#just bit my lips by accident but like.... not actually biting just a small pinch

[dorothywonderland]

holy moly

[sugar-omi]

OMFG DUDE I was thinking abt coves dick again (as one does 🤭) and just realized w the dick size math that cove prolly bought normal condoms before yall went ‘all the way’ bc he didn’t kno he was huge (like u said in that one ramble like “move ur arm” “that’s not my arm”)

so when yall actually get into it and he tries to put it on u just have an awkward moment where he’s like

“it’s too small🧍‍♂️”

and now he’s apologizing for ‘ruining’ ur ‘real’ first time together and ur torn between comforting him that he didn’t ruin shit and laughing bc usually when guys say that it’s a fucking lie but he’s actually so deadass and u can see it the way the rubber doesn’t even accommodate his tip 😭💀

then u gotta tell him it’s okay to hold off until yall get bigger condoms or ur okay going raw if he is 🤭🤭🤭

-🗑️

ARGHH YOU ARE NOT HELPING MY ACCIDENTAL CREAMPIE BRAINROT. "the way the rubber doesnt even accommodate his tip" ohhh god biting my lips off my face rn. i can't fucking....

he would be too scared to go raw, especially first time. he knows that's a demon he's not ready to face (if you ask, he'll say he worried about any accidental children. but deep, deep in his mind. he knows something will, and does, click when you do it raw and he cums in you the first time...)

mmm, there's a few different ways to go with this...

because I can see cove waiting, im sure he does. he does wait, he wants things to be perfect (as perfect as 2 virgins fucking for the first time can be) and for you guys to avoid any unwanted scares or accidents.

but I also love the thought of him being impatient..

he buys the "right" condoms the second time around, and it doesn't look exactly right... but it's definitely not as small as last time...

decides to go with it after a bit of inner turmoil... "..maybe it's meant to fit that way? I thought it was supposed to go all the way to the base, though. its a bit tight, too... fuck, it'd be way too embarrassing to get the size wrong again. not that y/n would bully me about it or something, but... argh, I really want this to be perfect too. and I wanna go all the way with her..."

or even if he buys the right size, perhaps doesn't realize, or chooses the thin condoms since that's what was left. doesn't realize how different the thin ones are, especially of they're the ultra thin.

eitherway, all~~ circles back to right now. he's sinked into you, and he is gentle, he wants your first time to be romantic after all. but as he gets closer n closer to the edge, he gets a bit excited, his hips thrusting deeply into you.. all he can think about is how much he loves you, your pretty sounds, your body pressed against his, and the tight heat of your cunt.

doesn't realize when it breaks, not really anyway. gasps and moans because fuck you feel so hot inside, so wet and perfect... too far gone to think about the sudden change in sensation. and when he finishes, he definitely doesn't think about it. too lost in the feeling of his cum filling up the "condom" and your walls tightening around him as you finish too.

also love the thought that regardless of if he buys the right size or the thin, or if he remembers to pinch the tip of the rubber, all that sweet stuff.. he still ends up cumming inside you. not noticing if he teared the rubber in his hurry to be inside you already (blame teenage hormones, it's not his fault yeah 🙏)

of course not blowing his full load inside you, but i like to think that he cums so much, its really a miracle he doesn't break the rubbers from that amount alone... either way it's gonna leak out, n even just that little bit..

but regardless of how it happens, once he gets past the initial stress of it all n you get past the scare. his mind is totally filled with thoughts of actually coming inside you..

n even his dreams are filled with the image of your cunt all twitchy and wet with fluids n a bit puffy from all the fucking, n having earlier ate you out in the dream, n his fat load of cum leaking out of your cunt...

can't look you in the eye. he's totally ruined... probably can't look his parents in the eye either since he promised to be responsible, but now he's dreaming and fantasizing of doing otherwise..

[pastelxfilth]

"I really need to pee, Mommy," you admit weakly, a waver in your voice. "It really wants to come out."

"Will there be a leak inside your panties when Mommy checks?"

You shake your head no.

"You make Mommy so proud," your Mommy husks. "Keeping it inside so obediently."

Your Mommy pushes your jeans down your hips and puts her hand inside your underwear, parting your downright sodden labia, two fingers trailing along your entire slit.

Both of you moan.

Your cunt clenches down around nothing and coats your Mommy's palm with additional pussy juice. "Oh, so very wet, Princess," your Mommy purrs tauntingly. "You've ruined your panties. Holding her pee inside makes my horny slut gush all over Mommy's fingers."

You whimper.

"You would love to hump your cunt against a pillow right now like a little rabbit in heat until it just bursts out of you in a big, big stream, and all you'd be able to do is let it happen helplessly, wouldn't you?" Your Mommy starts rubbing your swollen and oversensitive clit, and you cling to her upper arms to keep yourself upright, choking on your breath. "Yeah, you'd love it. Being forced to sully yourself but secretly enjoying it like such a nasty little thing."

"God." You are barely able to process what your Mommy is saying.

"Mommy's good girl." Your Mommy pinches your button and gives it a few jerks.

"Mommy!" You shriek. "D-don't! I can't concentrate when you're doing this, and then I-" You can't finish speaking, your mouth hanging open in silent ecstasy, hips arching into your Mommy's fingers on their own accord.

"And then? Does it threaten to come out when Mommy's playing with you like this?" Your Mommy gives your pearl an extra hard nudge, then collects more wetness from your hole and pokes at your tiny pee slit. "Hmm?"

"Y-yes, Mommy! I c-can't..." You squirm and clamp your legs shut, forcing your Mommy's hand to still between your thighs. "So full."

"It's okay," your Mommy hushes, putting her other arm around you and holding you close. Her hand retreats from inside your panties and stuffs the cum-soiled fabric into your snatch instead, pressing down on your clit again over the material. "Let a little bit dribble out, Princess."

You bite your lip and put your temple onto your Mommy's shoulder, your rapid breathing puffing against her throat.

"Just a little bit, so there is room enough until we get home."

"Into my panties?" You ask quietly. Hopefully.

"Yes. I know that my whore loves to pee into her undies. Wet them, baby. Have an accident."

You try to relax enough to release a bit but not so much that you can't stop anymore. You can feel your hot pee starting to creep out. Your Mommy keeps stroking you through your soggy underwear. The way the slick material slides over your heated skin feels divine.

"It's coming, Mommy," you whisper.

"You're such a good little pee slut for Mommy, darling."

The first drops trickle out of your hole, and then a tiny rivulet follows. Your Mommy growls and rubs more firmly, thrusting her fingers into the expanding, distinctively wetter spot on your crotch. "Good girl. A little bit more."

One small spurt and then a stronger one. You feel your clammy panties growing warm. Your Mommy cups your entire mound, pushing against your slit, and you grind your cunt against your Mommy's palm.

"Feels so good, Mommy. Want to cum." As minuscule and short-lived as it is, the relief coursing through your body at this moment has you vibrating with ravenous need.

"Not yet."

"Mommy, please..." You claw at your Mommy's shoulder plates, rutting your core against her. "Let me cum, please! Wanna cum."

"Baby," your Mommy warns, hugging you against her, denying you the room you need to move. You're still trying to get stimulation on your clit, pressing deeper into your Mommy's embrace. "I need to cum so badly," you mumble over and over again in a frenzy, reduced to a squirming, incoherent, delirious mess.

"When we get home."

  ♡   

              you can read the actual story here ˚✧.

               

[violenceenthusiast]

ok i had a thought that makes me wanna dip my head in acid but in a soft way...

dean and claire having a father/daughter saturday of fun and low-grade mischief, going to an arcade and joke-fighting over what stuffed animal to get with their tickets and getting slushies and while they’re taking a break to grab burgers claire says “yknow i’ve been meaning to go get- wanna come with me while i get a new piercing??”

and dean pinches in the direction of her ear a little and says “what, you don’t have enough of those already?” as if he doesn’t think they’re the coolest thing.

she waves him off, eyes flicking between the burger in her hands and the table “i don’t know i just thought it’d be something else fun to do today.”

dean’s only half teasing when he asks “you want me there to hold your hand?”

claire rolls her eyes and looks to the side with half a smile, “oh shut up.” but it’s true, she does want him there to hold her hand– she may be a hardcore hunter who will take a knife cut or a monster bite in stride, but she always gets a little nervous before each piercing. maybe having dean there will make it just a little more manageable.

––

they get to the studio and claire signs the forms, picks out her jewelry, takes a seat to wait while they get ready for her. dean is pacing, looking carefully in each case, at each display. the nice person behind the counter sees him looking and asks “did you want to get something pierced today too?” claire cracks a smile at that and dean looks up at the counter clerk a little wide-eyed, eyebrows raised and mouth half open in surprise, huffs out a breath and looks down as half a nervous smile pulls at the left side of his mouth. he sticks one hand in his pocket and gives one wave with the other as he says “ha. nah, no- just here for her today” as he gestures at claire. he goes to sit with her until the piercer calls them back to the room that’s set up for them.

claire is getting a conch piercing and it’s going more easily than usual- partly because dean is there with her, partly because there are shockingly few nerve endings in the middle of the ear cartilage, and partly because the woman doing the piercing is insanely pretty and insanely good at what she does (she used to be a phlebotomist so she knows a little something about blood, needles, nervousness, and a given person’s propensity for fainting). while the piercer is busy marking the ear, claire looks over at dean in his chair and unable to contain the question any longer asks him, “you ever thought about getting a piercing?”

“me? nah.. it’s just not- i mean they would’ve gotten ripped out for sure by some- by accident.” he was about to say ‘by some monster’ but caught himself before he really weirded out the nice piercer woman. he hadn’t thought about him and piercings in a long time. he had slowly stopped wearing even rings and bracelets as much over the years in case they got caught on something during a hunt (though now he had a new ring on his left hand that he never took off). a piece of jewelry actually in the body was even more of a ridiculous idea for a hunter. but he wasn’t a hunter any more, not really. hadn’t been for about a year. after chuck and getting cas back safe and human.. with sam and eileen running their witchy little hunter hub from the bunker.. it had just seemed like his opportunity and his time to break out of it all. wow okay in that split second he trailed so far off from where he started.. where did he start? ...piercings! right. he remembers being young and not being able to take his eyes off the men in bars with the metal glinting in their ears, noses, lips.. now he knew the staring had been more about the men than the jewelry but it hadn’t not been about the jewelry either. was this one of those things he got to think about now, again, for the first time in a lifetime?

claire takes a moment to make sure she isn’t woozy any more and gets up to go look in the mirror at her new adornment. she smiles and dean snaps out of his own little world to say “you like it?” 

she looks at him through the mirror “love it.” and then, mischievous, “your turn.”

“my turn??”

“oh absolutely.” a moment of raised eyebrows and incredulous silence then, “if you decide you hate it you can just take it out. c’mon i saw your face, you want one you can’t hide from me.”

she’s right. he protests weakly, but she knows him all too well at this point and she’s right and the goading from the piercer only encourages her.

“okay okay fine. but nothing too showy.”

they decide on a rook. it’s not too prominent but it’s definitely there, definitely unique, it will look okay on it’s own if he never gets another piercing, and if he has to jump in on an odd hunt it’s far enough into the ear that it would be hard for it to get caught on anything or ripped out. dean picks a simple, stainless steel piece with a lapis lazuli setting– blue for his husband (though if you asked him he would deny that’s why he chose it. but only at first).

he can’t believe how jittery he is about the whole thing, but this time claire holds his hand. it’s over before it’s begun and he thought it might be painful like the tattoo was, or like any of the number of painful little things that have happened to him over the years but it’s not, it mostly just feels strange. it’s nice to be surprised like that.

dean hops off the bench like claire did and goes to the mirror half expecting to hate what he sees. but he’s surprised for the second time in barely a minute. the glint of the metal in his ear doesn’t just look good, it looks right. like it was meant to be there and he had been awaiting it’s arrival but didn’t know it. something hard to name, something small, something he didn’t know was missing until he found it had just found its way to him, slotted into place and settled in his ribs. he feels quieter but also on fire– like he’d be satisfied to just sit and read a book, like he could face god and win (again).

from behind him claire asks, “like it?”

he smiles. “love it.”

––

they kick around for a little while longer, each of them forgetting about their new piercings until they catch sight of the other’s or until they catch their reflection in a shop window and take a second to admire the newness. eventually claire begrudgingly admits she has to get back to campus to get some work done. dean drops her off at her dorm with a hug and a “stay out of trouble”. 

dean makes the drive home to cas, just lost enough in happy thoughts and memories from the day that he forgets to put on any music until he’s already half way home. 

he gets to the house and finds cas watering the plants in the living room. he leans in the doorframe, watching his love gently tend to each plant in turn. dean doesn’t say anything, he knows cas knows he’s there and will greet him when he’s finished seeing to his darlings. in the meantime dean gets to delight in the sight of the curve of cas’ back as he bends this way and that to reach the plants, the delicate and reverent care he shows each leaf and vine.

cas finishes his routine, sets the water down and turns to greet dean. he freezes half way to saying hello because something is.. something.. something is... he can’t put a name to it, nothing is wrong but dean is.. shifted. not different.. but different. dean is holding his head oddly turned to the side and it doesn’t help either that dean is smiling around a secret and they both know it. cas narrows his eyes but brushes off the feeling long enough to cross the room and give dean a kiss, quick but whole and familiar. dean turns his head to look at a plant and ask a question about it and “accidentally” reveal his new addition. cas, who hasn’t taken a single step backwards since coming over to kiss dean, of course sees the jewelry immediately and exclaims before dean even has a chance to start his made-up question. 

after some very amusing joke-yelling from both sides, it’s revealed that cas just absolutely loves it. and not that dean was worried cas would hate it but dean was a little worried cas would hate it. or worse, that he would judge it. but cas loves that dean tried something new, loves that he chose something blue, loves that dean seems just that little bit more at home in himself. and from the slight blush in his cheeks and ears, dean can tell cas thinks it’s a little bit sexy too. 

––

dean keeps thinking about how much he liked getting a piercing. he gets it on a fundamental level now, gets claire and her array of silver and gold. he’s got the taste for it now, the itch. he’s thinking about going back for another one. or two. but what else, what next? he cheekily wonders about picking based on what would drive cas wild. 

...dean goes back in secret a month and a half later to get his nips pierced. it doesn’t stay secret for long. not from cas, at least. 

[thefallennightmare]

Amnesia

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Words: 2551

Warnings: A few swears, ANGST(lets be real, what else is new?), and some fluff. 

Summary Request: Sebastian and reader broke up like a year ago and one day she receives a call from the hospital and they tell her that Seb had an accident and she’s still his emergency contact so she goes to see him because she still loves him. And when he wakes up he has amnesia and he doesn’t remember they broke up, so he thinks they’re still together and the doctors tell her she has to play along because telling him the truth can be damage for his brain and he has to remember on his own?

A/N: Here is the very long awaited request someone sent in. I’m so incredibly sorry this took SO LONG to write but life got away from me. I really hope you like it and it was well worth the wait. 

The double doors in front of me opened with a breeze as I quickly walked up to the small lady behind the front desk. She was chatting with another girl but the conversation immediately ceased when I walked up. 

“Hi, can I help you?” Her tired voice asked. 

Guilt raked me when I realized exactly how late it was but knew that this was normal for them. 

“Uh, my name is Y/N Y/LN. I got a call from Dr. Stone that someone was admitted to the emergency room,” I stuttered over a few of my words.

“Can I have the patient's name?” The nurse clicked at her computer.

“Sebastian Stan.” 

I hadn't muttered that name in so long that it sounded so foreign on my lips. 

The nurse's ears perked up and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to need to see some I.D.”

Muttering some not so nice things under my breath, I slid my I.D over to her and smirked in triumph. “Can I go see him now?” 

“Room 5 on the right,” she nodded behind the desk, where the doors to the emergency room opened. 

A large breath left my lips as I slowly walked towards the room, preparing myself for what I was about to see. The phone call I received said that he had fallen while doing a stunt, hitting his head hard on the mat below him. Thankfully he wasn’t severely injured but what worried me was what the doctor had stressed on the phone. 

He thinks it is April of 2019. 

That was over a year ago.

He had amnesia but the doctor was very optimistic that it was temporary and that he would remember everything soon; I needed to be the one to help him with it. 

“Y/N?” 

My feet came to a halt at the deep voice behind me and I gave the man in a leather jacket a soft smile. “Hey Anthony. How is he?” 

Mackie smiled. “He’s good, all things considered. He still thinks it's April of last year.”

“So he thinks?” I trailed off.

Anthony nodded. “The docs think it’s going to help him if you play along, pretend you two are still together.” 

I let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think I can, Mack. We exactly didn’t have the easiest break up.” 

“I know but anything to help him get better, right?” 

I nodded, agreeing, and with a quick hug goodbye to Anthony, I entered the room trying to ignore the doubts that filled my mind. 

He laid in his bed, the T.V in the corner playing a soft tune of FRIENDS reruns but his eyes weren’t watching it; they were trained on me. 

“Hey babe, I was wondering when you would get here.” He went to sit up in bed but hissed in pain. 

“Seb, relax. You don’t need to sit up, you should be relaxing,” I chastised him. 

Pulling the chair next to his bed, I sat down and hesitated before taking his extended hand. His hair was much poofier than I remembered and the amount of grey hair in his beard had doubled. The bags under his eyes were deeper than the last time I had seen him, his work schedule weighing him down. 

“What happened?” I questioned. 

Sebastian squeezed my hand. “I fell while doing a stunt. Doctors said I smacked my head really good.”

“Did they say when you could leave?” I asked. 

“Tonight. They suggested that you watch me closely, in case I do have a concussion.” 

My heart sank. We had to spend the night together? 

Biting my lip, I quickly nod. “Of course, Seb.” 

Silence fell between us and it took him a second to notice something was wrong.

“Are you okay?,” he questioned while lifting my gaze to meet him. “You seem distant.”

Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I tried my best to reassure him with a nod. “Yeah, I was worried about you, that’s all.” 

My heart hammered in my chest when I felt his soft lips graze across my forehead. “I’m okay, babe. I’ll be even better when we're back home in bed.” 

I felt my body stiffen at that thought of us in bed together. How could I play it off that we were still together and in love when truthfully, we should hate each other? We broke up over a year ago and it was the nastiest one I had ever experienced.

We hadn’t spoken one word to each other since that night but I couldn’t help but feel warmth fill my heart knowing I was still his emergency contact. 

Tonight was going to be fun. 

“Need anything else, Seb?” I questioned after getting him set in bed. 

The flat we used to share looked exactly the same, as if I never left. The clean pile of clothes still had a permanent residence on the large grey chair in the corner of the room; Seb never having the time to put them away. 

The light from the moon still cascaded it’s way through the bay window, causing beautiful shadows across the hardwood floor and across Seb’s face. 

“Just you in bed with me,” Seb gave me a cheeky grin. 

I couldn’t help to mirror it before nodding. “Give me a few minutes, I want to freshen up before bed.” 

Eyes followed my every movement as I rummaged through the dresser drawers, remembering where Seb kept his shirts and sweats. My body froze when I saw the picture that sat upon the dresser. It was one of us when we were vacationing in Greece and we were standing in front of the Acropolis. 

I couldn't help but pick it up, smiling at the fond memory. 

“We should go again,” Sebastian's voice said from behind me. 

I nodded. “It was a great trip, wasn't it?” 

Tears brimmed at my eyes but before he could say anything about it, I scurried into the master bath, letting the door quickly shut behind me. While I freshened up, I tried everything to not let this whole situation bother me. 

How could I pretend to still be with Sebastian, knowing what I know. There was a point, long ago, that we were happy. We loved each other, more than anyone knew, but the love wasn’t enough for the doubt that weighed us down. 

“Y/N?” 

A soft knock tapped against the door. 

With a quick sniffle and wiping away my tears, I quickly opened the bathroom door. “You okay?” 

Sebastian looked at me with a worried look. “Were you crying?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.” 

“You shut the door. You never shut the door,” Sebastian noted. 

“Oh,” my fingers gripped the dark wood, forgetting that I always used to keep the bathroom door open when we lived together. 

Sebastian's fingers laced with my own and with a gentle tug, I followed him to the bed. Before I knew it, my head was on his chest and his strong fingers raked through my hair. The familiar feeling made my stomach flip and I bit my lip, hoping the tears didn’t force their way out. 

“I know you were scared from my accident today but I promise babe, I’m okay.” Seb’s soft voice comforted me. 

No words were finding their way through my throat so all I could do was nod. I allowed myself to look in his gorgeous green eyes and with one quick look, I told myself that this was going to hurt like hell when this was all over. 

Just like it did when we broke up. 

The domestic bliss found its way between us and I allowed myself to melt into his embrace. My finger traced circles on his bare chest while he rubbed my back. 

“You know what I noticed,” Seb’s voice spoke. 

“Hmm?” 

“You haven’t given me one kiss tonight,” He pouted. 

My body froze in his embrace and he immediately noticed. I sat up in bed while Seb reluctantly let me go. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” I cried while getting out of bed and starting to collect my things. 

“Y/N, what is going on?” Sebastian questioned. 

“You honestly don’t remember anything?” I asked after taking a quick pause while putting on my shoes. 

When he shook his head, I couldn’t stop the word vomit that spit out of my mouth. 

“We broke up, Seb! Over a year ago!” 

He shook his head. “What?” 

Pinching my eyes together, I let out a large sigh. “The doctors said you had amnesia and the last thing you remembered was April of last year. We broke up last July.” 

“I’m confused. Then why are you here?” 

“The doctors thought it would be best if I played along, to help you remember on your own but I can’t do it anymore. Knowing how we broke up and why; I can’t pretend that we are in love when you actually don't anymore.”

I could see in Sebastian’s eyes that he still wasn’t believing what I was saying so I pulled out my phone, letting a voicemail play on speaker.

“Y/N, I know that we’re not in the same city right now and this is a terrible way to do this but I can’t do it anymore. We’ve been apart for almost a month now and I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep stringing you along. I need time to grow and focus on my career, I can’t have someone waiting for me back home when I don’t even know when the next time I would be coming home. It’s not fair to you to wait for me; for someone that can’t keep his promises. I’ll be home next month so that gives you time to move out. I’m sorry.” 

Silence fell throughout the flat, the sudden look of remembrance flashing across Sebastian’s face. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “I remember.”

“You broke up with me with a fucking voicemail. A three year relationship ended with a goddamn voicemail!” I yelled. 

“I was scared,” Seb defended. 

My eyes doubled with anger. “Don’t give me that bullshit again, Seb. We went through this already. I just want to get my things and go home.” 

I went to run down the stairs away from him but he stepped in front of me, stopping me. 

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. It wasn’t fair to you for me stringing you along. I was only thinking of you.” 

“Give me a break, Sebastian! You broke up with me then a week later you were seen with some blonde chick!” I yelled. 

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair and his shoulders fell. “It wasn’t what the media made it seem like.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” I asked, the same question that I had asked him the last time I saw him. 

“No,” Seb answered without hesitation. 

The same answer he gave me last time. 

“I can’t keep having the same fight, Seb. It’s exhausting. I was finally in a good place with myself. I was getting over you then got a phone call telling me you had an accident. My world stopped. I thought you were seriously hurt, Sebastian. The second I saw you, all those feelings came back.” 

He stuffed his hands deep in his sweat pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“Do you think we could ever go back to how we used to be?” I asked. 

This time, Sebastian hesitated. “I don’t know. My brain is still so fucked from my fall today. It’s hard remembering some things.”

I nodded, reluctantly getting my things together before walking away. “Let me know when you do know, Seb.” 

The same heartbreak I felt a year ago resurfaced as I realized that Sebastian was letting me walk out of his apartment and out of his life; again. 

My T.V played a soft tune in the background as I browsed through my phone, trying to let another boring day pass. My fingers had a mind of their own as I typed away a certain username on Instagram, wanting to know what he was up to. 

Nothing new. 

No posts or stories. 

Sebastian had been M.I.A on instagram for over a month now, since before his accident. 

And since the last time we had seen each other. 

We both had no contact with each other, not knowing where we stood. Or even in there was something between us to hold us together. I knew it in my heart that even though how we ended was terrible, I still wanted to be with Sebastian. I wanted to be like how we used to be but there was a doubt lingering in my mind; would he want the same? Would he even feel the same? 

The clock on the wall struck midnight, the chimes sounded loud bouncing off the walls of my small apartment. 

A soft groan left my lips as I stood up and started making my way towards my bedroom, however, a persistent knock on the door locked my feet in place. 

My eyes darted to the bat that laid against the wall next to the door. Who was at my door in the middle of the night? 

“Y/N?”

His deep but yet soft voice immediately eased my fear. Before I could even second guess my decision, I found myself opening the door. 

