

"Ate pie?" Dean pushes the kid against the wall.

"Dean, what's going on?"

"You're telling me you didn't feel that, Sammy?!"

"Feel what?"

Dean searched his brother's face, it was pure worry not a trace that he was hiding something. Danny however, held not a trace of concern, not even the slightest fear that Dean might hit him. Cold blue eyes watch him with morbid detachment.

"Dean, what is it?"

"Nothing." Dean lies. Releasing the kid as his brother tried to pry answers out of him.

There is something wrong with Danny, and Dean is going to figure out what.

---

Dean's plans for investigation are stalled slightly. Because Danny's plan, apparently, was to sleep in the back of his van. As the kid still looked like a walking corpse, and his nose had started bleeding again, Sam had taken pity and insisted he stay in the motel with them.

Dean, now half convinced Danny was in league with the demons from earlier, (yeah the theory didn't make sense but Dean didn't have a better idea at the moment. It had been a long day.) was not thrilled with this plan. Did he have an argument that would stop Sam from being protective of his girlfriend's little brother? No. No, he did not. And to be fair, the kid did pass out the instant his head hit the pillow, so he probably wasn't an immediate threat.

Dean took the other bed so Sam would have to live with the consequences of his actions. He falls asleep thinking of jokes to make for either sleeping arrangement his brother chooses.

---

Dean is shaken awake. He swings the moment he realizes the dark figure is too short to be Sam.

Danny blocks him easily. He grabs Dean's arm to pin him for exactly the time it takes to look him in the eyes and say. "He's here. Castiel's here."

Then he lets him go, but Dean is still frozen, still pinned by the younger man's gaze. Green eyes almost glow in the beam of an outside streetlamp. It is not the same as a shapeshifter's ‘lazer-eyes'

but it is something.

But there's no time to think about it, the television flicks on with familiar static and the radio follows. There is too much glass in here. Between windows and mirrors and why on earth did they choose a motel with a mirror on the ceiling when the thing chasing them shattered glass? He shouts a warning and barely has enough time to throw the comforter over them both before the world explodes.

They huddle between the beds in a haphazard blanket fort that does nothing to stop the whistling scream. It feels too thin to be real protection against the glass either, but it holds, and the kid's eyes are definitely glowing but it's the least of his concerns.

It's not so different from hell. The noise, the danger, the cramping in his muscles as he tries in vain to protect himself. He can't tell the difference between a few seconds and a few centuries. But he's breathing, so he counts his breaths and loses count twice.

Neither of them move the blanket when things seem to calm. Another century that is actually six breaths, and Bobby is rushing through the door, shouting for them.

The glass heavy blanket is pulled away and then they're both being checked over.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demands.

"I don't know, he wasn't here when I woke." Its probably stupid, but Dean believes him.

They have no new cuts or bruises, though Danny's ears are bleeding a little.

They have the hospital argument again, Danny is feeling better(or worse) than before, because he threatens to spit on all of their socks. When that doesn't work, he threatens to not tell them what Castiel said. That does work.

"He says to meet him at the church on south street. He didn't give a time, but he promised he'd be in a form we can handle."

Bobby and Dean share a look, yeah, they're not doing that.

But the idea that it could be a trap seems foreign to the younger hunter. Danny argues that the spirit might be offended and that "A summoning might cause him to lose concrete form, then we'll just repeat the glass nightmare."

Well that was a good point: building with no windows it was then.

Needless to say Danny loses this argument.

---

So Sam is lying to him, they're in some old building marking it up with every religion known to man and Danny's claimed a whole section of wall for the doodles not known to man. Bobby gets sidetracked by it every fifteen minutes, but Danny must have credible sources for the marks because Bobby tells the kid to copy them down for later study.

Dean really needs to decide what to do about the kid. He's been helpful so far... but that was how things started with Ruby.

"This is still a bad idea." Bobby tells him. They're ready.

"I second!" Danny shouts from where he's copying his symbols into Bobby's notebook.

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby sighs, but begins.

---

Castiel tries to knock the kid out, just like he already did to Bobby. It takes everything in Dean to not panic.

"Yeah, no. Not doing that." Danny deadpans to the man-shaped thing.

"I need to talk to Dean. Alone."