Sebastian stood in front of me, his hair way more fluffier than the last time I saw him. The stubble on his face had grown in and I smiled at the few grey hairs peeking its way through. He looked distraught, his thoughts keeping himself up the last few nights. 

He let out a few deep sighs, hesitating a few times, something deep on his mind. 

We both stared at each other for a few moments, the lust and love that we felt when we were together clouding around us. It encased us in our own bubble and without a second thought, Sebastian was crossing the threshold attacking my lips with his own. 

My hands gripped his hips while his own found their way through my hair, gently pulling on the roots. The kiss was one of those ‘hungry, teeth smacking, and lip biting’ kisses; the kind that made your head spin and insides melt. 

Reluctantly, we broke apart to take a breath but not before Seb placed another chaste kiss on my lips. 

“I know the way I ended things was a dick move and I should have broken up with you in person.” 

My vision was still blurry from the kiss so all I could do was nod. 

“If you still want me, I’m here. If you want me out of your life for good, just say the word and I’m gone. But if that kiss means anything to you as it did to me, I know that I’m right where I need to be.” 

“Lock the door,” I mumbled against his lips. “We have a year of catching up to do.” 

My giggles sounded throughout the apartment when I felt Seb toss me over his shoulder, carrying me up the stairs towards my bedroom. 

[kuroos-moon]

Mistaken Kisses pt. 2 

☾ pairings: atsumu x reader, sakusa x reader, kenma x reader

☾ part one | oikawa, tsukishima, sugawara, kuroo

☾ scenario: they see you kissing someone else (not intentionally though)

☾ warning/s: v tiny bit of angst for atsumu’s

Miya Atsumu 

Growing up as a twin, he’s used to people mistaking him for Osamu and the other way around. Now that they have different hair colors though, those occasions came down to rare if not none. 

You’re innocent, you swear. Briefly calling out his name as you enter their gym, his back to you with his hood on— and you grab him slightly by his arm, shifting him a quarter so that you could stand on your toes and plant your lips on his. 

He smells a bit different, tasted quite different too, but who cares? This was your boyfriend— or so you thought. Pulling away as his hood falls off his head, your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. Is that gray hair? Is he seriously not blonde? 

Realization hits you the same time you hear him. “Ya treacherous pathetic excuse of a brother!” You blink once and they’re already on the ground after Atsumu lunged at Osamu, fists, kicks and swearing thrown here and there. 

“Stop it!” You hiss, about to grab Atsumu but Aran stops you, afraid you’ll accidentally get hit in the process. 

“Y/n is the only thing I can’t and will not share but ya sneak in a kiss on her when I’m not around!” Another fist lands on Samu’s cheek, and that had to hurt. Atsumu was genuinely enraged. This wasn’t their usual brawl. 

“Ya have eyes, Sumu,” Osamu knees his back before turning to his side, throwing Atsumu to the ground. “Y/n kissed me!”  

“It’s true Tsum, I was the one who kissed him.” That halts their actions in an instant, tension suddenly thick in the air as he remains lain down on the floor, recovering his breaths as he struggles to process what you had just said. 

“It was an accident, I thought he was you,” you say in a small voice, dreading what was going to happen next at the way he scoffs at your words. “Get off me,” he shoves his brother off him, standing up and brushing off his clothes. 

He coldly looks at you and you squirm inside. Profoundly intimidated by his stare, you look away, eyes landing on whoever or whatever else that wasn’t your boyfriend who looked so spiteful and disgusted. “One of me ain’t enough, is that it?” He bitterly says, glaring at you. 

You immediately look back at him, surprised at his words. “I told you it was an accident, Tsumu, I’m sorry.” 

“Well, ya kissed for quite a while, was there no tellin they weren’t my lips?”

“He was wearing your hoodie,” you try to say, but he looks away, disinterested.

“Atsumu,” you sigh as you step closer to him but he turns on his heel, walking away from you.

“Don’t want ya nymore, have fun with my brother,” he clicks his tongue, unable to erase the image from a while ago. It was painful—both what he saw and what he said to you after. He knows it wasn’t your fault, but that didn’t really do much to change how he felt. 

It was his typical defense mechanism, masking his hurt by hurting you back and putting up a show of indifference. His sharp tongue, the hostile words he had said to you were filling him with self-resentment the second he let them go— never does he want to hurt you but he did so anyway; simply because he got hurt first.

“He’ll come around,” Osamu places a hand on your back reassuringly, “though I doubt he’ll make the first move to fix things.” 

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Oh, what a lovely day to be standing outside the restroom, waiting for your boyfriend to finish washing his hands; especially when out of nowhere, you’re yanked and kissed. Oh, for your boyfriend to have such lovely timing of walking out the restroom the moment the stranger’s lips touch yours. 

You push the guy off immediately, eyes meeting Sakusa’s in a panic, fearing he might misinterpret. However, your worries should come to an ease, he saw the whole thing and he trusts you completely anyway. But his eyes aren’t on you, they’re sharp and glaring at the guy who had kissed you. All he sees is dirt. Pure filthy garbage, worthless and far too shameless—having the audacity to taint you. 

Clasping your hand in his, he securely pulls you to his side. “You okay?” He asks, looking at you and you nod. He’s possessive and territorial, that’s a surprise to none. What he had just done equated to a life-ending treason, but he’s never really one for violence. 

“Call the cops.” 

“Wait, no, dude, I’m sorry it was an accident. I thought she was my girlfriend.” He frantically says, bowing repeatedly before the two of you. “I’m really sorry,” he says again, looking at you, making Sakusa glare at him as a warning to not even breathe the same air as you. 

A girl walks up to him, clinging to his arm as she asks him what was going on and now, he has fallen at your mercy; his girlfriend didn’t look anything like you at all—hair and height especially. You’re not even mad, you’re much too preoccupied worrying about what Sakusa might do next. 

“Do you have any colds?” He asks the guy, who like you, was shocked at his sudden question. 

“What?” 

“Are you blind and deaf too?” Oomi narrows his eyes, making him gulp. “Uh, no, I’m perfectly well.”

“Any infectious disease? Tell me even if its minor.” 

“None.” 

“Y/n I thought I told you to call the cops,” Sakusa timidly looks at you and you flinch, a nervous chuckle escaping your throat. “Do we really have to?” 

“His excuse was pathetic, he’s clearly some pervert, a cheating one at that.” 

“Please, I won’t do it ag-

“If not the cops, would you rather I destroy you right now? I’m not one to be forgiving when it comes to my lover.” That wasn’t even directed at you but you feel your body shiver, he was scary and domineering; his narrowed eyes and heartless expression screamed that no one should take his threats lightly. 

Other than the intensity of his words though, you felt your heart melt at the way he called you his lover. You’re practically looking at him with heart eyes, touched by his sentiment, butterflies going wild in your stomach as you admired him. 

It took a lot of your nagging and attempts at pulling him away for the both of you to actually be alone in his car—now on your merry way home. Contrary to the butterflies earlier on, you’re now silent in your seat, stealing glances at him warily. 

If you’re mad, say something, you try to tell him with your eyes but they remain set on the road.

“Yoomi?” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorr-

“Save the apologies for when you’ve done something wrong.” He coldly cuts you off and you close your mouth immediately. 

After a few seconds, you try again, “are you mad?” 

He finally looks at you, and though it was subtle, you did notice how he glanced down at your lips a second too long. “I’m not.” 

“You could at least try to be convincing; your face says it all,” you pout, “you’re mad and disgusted.”

“I’m neither of the two.” 

“Prove it.” 

He looks at you incredulously, like ‘tf am I supposed to do??’

Sighing, he slightly nods, “fine.” 

“I’ll kiss you until you drop after you brush your teeth.” 

Kozume Kenma     

Kenma is multiple cats in one easily-exhausted human body. He could be a soft domestic cat, allowing you to love the hell out of him while you cuddle—or he could also be one with sharp claws if he’s aggravated, not really one with specialized attacks but still terrifying. 

Right now though, he’s debating whether he should be a dejected cat who’s ready to leave its owner (which is you) or a level-headed laid-back one. The latter was easier said than done, how could he remain calm when you’re being kissed by someone else? It’s a heavy pang on his chest and an excessive blow on his insecurities—but oh, wait, you pushed him off. 

“What the hell?!” You shout at the guy. It all clicks, of course you’ll never do that to him. Okay, he starts seeing red and no it’s not his Nekoma jacket. He could almost imagine his legs sprinting disgracefully towards the guy and attacking him in any form. Biting, punching, scratching, he doesn’t care, he’s going to unleash the sharp-clawed cat within him—the same one that quarreled with Yamamoto. 

But before he could, you’ve marched away, and he catches a glimpse of your teary eyes. He follows you shortly, glaring daggers at the guy who was totally creeped out. Kenma could be terrifying. 

He’s mad and frustrated, but that could wait. You are far more important than his anger and he’ll always put you first. He patiently waits outside the girls’ restroom, sending you a quick text to let you know he was waiting to walk you home like he always did. 

As you head out of school, you remain silent beside him. Your irritation was gone but he could easily tell you were worried about him and about how he felt. “Y/n?” He meekly says. You look at him. This time, you note, he wasn’t on his phone which he would normally be using right now. 

“Wanna hang out in my room?” He offers you a rare soft smile, and you smile back at him. 

You both laze off on his bed, his head on your stomach and your fingers running through his hair while he plays with his switch. He looks unbothered, but you’re just struggling to find the right words and time to talk to him about what he saw earlier. 

He may have looked unaware of your silent distress, but he was just waiting for you to be comfortable enough to talk to him about it. He’s ready to assure you it was fine though he was actually really embittered—of course he would be after seeing someone else kiss his beloved kitten. 

“Ken… about earlier in the classroom, aren’t you mad?” You softly glide your fingers across his cheek. 

“I don’t care much for it, y/n,” he sincerely says. “See, you’re lying,” you pinch his cheek causing him to look away from his game. 

“I’m only concerned about you, you must’ve been mad,” he says, tossing his console to the side and turning to face you, his cheek pressed to your stomach. “I’m fine, Ken, I was only worried you’d be mad.” 

“Then rest easy now that you know I’m not,” he smiles before taking your hand to cover his face. You look at him in surprise as he groans, and you didn’t have to take your hand away to know that his face right now was rather expressive. 

“I’m still super ticked about it though,” he huffs and you chuckle at how adorable he was as he alternately kicks his feet up and down his mattress in a mock tantrum.

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 10

chapter index

Hello I have returned. Have the next chapter.

CW: grooming

Also, please note that I have officially changed the rating of the story on AO3 and FF.net regarding *future* chapter(s). And don't act like y'all don't even know why. :)

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“I can’t believe that actually worked.” Kagome mentioned amusedly, walking a few feet behind her half demon companion.

“I told you it would. I can’t believe you tested out the sharpness on your thumb.” Inuyasha sarcastically sneered with an irritated roll of his eyes, his head slightly bobbing to the side.

“I didn’t test it out, and you know it.” Kagome half laughed - half sighed. “I just wanted to see the job Totosai did. It was super sharp!”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding, huh? I’m not sure if you know this, though, but you see things with your eyes.”

“It was an accident, you butt.”

“Will you hurry up and fix your tits so I can take a look at your cut already?” He pressed heatedly, intentionally keeping ahead of her.

Kagome had been wrestling with the lacing of her bodice for a few minutes now; ever since they left the inn. They were finally outside of the village and wandering through the forest, but it was a little tricky to get her breasts in order while keeping a steady pace behind Inuyasha. That, and finagling the strings with one less thumb so she wouldn’t get blood on her clothing.

“You know, now that you mention it, you haven’t looked at me since I tightened my bodice up. What’s up with that?” Kagome questioned, holding the loosened garment an inch away from her chest to try and shake her breasts down a little. No good. Not loose enough yet. She really went to town this time.

“You want me to?” He countered with a brazened tone.

“I mean, it’s not that I want you to. I don’t necessarily care one way or the other.”

“I’m trying to be respectful.”

“It was your idea for me to objectify myself, Inuyasha.”

“So? That’s different. It was Totosai objectifying you, and it served a purpose. You got your shit for free. It worked. Now put them away.”

“I’m trying! They wont work with me.” She laughed. It was honestly funny that he was so stiff ahead of her, so insistent to avoid looking at her.

“How bad is your thumb?”

“Eh, not too bad. It’s dripping down my hand, though.”

“Goddamn it, Kagome!” He ground out exasperatedly.

“Just turn around, oh my god.” Kagome laughed again, shaking her head.

“No.”

“You act like you won’t have anything else to look at if you do. Like, I don’t know, my eyes? Or, maybe even my thumb?”

“Fix your tits.”

“My nipples aren’t showing. It’s just a bit of cleavage.”

“I’m serious.”

“So, am I. My nipples really aren’t showing.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“Ah! Inuyasha, it’s going down my forearm!” Kagome commented in a panicked tone, readjusting the way she held her arm as she quickly yanked her sleeve back so her blood wouldn’t stain.

Quickly, Inuyasha spun around, but he abruptly stopped before he could even reach for her hand, amber eyes landing on her chest and then hastily shooting up to her face. She watched his cheeks change colors, three shades of red appearing just beneath his eyes before he glared and turned back around to keep walking.

“Hey!”

“Fix ‘em.”

“Are you afraid of boobs, Inuyasha?” God, she was trying so hard not to laugh right now. She’d never seen anyone as flustered as he was now, and it was extremely difficult not to poke fun at him. “Is that what’s happening? Do my breasts intimidate you?”

“Kagome, don’t think I’m opposed to leaving you here alone until you fix your wardrobe malfunction.”

“You wouldn’t.” She stated plainly with a shrug he didn’t see.

“Oh, fuck you. Yes, I would.”

“And, leave me defenseless with a bleeding thumb and my tits out for all to take advantage of?” Obviously, that was a joke, but despite the lighthearted tone, she knew it would grind Inuyasha’s gears. He stopped walking and she heard the deep, hot inhale through his nose, literally watching his fingers furl into fists. It didn’t take a genius to know that he desperately wanted to leave her just to prove a point, but he couldn’t because there really was the possibility that she’d be an easy target.

“Go ahead,” Kagome laughed defeatedly, stopping behind him. “Say it.”

“Fuck you.” He huffed out through clenched teeth. “You’re manipulative.”

“Is there anyway I can kindly manipulate you into maybe helping me?” She almost mumbled, staring down at her chest while she struggled with one hand now.

“Kagome, what!?” Inuyasha lolled his head dramatically.

“I never realized how much I needed my thumbs for this. It was a struggle at first, but since I’m dripping now, I’m down to one hand entirely. I need help.”

“My help!?”

“Do you speak squirrel? Maybe you can get one of those guys to do it - yes, you’re help!” Kagome fired. “Stop being a sissy and just turn around. I promise my breasts wont bite you.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.” He murmured, sliding his heel around in the dirt to face her. His golden eyes drifted around, never landing on her at all. They went from the right, above her, back to the right, then all the way over her and to the left.

“God, Inuyasha, I’m not asking you to grope me! Start from the bottom and pull this string.” Kagome waited a moment, observing Inuyasha’s discomfort, his blush, his tense stance. With a groan beneath her breath, she rolled her eyes again. “Would you feel better if I covered my cleavage?”

“I’m not sure.” He admitted.

“Fine, I’ll just do it, myself. But, stop for a minute. It’s even harder to do while walking.” Kagome conceded with a sigh. She turned around so Inuyasha would hopefully be more comfortable, pulling her sleeve as far back over her elbow as it would go to struggle with her lacing again with a little less risk of a mess. She continued on grumbling, “I don’t know what you’re problem is, though. I know damn well you’ve seen boobs before. Don’t act like mine aren’t nice. Mine are perfectly nice.”

With a feisty huff, Inuyasha gave in, giving her what she wanted with a little taste of her own medicine.

“Fine,” He grunted, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her around. Kagome unsuspectingly stood there, shocked, eyes wide as he flicked her hands away from her bodice. Inuyasha worked from the bottom up, yanking the strings loose as her body jostled slightly from the force of his movements. “Yes, your tits are nice. Is that what you want to hear? That’s not the problem though. You’re not someone I’m trying to hit and quit. You’re Kagome. I was being respectful. I refuse to make you feel objectified or uncomfortable.“ Finally loose enough, Inuyasha grabbed it from the top and wiggled her chest back and forth so her breasts would fall back into their proper place. Then, he went right back to tightening it up properly, going by how they usually looked as he pulled the strings taut, again her body jostling back and forth with his motions. “But, you just think it’s so funny, don’t you? You’re such a fucking brat sometimes, I swear. Well, fine. You want my help? You got it.” Inuyasha declared, quickly tying off the ends of the strings, and giving the top plush of her tits a finishing pat.

Kagome stared at him, stunned. There was a partial smile on her mouth, but it hung open, the heat of her face bubbling and bright. Inuyasha took in her blush, how it was taking forever to process what the fuck had just happened, and he cocked an arrogant smirk at the embarrassment he’d caused her to swim in.

“How’s it feel?” He asked smugly.

“I deserved that.” She remarked, trying to pinch her lips into a straight set line so she wouldn’t laugh. She hadn’t seen that coming. Not at all. “The - uh - the boob tap was a nice touch. No pun intended.”

There was a moment where he inhaled slowly, eyes blinking closed as his brows furrowed and creased deeply, but he couldn’t hold it. The both of them started laughing hysterically, his own coming out as a sort of snort from how hard he’d tried to bite the reaction back.

“Fuck, I can’t stand you!” He laughed, planting the palm of his hand on his forehead before sloppily dragging his silver bangs away.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t expect to be manhandled by you!” Kagome had slightly doubled over from how funny it was. Anyone else, and she would have punched their lights out. But, this was Inuyasha. And, he went from zero to a hundred real freaking quick. It was both surprising and hilarious at the same time.

“How fucking old is that bodice? Why did I have to put so much effort into such a small thing?” Inuyasha stressed.

“Pretty old.” She giggled, testing the flexibility of his job. Honestly, it was nearly perfect. A smidgen tighter than she liked it, but not at all something she couldn’t live with. “I wear it all the time so it fits better to my body, but I’ve had to replace the lacing a few times already. I might be due for new strings. These ones like to stick in the holes and it makes it harder to pull loose - I know.”

“You’d better hope that thing doesn’t rip right off of you in the heat of battle.” He chuckled.

“Shh, don’t say that.” Kagome hushed. “You’ll jinx me.”

“Let me see your cut, you fucking idiot.” Inuyasha wagged his fingers to usher her hand over, taking it to inspect the small nick closely. It really was fucking tiny. How the fuck was it bleeding so much? “Turn around.”

Kagome pursed her lips and did as instructed, letting Inuyasha pull the drawstring of her bag loose and wriggle something free. With his clutch on the sack, her twisted her back to face him, opening up the canteen of water and slowly pouring some on the little laceration.

“Seriously, how did you even do this?”

“I don’t even know. I think my grip on the arrowhead just kind of slipped and I accidentally cut myself.”

“I can’t take you anywhere. You’re so fucking clumsy, it’s annoying.”

“Catch me, I’m swooning.” Kagome sarcastically remarked at his abrasive words with a playful roll of her eyes.

The corners of Inuyasha’s lips inched upward as he handed her the canteen to hold in her free hand, reaching into his pocket. The hanyou pulled out an off-white handkerchief, unfolding it before her with a little flick.

“Is that a flower on the corner? Inuyasha, I didn’t take you as a floral kind of guy.” Kagome giggled teasingly.

“Ha-ha.” He sneered. “A harlot gave it to me.”

“When?” Kagome hadn’t had the opportunity to hold back the rise in her tone before the word slipped off her tongue. It was shocked, and defensive, and almost territorial. Immediately, as she realized how she’d sounded, she fixed her expression and shut her mouth.

Inuyasha arched a brow, resisting the reflex to smirk. He didn’t take Kagome as the jealous type, but he’d caught it. No matter how quickly she’d adjusted herself and shifted her eyes away. Not to mention, there was a slightly embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

“Before I met you.” He said, finally letting himself smile, though it was smug as all hell. He could feel it. “We didn’t fuck.”

“Oh, that’s not it.” Kagome hastily reassured, giving a dramatic, one-shouldered shrug. “I was just a little surprised because I didn’t see you talk to anybody, so I was like ‘wow, when did another woman approach’, right? Because, like, I was right next to you most of the time, except for, like, when I went downstairs to the tavern to eat, but I highly doubt you would have snuck someone in then. Of course, even if you did, that’s none of my business. But, it was just, when we were shopping in the market avenue, we were right next to each other the whole time, so, like, I was just shocked because, wow, I didn’t see anything, so if it happened, it had to be super stealthy. I was just surprised, is all, but if it happened before we even met, then that makes a lot more sense. It’s actually a really pretty handkerchief.”

Good lord, she rambled when she was flustered. Inuyasha shrugged his brows, sighing deeply as he ignored her, taking the corner of the cloth between his teeth and ripping a long portion off.

“And, now it’s not.” Kagome deadpanned.

“Will you shut up already?” Inuyasha grumbled, wrapping the torn away length of cloth around her thumb to tie securely. “There. You’re gonna make it.”

“Thanks, doc.” She said with a cute pout.

Inuyasha’s ear flicked as he took the canteen to shove back in her bag, stopping for a moment to analyze the noise he’d caught. Light footsteps, small gait, single person, careful treading. Not in a stalking manner, though. It was nearby, but it didn’t seem like they were attempting to creep up in any way. With an attentive sniff, Inuyasha caught the scent of a human. One who made home more often in a forest than anywhere else. They had a woodsy scent, a fresh campfire lingering on their clothing. With how light they seemed, Inuyasha was willing to guess they were female. Though, he has been wrong before. It could also be a child. They had the tendency of ambling similarly, albeit with more frequent stumbling. Nevertheless, they were fine so long as both parties minded their own.

“You done rambling?” He asked as he came around the side of her, notching his head to signal for them to continue on.

“I wasn’t rambling.” She weakly defended with a barely audible huff from her nostrils.

“Okay,” He chuckled. “Well, if that’s the case, then keep your voice down. There’s someone nearby.”

“Who?”

“No one we need to worry about. Human. I just don’t want to attract attention our way.”

“Roger that.” Kagome nodded, sealing her lips and walking by his side.

Silence, talking, bantering, it was all comfortable with Inuyasha at this point. There was something that had shifted between them over the past couple of days. After he’d gone to sleep on his human night, Kagome laid there awake, listening to the peacefulness of his deep breathing. It wasn’t often that he slept, but he seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly that night. All she could hope was that he was okay and comfortable, and that he woke up well-rested.

But, she worried that maybe she’d pushed the boundaries with all the touching she’d done on him that night. She was a little more handsy than normal. Granted, it was only his hair, arm, and legs, and they’d held hands for about thirty seconds, but it was still abnormal and slightly unwarranted. Kagome got a bit in her head by overthinking the situation. She was slightly overly affectionate, which was weird on its own because this was a different sort of affection she hadn’t really understood or explored before. And, while she wanted to blame the one beer she’d consumed and Koga’s insinuation of her feelings for Inuyasha, by the next morning, she knew she couldn’t. She knew it made sense for a reason. How could she deny that she had an attraction toward him?

Thing was, Kagome was worried she’d made it too apparent. He was so close to her, they were touching like it was second nature, and she hadn’t even considered that she may have been overstepping a boundary. She’d hoped, sincerely hoped, that things wouldn’t be awkward in the morning.

Luckily and surprisingly, they weren’t. Though, things weren’t quite the same either. Inuyasha walked a few inches closer to her. They’d decided to stay in town for another day for a little rest - which she knew was because he was aware of how exhausted she was from all the extra effort she’d been putting into her training and growth. That, he wouldn’t openly admit, though. Nor, would she expect him to. It was good enough for her to be able to read him, and that was all Kagome needed to appreciate. They ate breakfast in Kaede’s tavern, and he kicked the toes of her boots a few times. It was a casual thing as they waited and conversed, but it was new. She wouldn’t necessarily call it footsies though. That was a little too cutesy of a stunt for Inuyasha to ever pull. Then, he took her around the town, discretely showing her some of the deterrents Kaede had previously mentioned. He stayed close. Always close. Especially, when he took her to the market avenue.

There was a bit of a crowd even Inuyasha seemed surprised about. Kagome could tell he wasn’t a fan of them right away. His ears swiveled unpleasantly, almost pinning down for a brief moment, and he seemed to stiffen minutely. Nothing too obvious, but she’d caught the difference. She was quick to suggest they come back later, but the hanyou shook his head, clearing his dissatisfaction.

“Stay close.” He’d instructed as he guided her through. “Don’t want to lose you.”

It might have meant nothing but basic kindness to him, but it caused a tiny flurry in her abdomen. That sensation spread out whenever people got a little too close to her and Inuyasha’s hand would unconsciously find the small of her back. Was it protective, or was it just to make sure they didn’t get separated? Or both? Kagome didn’t allow herself to read too far into it. She just decided to go along with it, enjoying the warmth and safety of his presence.

They ate dinner in the tavern, joked with Kaede in her downtime, played rock-paper-scissors - which was shockingly exciting for such a simple game, enjoyed one last, hot bath, and then went to bed. Of course, ending with Inuyasha wrestling with her and dumping her on the mattress like before. At some point in the day, Kagome had stopped thinking about the potential for awkward tension between them, she stopped thinking about accidentally overstepping boundaries the night before, she stopped thinking about incidentally making Inuyasha uncomfortable with her affection, because it felt like he was partaking in growing closer to her, as well. It felt natural. It felt like no thought needed to be applied, and whatever was happening was organic.

Whether it was in the same nature as her or not, she wasn’t sure. And, she tried to believe it didn’t matter.

So quickly, yet still not terrifying. Not to her. Kagome had thoroughly come to enjoy his company.

“So,” She spoke, keeping her voice low so it was conversational but between them. “What did you mean by, ‘you’re Kagome’?”

“You’re Kagome.” Inuyasha repeated matter-of-factly.

“And?”

“You’re annoying.”

“And?” She giggled.

“You’re fishing for something I’m not going to give you.” He stated gruffly.

“Allow me to fill in the blanks.”

“Here we go.” Inuyasha muttered.

“‘You’re Kagome’, when looked up in a modern dictionary, can mean one of three things: Number one, I respect you so stinking much that I could never find it in myself to sexualize you non-consensually. Number two, I’m not attracted to you and it makes me feel uncomfortable that you have such nice breasts because I would rather not view you as a sexually appeasing woman. Number three, you’re one of the bro’s.”

“Number four, you’re an idiot I can never get to shut up, so it’s physically impossible to be attracted to someone like you.” He added.

“Hah! Says the guy who got shy at the sight of a little cleavage.” Kagome playfully teased.

“Why are you not offended when I call you ugly?” Inuyasha chuckled, his expression twisting bemusedly.

Kagome stopped, an obvious pout replacing her grin. “You think I’m ugly?”

Inuyasha turned to look at her, his face shifting seriously as he panicked at her sudden hurt. “No. No, Kagome I don’t think you’re…” He paused as he watched her lips slowly curve upward, brown eyes twinkling devilishly. “I hate you.”

She laughed, “That’s why.”

“You fucking tricked me.”

“It’s one thing to not be attracted to me, Inuyasha. Of course, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt by that. But, calling me ugly would actually hurt me, and you know it, and I’ve noticed that’s something you try to avoid.”

“Hurting your feelings? I literally call you an idiot all the time.”

“Yes, but you know that doesn’t bother me.” She smiled, shrugging as she continued walking. She heard his footsteps follow behind her, crunching leaves and the thick clumps of dirt on their path.

“What makes you think I care about hurting your feelings? It’s not something I actively try to avoid, kid. You’ve probably just got a thicker layer of skin since you grew up with two boys.” Inuyasha was pulling shit out of his ass. Kagome had sort of scattered his brain for a moment. She was reading him well. Was he obvious in his attempts at taking better care of her sensitive nature?

“Nah,” She turned around to look at him, and he froze from how happy she seemed. He knew she was joking, playing around, and there was only one thing she’d said that had bothered him. That he wasn’t attracted to her. While he would rather keep it to himself, while he would rather that not be obvious information, it was still incorrect. Because, when she smiled the way she was right now, when her cheeks tinted naturally, and when the sun touched her through the tops of the trees, his heart had a tendency to clench. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t jolting, but it was there. Of course, he found her appealing to look at. There were so many sides to her that he’d been able to witness over the weeks, and he genuinely only disliked one. Her sadness. Her tears. It wasn’t that they were ugly. He just hated it. It had no business clouding the joyful features that he observed now. Despite all that, he genuinely wanted to see more. He wanted to see it all. He wanted to see her fierce side, her determined side, he wanted to see her scowl - pointed at others, of course - and her attitude, he wanted to see what she looked like when she danced, when she was compassionate, and at the end of the day, he wanted to see her win. Inuyasha was truly attracted to Kagome, and even though that was his business, it still didn’t sit quite well that she considered otherwise. “You’re just a big softie.”

Inuyasha deadpanned. That was the second time she’d called him that, and he was beginning to think she really believed it. “And, you’re stupid.”

“You didn’t deny it!”

“Neither did you.” The hanyou stated smugly, catching up to her side. He watched her expression flatten, and she grumpily kicked a rock out of her path. Got her.

Interestingly, the human was still nearby. He’d thought, after a while, they would have gone in some other direction, but it was almost like they were keeping up with he and Kagome. Additionally, they seemed to be walking just a bit closer. More than that. They were walking toward them now. It seemed like in a matter of minutes, they were bound to cross paths.

No. Something wasn’t right.

Inuyasha stopped, swiping his arm out in front of Kagome’s stomach to halt her as well. The girl jumped slightly at the sudden change, but she settled into place as her hands gently grabbed his forearm, attention on his hardened jaw but eventually following his gaze ahead of them.

A woman stepped out from behind a thick-trunked tree, an emotionless expression on her pale face as she gazed at the two of them with caramel eyes. Beneath, the skin was thin and dark, telling stories of her fatigue, though her shoulders were broadened energetically. She was thin, mid-height, wore fitted pants, but the beige blouse she donned seemed two sizes too large, tucked into her bottoms to keep the tail out of the way. On her right shoulder, she wore a quiver of arrows and a long bow, colored red and cracked from years of usage. It came from above, but a white, ghostly serpent slithered down and around the woman’s shoulders and chest, dropping a glowing light through her heart before circling her body to perch on her free shoulder with its insectile legs.

“Kikyo.” Kagome breathed, but when Inuyasha looked down at his companion, he noticed she didn’t appear as pleased or welcoming as he would have expected her to be. So, this was the great Kikyo, huh? He lowered his arm.

Kagome skeptically glanced at Inuyasha, and even though she was just touching him, she reached for him once more to feel his shoulder.

“This is real.” Kikyo spoke. “I’m not in your head. I’m here. And, before you react to anything dramatically, no, this is not the endgame we were intended to meet at.”

Inuyasha’s brows pinched together slightly, and he felt a tug pull down at the corners of his lips. Already, he wasn’t a huge fan of the way she spoke to Kagome.

It was a moment before Kagome could speak. All she could do was stare at the woman in front of her. Over the past year, she’d always imagined she would be some form of excited when meeting Kikyo in person, but Kagome currently felt no emotion in similarity. She was unhappy. She was growing increasingly more upset, a grudge she’d been holding against the woman rising to the surface now.

“Been a while.” She finally said, her tone level.

“Yes. It has been.” Kikyo walked closer, leaving just a few feet’s worth of a gap separating she and the opposite conjurer. “I’ll admit, I haven’t much felt like talking to you. I had nothing to say.”

“Oh, you haven’t?” Kagome shrugged her brows in minor challenge. “Well, ditto.”

“Ditto?”

“Means, the feeling’s mutual. I didn’t want to talk to you, either.”

“Are you claiming to be upset with me?”

“I am.” Kagome stated plainly.

“On what grounds?” Kikyo asked, a modest scowl appearing on her features.

“You first.”

Inuyasha swiftly grew uncomfortable as both women faced each other. At the reveal of who the person was, he hadn’t suspected Kagome to be any degree of unhappy, yet she faced the supposedly powerful conjurer with squared shoulders and a vexed look on her face. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t mentioned Kikyo since that night they played the question game. He figured if they were in consistent, subconscious communication, as it previously seemed, she’d share any news. It made sense now. They hadn’t spoken. Still, no matter how badly he wanted to take a large step to the side, he resigned to remain at Kagome’s for the moment. He really hadn’t seen her in a confrontational state such as this, so he had no idea what to expect right now.

“You know what you did.” Kikyo replied.

“You mean, what I didn’t do?” Kagome cocked her head to the side. Again, the challenge was present.

“Yes.” Kikyo huffed.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You don’t - excuse me?” For the first time, Kagome heard a heightened inflection in Kikyo’s tone. Even when she lectured her that last time, she didn’t seem this exasperated. And, so quickly too. Kagome was sort of proud of herself. Kikyo always appeared so grounded. “This has everything to do with me, Kagome.”

“No, you think it has everything to do with you, but it really doesn’t. You voiced your opinion, I took it into account, but then I made my own decision. You and I can’t travel together, and you basically told me I’m on my own, so that means I get to call my own shots. Right? Right.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Oh my god.” Kagome’s head lolled back dramatically before finding its way to sit upright. “That again? I’m the fool, but you wanted to punish me by giving me the silent treatment for traveling with Inuyasha? Fine, I’ll take it. But, you’re immature.”

“What do you have against me?” Inuyasha inquired with a small shrug, confused. He was sidelined one moment, and then before he knew it, part of the problem.

Kikyo hissed an abrupt hushing sound at the half demon, barely looking at him before she went back to glaring at Kagome. “Tell me why you have the audacity to be mad.”

“The audacity?” Kagome guffawed, so blown away by Kikyo’s ego that she couldn’t help but back step with her jaw hanging agape. “Okay! Sure! Were you ever gonna mention that you were hanging around my village for god knows how long? That you were spotted and that was the reason Naraku’s henchmen had been visiting so frequently? Hm? Ever plan on bringing that information up, or were you just gonna sweep it under the rug?”

“Are you blaming me for -“

“No. I’m not. The girl’s death is on them. I’m blaming you for being partially responsible for making the last few months of my life hell, though! Did you watch when my mother was slapped across the face two months ago? She was hit so hard, her cheek was bruised and she spit blood. Did you sit back and relax when an old lady had her face shoved in horse shit? Her heart gave out a week later, and the doctor thinks it was from the stress. We all called her Grandma Hojo. She raised one of my friends. She was all he had left. How about the time they defiled our graveyard? Did you like that little show they put on? How I had to scoop up and bury my father’s ashes for the second time!? You really want to say that I have the ‘audacity’ to be mad at you!? Kikyo, you were right fucking there! Why did you -“

“Hey,” His voice was soothing as Inuyasha swiftly reached for her jaw with one hand, her nearest shoulder with the other, turning Kagome to face him. He bowed his head slightly, speaking only to her as he forced her eye contact. “Hey, it’s okay. Calm down, alright? Don’t visit that pain again. I don’t want you going back to that.”

The hanyou gave her a moment, and luckily Kikyo stayed stiff with silence. He didn’t let Kagome go. Truthfully, he was willing to guess even she hadn’t realized how emotional she was becoming or how the post-traumatic stress was being triggered. But, he’d seen it. He heard things he couldn’t imagine a single person having to live through, let alone this girl. This girl whose eyes brought him solace without any effort, this girl whose laughter was bubbly and sweet, this girl he was biased enough to believe deserved it all the least. Even he was slammed with the weight of the experiences she’s lived through, and these occurrences were only separated by mere weeks. But, it was at the mention of her father’s remains being disrespected that his heart wrenched painfully. If he was hurt by the thought, he knew Kagome was engulfed in that pain and anger, and that was where Inuyasha needed to reach in and yank her out. It was so easy to drown in trauma you hadn’t been able to sort through yet, and he couldn’t let it take her. She could continue arguing all she wanted. Truthfully, he loved her feisty side. This seemed like something that was waiting to come, anyway. But, she was going to stay balanced while she did it. He was there to make sure she didn’t get too overwhelmed.

Kagome took a deep breath, slightly embarrassed but thankful for her companion reeling her back to reality. She had been quickly growing so furiously heated that she wasn’t even thinking straight and her fingers had begun trembling, but his touch pulled her back to the present. She hated that she was so emotion driven, she hated that she got so passionately flustered when reliving past incidents, but none of that was important right now. Kagome nodded as she felt steadier, more level-headed, and then turned out of his grasp, looking back at Kikyo. She could feel the slant of her own eyes, though. Her glare held no forgiveness yet. She wanted to hear Kikyo’s explanation, and quite frankly, deserved it.

“You do blame me.” Kikyo stated more than questioned, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“I blame you for what you’re responsible for, yes.” Kagome replied. “I blame you for just standing by and watching. I blame you for knowing the havoc you’d caused, but never giving any sort of warning. You had plenty of opportunities. You communicated to me in my dreams, but all you ever said was, ‘the responsibility is ours.’ Not once did you slip in a, ‘hey, I fucked up. Look out.’”

Kikyo’s caramel eyes fell to the forest floor, the muscles at the joint of her jaw flexing and nostrils flaring. There was the smallest quiver in her chin, but she tucked it in the hopes that it wouldn’t be noticed. A heat was rising through her chest, her neck, her face, and all too soon, her nervous ticks began to kick. Her hips swayed side-to-side, her fingers clenched and unclenched repeatedly, she gnawed on her thin, bottom lip, and she blinked profusely because she’d be damned if anyone saw a single tear from her.

“I - I didn’t know what to do.” Kikyo hesitantly admitted.

Kagome didn’t speak. In fact, she sealed her lips. The floor belonged to Kikyo.

“It took forever to find you, and when I had, I didn’t want to forget your face or your village. It was difficult to locate to begin with. I did - um - I did make a mistake, Kagome. I wasn’t paying as close attention to my surroundings as I should have been. I got too relaxed, and hadn’t realized I’d been seen at first. When it became apparent, it was too late. I tried wandering away, even going so far as to intentionally be seen elsewhere to try and drag the attention away from you and yours, but I was unsuccessful. Thing was, so long as I remained evasive, things weren’t going to be as bad as they could have been. Things were terrible, I know, but if they had caught me, that is when Naraku would have shown up. Or, could have. I don’t know how that would work or how they would gather his attention, but it wasn’t a chance I was willing to take. They could not involve him if they did not have me.”

“But, why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I did not want you to go looking for me. Knowing I was right there, you would have come searching.”

“You could have at least warned me to expect the worst. You could have said something.” “Kagome, I am a conjurer. I am not clairvoyant. I had no idea what was coming for you once I had been seen.”

“Okay, fair.” She huffed agitatedly. “But, you never said anything to me afterward, either.”

“It was in the past.”

“Oh, screw you!” She snapped, stepping back again.

“It wasn’t something you needed to focus on, anymore!”

“I really can’t get a read on you! Are you that cold!? Are you that insensitive!?”

“No!” Kikyo was beginning to crack. She didn’t know how to properly explain herself, how to make Kagome understand that her intentions were pure and not cruel. Naturally, Kikyo had a difficult time emotionally connecting with others. Ever since she’d met Naraku, ever since her life and heart had taken a nosedive into turbulent waters, connecting grew exponentially more difficult. Throw that in with the fact that human interaction was few and far between, she was in a disposition where she legitimately felt blocked. How did she make Kagome understand? Did she overshare? It was uncomfortable to consider, but even now, where she stood, she was uncomfortable already.

“You didn’t even help! You just watched! You watched peoples’ homes get torn apart, you watched my family suffer, you watched women get thrown around and harassed, one was almost raped last month, Kikyo!”

“Kagome, I didn’t mean -“

“No! Stop it! I looked up to you! You made me look up to you! I thought you were my hope, I thought you were everyone’s hope! Lo and behold, you were five feet away the whole time, and you just watched!” Kagome’s voice cracked from her zeal, her fury. “And, you want to tell me it’s a thing of the past!? Tell that to Hojo! Tell that to my mother! No, you know what? Go ahead and tell that to any male in my village. They’ll still take it as personally as any woman who’s been at the wrath of the henchmen’s hands. Go ahead, Kikyo. Tell that to my cousin and little brother. See how they’d respond.”

“I just - I didn’t -“ Kikyo’s breathing had increased. Her pale cheeks were now painted red, her eyes were bloodshot, her lips were bitten, pressed, and sucked so hard that they finally hued pink. Her chest rose and fell heavily from the way her lungs pumped air in and out, that her breasts actually pressed against the cloth of her baggy shirt. “If I did something, there was - there was the chance that I wouldn’t get them all. They were working off of inconclusive evidence of my presence since they had nothing tangible, so if I basically confirmed I was there and failed to kill every last one of them, Naraku would come. Kagome, Naraku wouldn’t hesitate to kill you all just to find me. He would have you killed. I couldn’t - no. I didn’t know what to do.”

Kagome took the sight of the breaking conjurer in. Finally, she was expressing emotion. Finally, she was showing something relatable, she was conveying tension, and anxiety, and fear, and remorse. Finally. “Were you scared?”

“No!” Kikyo hardened hastily.

“You’d only be doing yourself a favor by admitting it.” Inuyasha spoke, his tone gruff. “You’re not fooling either of us.”

A tear fell from Kikyo’s eye, but her hand swiped across her cheek to clear it so quickly. That tear served as her breaking point, though. It was like a wall she’d forged in unbreakable steel was cracking down the middle, and the weight Kikyo carried on her shoulders was bringing it to crumble. She gasped as the emotions overpowered her, as the guilt overwhelmed her, and this sensation, the denseness in her chest, the disturbing warmth that tingled over her skin, was all so foreign now that she didn’t know how to process it all at once.

She was only human. This was a bold reminder of which. Kagome’s anger began to dissipate, the flush in her body was cooling down. Her own heart clenched at the visible pain the opposite woman was in, but she didn’t know what to do to help.

“I was. I was scared.” Kikyo cried, relentlessly wiping her face of her tears. Her head was bowed so her twisted, sorrowful expression wasn’t observable, but she spoke up, despite her broken voice, to make sure the confessions she’d kept under lock and key were heard as clearly as possible. “I didn’t mean to cause so much damage, and I didn’t know what to do to correct it. There was always the risk that there were lingering demons. They didn’t always bring everyone in their pack. Their leader was smart, and the risks hanging over your head scared the hell out of me. For a while, I thought I was helping by staying out of it.”

“Well,” Kagome sighed, trying to push the remaining resentment from her veins. “You’re definitely right about something there. Their leader was smart. He rarely brought his whole squad, and when he did, it meant they were bored and all hell was about to break loose.”

“I didn’t know that them spotting me would make things harder on you. Was everything they did from that point on abnormal?” Kikyo asked, sniffling but desperately trying to pull herself together. The skin beneath her eyes was scarlet and puffy, and the tip of her nose was bright. She blinked quickly to fight off anymore tears from falling, and any that did escape was swiftly cleared away with the wet sleeve of her shirt.

“I don’t know when, exactly, they noticed you since they never said anything, but they increased their visits. Which makes sense now since it turns out they were trying to weed you out.”

“Weed me out?”

“Yeah, they thought you might have had family in my town. And, even if you didn’t, overall, they were just trying to get you to react.”

“Wait,” Kikyo shook her head slightly, perplexed. “How do you know this? I don’t understand.”

“I had a little run-in with their leader almost three weeks ago. He spilled the beans.” Kagome grumbled, recollecting on that incident.

“Oh,” The shake of her head deepened, eyes falling for a moment as she exhaled heatedly. “I - I wasn’t aware of that.”

“It’s alright. He’s dead now. All of his lugs are. Hopefully, my home is at least a little more peaceful and they’re in recovery.”

“I want you to know, I also wasn’t aware of the grave defilement. That may have happened when I was away and trying to pull the attention off of your village. I did not know you had to… your father. Kagome, I didn’t even know your father was deceased.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kagome resigned, pushing the memory away.

“Look, this - uh - this isn’t why I came here today. I need to speak with you.” Kikyo admitted, centering herself as she raised her chin as she normally would.

“About what?”

Kikyo regarded Inuyasha was a slight shift of her eyes before glancing back over to Kagome. “In private.”

“No.” Kagome said. It was straight, like there was no room for compromise.

“Yes.”

“She said no.” Inuyasha said.

“You are not involved.”

“I am now.”

“Kagome -“

“Kikyo, whatever you tell me is most likely going to be relayed back to Inuyasha, anyway. He’s with me. We’re doing this together. So, you can talk to me with him around.” Kagome attested. “He’s trustworthy, I promise.”

“I do not deem him so.”

“Alright, that’s it. What’s your problem?” Inuyasha questioned, his attitude flaring. He cocked his head to the side, panning the woman with an indifferent stare.

“You have no business here.” Kikyo responded. “I tried to caution Kagome against traveling with you, but she’s as stubborn as a mule. Be that as it may, just because she finds you trustworthy, does not mean I have to agree.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” He shrugged, a hint of venom on his tongue. “But, that doesn’t change a damn thing, sweet cheeks. Kagome and I still come in a pair, and because she’s already declined to leave me out of it, it looks like you better get used to me being included. She’s already told you she’d only end up telling me everything, anyway. So, you might as well get talking.”

“You are highly infuriating.”

“Likewise. You’ve sparked a fight with both Kagome and I in the span of minutes. That takes skill.”

“I don’t much care about offending you.”

“Right back at ya.”

“You have no business here.” Kikyo repeated, more vexed that time.

The hanyou gestured to the girl at his side. “All the business I need.”

“Kikyo, stop.” Kagome tried. “Just tell me what you came here to tell me.”

“No.” She held up a hand at Kagome, her glare aimed at the half demon at her side. Kikyo squared her shoulders mightier, and he only stood a couple inches taller than she, so she barely had to look up at him to meet his amber eyes. “Why should I trust you? Why should I believe you’re a good asset to Kagome?”

“What is this, an interview? You think you call the shots or something?” Inuyasha challenged.

“I am more experienced than she is, so I know what your kind is like. It’s normal to have lapses in judgement when you’re fresh to the world outside of your home, and it’d be way too lucky to stumble upon someone valuable immediately. So, tell me, hanyou. Tell me why I should trust you.”

“Kikyo, stop.” Kagome ordered, going ignored.

“You’re missing the point. I don’t give a flying fuck if you trust me. Get your head out of your ass and understand that you have no fucking say here. I’m along for the ride whether you like it or not.”

“You shouldn’t be. Just your temper tells me you’re irrational and could get Kagome hurt.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That Kagome needs to be as level-headed as physically possible with every step she takes, and that she can’t afford to take chances with reckless half demons such as yourself.”

“Are you implying that I would put Kagome in danger!?” Inuyasha seethed, filled with a burning heat that rose over his body.

“I am implying that even if you kept your mouth shut, who you are is a risk on its own.”

“Kikyo!” Kagome shouted.

“Fuck you!” Inuyasha growled. He hadn’t been this angry at an insult toward his hanyou state in so fucking long, this feeling was almost unnatural to him at this point. How dare she? Who the fuck did this bitch think she was? Everything from his tongue thereafter was uncontrollable and hot, it was demanding and sharp as knives. “Says the twat who refused to even help Kagome out from the beginning because you were too scared to be caught by Naraku! Yeah, I’m a fucking half demon, Kikyo! Who gives a rats ass!? Kagome doesn’t seem to mind, but I guess you’re just so fucking entitled that you’re not used to your opinion being irrelevant! Jesus fuck, but for you to think I would ever put Kagome in danger is low! You don’t know me! Don’t pretend to know me because of my genetics!”

“Would you give your life for hers?”

“Without a second thought.” He answered quickly, furiously, his tone lethal and husky. Inuyasha realized then that Kikyo was calm. She’d relented halfway through his rant, the tiniest of smug grins appearing on her lips. What was that about? Was she egging him on? Did she believe him? Or was this what she wanted all along? Either way, he wasn’t finished. He knew what he’d said, but he felt like he needed to make sure he was understood completely with no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t give a fuck who you think you are, I don’t even care what you think of me. What matters here is Kagome, and so long as she trusts me, I’m not going anywhere. She’s safe with me. I would never intentionally put her in danger. Understand?”

“Got it.” She smiled, holding her hands up to submit. “Calling me a ‘twat’ was a bit excessive, but that was all I wanted to know.”

“Were you -“ Kagome gawked incredulously. “Were you testing him?”

“I was. He wouldn’t outwardly tell me why I should trust him in the beginning, so I had to trick him into telling me.”

“Good lord, you really need to work on your social skills.” Kagome groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I know, it’s not the greatest tactic.” Kikyo scrunched her expression remorsefully. “It’s difficult for me to properly navigate conversations; I really don’t talk to a lot of people much anymore. I’m not surprised that I’ve upset you both. I apologize, Inuyasha. I just wanted to - are you okay?”

Inuyasha had crouched down where he stood, his elbows braced on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. “You stress me the fuck out, dude.”

“I just wanted to make sure you had good intentions.” Kikyo assured, looking slightly panicked. “When a person is heated, they say their truths more passionately, and -“

“Yeah. Just talk to Kagome.” He murmured, not yet coming out of his position.

Kagome soothingly rubbed her hand over the top of his back, lightly scratching her fingers at the nape of his neck where his hairline was. “Alright, we’re all done fighting. No more of that, okay? What did you come here for?”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Kikyo whispered concernedly to the opposite conjurer.