"Well, you could've just asked. Going all sleepy magic on a guy is kinda rude. Dean? Want me to sit in the car?"

"Are you nuts?!" He checked Bobby's pulse.

"Your friend's alive." Bobby's pulse is even and strong.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel." "He's Castiel." Both human shaped things say. This conversation was going to be painful.

"Obviously, I mean what are you?"

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

"Which Lord?" Danny asks before Dean can say something dumb like 'nun-uh.' Danny's question definitely offends Castiel more than any denial Dean could've come up with. The guy actually staggers a bit.

"The One True God."

"You realize like 40% of the gods I've met say that, right?" What? And with that the kid has rendered the angel speechless with indignation, Dean's not gonna lie, he's kinda impressed.

"Quit pulling our legs, angel's aren't real."

"Dean, this is your problem, you have no faith."

Dean's not sure how to describe the fact that he was suddenly aware of Castiel's wings. Not that he saw them exactly, or felt, or heard them, he just suddenly knew where they were, how they unfurled from Castiel's body and were held out in proud display. Then the moment passed and they were gone.

Danny clapped politely. It ruined the rising feel of awe inspired dread and Dean hated how much he was starting to like this kid.

"You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean started. He wasn't letting this guy off the hook so easy.

#dp x supernatural #crossover #danny phantom #supernatural #fanfic #left and returned #grey writes #been trying to post this here all morning

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anxiescape · 1 year ago

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Aaand the last sketchdump for now!!!

Up first, some Stargaze sketches:

Drew this around the same time I drew the picture for Chapter 1 of Stargaze. They're just, y'know... stargazing. Because I thought it was cute. 👉👈

Was making an expressions page for Stargaze!Liu'er, but I literally just drew this one face and it was far too cute, and I knew that none of the other facial expressions would compare so I just gave up. 😔

Now THIS??? This is a scene that happens later on in Stargaze. Yes, Azure is about to tear Liu'er to shreds, but it's fine, don't worry about it. (Also, this was my first time, like, actually drawing Azure (and not just a two-second doodle of him). It's not the worst, but I really don't have a lot of experience with drawing anthropomorphic animals, despite my furry years back in high school. 🤷)

This one is technically a Stargaze doodle... @amalgamorph and I often refer to Liu'er as our babygirl, so I decided to draw him in a cutesy dress, and just... just don't look at me, okay? Don't look at me. 😳

And now, a couple of sketches from some other fanfic ideas o' mine.

This is from a fic I've been working on a little bit, called Burning Shadows. Basically, when the Samadhi Fire was reforged, it ended up going into Macaque instead of sticking to Mei. Obviously, he wasn't planning for this to happen, and he is... not having a great time. (He's supposed to be on fire in this picture, by the way, so just... imagine him on fire. 🔥🔥🔥)

Aaand last but not least, Reborn!Peng! This is from a fic of mine that actually splits off from a Stargaze one-shot, where Liu'er/Macaque is never killed by Wukong—Peng is. So Peng is the one brought back by Lady Bone Demon, and they get to become her champion and all that jazz. This fic deals with some really dark stuff, so I'm a bit hesitant to post it, but feel free to ask about it.

#lego monkie kid #sun wukong #six eared macaque #shadowpeach #lmk peng #lmk azure lion #azure lion #my art #stargaze au

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phantomphangphucker · 6 months ago

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Phic Phight - Goo, Sleep, Repeat, Or Please Don’t

@everystarstorm @ LumianaKatenke

Danny had really bad luck with G.I.W. and Nocturne has precisely zero tolerance for their foolishness.

Nocturne grins maliciously, pouncing down on Phantom, the little prince in the making, a young god would didn’t get enough sleep. There are spectators, Phantom’s citizens, cheering the battle on, giving reverence to their master. As they should. His little Fraid and Makers hovering around, unable to get involved since they’re so far above such mortals. The human government fools still try, pathetic things; as if they could truly do anything either.

Nocturne swirls, twisting and bending around blasts; there’s not too much power behind it, expected, Phantom was still so young and had no interest in truly damaging most ghosts. Phantom smirking up at them, “you’re not a very good nighttime comforter! Because no one finds this assault comforting! And getting clawed in the face isn’t comfortable!”. That child and his way with words. He was so very fond of them much to the annoyance and groans of everyone in earshot.