“He will be.” She replied in a hushed tone, as well.

“Alright, well I should - I should apologize to you, too. I should have never -“

“It’s alright, Kikyo. I understand.”

“No, you really don’t.” She confessed. “There’s a lot more that I’ve been hiding from you. I didn’t know the right time to tell you, or even how, but I fear it’s imperative knowledge.”

“What is it?” Kagome asked.

“I don’t even know where to start except to ask:” There was a brief pause as Kikyo inhaled deeply, sighing out just the same, almost in preparation. “How - how is my sister?”

Kagome didn’t take long to process her question. She pursed her lips and nodded instead, taking her hand back as her companion rose back to a standing. “I knew it. Kaede.”

Inuyasha almost instantly regretted unfurling from his ball. This chick was all over the place. One minute she’s starting fights, then she’s testing him, the next she’s admitting to withholding important information, and now she’s Kaede’s long lost sister? Holy fucking shit. This was a joke, right?

“Is she well? Healthy?” Kikyo continued, her tone substantially softer.

“Inuyasha, this is your domain.” Kagome handed over to him.

“Inuyasha?” Kikyo questioned, as if to as why Kagome couldn’t answer, herself.

“He knows her on a more personal level. I only met her because of him.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m gonna need a little more information here. Kaede said her sister died. Tragically.” Inuyasha stated.

“You’re her friend?” Kikyo asked hopefully.

“Yes. Focus.”

“It’s - please, just tell me she’s okay first. She has to be, right? Is that her building, or is she just working in it?”

“Kaede’s fine. She’s a fucking firecracker. The building is an inn, and yes, she owns it. Your turn.”

Kikyo cracked a small smile of relief, nodding and bowing her head as the information registered. Her sister was well. Now, came the fun part. She prefaced by taking an inconspicuous step back. With the wild energy of the two before her, and how quick they were to spring into attack mode, the last thing Kikyo wanted was to be within arm’s reach for this.

“I faked my death. It was to protect Kaede.”

Inuyasha grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned his torso down to the side toward Kagome. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“Because, nothing good ever comes from a statement like that.” Kagome returned, giving a slight grimace, herself.

“I’m right here. I can hear you.” Kikyo grumbled.

“Sorry. Continue.” Kagome waved dismissively.

“Look,” Kikyo sighed, her shoulders dropping an inch. “I’ve known Naraku for well over a decade. We loved each other - or, at least I thought. I - I loved him, that was for certain. Now that I’m older, I see how volatile our relationship truly was, but it changes nothing. I was a teenager when we'd met and he was eleven years older, and I was too young and naive to understand the red flags I was shrugging off. Naraku was never on our side. The side of good.”

“Sorry, to interrupt, but I need to know: Did you know Naraku while he was human? Or was he a half demon by the time you two met?” Inuyasha asked, and he observed Kikyo’s expression widen in slight dismay.

“How did you know about that?”

Inuyasha blatantly didn’t answer. His look was hard, straight, his arms still crossed and lips closed. Her inquiry was valid, but he didn’t really like his questions being answered with questions constantly. She’d get her explanation in a moment, but his came first.

“I met him while he was still human.” Kikyo relented, understanding his body language. “I had planned to mention his transformation in sequence, though I will admit, I wasn’t sure how it would have come off.”

“Fair enough.” The hanyou nodded. “I had an unfortunate run-in with his indisposed state. From my angle, it’s not hard to tell what I was looking at.”

“He was -“ Kikyo ground her jaw, eyes falling to the floor as they slanted indignantly. “I wish I had known just how insane he was beneath the surface. It was criminal just how well he hid behind smiles and polite gestures, and he was so gentle with me I would have never guessed he’d one day want to kill me. He talked a little about growing stronger, tired of being human, wanting more control. I was seventeen, I didn’t know that there were people in the world that struggled with mental sickness. That they could walk into your life with a sweet smile and leave with a wicked one. I didn’t know what he’d do for this control he spoke of, and I had no idea that once he got an actual taste of it, he’d go mad for more. I’ve never been the type to wear my heart on my sleeve, so I thank myself for being guarded in the first few years of our friendship. As we fell in love, that was when I opened up about being a conjurer. A creator of light and purity. But, as he allowed demons to consume him, trading his soul for the power they offered, gradually losing whatever humanity he had left in him, Naraku became the exact opposite. Do you understand, Kagome? Do you understand why it has to be us?”

Her mouth parted as she processed the information, her voice coming out small as the revelation became clear. “Naraku is literally darkness, and we are literally light.”

“Precisely.”

“No.” Inuyasha spoke, holding the hint of defense. “I understand why it has to be a conjurer, but why Kagome, specifically? She’s never met Naraku, never seen his face, she didn’t fuck him, wasn’t there for his transformation, so why did you bring her into this?”

Kikyo took another step back, slightly uncomfortable. “I’ll get to that. As Naraku and I grew closer, developed a relationship, and I had learned to trust him, I began to open up about things that weren’t superficial. I told him I had a sister, but they never met. I practically raised Kaede, so she was the only one I held unconditionally dear. No one I mingled with would know her on a personal level until I was certain it was a lifelong commitment and they would never bring her harm. While I had developed irrevocable feelings for Naraku, I felt something was off with him, and my intuition always stung when I considered introducing them to one another. He never seemed interested either. Actually, he hates children. So, him not asking or prying helped in the sense where I never felt guilty or obligated.

“Behind my back, he began his affairs with demons, selling his soul piece-by-piece as they joined his body. He killed like it was easy. He murdered for fun. He laughed when he felt the liberation of his newfound, despicable abilities. And, he'd told me as much as soon as he saw my own at play. I was distracted by him at one point; he was playfully encouraging me, acting the part of my kindhearted partner, and my arrow hit a demon but didn’t hold enough power to kill it. Naraku walked up to it, spoke something incomprehensible, and then absorbed the demon right into his body.

“That was the moment everything slowly began to unravel. He expressed desires I didn’t share, how we would be the definition of a power couple. A demon and a conjurer taking over the world. Nothing could stop us. If I shifted my focus to darker magic, he claimed nothing ever would. We’d be untouchable. I wanted no part in that. Power was never what I craved. After the childhood I’d endured, watching my parents ripped away from us by evil, I just wanted to craft my powers well enough to ensure a peaceful life for myself and my younger sister. So, I tried. I desperately tried to save Naraku. I reasoned with him, pleaded for him to come to his senses, even used our relationship as bait. He laughed in my face. Like, I meant nothing to him.

“It felt irresponsible of me to merely leave him. What good would that do? I break up with him and leave him as a menace for the rest of the world to deal with? Like, it wasn’t my problem anymore? He’d already confessed to joyful murder, and he was only growing stronger. I was -“ Kikyo paused, sucking in a grounding breath. Expressing emotions wasn’t her forte, especially now, but honesty was what Kagome deserved. And, she knew very well by now that if she didn’t, either she or Inuyasha would call her out on it. “I was scared. No, terrified. What was I supposed to do? Even if I did take the cowardice way out, Naraku would never let go of me that easily. I was trapped. Progressively, he grew violent toward me, making horrible threats if I didn’t abide by his wishes. He made me study with a woman named Tsubaki; a dark conjurer. A year later, I had no choice but to kill her. She was tainted, deplorable, and she would rip the heart from a person’s chest without so much as an ounce of remorse.

“That was also when I knew what I had to do. I had to stop Naraku. We were polar opposites, and it came to a point where there was no denying I was the only one capable of bringing him down. Unfortunately, he was three steps ahead of me. He knew as soon as I had killed Tsubaki that it was a statement as to what side I was on. All that mattered, all that he saw, was that I was against him. So quickly, everything crumbled.

“He planned to kill everyone I cared for. Naraku set attack to my village. Everything was on fire. People were screaming, pleading for help. I made a split-second decision then. I was going to let Naraku believe he killed my sister, and I was going to let her believe he’d killed me. It was the only way to make sure either stayed away from the other. I couldn’t take the chance that he would potentially come back for her, seek her out, so I used the dark magic Tsubaki taught me.”

Kagome could see the shame visible on Kikyo’s face. It was in the way her lips and chin crinkled, in the way her brow tensed, in the way her brown eyes shifted to the side as if there were a mirror before her and she couldn’t look straight at herself. Her pale fists clenched tight, and though she lacked color, Kagome could still notice the difference in white around her knuckles. If this was a lot for Kagome to hear, to digest, it had to be overwhelming for Kikyo to confess. Had she ever faced the full brunt of everything she’d been through and everything she’d done? Was her admittance to Kagome and Inuyasha the first time she’d laid it all out on the table? It seemed to be. Pink had returned to Kikyo’s cheeks, and her sclera were bloodshot. No tears had to be fought off, though. Alternatively, Kagome observed that the minimal light remaining in the opposite woman’s irises was fading.

“I hurt Kaede. I made it seem like it was one of the demons attacking. I took her eye. Held it in my own hands. Then, created something that looked like a demon to eat me - which actually carried me away from the village. I cut my arm deep, intentionally left behind a pool of blood for Kaede to see, and I’m sure she watched the whole, conjured thing. I remember our final glances, the way she clutched her right eye socket, the incredible amount of blood all over her sweet face. She watched me die, and when I was far enough away, I screamed for Naraku. I screamed, and I screamed, because I knew that bastard was listening. When he appeared, I presented my sister’s eye while I cried. I vowed to kill him, and he laughed before disappearing.”

Inuyasha was rigid, nearly shaking. He felt horribly hot all over, his nails biting into the flesh of his palms. For the sake of his willpower, he’d turned his attention away from Kikyo, clenching and unclenching his jaw, inhaling and exhaling searing breaths from his nostrils. Kaede had no idea the truth behind her own assault. She didn’t know it had anything to do with her own sister, Naraku, that her eye was taken as a result of which, that she was harmed as a result of which, and that Kikyo was still very much alive. Without a doubt, Inuyasha knew Kaede would forgive Kikyo, but Inuyasha found himself angry on her behalf. When she’d recounted the incident to him, he could see just how heartbroken Kaede still was over it all. The ferocious woman was reduced to false smiles, a belly full of liquor, and an eye that wouldn’t meet his anymore. She was no older than fifteen at the time.

He recognized that a lot of things were out of Kikyo’s control. He understood that Naraku was the true cause of everything that had occurred, that Kikyo acted on a whim with good intentions, and that she was doing what she felt she needed to do so they both survived. None of that took away from his unmitigated resentment, though. That was his friend. That was one of his first friends, in fact. That was someone who stuck her neck out for people without needing convincing. Inuyasha couldn’t help that he was furious for her, couldn’t help that he wanted to yell at Kikyo for hurting her own sister despite the fact that she did it to save her life, and couldn’t help his natural instinct to want to protect and defend. Kaede was a good fucking person, and it wasn’t right that he now knew more about the most traumatic event she’d ever endured than she did. And, he was willing to bet Kikyo was going to insist they kept their mouths shut.

Everything he felt was vile and conflicting, and while he knew the rationality behind it all, it was extremely difficult to remain rational on his part. He knew it would be wrong to act, but it was so hard not to. Kagome must have sensed it. Kagome always seemed to pick up on his shifts lately. She’d leaned a little closer to his side; it was so inconspicuous, even he hadn’t caught her adjustment. The back of her hand lightly grazed his thigh, as if they were walking so close they’d accidentally brushed, and she kept it there. Ever so slightly, she moved it back and forth in a tender, rubbing motion, bringing him back to her in such a subtle manner that wouldn’t put any obvious attention on him. Even as she picked up the conversation and spoke to Kikyo, she kept the light touch going, gradually grounding Inuyasha until he gathered his control again.

“Okay, that explains that.” Kagome said, breathing as evenly as possible. “So -“

“So,” Kikyo resumed, pinching her lips together and finally meeting the opposite conjurer’s gaze again. “I’ve spent the last nine years or so trying to stop Naraku. I have trained tirelessly, studied ancient texts I struggle to understand, stared at pages in foreign and dead languages hoping the context of conjurers, priestesses, witches, mages, and whatever the hell else we’ve been referred to as over the centuries would suddenly make sense and help me master my skills, but I’m still not strong enough to do it. I cannot kill Naraku. I had the opportunity multiple times before he became who he is today, and I couldn’t release my arrow.”

“You still love him.” Kagome commented quietly.

“No. I hate him.”

“But, you used to.” Inuyasha joined, his tone almost lethal. He was outraged now. Was she implying that she couldn’t kill Naraku because she used to have that connection with him, so that was why she’d recruited Kagome? To do her dirty work for her? He’d better be wrong. Kikyo had better tell him otherwise and she’d better do it fast or else he was about to lose his goddamn shit.

“Yes, I used to. And, it does hold me back. I can’t do it.” Kikyo admitted. “As well as I know how evil Naraku is, I still remember the kind person he’d fooled me into thinking he was. It’s like a blockade. It won’t budge. My heart wont let me. It’s useless and it was going to lead to the destruction of so many if I didn’t find a solution. I can see the wrath in your eyes, Inuyasha. I did not choose Kagome haphazardly.”

“Then, why?” He pressed, not easing his glare.

“Do you truly think I would spin a wheel and thrust my fate onto the random name my dart landed on, Inuyasha?”

“I don’t know you. I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m giving you the chance to explain. Take it. Quickly.”

“Inuyasha.” Kagome whispered, but he reached down, grabbing her hand from his thigh and giving her a small tug to slightly shield her behind his frame. He couldn’t prevent it. He couldn’t silence his need to protect her right now.

“Think about it.” Kikyo argued. “It’s not like there’s documentation on every conjurer in existence. I didn’t raid confidential records and select Kagome arbitrarily. There’s no such thing. Otherwise, do you really think Naraku would bother having those mindless demons searching towns and interrogating innocent families looking for any conjurers, young or old? That would be absolutely pointless, and Naraku is not an idiot. He’s maniacal, but he is the furthest thing from an imbecile. I didn’t just happen upon Kagome, I was told about her. A long time ago, there was a conjurer - no,” She shook her head in swift correction. “A priestess. She was a priestess. Midoriko. She was formidable, and a master of her skill.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Kagome clutched Inuyasha’s hand in minor excitement. She hadn’t expected things to come around this way, but finally she didn’t feel completely clueless. “Papa mentioned her. He was a well-traveled man, and I don’t exactly know how he’d gotten his information, but after he’d first brought her up, Miroku - my cousin - and I snuck into a library and found a few things on her. She was extremely powerful, but died at the hands of demons, right?”

“Right.” Kikyo nodded. “Kagome, do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Uh oh.” She murmured, expression faltering. She hadn’t meant to react as such, but Kagome had a huge feeling she was about to have a heavy reality suggested upon her. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t put much thought into it.”

“Well, I believe we are her reincarnated soul.”

“What!? Are you shitting me!?” Inuyasha barked incredulously, only grasping Kagome tighter in result.

Kikyo released a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment before continuing. “I know it sounds unfathomable, but so is a human-turned-demon, okay?”

“Half demon.” Inuyasha corrected bluntly, feeling disgusted by the thought of that lunatic receiving credit as a pure breed. Even if it was seen as a jab toward his being, at least he knew he, himself, was organic.

“Not the point.” Kikyo stated. “Much like I began communicating with Kagome in her dream state, I too was contacted. By Midoriko.”

“But, she’s dead.” Kagome said, confused. “And, you said you couldn’t be contacted that way. I specifically asked you.”

“You asked me -“

“If I could do it to you, yes. But, you responded by saying you were too guarded so it wouldn’t work.”

“I just didn’t want you to try, Kagome. For the deceased, it’s nothing but a visit. For the living, it’s dark magic. You’re playing with fire.”

“You’re a fucking conjurer! What are you talking about!?” Inuyasha asked. Already on edge, at this point it was like he was just being prodded to react.

“Trained by Tsubaki! Have you not been listening!?” Kikyo fired. “I have a history with dark conjurings. It was brief, but it was shoved down my throat. I utilized them to fool my sister and Naraku, and now I’m utilizing them for the best possible reason I can think of. Midoriko told me to find you, Kagome. She specifically told me you were vital to the success of bringing the end of Naraku. She told me your name, she told me I already knew how to find you, she told me you and I are connected, and I haven’t seen her since. The dream was too particular to believe it was nothing more than a fabrication of my brain. She gave me your name. She spoke directly to me. At that point in time, I was at wits’ end. I was willing to try anything. So, I did. And, it wasn’t easy. Subconscious communication was never taught to me, but I had remembered reading about it in one of Tsubaki’s texts. It took months to get down since I had to go by nothing but trial and error, and even longer to find you. You do not know how difficult it is to mentally link with someone you have never met in person and have only heard of on one circumstance. I had to write your name down and carry it with me so I wouldn’t chance forgetting it.

“Midoriko did not state that we were her reincarnations, but in order to locate you and communicate, I had to first figure out how we were connected. I’d initially assumed it was by distant relation, but it wasn’t until I searched deeper that I finally got somewhere. We’re tethered at the soul. To me, it would only make sense that we must share one. That was why Midoriko came to me. She appeared because I was in need, and I was desperately trying to win a battle against evil - much like she was in her time. My soul called out to her. And, once I discovered it was your soul I was touching, it all made sense. Doesn’t it to you?”

“Not at all.” Kagome slowly shook her head. “I’ve gotta admit, this is a lot to chew. I’m a bit winded right now, Kikyo.”

“Try to keep up.”

“Believe me, I am. You’re kind of info-dumping on me, though.”

“Look, I’d considered giving you everything little-by-little, but I don’t think we have that sort of time on our side. Naraku’s only getting stronger, and sooner or later, he’s going to know about you. So long as I’m alive, his focus is on me. He has a nasty tendency to obsess, and I currently have his undivided attention. I want it to stay that way. But, you’re getting stronger, too. You’re improving at a rate I had never expected, so I can hear the clock ticking.”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes and no. You’re doing better than I had thought you would. You’re doing exactly as I asked of you. It’s attention-grabbing, though. That’s sort of inevitable; don’t think you’re doing wrong. I’m just concerned, so I decided it would be best to tell you everything at once. You deserve to understand it all; and I recognize I should have tried to trickle all this information in with each telepathic visit I made to you. It was just - it was hard. When I first connected, I didn’t understand that I had. It was sort of like an ember struggling to catch flame. You know how it’ll flicker in and out? That was my connection with you at first. Finally, when I managed to step through, I barely had enough time to say, ‘The responsibility is ours.’ For the longest time, that’s all I was ever able to get out to you. It was frustrating.”

“You mean, that wasn’t intentional?” Kagome arched a brow, frowning.

“No, of course not.”

“Why is that the first thing you’d say to her, anyway?” Inuyasha asked quizzically, unintentionally and unknowingly matching Kagome’s expression. “Have you ever tried, ‘hello’?”

“I was invading her mind, Inuyasha. If the only thing I was able to say was, ‘hello’, even I would feel creeped out.” Kikyo replied.

“Alright, but alternatively speaking, if you had enough time to say, ‘the responsibility is ours’, then you had enough time to say, ‘hey, my name’s Kikyo.’”

“Pleasantries aren’t my strong suit. I prefer to get straight to the point.”

Both Inuyasha and Kagome went silent, pursing their lips, still unconsciously wearing matching expressions.

Kikyo grimaced, reading the signal on their faces. “I am aware that I didn’t. It wasn’t exactly my fault, though.”

“No, you’re right. It makes better sense now.”

“I soon realized it was our physical distance that was making communication troubling. While I had discovered the method to slip into your mind, it wasn’t something I could become proficient at so quickly. I had to use the strength of our connection as a guide, and the closer I got to you, the stronger it all became.”

“Right. You began giving me bits and pieces of Naraku. Everything was mysteriously vague, but I understand why now.”

“I just didn’t know how much was too much. I was being overly cautious for the both of us.”

There was a reprieve of silence between the three of them for a moment. It was noticeably thick, uncomfortable. Kagome was missing a huge chunk of information that was going to nag at her brain unless she received something to go off of. “So,” She began. “Midoriko… What makes you so sure?”

“Nothing. I’m not one-hundred percent positive we are actually her reincarnated soul. I can see how it’d be farfetched, and Inuyasha’s expression is practically screaming so.” Kikyo responded.

“Well, I’ve heard of reincarnation, but I’ve never heard of a split soul.” He said, shrugging carelessly as if he didn’t care how offensive his scowl appeared.

“I have. It’s rare, but it can happen. Particularly to a wise or powerful soul. One who’s traveled through a number of vessels and is too strong to be properly contained in a single one anymore.” Kikyo stated. “Midoriko had a defined strength that wasn’t all self-taught. She was a priestess born with experience. Her soul was intended to be a savior, because it was derived from countless, brave spirits before her.”

“And, she told you this?” Inuyasha asked, cocking a brow in skepticism.

“Of course, not.” Kikyo had almost rolled her eyes. “I wish she had so that I had definitive reason, but instead I have to go off of intuition. If it is true, if my soul came from Midoriko, then this unwavering belief isn’t incorrect. This connection I feel to her makes sense. Kagome, do you feel it too?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” She half frowned. “When papa mentioned Midoriko, I felt an undeniable interest toward her, that’s for sure. I just figured it was because she was a lot like me, and I’d never met another conjurer. At the time, I was probably ten or eleven, so I couldn’t help but want to know more about her. You know, curiosity of a kid and all. It was probably the only reason Miroku entertained the idea to seek out more information, and we snuck out of our house, borrowed my friend’s demon cat to take us, and broke into a library in another town. We really didn’t find too much on her, either. It was pretty anticlimactic, to be honest. I remember being extremely disappointed that I didn’t find a well-written biography on her like you would basic philosophers, but knowing the stigma on our kind in modern days, it sort of made sense. But, ever since, Midoriko has rarely crossed my mind.”

“Kagome, I’m the same. The difference is, when I discovered I was a conjurer, it wasn’t so detrimental to keep to ourselves. I did as much research as I could, while I could, and found little mentions of her, along with a few other names I can’t remember to this day. Midoriko stood out to me just the same, but I thought of her few times between then and the time she’d come to me. It was in that moment that I felt a deep connection to her. Maybe -“ Kikyo’s brows furrowed as an idea crossed her mind. “Maybe it was because she’d touched me, in a sense. I felt engulfed by her warm spirit. Please, may I try something?”

Kagome watched Kikyo take a few steps forward. She felt no reason to deny her request so she slipped her hand from Inuyasha’s feeble grip, slowly freeing one finger at a time as she walked forward. Kikyo raised her hand before her and Kagome apprehensively pressed her palm flat against hers. Awkward, quiet moments passed, and it was nothing short of uneventful. While Kagome was initially nervous to see what would happen, everything just sort of fell short. She had even noticed Kikyo’s nose sort of wrinkle disappointedly.

“I’ve got nothing.” Kagome mentioned, pursing her lips.

“Me too. I wonder why she told me to find you, then. What could possibly be the reason for our connection?” Kikyo said, almost troubled. It was perplexing, and she absolutely hated unsolved mysteries. “Unless, it isn’t as simple as merely touching to confirm or deny.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe we aren’t meant to know.”

“That is what I fear.” The older conjurer sighed, adjusting her palm to face upward and hold Kagome’s in a minor gesture of appreciation. While she was avidly discomfited by her inconclusive hypothesis, she’d still managed to explain every crucial detail she’d been withholding from Kagome. Their meeting was coming to an end. There was nothing more to say but goodbye. Respectfully, Kikyo placed her other hand over the top of Kagome’s, enclosing it in her warmth.

Kagome smiled. She was afraid with how pale Kikyo appeared that her blood ran cold and tired. It was pleasant and reassuring to know she was wrong. Returning the kindness, she gently placed her palm on top of Kikyo’s, both of their hands now touching.

Kagome’s heart jolted. Her abdomen tensed. All external sounds were muted. And, the world immediately went dark.

Kikyo was holding her hands tighter than even she was, nearly trembling as at least a dozen women, mass amounts of demons, blazing fire, and a powerful, swirling aura of lavender appeared around them while they stood in the middle of a pitch black orb. It was like an overwhelming sequence of events were playing without pause, thrusting into their minds so quickly that if you blinked, you’d risk missing something important. It was hard to determine relevance, though. Who were these women? Kagome had never seen a single one in her life. They all fought valiantly, each of them with their own unique weapon to fend off their enemies. So desperately, Kagome wanted to ask Kikyo if she was okay, ask her if she knew what was going on, but the two of them were struck stiff, mouths hanging agape.

The demons were wild, frenzied, and furious, slithering in the dark sky, some even flying through Kagome and Kikyo as if they were transparent. The lavender aura forcefully collided with the bleak grounds like storming tidal waves, crashing, receding, rising, and flooding. Sequentially, the women fought from left to right. Each one killed their significant foe, but was brought down by them, as well. Their final move was to look to the next woman, as if passing their duties along. Always, the next woman seemed more determined, more powerful, but no matter the strength in their resolve, their enemies always succeeded in dragging them down with them.