Nocturne smacks him with their ghostly tail into a wall, grinning more, “one of these days I will knock you out!”, knock him out to stay asleep for awhile. But Phantom pops back out of the indent while sticking out his tongue, “and I’ll knock you back to sleep with the fishes!”. Ah the death jokes, no ghost made them quite like Phantom did.

Nocturne gets blasted past a couple buildings, going past one to see those human government fools setting up some large launcher. They have no interest with dealing with that, but perhaps they should not lead the child king over here. This was for play, to spar and tire the boy, a good nights rest after stretching out protective powerful muscles. So they zip up, into the sky, and fire a quick blast to send Phantom back a little. Only for those makers of his to hit him square in the back as a result, right over to where Nocturne was trying to not have Phantom go. Those fools, snarling quickly at the male maker, “insolent mortals!”, before moving to follow after Phantom.

They’re not quite fast enough. They don’t stop Phantom from getting hit by the large gooey rocket. It seemingly liquifies most everything from the shoulders down; sending the boy splattering into the pavement. They wanted Phantom asleep but this was Unacceptable! Roaring and tackling the human government worms, “how dare you dare harm a young one! Young zone’s hand and head! Little dignity! Sweet dear child!”.

It was pure chaos, immediate chaos, Jazz screaming as the ghosts ghostly tail wraps around her, Sam, and Tucker, basically flinging them at and in Danny. Sam muttering, “shit, shit, shit, shit”, while trying to push the bits of Danny soup back into a more coagulated pile.

Tucker ripping through his pockets, “thermos, fuck I should have a thermos right? Zone is that even a good idea?”.

Jazz snapping, “I don’t know Tucker, but you’re a better shot than I am and we have an issue!”. Tucker jerking his head up and wincing around, more G.I.W. agents had seemingly popped up out of nowhere… at least they were forcefully keeping the Fenton’s back. Small mercies. At least he managed to find two thermoses, passing them off to her and taking her pistol.

Tucker half kneeling, using a knee to help him aim, shooting two who shout back, “WE ARE THE GOVERNMENT! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO REIST! CEASE YOUR DEFENCE OF A MONSTER AND MENACE!”.

Maddie shouting in the background, “WE HAVE MORE RIGHT TO IT THAN YOU!”.

“Silence or you will be placed under arrest for interfering with a government seizure!”.

Tucker wincing, “Sam!”.

“I’m busy helping Jazz! Tucker! Figure it out!”.

For the first time in a long time all three of them seriously wishing Val/Red or, heck, even Vlad, to show up. Tucker having to flatten himself, grabbing the back of Jazz’s shirt to get her on the ground too; a blast whizzing right over their heads. Him wincing at seeing a bit of Danny’s ‘goo’ spill out.

Jazz and Sam were honestly just stuffing what they could of half liquid Danny into the thermoses, not daring to actually suck him into the thing. And then there’s suddenly a bunch of Nocturne’s pillow shade ghosts around them, almost like a barricade, some throwing hands with and occasionally being destroyed by the G.I.W. agents.

G.I.W. agents scowling, struggling more than they’d like, “great, the monsters summoned minions”. Nocturne impales an agent with their elbow spikes, crushes the machine/vehicle completely underhand, and snarls again, form growing to cover the sky, “I HAVE NO TOLERANCE FOR THIS FOOLISH BEHAVIOUR!”.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all wincing; at this rate Nocturne was going to knock out the whole town again or start breaking buildings. Sam and Tucker exchanging looks before both sigh and shout, “EVERYONE LAY DOWN! THIS ONE’S A FLOATING KNOCK OUT GAS!”. And… surprisingly a few people actually listened, not the G.I.W. obviously, though people might also be hitting the ground to avoid getting caught in cross fire since it was well known that the G.I.W. did not give a single flying fuck about bystander casualties. At least the Pillow Shades give all three of them the time to focus on getting Danny into thermoses. Tucker ripping off his hoodie and passing it to Jazz to get the not soup shoulder, arms, and head wrapped up somewhat securely; Danny groans.

The three all stilling at Nocturne’s black starry arm slamming down over Danny with a harsh yet soft, “sleep child”. Danny doesn’t groan again and his face relaxes. Jazz is the only one that can manage to give a small, “thank you”.

Maddie has no clue what’s going on. The fight was mostly normal, her and Jack hoping to maybe get in a good shot or get some new samples, when suddenly the place was swarmed with G.I.W. agents. It’s been a long time since her or Jack have actually liked the G.I.W., them firing live rocket rounds at an observatory full of children was the last straw for her, and right now they’ve fully pissed her off. Her husband, Jack, was the one to hit the ghost first, they might have taken It down but It was still their hit first! They had more claim! But fighting this many agents was out of the question, especially with the ‘villain’ ghost summoning shades, it would do her kids no good for either of them to get arrested.

But at least she understands the G.I.W.’s actions, she can even rationalise what sounds like some teens actions to protect Phantom. The G.I.W. were hated by the teen populace, Phantom was disturbingly belove-d. She didn’t approve of some teens putting themselves in danger like this but at least it made sense. Now this ‘Nocturne’s’ actions? Those did not make a lick of sense. Why was It defending not only Phantom but seemingly also the teens that were defending Phantom? Why had It called Phantom a ‘sweet child’? It made no sense. Ghosts had no understanding of age, nonetheless childhood versus adulthood. Perhaps ghosts could tell when a ghost was a newer ghost, but sightings of Phantom have been recorded since ancient Egypt and It had been haunting Amity for multiple years now. It wasn’t a fresh ghost. The other terms It used seemed like merely other ways to say the same thing, linguistic complexity were not supposed to be truly possible with ghosts; Phantom was abnormal with Its use of puns and that was it, and Its heightened exposure to humans increasing Its vocabulary.

She watches, using the G.I.W.’s distraction to slip behind a different building, as part of this Nocturne ghost physically throws a G.I.W. agent through the air as Its form finally full blocks out all the light from the sky and sun. This ghost… was incredibly dangerous, far more than It had been while Phantom was fighting It. Do the ghosts ‘pull their punches’ when fighting Phantom? Why? How would any ghost have the self awareness to do such a thing? It didn’t make sense.

“MAD’S!”.

Maddie snapping her head to the side, seeing five of the pillow-like shades slamming Jack into a wall. “You let him go! You ectoplasmic fiends!”, raising her weapon only for a black starry portion of the ghost to push her down onto the ground. Jack slumping, unconscious, surrounded by grinning pillow shades that… lower him slowly? to the ground with happy? grins. The things even lay his head down gently? And now she’s getting lightheaded, foggy? Right those teens said It was a ‘knock out gas’ or something? Right?

G.I.W. agents are screaming in the background, the ghost lowers Its masked head to glower over her, “you, behave, your foolish words and thoughts bother the young one’s sleep far too much. You will be no bother to him now”. She glares, expecting the ghost to simply crush her, instead drifting off to sleep, eyes slowly closing.

Nocturne was not happy. Nocturne was not impressed. Nocturne was not willing to tolerate this foolishness. Phantom could act foolishly if the child so chose, as could his fraid, it could even be tolerated from those makers; but from human mortals who were not even his possessions or loyal servants? Hmph, absolutely not. They press their mass down on the buildings, through their own might or their Sleeper shades they send all inside to sleep. The ones outside put down gently, as the little prince would hate for harm to be done; the ones that listened to his little fraid will be promised lovely sweet dreams as their reward. The mortals who fight them however, they will be knock out by blows and impacts, only fitful nightmares awaiting them for their disrespect and foolishness.

Their Sleepers communicating that the prince’s fraid had gathered up what of him they could, good indeed, he was hurt, foolish mortals having dared to have done such to the Infinite Realms most precious one; to do so to any child ghost would be unacceptable.

They push portions of themselves through the veil between worlds, tearing opening a portal between the land of the living and the land of the dead. The young prince’s fraid and nest-mate could cart him off to where is best. Whether that be another ancient more familiar with his physique than them or one of the many clans that worshiped the child, or his Infinite Realm bound lair perhaps? The FrightKnight even? They wouldn’t object too much to them taking the little one to their own lair, but that would hardly do him much good beyond further gentle restorative sleep.