It was by the third that Kagome realized they were conjurers. The purple cascading around she and Kikyo was the same energy she could see when she saturated her arrows with her power. This was a history of legends they were witnessing, each one stronger than the last but still brought to their knees in a puddle of blood. By the last, she faced an enemy with no fear written in her eyes. She wore a stoic expression, armor decorating her torso, a sword on her hip, a bow and arrow in her hands, redefining the meaning of what it was to be a female warrior. Her battle was gruesome, hard to watch but harder to look away from. In the end, she killed her enemy, but bled from a deep wound in her chest.

Her dark eyes turned to she and Kikyo, and in a way to communicate, Kikyo squeezed Kagome’s hands twice, her gaze widening. It was as if she knew who that was. She seemed simultaneously in awe and stunned, and the gasp she’d inadvertently reacted with was clutched captive in her inflated chest. Kagome watched the woman, the final conjurer, limp toward them, blood oozing from her rustic armor, dripping down her leather pants and along the floor. She raised her trembling hands, curling her fingers in a motion that would typically usher them forward, but instead of the two girls moving, their naked spirits stepped from their bodies.

No longer could Kagome breathe. She wasn’t even sure if she was blinking anymore. Before her, she was looking at her raw self. It was a vaporous version, glowing vibrantly white with wispy hues of red swirling about. Her spirit looked back at her with a bright, confident smile, then spun back around to the legendary woman. Kikyo’s spirit was different. It stood tall and bold, much like her current demeanor, but a kind, small smile pushed at her lips when she regarded her own vessel for a moment longer. Kagome could see the tears brimming in the real Kikyo’s eyes, she could physically feel that though the gesture so small, it was revealing a true sweetness Kikyo hadn’t felt within herself in far too long, repressed beneath rubble of heartache and resentment. It was radiant white with smokey clouds of blue tufting about, her long, translucent hair billowing around her like their spirts were held under a body of water.

The dying conjurer, shaking horribly, smiled so sincerely as her last, living act, and as her body fell backwards to the ground, her own spirit stepped out. It was pure white, so saturated it was nearly solid, with flecks of every aura color swiftly whirling around her untouchable body. She extended both hands out to each woman, patient, compassionate, and understanding of the hesitation even their spirits harbored. At the same time, Kagome’s and Kikyo’s vaporous selves reached forward and took the woman’s hands, and in the next second, she split into uneven portions and merged with their bodies, shooting their spirits back within their vessels to return to consciousness.

Kagome blinked her dry eyes, refocusing them as she tried to regain her bearings. Her sights were on their still-grasped hands, and beneath that was the forest floor, twigs and pinecones, dirt and weeds, their legs, their boots. She could hear the breeze, the rustling leaves of the treetops above them, an urgent Inuyasha calling her name. With an exhale, she looked up into Kikyo’s eyes, the both of them holding the same, baffled expression.

As soon as they’d fully registered what they’d just experienced, both women yanked their hands away from each other, hurriedly stumbling back and away from the other to prevent another potential, terrifying vision. Kagome collided with Inuyasha’s chest and his arms instantly grabbed her waist, steadying her as he spoke anxiously.

“Are you okay? What happened, kid?”

She couldn’t answer immediately. Not even Kikyo tried to speak. The both of them looked insanely bewildered, eyes directed right at each other. Inuyasha had tried to pull Kagome away, had tried to reach her, but the opposite conjurer’s creepy, flying snake got in the way and refused to let him near. As much as he wanted to kill the damn thing for stopping him from getting close to Kagome, he figured so long as she was standing, breathing, and generally okay, he’d wait out whatever the fuck was happening.

“Hey - uh - Kikyo?” Kagome finally spoke, albeit waveringly.

“Yeah?” Her tone nearly matched.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t anticipated it.”

“Was that -“

“Yeah. That was Midoriko.”

Her jaw dropped just a little further, her brow crinkling, perplexed. “Oh. Okay. Alright.” She replied shakily.

“That wasn’t…” Things were progressively processing for Kikyo, her eyebrows pinching together to create lines in between. Caramel eyes shifted to the side, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip momentarily. “That wasn’t an even division.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Kagome commented lightly.

“No wonder…” Kikyo breathed. “No wonder. It makes so much sense now. I don’t just lack the heart, but I’ve always lacked the true power. I’ve been giving it my all for so long, and while I’ve made a dent, that’s all I’ve managed. I get it now. I’m truly not strong enough in more ways than one.”

“Wait, I’m confused.” Kagome said.

“So am I.” Inuyasha joined, still holding his companion’s sides while finding it necessary to remind them that he was there. He still had no idea what had just occurred and no one had given a single context clue to inform him of a goddamn thing yet. Kagome turned her head to regard him slightly, but he could tell by her unsteady glance that she couldn’t give him an immediate recap. Not yet.

“You mean to tell me, you didn’t know?”

“Know what? That it wasn’t a fifty-fifty division?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I had no way to confirm that up until now.”

“But, you’d said you were the distraction while I was the weapon. You’d said I was meant to be stronger than you. With what we just saw, I’d assumed that’s what you were referring to.”

“Kagome, I said that simply because I could not do it. To me, that’s what it felt like. I do not have it in me to kill Naraku, and Midoriko told me you were vital to the mission. My assumption was what I’d told you. I keep his attention until you’re ready, I do everything I can to weaken him, and then you’ll complete the task.”

“I’m going to assume you guys got some sort of answer pertaining to being Midoriko’s reincarnations. So, if Kikyo was right and it’s the both of you, what the hell do you mean it isn’t fifty-fifty?” Inuyasha asked, stepping to stand at Kagome’s side as soon as she seemed stable.

“It’s more like seventy-thirty.” Kikyo stated.

“And, who got what?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” She replied.

“But, what do you mean it makes sense to you? I don’t understand. Aren’t you extremely powerful? You’re able to pull off dark conjurings without your heart being tainted; I don’t feel any darkness coming from you.” Kagome said, sounding sort of flustered and rushed to comprehend Kikyo’s position. “You’ve gotta be stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for. Just because you lack the moral justifications to kill your ex-lover doesn’t make you weak! It makes you passionate!”

“No, Kagome. What I’m saying is, I’m not as strong as I thought I was supposed to be. I kept pushing myself to my limits time and time again but all it felt like I was doing was hurting myself. I thought if I had at least fifty percent of Midoriko’s soul in me on top of my own, then that was more than enough to take down Naraku, but my heart was never there. So, then I considered that maybe it was because I didn’t receive Midoriko’s resoluteness. Maybe it was because I was her brain and you were her heart, so together we would be unstoppable.

“It’s been so long, Kagome. I’ve been giving more of me to this mission than my body can handle. I’ve been sick for years. My shinidamachu keeps me alive with the souls of deceased women, but I can feel the thread I’m hanging on by. I am convinced that if I had not figured out how to call this spirit of the underworld to me, I would have died long ago. I am not using dark magic correctly, and it’s further taking from my light. You may not feel the darkness coming from me, and I believe that’s because that part of Midoriko mutes it, but I certainly do. It’s minimal, but with what’s left of me, it’s substantial. It’s like a congested battle raging within my chest. Do you understand now? Do you get it?” Kikyo, though tearing up sorrowfully, smiled in such a manner of relief. How long had she spent admonishing herself? How long had she cursed herself for thinking she had more in her than she could spare? How many times had she vomited the contents of her stomach out, been reduced to fevers, aches, and profuse sweating? Her expectations on herself weren’t just high because she felt that piece of Midoriko inside of her, but also because she felt the crushing weight of guilt for being partially responsible for Naraku. And, by using dark magic to call to Kagome, to save the life of her sister, to try and stay alive herself, she was unconsciously hastening the pace of her own demise.

Everything clicked. Everything was lining up now. Kagome was key because Kagome not only had the majority of Midoriko’s power, but her own soul, her compassion, her heart was not impaled by darkness. Even with the pain she’s experienced, the trauma that still eats away at her, that reappears whenever a trigger she can rarely identify beforehand causes her to quake, even with the loss, the apathy, the cold moments at night when she questioned if she even believed in a higher power anymore, Kagome avidly held tight to who she truly was. At the end of the day, there was no sense in trying to control what had happened, there was no use in attempting to reverse what had already come to fruition. While it has, in fact, fazed her, it hasn’t changed her negatively. It’s taken so much effort, so much resilience to resist the pull to let it take her, and sometimes smiling took more endeavor than she felt flowing through her veins, but she still stood up. It didn’t matter if Kagome was sobbing, was crashing and burning, was quivering and exhausted. She would cry while she maneuvered her legs beneath her body and pushed herself to stand. The darkness has touched her heart, yes. Whose heart hasn’t it touched in this day and age? What was important was that she fought it back. She physically pushed the darkness away like it was men impeding on her territory. She cried to release that anger and resentment, she yelled to release that heat and vexation, and she never gave up. Never did she leave the battlefield unscathed, but the scar tissue that had formed was what helped her become who she is right here and now. Because, her hardened heart was like a shell that protected the light within.

How could Kikyo not crumble under the pressure she’d been under? How could her eyes ever glimmer with hope when she’d had to willingly forfeit the one person she loved unconditionally all due to a person she’d mistakenly given too much of her heart to? He’d tricked her into trusting him, into caring for him, and repaid her with violence, grief, and taunting laughter. As if inflicting pain on her was an easy task. Even Kagome would be broken if someone she trusted her heart with treated it as an invaluable object, dropping it to the floor and stepping all over it with heavy boots. It was betrayal at its finest.

She was seventeen when they’d met. He’d groomed her. He’d gotten lucky with his pick of young, vulnerable women and groomed her to his liking, but when she finally resisted, he turned on her like she meant nothing. Kagome couldn’t blame Kikyo, and although she persisted, although she squared her shoulders and fought tooth and nail, Kagome understood why her brown eyes were dull and lifeless, and her skin was ghostly white.

Feeling like she was supposed to be capable of so much more, Kikyo had learned to feel unwell about herself. If Kagome were in her position, she couldn’t imagine being comfortable in her own skin. Just recently, she’d struggled with that exact thing, but it wasn’t nearly on the same level as Kikyo’s anguish. It was horrible imagining the burdens sitting on her shoulders, like cinderblocks pulling them down while she pleaded with herself to shrug it off and stand up straight. Kagome wondered if even she’d be able to overcome all that Kikyo had been through.

Everyone’s story was different. Everyone’s strengths and weaknesses were unique. It didn’t make you bigger or smaller than the person to your left. Everyone handled things their own way, and everyone had their breaking point. But, Kikyo’s smile right now was both the saddest and most joyful thing Kagome had ever witnessed from her. It was like some of that weight was finally lifting, some of those insults she’d thrown at herself were finally dissipating, some of the pressure was releasing and all it took was a little bit of clarity.

“It’s conflicting, you know?” Kikyo breathed. “I still have a long way to go. I still have to fight, and I still have to face Naraku. But, it’s liberating to see that my limitations cannot exceed what they are. I don’t have to push myself for the impossible anymore. I cannot rest, but at the same time, it feels like I already am.”

She wouldn’t have to be so forceful on herself from this point forward. Kikyo was giving this fight her all, and she could be at peace with what she had to give now. It was enough. It was more than enough.

“Naraku…” Kagome started. “When was the last time you saw him, Kikyo?”

The conjurer inhaled and exhaled slowly, sucking in her bottom lip as she pondered. “Maybe a couple of years ago. I’ve face his puppets, and some of his personal creations, but him in the flesh? It’s been a while.”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“He wont face me, himself.”

“Maybe because he can’t.” Inuyasha said. “I’m not trying to level with him, and I want to preface this with the fact that I still think he’s a fucking creep, but maybe this is a sign that, much like you, it’s difficult to be the hand that strikes.”

“That is not comforting.” Kikyo admitted, caramel eyes shying downward. “I do not want to think about him loving me. It’s disgusting.”

“That’s fine. Don’t. That doesn’t change the reality of it all. This tells me that you might be his weakness.”

“I am only his weakness because I am a conjurer.”

It wasn’t right to argue with Kikyo right now. It was clearly distressing for her to consider the plausibility of the situation, so Inuyasha shut his mouth, glancing down at Kagome as she regarded him just the same. He could see it in her eyes, too. She felt similarly. Even without knowing Naraku’s recent side of things, she was contemplating the potentiality of what Inuyasha had claimed.

“If you don’t mind, would you keep Kaede out of this?” Kikyo asked, and although she hadn’t looked up, it was clear that she was more talking to Inuyasha.

“Kikyo, I don’t know if I can make that promise.” He stated honestly. He wasn’t harsh, he wasn’t defensive, he was simply replying with honorable intentions.

“Please?” She nearly faltered, clutching her fists at her side as she bowed her head from view.

“I understand why you did it initially, but Kaede isn’t a child anymore. She should have the right to her own freewill, and that includes choosing to know the truth of what happened. I don’t believe she needs sheltering, and she’ll be the first to tell you that.”

“I don’t want her involved.”

“She already is. She was the moment your home was attacked, and the moment you took her eye.”

“But -“

“I get it, Kikyo. I do. I’m not trying to be thoughtless. But, one thing I need you to remember is I’m not on your side. We have nothing more than a mutual understanding and a mutual interest, but you and I are indifferent toward each other. Am I wrong?”

“No, but that’s my sister. That’s my baby sister, Inuyasha.” She declared powerfully, shooting her bleary gaze up at him. “I reserve the right to decide what’s best for her, because no one would know better than I.”

Inuyasha gave a simple shake of his head, and still his expression held no malice. “You gave up that right. You gave up that right the moment you faked your death and left her alone. I know that stings, and I’m really not intending to come off carelessly, but that’s the truth. The version of Kaede in your mind is still that fifteen year old girl, isn’t it? The young teenager she was just before Naraku attacked, right? Well, she’s actually in her mid twenties now. Kaede is an adult, so even if you hadn’t left, that right would still belong solely to her. I’m going to bring it up, Kikyo. I’m going to give Kaede the choice of knowing what actually happened so long ago.”

“Kagome.” She urgently tried, reaching for the opposite conjurer to convince the hanyou otherwise. Kagome’s sights had shied to the ground, hugging her arm inward as she allowed them to talk one-to-one, but she glanced upward now, a small frown marring her features. Kikyo could see it immediately. She could read the look as well as if the expression were written in text, and her chin quivered in response. “Kagome, please.”

“I’m sorry.” Kagome spoke softly, kindly. “Even if I did agree with you, Inuyasha’s right. Kaede deserves to know. She doesn’t need protection, she would be upset if we treated her that way, and truthfully, it would be inappropriate to sit on information like this. The way I see it is, out of the three of us, Inuyasha’s the closest to her -”

“That’s not true.” Kikyo interjected.

“She doesn’t know you’re alive, Kikyo. She will always love you, and you will always love her, but it is true. At this point, you have no connection to her outside of your bloodline. Inuyasha is her friend, and they trust each other. He isn’t bringing it up to disrespect you. He’s bringing it up out of respect for her.”

“You really wont budge?” Kikyo asked, and it was inconclusive as to who that question was directed to. Just in case, both Kagome and Inuyasha shook their heads in reply. “Then, will you please pass along a message? Tell her I don’t want her looking for me. Tell her I will come to her when all is done. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I can do that.” Inuyasha agreed.

Kikyo could only manage to regard them both with small glances after that. Justifiably, she was upset, but she appeared too physically drained to outwardly react as such.

“Take care of yourself.” She quietly said to Kagome before turning around on her heel and heading off through the trees, her soul collector swirling in the air just behind her.

“You too.” Kagome whispered.

The breeze was the only sound passing around them now, filling the silence as Inuyasha and Kagome were once more alone with one another. It had been moments since Kikyo walked away, and it was sort of like they couldn’t just go back to the way things were before she’d appeared. There was too much to sort through, too many emotions had emerged in that time, and now they were left standing in dense waters.

With a synchronous and guttural sigh from the both of them, Kagome and Inuyasha made their ways down to their butts. They didn’t bother with finding a rock or log to sit on, didn’t bother finding a different location, because moving further right now was simply impossible. So, they made themselves comfortable and promptly sat where they once stood, closing their eyes in defeat as they mulled over the series of events.

“That was exhausting.” Kagome half-whined, crossing her legs and burying her face in her hands.

“Oh, she’s -“ Inuyasha rubbed his forehead, pushing the hair from his face briefly. “She’s a piece of work.”

The two looked at each other. Their tired, concerned expressions shifting to defeated smiles as they sort of just started laughing.

“So, what do you want to do?” She asked, leaning back on her hands. “You want to head back to Kaede’s? We’re not all that far.”

“I’m not sure yet. I can’t make that split-second decision considering the circumstances. Let me think on it for a moment.” He wagered. “In the meantime…”

Though there was no end to that sentence, Kagome could easily grasp what he was looking for. He wanted an explanation. She had to commend him for his patience. On his end, how did everything look? Did she just stand there motionless, or did it seem like something was wrong? If she were in his position, it would have driven her insane not knowing what was going on and then, thereafter, having to wait for any sort of detail to piece it all together.

“I saw Midoriko.” She started. “Actually, I saw all the successors before her, too. At least, that’s what I’m guessing. None of them spoke directly to us. It was more like we were watching the endings of each of their lives, how they fought, how they died, who was responsible, and then their spirit joined with the next person. There was about twelve, and they all died in battle. By the time Midoriko died, her soul was nearly solid. I saw my soul, too. It was - it was weird.”

“I can imagine.” His brows had furrowed, turning his body to fully face hers now. “You guys came out of that looking like you’d seen a ghost, so I guess that makes sense.”

“It was crazy, Inuyasha.” She exclaimed. “Demons were everywhere, it was so dark, and it was like an all out war that we were standing in the middle of. Midoriko pulled our souls from our bodies and joined them, and that’s when we came back.”

“So, seventy-thirty?”

“Yeah.” Her voice dropped. “Something like that.”

“Still shocked you can blow an entire field away now?”

“Honestly, yeah. Everything’s just so surreal right now, it’s hard to think this isn’t made up.” Kagome’s eyes fell to his legs, following the sewn pattern on the hem of his pants to distract herself. “I’m the reincarnation of someone. It doesn’t feel right to say that. Suddenly, it’s like it’s not just me in here. I watched her merge a huge portion of her soul with mine, so that tells me she’s just part of me, but thinking about it feels weird. It’s hard to explain. I just don’t know what to think or how to feel right now.”

“What, are you having an identity crisis? Kid, it doesn’t matter if you’re the reincarnation of someone. You didn’t inherit their personality traits or their thinking patterns. I’m willing to bet you didn’t even inherit their looks, because if that were true, you and Kikyo would look more similar. As far as I saw, the only thing you two had in common was hair color, and even that wasn’t an exact match. What you inherited was strength, and it’s not even a birth right. It’s more like grand potential. You still have to work your ass off to get it, but the chance is there. Your decisions, your actions, your morals, that’s all you. Your tastes, your style, your brain, your heart, that’s you too. Overall, you’re Kagome. You’ve always been Kagome, and you always will be. Now, you just have a bit more to back up your resolve. You know that your individual strength will be supported by a… generator of sorts.” Inuyasha chuckled.

He’d managed to get her to crack a smile. Kagome couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting her to make her feel better, or if he truly believed what he said. He was incredibly honest, though, so she couldn’t help but want to take his word for it and find comfort in it all. Either way, she appreciated his quick wit.

There was still something pulling on her heart. It wasn’t about Midoriko, it wasn’t the fact that she’d just witnessed the reenactment of twelve gory deaths, it was about Kikyo. She was pale with such deep under eye circles because she’d been killing herself. She’d believed for so long that she was supposed to be stronger, and for years she stretched her boundaries thin and her resources dry. All to the point where she had to rely on lost souls of dead women to keep some sort of force in her body. And, still, her battle raged on. Everything she’d said after the revelation was so depressing but seeped from her mouth as if it were relieving, and Kagome had a hard time understanding the solace behind it all.

“Kikyo,” She whispered. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“I’m not worried about her.” He replied, his voice low and soothing.

“But, you heard her. She was sick.”

“Because she didn’t know her limits. Now she does.” Inuyasha leaned forward a bit. He didn’t like the sadness on Kagome’s face, and while he praised her empathy, he wanted to fight it off at the same time. It wasn’t allowed to make her head hang low, it wasn’t allowed to drain her as if the other conjurer’s ailments were her own. “Just like you have to learn your restrictions and understand how to properly use your powers, so does she. Now, she has insight she didn’t have before. Now, she knows that if she doesn’t back off, she’ll get too sick to keep going. Kikyo was under the impression that she needed to work harder to reach her maximum potential, but it was counterintuitive because she was depleting her life source. Now, if she respects her body and her abilities properly, she’ll be able to get healthy again. Then, she’ll be the force to be reckoned with that she was reaching for.”

“The dark magic she’s been using… the effects of it wont go away just like that, though.”

“That’s something she’s going to have to deal with, kid. You win some, you lose some, but she knew what she was doing when she made that choice. She didn’t look like she was having a pity party, so don’t feel like you need to feel bad for her.”

“But, I do. All of this is - it’s becoming so much more real than it was before. I didn’t know it could, but it has. It’s scary.” She locked eyes with the hanyou. “I’m scared.”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop himself. Kagome didn’t look sad or hurt, she didn’t look small or timid, she didn’t even look defeated. She neither trembled nor cried. She just spoke her truth. She told him how she felt, and fear was always a deeper emotion that was hard for anyone to come forward with. Unless it was an involuntary scream given in reaction to a jump scare or a fall, fear was something so often pushed back and hidden behind scowls and broadened shoulders. And, he appreciated being trusted with it. So, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward. His fingers tenderly pushed longer strands of her dark hair behind her ear, repeating the motion soothingly while he slipped in soft touches to caress her cheek before gently, so gently, cradling her jaw.

“I know you are. But, you’re safe.” He said, his tone husky.

Kagome leaned into his touch, nodding and sighing out. Her shoulders relaxed some and her brown eyes closed momentarily while she relished in the peace he provided.

“You still know I don’t expect you to protect me, right?” She mentioned quietly, glancing up at his amber eyes. He hadn’t wavered. Inuyasha didn’t pull away, didn’t look away, his expression remaining soft but noble. His fingers curled around the back of her neck and he pulled her closer an inch, his soothing scent washing over her.

“Who said anything about feeling obligated?”

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[honeymoonjin]

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medical play, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, bondage, ruined orgasm, unprotected sex, squirting, oral (m receiving), cum eating (not yoongi for once), this was meant to be a light palate cleanser after the intensity of day ten but i got lost in my feelings in the first half and then got horny over doctor jeon in the second half i apologise

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DAY ELEVEN

“I think you should be a little more concerned, PD.”

Sejin flattens the two men - oldest and youngest of the house - an unimpressed look. Jungkook tries not to wilt under his gaze. “And why is that?”

Jin clears his throat, staring right back unabashedly. “Tae’s been involved in a terrible accident and you’re just waiting here. You should be rushing over to the house to save him.”

“A terrible accident?” Sejin questions monotonously, before turning in his chair to angle his monitor so that both boys can see. On the screen is a freeze frame of a very familiar scene - Taehyung crouching on the bottom of the stairs, Jin and Jungkook huddled around him.

Ah, Jungkook realises with sinking disappointment, the cameras. Once the producer clicks play on the recording, Jungkook is faced with the HD version of himself gesture excitedly, patting Taehyung on the back and pointing to the banisters.

Cheeks flushing, the youngest member of the house watches in dread as Sejin plays back the evidence of Taehyung willingly forcing his head through two banisters, ears popping out the other side as he glances up with a beam at Jin.

Having seen enough, Sejin pauses the video, and switches back to the realtime feed. “An accident, was it?” Sejin repeats rhetorically as the Taehyung on the security camera drums his fingers lazily against the wood posts, letting out a lionlike yawn. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue. This wasn’t how things were meant to go at all. Behind Sejin’s desk, the majority of the production van is filled with all the mess of a regular office. Stacks of paper, scribbled sticky notes on various surfaces, a large whiteboard with roughly handwritten schedules and a small game of naughts and crosses in the bottom right corner. Jungkook tries not to let his eyes dwell on the whiteboard too long. Don’t raise anymore suspicion.

Beside him, Jin shamelessly shrugs with a smile. “He put his head through the bars on purpose, sure, but he got stuck on accident.” The oldest - though still younger than Sejin himself - emphasises this distinction with a single outstretched finger and an arch of his eyebrows. “So you should go help him.”

Sejin slips his glasses off and lets them clatter to the table, pinching his brow with two fingers. “Am I gonna get there and have Taehyung ask me for the latest issue of Chinese Vogue?”