Phantom’s mortals scooping him and the cylindrical devices Phantom loved to use that they’d put the more liquified portions in, all three moving through the portal and Nocturne letting it snap shut right after. They had hardly any interest in spending energy maintaining a portal, when they had punishments to dole out.

These men, why so many of them feared being dirty they did not get, but they will make everything dirty then. Every inch of their machinery and weapons they have their Sleeper shades stuff them full with dirt, mud, animal manure. Every red liquid Nocturne could locate in the young one’s lair gets dumped on their suits, scratching their glasses up and imbedding them with rocks.

Those makers of his get their weapons destroyed but nothing more… besides unpleasant dreams of exactly what would befall this simple town without its lair master and protector.

Nocturne settles themselves over the city, content to keep everything inside trapped in slumber till the sweet little prince returned. Any outsider attempts to get in will be crushed, be they helicopter, tank, or other vehicle; all life forms residing inside said machines sent to slumber, bodies scattered around the parameter like dead flies surrounding a carcass.

FrostBite was having a good day, SwiftSnout had her baby perfectly fine, ColdStep’s aim had gotten noticeably better, and IceHorn’s sweetsuckle had finally produced berries. So, FrostBite was having a good day, was. He was until the Great One and his fraid and nest-mate showed up; he’d been so distracted by the Great One’s state that he hardly noticed that they somehow arrived in the middle of the foxdew den while he’d been feeding the little mongrels. The smell of sandalwood, rose, and patchouli that accompanied their arrival telling him that Ancient ClockWork had some hand in the peculiar sudden arrival, even if the portal was clearly one of Ancient Nocturne’s.

FrostBite rushing over to the children, The Great One smelled strongly of lavender and chamomile so he doubts the young god was unconscious of his own will. However… that appeared to be something of a kindness, considering his state. He had a minor cut on his head and a small burn on his shoulder, just beneath his shoulders he cut off jaggedly into goo, the goo half dripping and half floating vaguely attached and seeping into a worrying collection of thermoses. “What happened? Come, we’ll get you to the infirmary immediately”.

Lady Sam scowling, “G.I.W. happened, those jackasses”.

Miss Jazz, giving him a better explanation as he scoops up the Great One and the thermoses in his arms. Lady Sam, Pharaoh Tuck, and Miss Jazz all climbing on his shoulders as the young adult speaks, “he was sparring with Nocturne, he’s been skipping sleep again. Jack got a shot in on him and the G.I.W. took advantage of that”.

FrostBite nodding respectfully as they get into the infirmary, “ShardHeart, get the lay down capsule out, he’s mostly goo so we need to keep that all contained together”. She nods at him immediately and gets to work with professional ease.

Sam and Tucker grimace, dumping their thermoses into the capsule, trying to not splash it on Danny’s face. Tucker grimacing, “we’re not really sure what he got hit with, only that is was very big and rocket shaped”.

FrostBite nodding, “and this-”, nodding his head down at Danny, “-happened immediately?”. Both teens nodding immediately. “Alright, we’ll assume there’s some form of contaminating substance mixed in with him, since he’s not reforming and healing on his own”. ShardHeart hooking up a filtration mixture, effectively just dumping the resulting powder in with the Danny goo; his ectoplasm was basically already exposed so there wasn’t any need to ‘feed’ it into him. FrostBite pushing all three back away from the capsule as mist starts steaming out of it, impurities leaving Danny’s ectoplasm. LeftSnow sticking some kind of detector type tool into the mist, sucking it up, and frowning, “yeah this is a high corrosive, could have ended a weaker ghost”.

Sam crossing her arms, “so if they’d hit Danny with this when he was fourteen he’d probably have been ended”. LeftSnow nodding seriously, “that would be very likely, yes”. Sam just scowls and continues watching Danny from a safe distance. LeftSnow continuing to suck up the substance to make sure it doesn’t have the potential to mix in with the Zone’s free-floating ectoplasm.

After about ten minutes Danny just snaps back together as he’s supposed to, making a face and groaning a little, doesn’t wake up though. Jazz shaking her head, “Nocturne can be a bit of a pain”.

FrostBite chuckling, “it doesn’t help that the Great One ignores his need for sleep so often and readily”. Jazz shaking her head, “and I keep telling him how bad that is but somethings are more important to him than sleep”.

Sam scoffing, “not much different from you and your studying”.

“That will advance my career and it’s educational”.

“And Danny has needs and he’s helping people”, Sam nodding to herself, “that’s a better reason”.

Tucker shaking his head at the two girls, looking to ShardHeart, “is he good for us to take back home? I’m pretty sure Nocturne has basically just taken the whole place over and isn’t going to leave till the ‘little dignity’ is back”. FrostBite chuckles to himself but doesn’t comment.

ShardHeart hums and eyes the sleeping boy, “I would prefer to keep him here for observation, but he’s going to wreck things if he wakes up and realises anyone kept him here longer than absolutely necessary”. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all laughing or smirking at that, because it was very true. Danny was a shit like that. Either way ShardHeart and LeftSnow waving them to go ahead, Sam and Tucker picking him up by his wrists and ankles. Jazz nodding, “now, how? Are we supposed to get back?”. Earning owlish blinks in response.

FrostBite sighs internally, he really had been having a nice largely relaxing day.

The G.I.W. were pissed their newest corrosion rocket -which may or may not have qualified as a war crime and possibly a violation of the Geneva convention- was supposed to completely dissolve any ecto-filth instantaneously, nothing more needed. Just reduce Phantom to goop, do crowd control, keep the Fenton’s from getting involved or claiming ownership, and collect the remains for further study. Phantom maxed out their ecto-scanners, It was a powerful monster, if they could eliminate It then the ghost issue would be solved and they could move on to that disgusting false afterlife where the creatures resided. But no, not only did it not fully work, but the other ghost that they had been banking on as a suitable distraction had been far stronger than they had been prepared for.

While one agent had managed to fire another round at the Nocturne ghost before passing out, however the ghost merely tore off the part of It that corrosively liquefied and threw it at them like feces.

The cleanliness violations were piling up rapidly. Head office would not be pleased.

A bunch of teenagers even managed to not only stop them from getting so much as a single sample but also were able to flee with the ghost. A complete failure and waste of their (the taxpayers) money… well not entirely. They’ve learned that at least this other strange ghost that maxes out their scanner would ‘protect’ Phantom, it confirmed their theories, Phantom was very much one of the monsters just toying with humans, except far more sinister. Phantom was trying to fool the American people, break down their distrust, and then like all other ectoplasmic filth attack the American people. It was far more a threat to national security and the American people than any other abomination. The fact that every agent that went near that town now became unresponsive was further proof; they were being blocked by a clear aggressor ghost from talking to, giving aid to, or reprogramming anyone while Phantom was mia. Clearly a plot. Clearly an attempt to stop humanity, America, from reclaiming her town from the clutches of Its kind. Vile monsters.

Then the large ghost swirls in on itself, funnelling down into the town, Agent F squinting, “go, get in there. The thing must have run out of steam. Get something of a foothold in there before Phantom returns or It regains its strength”, grumbling, “probably by eating someone, foul creatures. Those indoctrinated townsfolk would probably view the sacrifice as a blessing”. Multiple G.I.W. armoured vehicles that had been on stand by start moving to converge on the small town.

Nocturne grins, hunched over and coiled around the little prince, so much power and healed already. The Infinite Realm would bloom under him, they’re pleased not only for that but also that a child ghost hadn’t been ended on their watch. No child ghost, especially not this one, should be ended and especially not by living mortal hands. Pathetic living creatures, acting as if they’d earned their existence the way the dead have. They were only alive by the random chance hands of the reincarnation and creation cycle, ghosts had earned their place to exist by necessity and by suffering.

That darkly dressed fraid-mate puts her hands on her hips and glares, “you better wake him and everyone up or so help me I will find a way to fell an Ancient”. So headstrong, so commanding; as if she had any place to order them around truly. But, they’d… respect this ghost child’s fraid, the High Ghost Prince’s fraid.

So with an eye roll, they release their mental hold on the little one and his little lair-folk. The roar of those silly mortal vehicles approaching from the distance, they’re tempted to do something about it but well….

FrostBite huffs, cracking a set of knuckles, “this”, smirking wolfishly, “will be fun”.