Jin stiffens, his mask temporarily shattered. “I requested that in confidence.”

The production manager throws his hands in the air in defeat. “How was I supposed to know which of your bogus requests was confidential? Just half an hour ago I got a call from my superior asking why #getjinanXL was trending. You tweeted that you wanted me to buy you extra large condoms because you ‘ran out.’”

“Well, that was obviously a joke,” Jin rebuffs easily. “You know I use Magnum.”

“How would I-?” With a huff of desperation, Sejin shakes his head to clear his mind. “No, okay, back to…”

Zoning out, Jungkook’s eyes are caught by the sight on the screen as another figure walks out into the foyer. Yoongi rushes forward once he sees Taehyung, crouching on the other side of the bars as he delicately prods around Taehyung’s face and neck. The younger man waves him away in frustration, pushing at Yoongi’s chest until he gives up and leaves reluctantly. Jungkook bites his lip and looks away.

Whoops. Staring right at him are the producer and the therapist, each as expectant as the other. “Huh?”

Sejin huffs. “Why would Taehyung intentionally stick his head through the bars of a staircase banister?”

“Tell him, Jungkookie,” Jin adds with a bump of his shoulder.

“Uh…” With a hard swallow, Jungkook’s mind whirls. “He… We were… measuring,” he finishes awkwardly. “Me-measuring Tae’s head.”

“You were measuring Taehyung’s head?” Sejin repeats flatly. “With the stair banister?”

Jungkook shrugs with what he hopes is a ‘what can you do?’ expression, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find a ruler.”

Sejin blinks once. “Then how would you know how wide the gap between posts was? Without a ruler?”

“Oh.” Jungkook stares in barely subdued panic at Jin, who widens his eyes meaningfully, urging him to turn back to the awaiting producer. “We, um, we didn’t think that far. We’ll know for next time?”

“If you want to stay on this show, there will be no next time,” Sejin warns.

Jungkook ducks his head in shame. “Sorry, dad.”

“Y- what?” Jungkook hears Sejin cough lightly, flustered. “Please, Jungkook, that’s not appropriate.”

The youngest gives a little bow. “I apologise, Father.”

Sejin clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s even worse.”

Jungkook glances up, brows knitting and head tilting in confusion. “...whoopsies, daddy?”

Sejin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the hairline. Jungkook spots several grey strands.

Clearing his throat, Jin steps forward slightly. “Taehyung is still stuck, PD.”

“Okay, fine! Fine,” Sejin announces, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing up. “But if there is a single other incident like this, I’m calling in child protective services and getting them to baby-proof this place. No more funny business. Understood?”

“No more. Promise,” Jungkook assures sweetly, heart soaring as Sejin slips past them, hurrying out of the production van and towards the front door of the villa.

The moment he’s well out of earshot, Jin claps his hands once with a victorious grin. “It was a bit touch-and-go there,” he admits, “but that’s bought us time. Quick; get the whiteboard, I’ll grab some pens.”

Jungkook grins. Like secret agents, hyung and him were. Moving quickly, the two of them manage to sneak out the whiteboard from the van, trundling it noisily across the gravel, around the back of the house.

---

“I’ll be honest,” Jimin drawls, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just chatted about this. Is the whiteboard really necessary?”

Taehyung deflates immediately, one hand still rubbing at the red marks on his jaw and ears. “What do you mean? I suffered for this whiteboard, Minnie.”

It’s crowded; five people huddled inside the confessional booth. But apart from the bathrooms and the rec room, this was the only place without live security cameras - purely because the only camera needed was the one for the confessionals themselves - and Jin and Jungkook doubted they’d be able to smuggle a very noisy whiteboard into the rec room when Sejin was directly outside it lubing up Taehyung’s neck with aloe vera gel.

While Producer Shin had been lured away by Jin with the promise of a homecooked meal, the four youngest men in the house were bundled into the garden shed, staring at a whiteboard that had barely fit through the door.

Jimin, still unconvinced, shrugs. From his spot perched delicately on Namjoon’s lap he watches the two younger men take a picture of what’s written on the whiteboard, then rub it all out. The man of the hour, Namjoon had been given the right to sit on the only proper chair in the room, the one the producer would normally sit in. Beside it, the wooden stool sits unoccupied. Jimin told the others that he was sitting on Namjoon’s lap because the stool was too uncomfortable, but Jungkook thinks there’s something deeper in the way he relaxes onto Namjoon’s chest, the academic alert but not tense underneath him.

Or perhaps being on this show has made Jungkook more suspicious.

“The whiteboard was vital, hyung,” he defends adamantly, grabbing one of the pens Jin-hyung had handed him, yanking off the cap with a satisfying click. Immediately the alcoholic smell of ink tingles his nostrils, but he ignores it, turning to the others. “What if Namjoon-hyung was a visual learner?”

From behind Jimin’s back, Namjoon adjusts the bridge of his glasses. “I- actually I learn best through listening.” His hand drops, hovers over the space both him and Jimin share, then rests awkwardly on the armchair. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Namjoon-hyung is so cute. “It’s okay,” Jungkook assures, suppressing the endeared grin that tugs at his lips, “We can brainstorm out loud, and Tae and I will just take notes.”

With Taehyung in his Sunday best (well, a button-up shirt so baggy it looked like he hat batwing sleeves) and Jungkook having dug out his glasses to look extra smart, the two of them were prepared to make this as academic as possible for Namjoon. Even after getting laid for the first time, academics were his comfort zone, and the two youngest were happy to oblige.

“First things first; what was it you had to do? Honeymoon?”

Jimin leans back on Namjoon’s shoulder so the taller man can see past. Namjoon shakes his head lightly, his purple hair in serious need of a touch-up; the natural brunette frames his face now, emphasising his brow. Jungkook wonders if he’d let him dye it a new colour, just for something fresh.

“Just husband and wife,” the academic corrects, “It didn’t specify, uh, anything else.” His voice is still quiet, as if speaking on it is taboo. One day he’ll get used to discussing sex openly, but until then, the others will meet him halfway.

“Okay, so, Y/n is your wife,” Jungkook states with a nod, “do y’all have kids? Is it a newlyweds situation? We need  backstory here.”

The squeaking of a pen catches Jungkook’s attention before he even finishes speaking. To his right, Taehyung writes in sharp strokes across the board.

Y/N PREGNANT

“It’s the nineteen thirties,” Taehyung announces in a smooth voice, eyes finding each member in the room, “war is imminent, and worldwide men are preparing to be conscripted. Every moment spent with their loved ones is precious, and for General Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung pauses to draw a gangly stick figure giving a salute, “him and his wife Y/n-” this time a female stick figure joins the scene, a cartoonishly round stomach off to one side, “-have only one goal. To knock Y/n up before he goes to battle, so that even if he never returns they ha-”

“Wait, wait!” Jimin cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Isn’t this too dark? Too elaborate? They’re fucking, not going for best screenplay at the Oscars.”

Taehyung deflates a second time, the hand holding the pen dropping limply to his side. “You don’t like it?”

Face stricken, Jimin waves his hands frantically. “No, no, I love it! Honestly! I just- I feel like Namjoon probably wants something a little simpler? Perhaps not so bleak?” The blue-haired man swivels around on Namjoon’s lap, his hand resting inconspicuously on the back of his neck, playing with the longer hairs there.

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, yeah, simple is probably good. Honestly, I feel a little unsure about all of this. What if I, I don’t know, drop character or get shy? Won’t it be awkward?”

Taehyung scratches at his chin as he thinks, the beginnings of beard scruff shadowing his jaw. “If we help you brainstorm, you can just memorise a basic script.”

“I guess so,” Namjoon muses, eyes fluttering unconsciously as Jimin continues to trace the nape of his neck with his fingertips. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you have your own scenes to worry about.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Two birds with one stone, we can help each other. You know; I suck your dick, you suck mine.”

“That isn’t the quote,” Namjoon protests automatically, “but- I get your point. Anyone have any advice on how I even go about this?”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re the smart one,” he points out, “I did try to help but clearly my services weren’t appreciated.”

“Oh, honey,” Jimin coos, “I always appreciate your services.” The double entendre is clear in the silk of his voice and the arch of his brows, sent with a sweet smile, and Taehyung flushes in response.

Jungkook winces, ignoring the spike of - of something green and ugly in his chest. “Okay, enough from the lovebirds, this is about Namjoon. Joonie-hyung, I would just offer to help out and join with yours but I was gonna do mine this afternoon, and I don’t think a husband would fit very well into it.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon assures, shifting under the weight of the man in his lap. His fingers flex on the arm of the chair behind Jimin’s back, unsure. “Taehyung? Yours might work, I guess.”

Unaware of Namjoon’s indecision, Jimin suddenly stands up off his lap entirely, stalking over to Taehyung with a bemused grin. “You think our well-trained Taehyungie could be the family dog?”

Taehyung, though keening under Jimin’s sudden attention, seems hesitant. “I- I don’t know, Minnie, I haven’t really…” He trails off helplessly, casting Namjoon an apologetic stare.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon rushes out, scooting forward to the edge of the armchair. “You don’t have to, I could just do it by myself.”

It’s strange, watching Jimin so visibly caught in indecision. He hovers in the centre of the small shed, torso towards Taehyung but head twisted back to stare at Namjoon. Wanting to support Namjoon, but wanting to protect Taehyung.

Jungkook feels like an outsider invading in on a precious equilibrium. Namjoon shifts, gaze dropping. Taehyung can’t keep his fingers still as they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Jimin’s so still the thin silver threads of his earrings don’t even shift in the air, but his eyes flood with emotion, bottom lip twitching just slightly as he seeks for something to say.

Jimin isn’t as mean as he’d like people to think, Jungkook muses. Saving the uncomfortable decision, Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, diverting the attention of the other three. “We could always practice? Jimin, you’re pretty. Pretend to be Y/n and give Joon-hyung some tips.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous. Jimin perks up, turning on his heel to grin down at his elder, who gasps almost imperceptibly. Taehyung’s eyes dull with something akin to disappointment. At himself or at the situation, Jungkook can’t say, but the sight of him turning to the whiteboard and swirling sullen circles of ink on the glossy surface has Jungkook’s heart breaking.

Leaving the other two to talk - Jimin resting gracefully on one of the arms of the chair, his feet dangling between Namjoon’s - Jungkook hurries forward, wrapping his fingers around Tae’s to catch his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks softly, low enough to give the two some privacy.

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jungkook isn’t deterred by the shortness of his tone, but changes tacts nonetheless. “It’s a bit weird,” he offers up, “it’s like each of us is the wingman to the other guys, but we’re all going for the same girl.”

With Jungkook’s hand still on top, Taehyung begins to swipe the pen across the board again. This time, what looks like a flower with long, pointed petals takes shape in thick black lines. Taehyung himself stays focused for a few moments of silence, until he’s ready to speak.

“But it’s not just that,” he explains in a low timbre, “it’s not just her.”

Jungkook lets his hand be maneuvered by the deft movements of the masseuse. Every part of Taehyung was so elegant, like he’d been sculpted from marble. From those slender fingers, to the slope of his nose. Lashes that brushed against his brow bone as he focused, teeth pressing just slightly into his lip, a dusky pink. “No, it’s not,” Jungkook agrees after a moment.

Taehyung lets his hand fall, Jungkook’s slipping off. With eyes hidden behind dark curls, the elder sneaks a look at Jimin and Namjoon, the two smiling and laughing, Jimin’s fingers playing with the strap of the watch on the other’s wrist lazily.

“I never know who to be jealous of,” Taehyung admits with a weak chuckle, capping the pen. “Anyways; that doesn’t matter. We’re here to help Namjoon.”

Jungkook spares a glance at the lovebirds on the armchair. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung answers shortly, eyes locked on the way Jimin curls onto Namjoon’s shoulder, the two locked onto Namjoon’s phone as he types in notes. “He’ll do fine.” Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s clearing the funk away. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all in this together.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “But- Well, no, this is still a competition. Technically we should be against each other, not together.”

The air leaves Taehyung’s lungs in a rushed breath. “Fuck, you’re right. I should, like, hate you, right?”

Jungkook hums with a raised brow. “I guess.”

“I should be trying to cockblock you and tell Y/n you have syphilis, yet here I am wanting to suck the dicks of everyone in this room. But also maybe hold the hands of everyone in this room. You can imagine my confusion.”

Jungkook feels his stress slip away at the genuine smile that tugs at Taehyung’s lips. Even if his eyes are still muted with sorrow, he doesn’t seem so despairing over it. The youngest reaches out to grip onto Taehyung’s upper arm reassuringly. “We could have hate sex if it’d make you feel better?” he offers up in a soft voice.

The blue depths in Taehyung’s gaze recede a little more as his smile brightens. “I’d like that.”

The two manage to hold this Hallmark moment for a little longer before Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. In seconds, the two are dissolving into chuckles and snickers, Jungkook throwing his head back and Taehyung hunching over with the force of it.

Across from them, Namjoon and Jimin pause their excited conversation to stare at them in bewilderment.

“What did we miss?” Namjoon asks, brow knitted but eyes wide.

“Never mind,” Jungkook deflects, heart feeling strangely warm as Taehyung grins under his lashes at him, like the two of them have an inside joke. “We should probably pack up, though, unless we want Producer Shin coming back in the middle of our top secret team meeting.”

Jimin clicks his tongue in agreement and stands up off Namjoon’s lap. Lithe like a cat, his arms come up over his head and his back arches into a stretch, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook knows his eyes aren’t the only pair watching the way his shirt lifts to display a band of pale golden skin.

“Alright,” the porn star lets out with a relaxed sigh, arms dropping and shirt falling again, “let’s head out, then. Joonie’s sorted.”

Namjoon stands up behind him, nodding shyly. “Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better about it now.”

Jungkook and Taehyung share a look. “To be fair,” Jungkook says with a light cough, “I don’t think Tae and I really helped at all.”

Jimin sends the two of them a broad smile, eyes crinkling in good humour. “You did provide the whiteboard,” he points out. “Though I imagine your efforts to steal it without Sejin realising were in vain.”

Taehyung frowns, hand automatically lifting to rub at his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Jungkook offers to Jimin, “he wouldn’t have seen it!”

Jimin blinks. “Where do you think Sejin went after helping Tae out of the staircase?”

Jungkook feels the odd pressure of dawning realisation that hasn’t quite materialised. “His office,” he answers slowly, “why?”

Behind Jimin, Namjoon ducks out with a sympathetic smile. “He probably noticed the giant whiteboard missing, Jungkookie.”

The camboy opens his mouth, waits for words to come, and closes it again. “Mm,” he replies eloquently.

“Oh, we’re gonna get in big trouble, huh?” Taehyung mumbles, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“Wait,” Namjoon offers, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

Jungkook frowns. “How does that help?”

“Sejin won’t get mad at me, he loves me. I’ll just tell him I was getting a head start on my work for next semester.”

“When did he tell you he loved you?” Jungkook asks with a pout. “He never says it back to me.”

“I didn’t- What?” Namjoon frowns. “I was just chatting to him for advice one night and he told me I remind him of his son.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Jimin says with a lilt of confusion.

“I think he was talking about his cat,” Namjoon admits with a pained look, “but he loves his cat, so he must love me. Anyways, I’ll tell him I was using it for study and I don’t think he’ll mind. Just clear off the board and one of you can help me wheel it back.”

Jungkook sighs a breath of relief, turning back to the board. Beside it, Taehyung is frozen with his head bent and his mouth dropped open, staring at the pen. Neither Jin nor him thought to bring a duster, so Jungkook balls up his sleeve in his palm and wipes off the-

And wipes off the-

“Why isn’t it coming off?” Jungkook asks frantically, scrubbing over the shiny lines of black. “It’s not even smudging!”

“Um, Jungkookie,” Taehyung utters lowly, curls shifting as he slowly looks up. “This is a permanent marker.”

Jungkook’s hand freezes. He steps back, eyes wide as they stare at the image drawn in thick black.

The blooming form of what looked like a lily on the bottom corner, that was fine, but the giant all-caps Y/N PREGNANT followed by a very evocative drawing of a heavily pregnant woman beside a patriotic Namjoon was going to be harder to explain.

Slowly, Jungkook swivels on his heel, coming face-to-face with Namjoon, whose eyes are almost open wider than his mouth. “Hey, hyung,” the youngest offers up with a tentative smile, “how much d’you reckon Sejin loves that cat?”

--

It’s late afternoon by the time Jungkook has done his penance with the whiteboard and Sejin himself, but luckily it means that Yoongi is definitely in his room when Jungkook goes knocking.

More content with his own company, the second oldest tended to retire to his bedroom early to “entertain” himself. Jungkook had assumed this was a euphemism for masturbating, but Taehyung had informed him that the doctor was making his way through an impressive collection of the Slam Dunk manga these days.

As expected, Yoongi opens the door to Jungkook on his third knock, ushering him in with a look of confusion.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins in an entreating tone, “you have a first aid kid in your room, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, back straightening in alarm. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, no, it’s sex reasons,” Jungkook explains quickly, eyes wandering around the room, eying up the open closet in the back of his room. “Do you have a white coat?”

“I- what? No, I don’t have a white coat,” Yoongi stutters out, face scrunched up in confusion. “What is this about?”

Jungkook hums, brushing back hair out of his face absentmindedly as he delves deeper into Yoongi’s room, checking in the drawers of the small nightstand. “I can make do without the white coat,” Jungkook murmurs to himself, before turning on his heel to face the older man again. “Do you have stirrups?”

“Stirrups?” Yoongi asks incredulously. His arms are folded over his chest tightly, though the brown loose-knit sweater loses the intimidation factor. “Why would I bring stirrups? They’re attached to the chair anyway, I can’t just pack them away in my suitcase.”

Dammit. Jungkook collapses onto Yoongi’s bed back-first, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You need to help me, hyung. I’m determined to win fan favourite this week, so I need to go all out.”

A sigh of realization comes from the other side of the room. “Your prompt,” Yoongi remarks flatly. “What is it; nurse and patient?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open as he sits up. “Doctor and patient,” he declares proudly. “I asked if Sejin could promote me to neurosurgeon but he said it wasn’t relevant.” The thought dampens Jungkook’s spirits a bit. Even just regular surgeon would have been nice. “But anyway,” he continues, “whatever props you have would be greatly appreciated. I already googled a list of medical terms, so I’m feeling pretty good.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a sizeable, bright green first aid kit, laying it on the bed. Jungkook gasps in excitement and makes room for him, but Yoongi just tuts. “First of all,” he explains while unzipping it, “these aren’t props, they’re medical-grade supplies. And you can’t have them all. I don’t trust you with most of the things in here.”

Jungkook frowns, but shrugs off the disappointment. Something is still better than nothing. “Okay, hyung,” he allows in a small voice, “thank you.”

Yoongi fails to hide the quirk of a fond smile as he takes out some of the stuff in the kit. “You owe me,” he says instead.

--

You have to give it to Jungkook; the dedication to his craft is impressive.

After he sent you a vague and rather concerning message about needing to see you in the gym for ‘health reasons’, you were greeted by a hand-written DO NOT DISTURB (unless you’re y/n) sign taped to the door.

Inside, the indoor gym had been transformed. Most of the larger equipment had been shifted to one side, leaving the other half open. In the middle of the open area is a weightlifting bench covered in a white sheet which you’re certain was off his bed. A comically out-of-place office chair is beside a table which Jungkook is using like a desk. The desk is pushed up against the mirror which fills one whole wall of the gym, and you can’t help but laugh at the infographics and charts he’s printed out on A4 sheets of paper and taped to the mirror.

There’s a fuzzy x-ray of some ribs taped next to a heart rate line, frozen mid-pulse like he took a screenshot off a video, which is next to a chart filled with increasingly smaller letters, like one you’d see in an optometrist’s office. Though everything is mismatched, the effort he’s put it really warms your heart.

The desk is where you find Jungkook. He sits with his back to you, typing away obnoxiously loudly at a laptop on the desk. On the screen, gibberish keysmashes fill up an otherwise empty Word document. Rather than a lab coat, Jungkook looks more sharply dressed than you’ve ever seen him in a ironed button-up shirt, pale blue. The back of the fabric is taut against his skin, clearly borrowed from a slightly smaller, or at least less jacked man. But it provides a streamlined view of the muscles in his back and shoulders, tucked into belted black pants to highlight the surprisingly narrow waist.

Kitschy or not, you’re grateful that Jungkook got some kind of cheesy medical roleplay if it meant you finally got to see him in fitted clothing.

Even though he must have heard you open the door and lock it behind you, he remains tapping away at the keys. His head tips slightly to the side, expectant.

“Jungkook,” you call out, disappointed and a little confused when he doesn’t respond. But you quickly realise your mistake. “Oh, uh. Doctor Jeon?”

Like clockwork, he spins around magnanimously on the chair, hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, my favourite patient. Do come in.”

So we already know each other then, you surmise. Remembering all these details was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome part of this week’s theme. Developing a backstory, information on the scene, almost felt like constructing a scaffold to continue. There was something equally reassuring and exciting about it. A bolt of arousal shooting between your legs, you step in to the middle of the open area, sitting awkwardly on the covered bench.

“Take a seat,” Jungkook adds redundantly, like he’s following a script. “Let me just bring your file up. Name?”

You pause as he wheels back around to the laptop, pulling up what looks like an Excel spreadsheet. “I thought I was your favourite patient,” you quip with a smirk, but unable to suppress your fondness at how much thought he’s clearly put into it.

Jungkook’s shoulders drop, but he doesn’t falter. “Of course, I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been in the field for so long, you know.” He shrugs demurely. “I was actually a neurosurgeon before this.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can catch it. “You went from neurosurgeon to doctor? Isn’t that backwards?”

Jungkook’s eyes waver, biting his lip. “I prefer the simple life,” he offers as an explanation. He shakes himself out of it, and turns back to the computer once more with a warm sigh. “Alrighty then, I’ve got your file here. It’s been a while since your last visit,” he remarks, cursor hovering over a watermarked image of a clock. “I better check your vitals again.”

You watch in bemusement as he readies himself, first sanitising his hands using a small travel-size bottle that’s in the shape of a cartoon shark, then pulls on a pair of latex gloves that had been lying on his desk. Even in the strangely comedic atmosphere, the sound of him snapping the glove against his wrist makes you gasp soundlessly, thighs pressing together in need.

Jungkook notices it, eyes darting down as he rolls his chair over. He unbuttons each cuff off his shirt and rolls them up to expose his forearms. His hair is getting thicker as it grows, and even though it’s pushed back, a few locks slip forward to frame the smirk on his face.

You swallow, neck craning as he gets closer. The bench you’re sat on clearly isn’t intended as an examination table because it’s just as low to the ground as the chair, and there’s something inside you that runs electric when he comes close, looking down at you from it. With spread knees, he places them on either side of yours and pins you there, making you gasp.

The feeling of the cold gloves on your cheekbones, pressing to keep you steady is dizzying, more so when he looks intensely into your eyes, searching with a cool professionalism that you’d never seen from him before. Though it’s new, you recognise the shift in the tension of the room signifying the true start of the scene.

In your peripheral vision, you spot his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but you’re locked onto his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly. “Eyes are healthy,” he remarks, “good to know you’ll be able to see everything properly.”

The gloves catch on your skin, one sliding down to tighten on your chin, tipping your neck back even more. You’re barely breathing, waiting for his move.

“Open up and say ahh,” he instructs huskily, and you’re responding without thought, letting your lips part and your tongue relax. Jungkook frowns. “Wider.” You feel the corners of your mouth pang as you lower your jaw as much as you can in his grasp. “Keep it like that,” he demands sternly, and your heart thuds.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just look inside. You jerk instinctively in his grip as two gloved fingers slide down your tongue, but his rebuking glare has you settling again, trying to breathe through your nose as he delves deeper, smirking at the way you squirm, legs trapped between his and eyes lidded as you feel the length of his fingers heavy on your tongue.

Quicker than you can put your head around, his fingers plunge deeper, far enough down your throat to make you gag, tears springing to his eyes. His fingers leave as you let out a little cough, blinking wetly at him in betrayal.

Jungkook smirks, not bothering to wipe the shine of your saliva off his glove. “Gag reflex intact and responding well,” he notes smugly.

“How is that a vital?” you question, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s vital for what I’m about to do to you,” he quips with a lecherous grin, and you bite down hard on your tongue to fight the urge to tremble.

“And what is that, Doctor?” you ask instead, blinking owlishly up at him.

His lip quirks. “Don’t play coy, now,  Y/n, I’ve seen the way you look at me during our appointments. Tell me; why is it that you came here today?”

You swallow, eyes heavy on him. “I’ve been suffering a strange sensation, Doctor,” you make out, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can you make me feel better?”