The little prince grumbling a, “that’s nice, Frostypa”; while the young ones fraid basically yanks him out of Nocturne’s grasp, as if Nocturne wasn’t actively allowing them to do so. The boy is hardly worth sparring with now and he’s quite well rested as well, they’re content to take their leave entirely. Let those FarFrozen yetis deal with the silly government mortals that dare threaten a child ghost; and let all Phantom’s little lair-folk wake up to an interesting show.

By the time Jack woke up, he could hear chanting, the kind he’d expect to hear at a sports game actually!

“Woo! Go get ‘em yeti guy!”.

“That’s right! Sock him in the jaw! Go for the crotch!”.

“Burn! Baby! BURN!”.

“Who’s the ghost with the most!?! Not you! But still kick his ass!”.

Jack shaking his head and sitting up on the side of the street, right he’d got a shot in on Phantom and then all Hell broke loose and he got? knocked out? by a pillow ghost. At least it didn’t feel like he’d bumped his head!

It takes him a bit to get to where all the noise is coming from, expecting Mad’s to already be there (she is), and staring a bit. There was a yeti, a ghost yeti but still a yeti, snarling and throwing both G.I.W. vehicles and G.I.W. agents around like toys! The ghost even reminded him of himself even! The ghost laughing boisterously and grinning, all sharp teeth, happily.

But also! He’s never seen a ghost yeti before! Did It form based on common human myth and lore? People’s superstitions perhaps? So many possibilities! And clearly Mad’s had the same idea, since she’s hiding around a building taking notes. Heck, even Phantom is just observing somehow looking no worse for the wear!

A G.I.W. agent grumbles, “damn freaks, this town is completely insane”. Jack couldn’t even disagree with that! But also, the G.I.W. tried to buy away all his life’s work and he’s not about to actually side with them.

Phantom shouting, “tell him to suck on deez nuts!”. And for some absurd hilarious reason the yeti ghost actually does it. Jack can’t help but laugh, even if he didn’t get the darn ghost boy this time there was always more chances and he’d rather lose Phantom today than let the G.I.W. have his prize. Phantom was so strange, the things they could learn! That privilege belonged to proper ghost hunters! Not some silly government group!

Was Danny a fan of his random bullshit day? Obviously not! Nocturne went and rode his ass about his sleeping habits again, then his dad decided to shoot him one in the back like that wasn’t totally a cheap shot, and then G.I.W. decided to liquify his ass… and legs and stomach and feet. Sure he got to catch up on his sleep but he also probably gave his Frostypa a minor core attack or at least made the guy shake his head at Danny’s general bullshit; even if FrostBite made some comments after about it ‘having been a while’ since he ‘terrorised some humans’, good to know at least one or two ‘yeti’ sightings was probably ol’ Frosty messing with some poor idiot.

At least Danny didn’t really remember being half goo, even if Jazz told him it was very disgusting and Tuck said he was the consistency of syrup, Sam just smacked him and told him to pay more attention to his surroundings. Hey! It wasn’t like he really needed to, he was a tough cookie these days.

But the G.I.W. were chased out of town again, his sister and friends were disappointed in his dumbassery yet again, and his folks were so focused in on their new findings (ghosts can possibly be formed from myths and legends! Is this amazing! Apparent Phantom is still a child somehow! It’s my that weird! We should write another biased and bigoted paper based near entirely of our half baked assumptions! Aren’t you proud!?! Don’t you want to run FentonWorks some day!?! Do you want to help write a paper even though you’ll have to leave out all the actual facts you know!?!) that they couldn’t be bothered to chase Phantom him around for a while.

So everything’s an even win in his opinion. Even if even Val/Red called Phantom an idiot for thinking everything was a net positive. She shot him, he made a joke about their relationship being a little too sadomasochist for his liking, she shot him again; then he went home for some only one third burnt pasta and aunt Alicia’s pie (Danny did not have a slice. Danny could smell that someone peed in it. Jazz followed his lead. They both cringed at their dad having a slice merrily).

End.

Prompts: When the GIW/Fentons get a lucky shot on Danny during a ghost fight, severely hurting him, the ghost he'd been fighting suddenly gets very protective and attacks the ghost hunters. Something about them hurting a baby? GIW encounter leaves Danny down for the count, forcing his friends and Jazz to step in to defend him until he can get taken away to the Far Frozen.

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