Jungkook exhales harshly, hands dropping to rest on your knees. “And where does it hurt, hm? Here?”

You suck in a breath as his legs spread further, coming close enough that your knees press against his crotch, the hardness undeniable. A single hand shifts up to lay against your forehead, questioning, and you shake your head. His hand skims lower, pressing firmly against your sternum where you feel your heart race against it.

“Here?” he questions, and continues on when he receives a negative. Next he veers off to the side, cupping a breast and brushing a thumb over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Does it ache here?”

You whimper, arching into his hand. “A little bit,” you offer up weakly, glad you opted out of wearing a bra in anticipation of the scene.

The answer seems to amuse Jungkook, and you shiver when you feel his other hand playing with the hem of your shirt, the gloves tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I better check it out then, hm?”

You feel so exposed, the air conditioner chilling the air and the mirror reflecting Jungkook’s back as he leans in close, breath tickling your bare shoulder as his hands cup your breasts.

Without further preamble, he begins to roll your nipples simultaneously between his fingers, enough pressure to make you shiver as he studies your reactions closely. The feeling of being touched so intimately with the barrier of latex gloves feels both taboo and exciting, and without even realising you find your hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, gripping at his biceps as they flex with every movement.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Jungkook asks lowly, humming in response when you shake your head. “What about this?” Suddenly, he’s tugging, pinching them harshly enough to make your back arch to ease the pressure.

You squeal, fingers digging in deeper to the corded muscle of his forearms. “Yeah,” you gasp out shakily, “h-hurts.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. “But you like it, don’t you?” he accuses as he continues his rough treatment. “Coming into my office, begging me to touch you like this. Fucking filthy.”

A moan slips out as you rock your hips against the bench, seeking friction for the heat between your legs. “Please, Ju- Doctor Jeon, it hurts,” you cry out, gaze imploring as you blink up at him.

All of a sudden, he pulls back entirely, hands falling back onto his own knees as he watches you. “Show me,” he instructs, eyes hazy.

You shiver, the cool air shifting over your naked torso as his stare burns molten hot. “Show you what?”

Carding a hand through his hair to push it back, Jungkook wets his lips. “Show me where it aches the most,” he explains, voice like crushed velvet.

This was a side of him you’d never seen before; neither the competitive dom nor the obedient sub. His sexual versatility never fails to surprise you, and you find yourself hopelessly lost in the calm dominant air he exudes. Shakily, you part your legs.

He scoffs lightly. “That isn’t much help if I can’t see it. Undress.”

A rushed exhale leaves you at his shortness, but you stand up and push off your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side. It’s far harder to bare yourself to him this time, and as you sit, you can’t help but hesitate.

Jungkook raises a brow at your pause, leaning back like he’s disappointed. “I’m a very busy man, Y/n,” he chastises, “these appointment slots aren’t long and if you don’t want the next patient coming in while you’re choking on my cock, I suggest you do as I say, when I say it.”

Your legs fly apart the moment his voice lowers into a growl, clenching automatically at the open air at your most vulnerable place. “Please help me, Doctor,” you plead lowly.

Jungkook curses under his breath and comes forward again, placing a single gloved hand over your core. You jerk instinctively but keep your legs open at his warning glare. Even through the gloves, he has to feel how wet you are, slicking up the latex without him moving it. “It hurts here, hm? Lie down on your back and I’ll take a look.”

Your breath picks up as you turn and lower yourself onto the white sheet, legs dangling over the end. To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t come around but returns to the desk, rolling his chair away and rifling through what looks like a first aid kit. You crane your head to watch him, narrowing your eyes in confusion as he returns with what looks like two rolled up lengths of gauze bandage.

“This isn’t the usual gyno office,” he explains, unravelling one slowly, “so we don’t have stirrups. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure to keep you nice and open for me.”

Like he’s done this a million times before - though the rational part of your brain knows he’s probably making this up as he goes along - he begins using the bandage material to bind your ankles to the legs of the bench, wide enough that you have to shuffle right to the edge, spread wide. He doesn’t say a thing when he ties them, mumbling to himself like he’s recalling instructions, and slips in his fingers to test how tight they are.

He’s kneeled between your open legs now, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he runs his fingertips over your sopping folds, eyes lidded with arousal. “Does it hurt here, Y/n?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to scoot even closer. “Inside,” you explain, sighing in relief when two fingers plunge inside your walls, scissoring to stretch you out.

Jungkook has one hand on your thigh to hold you steady as he rocks his fingers back and forth like he’s seeking something, and the feeling of the latex, so slick with your juices, has you trembling immediately. “It’s important in this line of work,” Jungkook breathes out as his fingers widen even more inside you, “to be thorough, so just relax for me, let me in.”

The moment you try and unclench, his fingers curl and press up against your g-spot, and it’s like a line of electricity connecting all your nerves together lights up. Your legs instinctively flex in an attempt to close around his hand, but the taut bonds keep them spread, and you sob at the reminder, arms giving out so that you end up flat on your back again.

Jungkook chuckles. “Looks like we found the problem,” he remarks cheerily. His fingers continue their assault, targeted now as you writhe beneath him, and the wet sounds of the latex as he increases to three digits echo obscenely in the large room. “That’s it.”

The joints of your fingers ache as you cling onto the edges of the table for dear life, unable to stop the rising wave of pleasure that threatens to crash. It’s so close you feel it in your teeth, eyes rolling back and babbling nonsense to try and get him to go faster, harder.

Faintly, you hear the sound of him humming in amusement, and your mind conjures the mental image of him, sleeves rolled up and gloves dripping with your arousal, hair falling in his eyes and teeth glinting as he grins and brings you to orgasm. It’s that thought that finally begins to tip you over the edge, and just before the wave crests, you feel his fingers slip out.

“Looks like it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he remarks cheekily.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you blabber mindlessly, but it’s too late, and your orgasm washes through you as he sits back and watches the unsatisfying roll of pleasure take your body.

Irrationally, you feel tears prick at your eyes with the cruelness of his actions. “It sti- It still hurts, Doctor,” you sob, reaching a hand down to cup yourself, wanting more even as you hiss with the sensitivity.

Jungkook tuts in fake sympathy. “My fingers can’t reach any further, Y/n, if I couldn’t reach where it hurts, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you blink your eyes open again, struggling to focus on him. “Use your cock, Doctor, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Is that so?” You could just about cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle jingling, and Jungkook kneeling over you, lining himself up. You can feel the tip pressed against your entrance, just enough pressure to tease you. “Too impatient for me to even put a condom on, naughty girl.”

“Fuck, I don’t care, just fuck me, Doctor,” you whine, your sentence punctuated by a strangled cry as Jungkook snaps his hips forward, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Somehow you’d forgotten just how long Jungkook was - while he wasn’t the thickest or overall largest, and even the thought of mentally cataloguing the guys’ dicks was strange - there was a graceful rising curve to his length that felt like it pierced right through you, and as he starts a punishing rhythm, you feel the air punched right out of your lungs.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jungkook growls. “Acting innocent when you just wanted my cock to fuck you stupid, hm?”

With every thrust, your body is rocked back and forth on the bench, and you feel the bandages that bind your ankles to the legs of the table loosen, a little bit at first and then enough that they slip off completely. It feels odd to no longer be tied down, and Jungkook notices how your body is suddenly shifting far more than it was before.

His pace slows down and you feel a gloved hand wrap around one of your ankles. “Do you want them back on? I don’t think I tied them so well,” Jungkook notes hesitantly, and if you weren’t wildly chasing your orgasm, you might have cooed at his character dropping away to reveal the Jungkook you’re more used to.

As it is, your mind can only care about one thing. “I don’ need them, just fuck me!” you plead, and Jungkook exhales sharply, lifting your ankle until it rests on his shoulder, holding down your hips to fuck into you once more.

With the new angle, you can just about feel him in your guts, and your mouth drops open soundlessly, the only noises escaping your lips are gasped breaths as you feel a deeper orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” you manage to slur out, a raw scream bouncing off the walls as he lowers a hand to rub at your clit, the slippery glove only making him thumb it faster. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking-ah!”

Your sentence is cut off violently as an orgasm rips through you as suddenly and overwhelmingly as an electric shock. If you’re making any noise, you can’t hear it, your mind like white static as you sit there and let it take you. Every inch of you is singing, down to your toes, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you into oversensitivity, you feel another release, one that makes you shudder and Jungkook swear violently, spilling inside you as he grips at the flesh of your hip.

It takes a while for the blur in your mind to clear, vision swirling in hazy technicolour and whole body trembling. Jungkook must have taken the gloves off at some point, because you feel the softness of his hands as they seek out yours, gently squeezing to rouse you more.

“Y/n,” you hear him say, voice still distant. The fog dissipates more with the calling of your name, and you feel yourself tune in again, once more becoming aware of the cool breeze of the aircon on your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Y/n. Have you ever done that before?”

You knit your brows in confusion. “Huh?”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, sitting back. He’s still inside you, barely softening, and you groan at the sensitivity of him shifting. “Look,” he guides, and you glance down to see your stomach and thighs, shiny with wetness, too thin to be cum. The liquid soaks his shirt, too, leaving dark patches. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook gushes, his doctor persona well and truly evaporated by now.

You laugh weakly, an exhausted smile stretching at your lips. “I don’t think so? Fuck, that was a lot.”

“You were amazing,” Jungkook praises, squeezing your hands one last time before letting them go. He begins to pull out, then, and you shudder at the emptiness, remnants of his cum dripping out of you as he lowers your leg to the ground again. You sit up carefully, still lightheaded, and watch as he quickly rushes over to the desk, returning with a gauze pad damp with water from a bottle.

He uses it to clean you up in comfortable silence, though you can’t help but bite your lip when you notice he’s still hard. Just as he finishes wiping away the last of the wetness from your thighs and begins to wipe himself off, you reach out a hand to halt him.

“Doctor,” you coo teasingly, “won’t you let me clean you up? I wanna repay you for making the ache go away.”

His chest heaves as he shudders out a breath. “Really?”

You blink up at him as he stands in front of you, his cock right in front of you, glossy with your combined cum. “Don’t you wanna test my vitals one more time, doctor? Just to make sure?”

He gulps as you lean closer and lick a single stripe up the underside of his cock. It’s only slightly bitter, and well worth it for the look on his face and the feeling of his hands carding through your hair.

“I’ve got some filing to do,” Jungkook offers up, chest puffing as he slips back into his role, “if you’re going to clean me up like a good little girl, you can do it while I get back to work. I’m a busy man.”

You bite your lip as he cups the back of your neck and urges you to stand, leading you towards the desk. It’s just tall enough that you can sit on your knees below it, mouthing at his cock as he sits back in the office chair.

Giving a guy head isn’t your favourite hobby, but there’s something weirdly erotic about licking your own cum off of him as he types away, all but ignoring you. As you clean him up dutifully, you realise it’s a challenge, of sorts, to suck him off so well that he breaks concentration.

His jaunty clicks of the mouse and punching of keys continues away as he sighs lowly, feeling your lips wrap around his tip. You tongue the slit, keeping yourself steady by gripping the meat of his inner thighs and let your eyes slip shut so that you can fully focus on the minute sounds he lets out.

As you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, testing your limits, you begin to learn the rhythm of his typing, recognising what makes it falter. His tip is sensitive, particularly where it meets the shaft, but it’s when you lap at the skin below his base and suck his balls into your mouth, tonguing at them languidly, that makes him break concentration fully.

“Hngh, fuck,” you hear him make out in a strangled voice, a hand coming down to stroke at his own length.

You bat it away immediately. “I thought you needed to work, Doctor,” you tease, “just let me take care of it.”

Jungkook groans but doesn’t protest when you wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, fingers tight around him as you suck at his perineum, making him moan prettily, the tapping of keys sparse and uncoordinated.

“Fuck, gonna- gonna cum again,” he warns, thighs tensing with the urge to thrust up into your grip.

You switch positions to suck his length into your mouth, rolling his balls in your hand and bobbing your head. Jungkook’s falling apart so beautifully, gasping out little ah, ah, ahs with every breath.

The moment you feel him stiffen up even more, you suck in a breath through your nose and swallow him down to the back of your throat, tearing up as your gag reflex kicks in.

He cums with a cry, shooting ropes of cum down your throat, and you wring out every last drop until he’s hissing and pulling away.

Jungkook helps you up from under the table with shaky hands and tucks himself away, panting. “Holy shit,” he says with a exhausted laugh, “I should have gone to medical school.”

--

The two of you spend the late afternoon showering and then returning the gym to its former glory. It’s not until even dinner has passed before you recall the rule of the Bangasm Bomb - a different bed every night.

You’d slept in Jungkook’s bed on the Monday night, and so you’d have to seek shelter elsewhere.

After getting into pajamas, you step out into the second-floor hallway, glancing around to see if anyone’s door is open. Jin’s is open - he’s still downstairs having a beer with Yoongi - but you’ve used his bed before. The only other one that’s ajar is the bunkroom.

Inside, Namjoon has his nose inside a book by a Japanese author you’ve vaguely heard of, and Hoseok folds a pile of laundry on his bed.

“Room for one?” you call out hopefully. The two of them have each chosen a separate bunk so they can see each other, but while Namjoon has a bottom bunk, Hoseok’s hair just about brushes the ceiling on the third and highest bed. The two of them glance up in unison, matching grins as they wave you inside.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hoseok chimes out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if I could stay in a bed here tonight. I can’t room with Jungkook again.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm in recollection of the scene the three of you shared on Monday. “Well, we’ve got plenty of space. Pick a bed; any bed.”

It makes the most sense to choose the third stack of beds, on the far wall from the door. With only two beds instead of three, it’s easy enough to choose the top one, a perfect halfway point between Namjoon and Hoseok. “It’s not so bad in here,” you remark, tugging up the sheets so you can slip under.

“As far as punishments go, it does seem pretty tame,” Namjoon notes, adjusting a pair of thick reading glasses that balance precariously on his nose. “Though I do feel like it’s the equivalent of a naughty corner. Even if it’s comfortable, it’s the social factor that makes it undesirable.”

“It’s basically a sleepover for losers,” Hoseok surmises.

Namjoon pauses and nods. “Well said.”

You chuckle. “You two seem to be getting along well. Doing a lot of bonding in here, are we?”

“Not a whole lot else to do,” Hoseok points out. “We’ve been chatting away the boredom. Did you know Namjoon thought he could speak to crabs when he was a kid?”

Namjoon lets out a wounded noise, carefully marking his page with a bookmark before tossing the novel to the side. “I never said that! I said I thought they were trying to speak to me, okay?” The academic pokes his head out to look up at you. “Hobi-hyung is scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street!”

Instead of defending himself, Hoseok nods with an indignant pout. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Wow, you’ve only been in here three nights and you’re already sharing childhood trauma? Jin’s gonna be devastated he missed it.”

“Jin had the chance to come join me and he chose not to,” Hoseok declares. “As far as I’m concerned, Namjoon is the only man in this house I respect.”

Namjoon beams, eyes crinkling behind thick frames. “Thanks, hyung. I respect you, too.”

Hoseok’s chest puffs up in pride. “You better after all the things I’ve taught you.”

Namjoon’s blush is telling. You lean forward in interest, glancing back and forth between the two. “Wait; what did you teach him?”

“Well, we’re not gonna tell you,” the dom responds petulantly, turning his nose up, “it’s a surprise for your scene together.”

You pout, leaning back onto the pillow on your bed. “That’s no fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun when you get to experience it firsthand, trust me.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh at Hoseok’s teasing, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand beside the bunks. “Don’t hype it up too much, hyung, I’m not that good yet.”

“You’ll get there, young grasshopper.”

You frown at the uncertain look on Namjoon’s face. “I can go ask one of the others to room with them if you wanna, uh, practice some more.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No, it’s okay. This can be my rest day.”

Hoseok sighs sweetly, rubbing his eyes. “Actually, rest does sound pretty nice. We can pick it up tomorrow. Night, Joonie. Night, Y/n.”

You and Namjoon chime out a simultaneous reply as Hoseok climbs down the stairs to deposit his pile of folded laundry on the empty bed below, returns to the top bunk, and tucks himself in.

Namjoon seems equally relieved to be able to go to bed early, curling up with a pillow cuddled to his chest. “Sweet dreams,” his low timbre calls out.

You smile fondly at your two boys, snuggled up with peaceful faces as they drift away. “Sleep well,” you offer up, before getting comfortable and letting your own eyes slip closed.

[fallingappleshurt]

Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

[dearest-kibble]

I like your take on yandere Zuko a lot! I wanted to ask what would he do if his darling tried to escape from him?

��this is actually a part of something that is uhh,,, 9,000 words atm (and still going) so if ya’ll want the full thing, just let me know and up it’ll go.I’m so sorry this took so long, it should not have (it actually has a second part but it features me being a degenerate on main,,, so it’s going in a different spot,,, do not read it if you don’t want degeneracy)

Zuko leaves you with a candle for the night. It’s the one night you’ve been left alone in four, maybe five years. He claims it’s something about how he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself tonight. It wasn't like he hadn’t touched you before. (But he hadn’t blushed like he did earlier that night when he lit your candle.) You watch the candle flicker from across the room. You haven’t gotten too close to it. It swirls with little flickers of pink and blue against a healthy orange and is probably hot enough to burn if you get too close. You’ve been sitting since he closed your door, and your forehead hasn’t stopped tingling from where he kissed you. You hate him. You love him. But you don’t want to be here, in this room alone with fire. You’d rather be anywhere but near his fire. You’d rather be anywhere than with him. But who doesn’t want to be with the man who protects them. Who loves them. Your grip on your wrist is tight and you hadn’t even noticed that your nails had begun to dig into your palm. In your hand a warm piece of metal sits. You’ve been turning it over since Zuko told you he had a present for you. You’d been getting the same present for years and you’d accepted. The gold hairpin with red tassels taunts you from your palm.

“Tomorrow.” A suspiciously raspy voice, coated in a regal gold echoing in your two, unmarred ears. And you sat. And sat and sat. And your nails began to draw blood. And the hairpin’s tassels, though red, were stained. It clatters to the ground, leaving your palm and mind for one second before you realize that you can feel silk on your foot. Your hands dart to the arms of your chair. Move move move. And your arms sit on top of wood that was carved a decade ago. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and cold. It’s nothing familiar. But maybe that's a good thing. You’d almost forgotten what anything but Zuko feels like. Something inside you misses the heat he emits, whispers that he warms your heart. Something a little larger than yourself screams that he’s burned you. And before you continue to think your feet push yourself out of the chair, the silk tassel falling off of your foot as the hairpin slips your mind. He’s burned you, he'll do it again. Your mind argues with your body before your hands make the decision to stop gripping the red fabric that Zuko insisted you dressed in. Burgundy silk shifts as you begin to walk past the flame that flickers in purples and greens, flecks of red shifting behind a screen of glass. You pick it up, the warmth through the glass so uncomfortably familiar that you can’t help but grip it a little tighter. The candle burns a little brighter. You suck in a breath. You shakily exhale. Holding the candle makes so much more of the room visible, it’s made of metal, almost prison like. You didn’t want to be here. You remember the boiling rock story, sneak out through a blind spot and make for a war balloon. The window wasn’t hard to find with your light source, your reflection on the glass isn’t correct, something is missing. Your topknot. You can fix that (No you can’t) when you’re on a war balloon. You open your window, letting the breeze blow in. The gossamer curtains flutter at the contact as you lift a leg to put through the open window. You feel even colder exposed to the night air. The moon is new tonight, favoring invisibility for the night. Your foot touches soft grass as you straddle the open window and ungratefully almost drop your candle. Your breathing darkens for a bit before softening and looking frantically at your surroundings. The flame in your hands gets a little warmer as you slowly start to slide along the grass of what you recognize to be the gardens.

Your foot hits something small and fuzzy and your breath hitches as you hear an agitated “Quack” Your gaze shifts down as you lock eyes with the beady black eyes of a baby turtleduck. It’s mother wakes immediately, gives you one look and bites your ankle with ferocity. Once again you almost drop your guide. You bite your tongue to keep from crying out in pain. You don’t move, and you taste blood in your mouth before the mother turtleduck slowly releases it’s bill from your heel. And the candle grows a little warmer as you move away from the pond. You’d been this way before once. Through the gate, over a small bridge and up stairs that you hadn’t been allowed to climb on your own. They’re exhausting now, and you would shiver if it weren't for the flame in your hands, yellow and purple with an edge of turquoise.

You stand on a flattened platform that used to have airships tethered to its ground. Now it has what you hear Zuko call dirigibles docked at the ledge. You’re after one of the smaller balloons. The ones that are white and no longer have an insignia that was branded into the retinas of all who saw it.

--

Zuko looks down at you, sitting in the basket of a war balloon, he frowns as he hoists himself over the railing. You stand as he gets in and smile. An instinct that had been burned into you is telling you to touch his shoulder. So you make you way over to his side. His gaze doesn't even meet yours. A heart you forgot could beat starts to pound as you look at him.

“Are you-”

“Yeah.” It's gruff, a little crackly as he speaks. “We need to leave.”

“Okay,” And you don’t press any further. He’ll tell you when he wants and you’ll listen. You don’t have a choice. You place your palm on his back and you can feel his breath deepen.

“Fire bending comes from the breath, right?” You’d heard it once. On a day you wish was easy to forget.

“That’s what Uncle always said.” If he’d let you go, you might not be here today. But you might not be anywhere if he let you go.

“Then breathe Zuko,” You let your palm linger until Zuko turns maybe an hour after you’ve been in the sky.

“Your topknot has fallen out, let me redo it for you.” He gives you a smile. You’re glad to see it. It’s always better when he’s happy.

“Thank you.” You kneel down in the basket. You hear one more puff of flame before he bends down and runs his fingers through your hair. The almost moan you let out might’ve been intentional, and Zuko’s hands rush with a slight heat. They still in your hair for only a second before continuing to comb through.

“You sound nice like that.” It’s painfully obvious he’s trying to make it sound like an offhand comment as he gathers your hair to bring on top of your head. You give no response as he wraps a silk around your hair. His hands stay for a little longer and he drags his nails along your scalp. Another, less intentional moan falls from your lips and Zuko’s grip tightens before he immediately pulls away, and turns back to the furnace keeping the war balloon afloat.

“Thank you for putting my hair up.” you’re sure your cheeks flush a little as you look at Zuko. (You had to pinch them)

“I’ll make you a hairpin once we land.”

“Please?” It may have been a learned response from the other times he’s tried to gift you pins to put into your hair, but this one felt a little different. Zuko rubs a thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in to breathe,

“Of course my love.” His cheeks are red and his thumb contains the same heat that his hand had earlier. He pulls you taut against his chest and doesn’t let go until you feel the balloon start to sink.

--

You knew you’d have to get rid of your guiding flame. The one you're sure that Zuko left to ensure your safety. Ensure your incineration. The question is, how? Are you to smash it against the stone of the platform? Wouldn’t that catch the baskets on fire, or worse wouldn’t that burn you? Was that what Zuko wanted to do? Did he want to burn you? He wanted to keep you safe, that's what he always said, but he’d burned you before. He said it was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact you were burned. Fire benders will always burn when they can. Why should Zuko be any different. He loves you. If he loved you he wouldn’t have burned you. But he gives you food, he does your hair, he gives you clothes. He protects you. He yells and he burns. He ended the war.

You’re screaming before you even hear the glass break, swirls of green and yellow and blue flare to swarm your vision with color that makes you want to vomit. The smell of smoke invades your nostrils and you feel tears fall down your cheeks. Breath escapes you as you try to remember all the times you’ve been told to “Breathe.” the only voice you can conjure is a soft crackle that whispers into your ear - you hear a cacophony of sounds, somehow they only add to your distress, none of them are telling you to just “breathe” and they only scream and yell and you can’t see anything but fire- and your wrist burns and the small of your back is being held - he’s burned through your silk again. And you’re screaming all over again and you hear the words but they aren’t soft and in your ear, he’s angry. They’re loud and you can’t fucking think other than you wish he’d stop stop stop the fire. He’s carrying you down the stairs and you know exactly what room you’re going to and you know that you’re finally going to see why he was a part of this family. He’s going to burn and burn and burn and you can’t fucking breathe. He’s yelling — screaming at guards who aren’t at fault but you can’t hear anything they say, only that he’s mad and it’s your fault. He sits you down in the room, you don’t think he knows you're crying and you probably deserve whatever he’s going to do, you shouldn’t run, you shouldn’t run. He burns a chair first.

“I can’t believe that you’d try to run away!” He sounds angry, he's screaming and it’s at you and you can’t stop it. Old scrolls next.

“From me,” he spits fire from his mouth, smoke curling from his lips. “I love you! Don’t you know that? I. Love. You.” He’s looking at you and there’s a flame burning in his hand and he has nothing in his hand but fire and he’s going to burn you like his family burned him. “You’re mine.” Red-blue fire dances on his fingers as a banner starts to ignite. An angry red scar is all you can see amidst the flames.

“Please, Zuko,” Smoke billows from his mouth and tears continue to drop as you struggle to think of anything but fire. “I-I,”

“You what?” His lips curl into a sneer and you don’t know what the fuck you can do to stay alive.

“I, l-” you choke on a sob. You can’t stop crying. And suddenly a darkness that had settled into his eyes clears. He drops to his knees and extinguishes all flames. The smell of smoke is still in the air.

“I made you cry.” You can barely hear his voice. You can barely hear anything. “I made you cry.” And he sounds angry again. And you cry some more.

“I’m sorry.” He walks a little closer to you, kneels. “I’m sorry.” And you take a gasp of breath and another tear falls. “I never meant to hurt you.” He’s bowing and you can’t help but feel that you should be bowing to him.

“I’m s-sorry.” You choke it out of your throat and taste blood.

“I scared you,” His hair is touching the floor as his head tilts to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“N-” you bit your lip. “No, I shouldn’t have taken your kindness and thrown it.” And he stretches out his hand.

“No, you shouldn’t have to forgive me,”

“I’ll always forgive you.” The truth tastes bitter on your tongue. “Please,” another tear forces its way out. “Please, I’ll do anything if you forgive me.” Anything so that he’ll never be angry again. Smoke clings to your mind as you nod profusely.

“I forgive you.” He looks deep into your eyes and liquid gold drips down his face. “We’ll move our ceremony to the day after tomorrow? I want it to be the happiest day of our life.” He tries to crack one of his smiles. You really love his smile.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, still crying. “I’d like that Zuko.” And you lean forward a little, positioning yourself a little closer. “Can you carry me to our room, p-please?”

“Of course.” His head gives a curt nod before he stands up slowly. A miserable laugh escapes you, as more water drains from your body. He gently reaches out his arms for you to fall into before he arranges your body to carry.

“Thank you Zuko.” And you close your eyes softly as he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” You’re too tired to think. Too tired to even catch the tightening of his fingers as he carries you. The narrowing of his eyes as you forget those words that he needs to hear from your voice. Sobs from your lips come a little more quietly as you burrow your head into his chest which rises and falls with practiced breath. The rhythm of his heartbeat — though irregular — is comforting and slowly, you start to feel yourself calm down. You pass through a gate, and then another.

“Open this door.” It’s the voice you hear when he makes you sit in on meetings, before he adds in a much more familiar tone, “Please?”

“Of course Fire Lord.” The guard sounds urgent. Who wouldn’t after hearing him yell and burn and burn and burn.

“Are you alright?” He’s still holding you, but you can feel his body sink into your shared mattress. You just press your face further into his chest. He’s heating up. “I’ll put on a pot of tea.” He begins to set you down on the bed, fluffing a pillow under your head. “Tea is best when you drink it with another. Or, so Uncle always says.” He’s trying to make you laugh, with his impression of Iroh. “Oh! He told me a tea joke recently, it was about a man named Jin who uhh. Sang?” You snort a little at that. “There was another one, about uhh.” He trails off, snapping a little spark to life under his kettle.

“You can’t remember it?” The pillow which held your head was soft, maybe made of turtleduck feathers.

“No, but believe me - I've chaid.” He lets out a small chuckle himself and you can’t help but to return it, even on impulse. The room sits, steeped in the smell of jasmine tea and woodfire. Though comfortable, something about the silence makes you uneasy.

“A turtleduck bit me tonight.” Your hands feel empty without Zuko there. “I think I kicked a baby.”

“I always used to apologize to the turtleducks when I was a kid.” You can hear his smile. “Especially if Azula threw something at them.” The ceiling has very little to smile about, but your lips curl into an unfamiliar shape, one that didn’t feel forced. You heave a sigh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to smile.

“Yeah,” You hear the pouring of water and the clink of porcelain. A few seconds and Zuko is sitting beside you on the mattress and handing you an intricately carved cup. He waits for you to sit up before grinning at you and taking a small sip. You hold the cup, it’s much too hot to hold and you place it down on the sheets.

“Is it too hot?” His eyebrow lifts in worry. “I can cool it off for you, er uh, probably.”

“No - thank you, I think I should just go to sleep.” Before you even finish your sentence Zuko is opening his mouth. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before closing it.

“You’ve had a stressful night.” Zuko flinches slightly before taking your hand in his and picking up your cup. He places it on a bedside table before kissing your forehead. “You should sleep.” He takes a deeper drink from his cup before placing it next to yours and running a hand through your hair. Breath catches in your throat before thinning slightly. The hand running through your hair drags over your body to find your stomach, briefly lingering on your collarbone before pushing on your stomach in an attempt to make you lie down. You ignore how warm his hand has gotten and how you’re sure your sleep clothes are ruined from the unintentional burning Zuko has caused. Slowly, gently you close your eyes and ignore the lingering smell of smoke.

“Day after tomorrow,” Zuko whispers incredulously before moving off the bed, grabbing something and lying down next to you. He’s ever so gentle when he pulls you into his side. “I really love you. Please, never leave me.” 

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

edge

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: smut, dom/sub, exhibitionism, degradation, spit play, choking, face fucking, spanking, ring kink (if that’s even a thing ..?), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, subspace, aftercare, very fluffy and cheesy ending (like seriously so cheesy and cliche pls don’t bully me i didn’t know how to end it)

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: harry and y/n are a cam couple

author’s note: i hope you enjoy! xx all the love 

masterlist

—

It started by accident, really, with a simple, offhand comment one night.

Already two-and-a-half bottles of wine deep, Y/N was close to tears with one glance at their pitiful bank account, and Harry was trying his best to comfort her and assure her that everything would end up fine, but he had absolutely no way to promise her that. Their part-time jobs did very little to cover their monthly expenses, and their next loan payment for school was coming up; needless to say, they were feeling overwhelmed.

And what better to do than drink and complain about your problems when you’re feeling overwhelmed?

“Maybe I should go into porn,” she sighed, and he rubbed his hand under her shirt, trying to soothe her. They knew that they were taking a risk moving across the world for uni, with no backup plan and nothing to fall back on, but in the end, it will, hopefully, be worth it. In the end, they would have a brighter future, despite the mountain of debt, but the middle part, the part where they struggle and contemplate giving up, is so difficult to get past.

“I—I’d do it with you,” he hiccuped, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Maybe we should do our own videos,” she said, “I heard that people can make a lot of money doing that.” Not noticing that he had gone quiet, she continued, laughing and raving. “Could you imagine? Oh, what if we did one of you going down on me? Harry, babe,” she moans lightly, “that would be hot.”

He smiled widely, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the thought; he felt a rush of blood in his groin. They had talked about recording themselves and posting it online before, so the idea wasn’t something they were unfamiliar with, but it normally only happened when they were tipsy, and they never talked about it in any detail like she was. Now, the thought of her recording him between her legs or vice versa, for them to enjoy over and over, made arousal burn in his belly. He could imagine how the camera would shake as she came on his tongue, her hips bucking wildly, hand pulling at his hair. He holds back a moan.

“That would be so hot,” he said, “we should totally do it.” He downs the rest of his wine and pulls out his laptop.

“No,” she giggled, “no, no…”

“‘M doin’ it,” he said.

“Don’t do it,” she argued weakly, making no actual move to stop him. While she seemed to be on the fence about the idea, she had a slight grin on her face, her heart nearly racing out of her chest.

“We are so doing this,” he said, exploring the page. He gasps suddenly and taps on her leg, making her nearly spill the glass of wine. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N—”

“What? What? What?” She mocked him. With mischievous smirk on his face, he faces her, a slight purple hue to his lips.

“What if we did cam?”

And the rest is history.

Now, they dedicate their Friday nights to do cam videos. It started off as something they did on special occasions, quick little teasers that lasted no longer than ten minutes, but they ended up getting a lot of money for it. It helped pay their school loans and get a head start on their savings, and it gradually turned into a regular occurance.

By the time they are ready to begin their live one evening, it’s nearing ten o’clock. They’re on their bed, pillows and comforter long gone, leaving nothing but faded floral sheets, stretched tautly beneath them. Y/N is nestled into his side while Harry’s on his knees and fiddles with the computer, brows pulled together and lips puckered slightly. She’s tired, her swollen eyelids closing every few seconds. He kisses her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. Their laptop, with the main webcam, is propped up on a stool right behind the footboard, and the secondary camera, a cheap handheld camcorder connected to the computer with flimsy wires, which is used for close up shots, is thrown off to the side. Harry leans back on his heels.

“Ready?” He asks with a teasing smile. Even with such a small gesture, his grin is still infectious, with cute little dimples and laugh lines. She returns the smile. It’s a redundant question at this point, whether or not she’s ready, but Harry asks every time. It never felt like a chore; it was something they both enjoyed, and if they were to grow tired of it, they would stop. They were finally financially stable enough to be able to make the decision.

While initially they decided to start doing cam for the money, it became something that they both enjoyed doing. She always got this little rush of excitement in the seconds before they finally went live. This was the last moment of secrecy they would have for the next hour or so. To many, the thought of some strangers watching her and Harry at their most intimate would make them apprehensive, but she always got this exhilaration from it.

“Always,” she says, stealing one last kiss from him.

It’s a tradition of theirs to hit the “Go Live” button together, cheesy as it is, and tonight is no different. Their faces light up the screen, and they both grin, arousal building with each thrilling second. There is only a moment of calm before dozens of familiar usernames flood the screen.

“See some new ones,” Harry comments under his breath. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, toying with the rings on his fingers. The introduction part is always the most awkward; there is no decorum or set way that they have to be done, and not feeling comfortable using their first names, she and Harry found it difficult to find their rhythm and interact with the viewers. It felt a bit unforthcoming for them to just dive in without saying anything.

“What are we feelin’ tonight, lovie? Soft and vanilla or rough and dirty?” Harry asks, like he normally does.

Comments fill the screen; a lot of them describe what they would do if they were there, but most of them have similar responses: rough and dirty.

The couple very rarely genuinely ask the viewers what they want to see because the most important thing, to them, is that they are enjoying it. What’s the point of doing it if they aren’t enjoying themselves? Sure, they sometimes cater toward the audience (that’s the easiest ways to make any money), but for the most part, they stick to what they both know the other would enjoy. Harry gives her a soft smile, leaning in a little closer. No matter what she wants, it’s all the same to him; as long as he is with her, he likes just about everything.

“Rough and dirty,” she smirks, tongue curling over her teeth teasingly. “I want you to fucking wreck me.” She whispers that part, low enough for only Harry to hear. He hums appreciatively, leaning back.

Ding!

“Be careful what you wish for.”

He kisses her, rough and gnawing, their teeth knocking together with his tongue slipping through, gently prying her lips apart. He bites on her tongue, and she lets out a small whimper, trying to hold off a smirk. Even after all this time being together, since they were just teens, he still knows what makes her tick and ache and melt; he knows exactly where to kiss and bite and lick to make her fall apart. She tucks her arms beneath his own, draping tightly around his waist, her fingertips tracing along the plain of his back, and he shivers.

His hand wraps easily around her throat, another thing he found early on that she enjoyed. He can feel her breathing pick up. She tugs at his bottom lip, suckling at the skin. He digs his fingers deeper into her neck, pressing harshly onto her pulse point. Eyes rolling back, she moans, strained and muffled, breaking slightly, and wraps her hands around his wrist.

“Open,” he beckons, and she does as best as she can, jaw still confined within his strong grasp. Her tongue dips out, ready and willing. “Good girl,” he says, loosening his grip on her throat. A breath of air slips past her swollen lips. Spit dribbles out from his puckered lips onto her greedy tongue. She closes her mouth quickly to keep it all in, his hand tightening around her neck once again. She sighs, head tipping back.

“You know the rules, babylove. Don’t swallow.”

“Mhm,” she nods, voice muffled. Her fingers dip into his boxers, nails tracing over the inked skin. She can trace the outline of his tattoos from memory at this point, every curve, point, and shadow etched in her brain. She pinches the extra skin at his abdomen lightly, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wan’ my cock, huh?” He raises a brow. “Should I make you beg?

Ding! Ding!

“No,” she mumbles, pouting slightly. “Wanna make you feel good.” He hums appreciatively, tapping her cheek lightly.

“Taught you well, lovie,” he says. “Down.” He guides her onto her onto her elbows as he adjusts onto his knees, her hands moving back under the elastic band, the tips of her fingers teasing his skin. “Le’ me see,” he coaxes, fingers tugging on her chin. Sure enough, his spit is still in the divot of her tongue. “Good girl, you can swallow now.”

Ding!

Her fingers tease up his thighs and into his boxers, cupping his balls suddenly. He bites his lip, slapping her on the cheek. It’s not enough to do anything more than a slight burn, but it leaves her tingly with her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t be greedy, slut,” he spits, yanking her head back by her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Just want you so bad.”

She tugs his boxers down, but only enough for his hard cock to slip out. She normally starts off slow, teasing him until he can't take it anymore and pushes her all the way down, using her as he pleases. That’s not the case tonight. A part of her wants to take control, to suck him until he’s nearly falling apart, his knees weak. She takes nearly all of him in her mouth, and he gasps with surprise, his hands combing through her hair, guiding her. She gags on him, her bottom lip pressed tightly to his balls. He tugs her back.

“Watch the teeth,” he hisses. She gasps for air, lips lingering on the red, nearly purple, tip. His hips buck. He breathes out through gritted teeth, shaky and heavy.

“Sorry, just wanna make you feel good,” she says, pressing a wet kiss to his hip. She runs her tongue over the divot of his hip bone.

“Want me to fuck your mouth, lovie?” He asks, his fingers tracing over her tender lips. She nods, and he can feel her trying to move, but he holds her back by the hair, grip tight. “Beg,” he says, brows cocked.

“Please, H, want you to fuck my mouth, use me,” she moans, mouthing over the head of his cock. He holds himself steady, teasing her, just barely letting her feel but not allowing her to fully take him in her mouth. A pool of spit slides down her lips and into his hand, wetting the skin even more, before it falls onto the mattress. Her hands travel up the back of his thighs and onto his partially clothed bum, giving him a cheeky squeeze.

“M’kay, relax, babylove,” he says, brushing flyaways from her forehead, the skin already sticky with sweat. “Hold still and look at me. You know the rules.” She looks up at him, wide eyes never breaking from his as he guides his cock down the length of her throat, squeezing and stroking. She barely winces as he thrusts his hips, shoving himself deeper with every move. Her tongue runs along the bottom ridge of his cock, tracing every vein.

Ding!

She squeezes the skin of his thighs, guiding him further down her throat. The filthy wet sounds make her clit throb and her arousal seep into the sheets. There’s absolutely nothing better than seeing him above her, lost in pleasure, his chest flushing red, nearly incoherent: all because of her. There’s also something incredibly intimate about it as well; he always insists on keeping eye contact until there are tears in her eyes. With one hand gripping her hair tightly while the other gently caresses her cheek, he guides himself into her warm mouth. He nibbles on his lip.

“Take it, baby,” he moans, stuffing his cock deeper in her mouth. He traces his fingers along her throat, feeling the muscles swell and contract beneath them. Saliva dribbles from her lips, down her chin and the length of his shaft. She chokes and gags, but she doesn’t let up.

She barely reaches the base, her nose only just grazing the curls before he’s yanking her back, a string of saliva trailing from the head to her swollen lips, which breaks under the force of her gasps, and his cock twitches at the sight of her looking properly wrecked, eyes wide, blown with lust, her lips swollen and wet from spit and pre-cum, and chest heaving.

“Bend over,” he says, tapping her cheek. “Made such a mess, baby,” he says after she moves up, running a hand over the wet patch that formed on the sheets. Like a good girl, she turns until she’s facing the headboard, her glistening pussy on display to their hundreds of viewers. She shakes with anticipation.

Harry doesn’t deter from his normal routine, not touching her until she’s nearly in tears. She can feel the heat from his hand hovering over her skin, and she can feel hungry eyes on her; a small part of her wants to shrink away, but with Harry right beside her, it makes her feel like the strongest, sexiest woman in the world. Harry finally runs a finger along her slit after a few tense minutes and roughly presses into her clit. Her hips buck into his hand, and she presses a cheek into the mattress, moaning with relief.

“Such a good little slut,” he hums. “So wet for us, baby.”

Us.

When he says that, her pussy clenches and a rush of arousal threatens to slip down her trembling thighs; she sinks further into the mattress, sliding down until her chest is pressed tightly to the sheets, and her thighs spread even further until the joints of her hips ache with overexertion, but the pain is welcomed.

“Keep 'em on or off?” He asks.

“On,” she answers, the feeling of his cool rings against her heated skin is comforting almost. Her stomach tingles when he slips two fingers inside her pussy, with his thumb massaging at the tender skin between her holes. He easily finds that spot inside her, the spot that makes

Her orgasm comes painfully soon, her clit throbbing and begging for attention as he fucks her so close to oblivion, his rings adding extra friction to her sensitive walls. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air as it slips down his hands, traveling either down to her belly or her thighs. She’s so close, close enough to taste it; she just needs one more push until her high completely swallows her, bathing her in a warmth that only he’s been able to give her, but she is, perhaps, a little too optimistic. With every helpless jut of her hips, the more frequent moans, and the tightening of her walls, Harry knows the signs of her impending orgasm, but he can’t let her have it that easily.

A pained yelp slips past her lips when he suddenly pulls away and smacks her clit with wet fingers, the fervent climax drifting away until a dull ache, of yearning and lust, is all that remains. He spanks her sensitive pussy and lands two more on her bum. She groans, savoring the sting from his rings, cold yet burning.

“Not yet,” he says, running his hand along her prickled skin. He spanks her, harder than before, and she groans with pleasure. He wants to see the raised imprint of his hand on her smooth skin.

She can feel herself slipping. It starts off slow, a slight fog behind her eyes, and then it drifts and settles, spreading to her limbs. It feels like being high, swaddled in a soothing haze, and you can only feel yourself. The external earth doesn’t exist, and in that moment, it’s just her and Harry. Her world muffles, the sporadic chimes coming from the laptop ceasing, and the mattress disappears from beneath her, leaving her floating and vulnerable, with nothing to hold her other than him.

Harry.

He has always been able to make her teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure, and with her senses are in overdrive yet dulled at the same time, she feel that edge slip away into the abyss, with each slap delivered to her ass, they’re dulled just a little bit more. Like an addict, she yearns to feel the first one, the one that made her legs tremble, the one that sent tingles up her spine and a burning to her supple skin.

“More,” she says, inching closer to him.

“More?” She can hear the smile in his voice. She stretches her arms in front of her, back arching further than ever before. He lands another slap to her ass, lower and closer to her dripping pussy. He kisses the welts that raised over her skin from the rings, but she can barely feel them, nothing more than a welcomed prickle.

He spits on her pussy and slips three fingers inside this time, stretching her further than before, and with the extra friction from his rings, she tightens up almost instantly, the burning fire from before coming faster and stronger than before.

“Fuck,” she moans, long and drawn out. His free hand spanks her again, and she hisses, her arms giving out. Pleasure rushes through her veins, threatening to envelop her, and she can feel herself give in once again, sinking into him and accepting anything he has to offer. “Close,” she whines, but he pulls away again, slapping her clit roughly. She cries out, wanting to shy away from him, but her body betrays her, and she backs into him, craving yet another stolen high.

“Move t’ the side, button,” he says, tapping her leg, and she does, turning until they’re parallel to the webcam. He only teases the head of his cock through her folds for a moment before he slams into her with little warning, her warmth swallowing him easily. This is something he could never get tired of: the feeling of her hot, wet walls gripping him and of her arousal slipping down his thighs.

Ding! Ding!

His near brutal pace knocks the wind from her chest, making her drawn out cries of pleasure break and split. As he pounds into her, his hips smacking harshly against her raw skin, the remnants of her ruined climaxes leave her walls overly sensitive to every rough thrust, but she backs into him, meeting his hips, eager to finally come undone. He digs his nails into her tender skin, and she lets out a breath.

There has always been a fine line between pain and pleasure, and Harry knows exactly how to dangle her right at the very edge.

“Takin’ me so well,” he coos, but she can’t even fathom his compliment in her addled mind, let alone respond. He wraps his hands around her throat and pulls her head next to his. He wants to feel her, the heat of her breaths, the salt on her skin, the tremors of her thighs, everything. Her body grinds back against him, whether consciously or unconsciously, he doesn’t know. Her eyes are closed, features pinched, chasing her high.

Y/N can feel everything, every rush of blood flowing in her veins, every stroke of his cock inside her, every bead of sweat that drips from his skin and onto her back. She can feel everything, yet nothing at all; it all blurs together into a blanket of warmth and euphoria, and he’s at the center of it all: holding her and pleasing her and giving her everything she never knew she desired. She can barely speak, nothing more than a few broken whimpers filling the thick air, lost amongst his heaving breaths and the chimes from the laptop, which is at the back of their minds at this point.

She hooks her arm behind her, around his neck, her fingers carding through the sweat-drenched locks. She tugs on them painfully hard when he hits her weak spot, and he groans. Her heart is nearly racing out of her chest when yet another taunting orgasm tightens her stomach.

“Need cummies,” she whines, her words slurring, head falling to the side. He nestles his nose into the crook of her neck, hips grinding his cock deeper inside her.

“No cummies, yet, lovie,” he says. “Wait f’ me.” He can feel her struggling to hold her orgasm back, the walls of her pussy fluttering, milking him; he groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock when she squeezes him even tighter. “Relax,” he coos, scratching his nails along her scalp. He slaps her clit, making her twitch and buck even more, and he spreads his fingers around the swollen skin of her pussy, teasing where they’re connected. He lets go of her neck, and she nearly collapses without his support, leaning heavily on her elbows, back arched.

“Please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, “Can’t hold it.”

She slumps onto the mattress, her quivering knees slipping out from under her. Her hips buck, a long, drawn out moan slipping out as toe-curling orgasm washes over her, bathing her in warmth and relief and pure bliss. He comes soon after, hands gripping her hips tightly. Her shallow breaths are barely audible in the thick air, amongst a cacophony of chimes from the cam and his own heavy breathing. He rubs along her back, pressing sporadic kisses to her spine, following the ridges up to her neck.

“Babylove?”

She doesn’t answer, only a weak whimper and a sigh leaving her as she shifts beneath him, causing his softening cock to slip out, their releases pooling beneath them. He quickly closes the laptop to keep some semblance of privacy, and he tries to ease her onto her back, but she’s unresponsive, head nestled deep into the bed, but her breathing becomes more stable, muscles lax.

“Y/N?” She hums and turns onto her back. He cups her cheeks, trying to look into her eyes. They’re half-lidded, and she can’t seem to focus on much of anything. “Can you get up f’me? Need t’ get ya cleaned up.”

She finally looks at him, her pupils dilated, like she’s faded, lost in an empty mind. She blinks and looks down at his hands on her arms. Her brows furrow, and the tremors return, starting in her hands and spreading to her legs. They’re not pleasant, like before when she felt like she was floating; these ones make her blood run cold. Her high lessens, her head still foggy, but the feeling returns in her limbs, leaving her skin burning and bruised. When she meets his gaze again, there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, shame and dread.

In her current state of mind, she mistakes the concern in his eyes for anger, and tears fill her eyes. She disappointed him; she was being greedy and dirty and bad. She covers her face with her arms to hide the tears that slip out, knees tucking to her chest.

“‘M sorry,” she cries suddenly. His heart stops for a second. What on earth could he have done to make her want to apologize? He tugs her arms away from her face.

“For wha’?”

“You said no cummies, and I couldn’t hold it—” Her face crumbles. “I was being a bad, bad girl.” She mutters to herself, biting her lip, which quivers pitifully. “Please, please, don’t be mad,” she begs, hands clinging to him. Before, she felt absolute euphoria, a high she didn’t want to come down from, but now, her skin aches, and there’s a pang of guilt and shame in her belly that she can’t seem to soothe. She doesn’t even feel it when her teeth break past the skin of her lips.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, easing her bruised lip from her teeth. He runs a thumb over her knuckles. “‘M not mad, never, lovie,” he reassures her. “C’mere,” he says, tugging her into his arms. “Look a’ me.” He rests his forehead against hers. He’s had to coax her out of a subspace only a handful of times, but she has never crashed this hard. Never has she been this shaken, nor has it ever happened during a cam. He just wishes he noticed sooner; he should have known not to go as rough as he did, especially when she was feeling tired to begin with. When she’s in her subspace, she tends to take it a little too far, thinking she can take more than what she would normally handle.

“Better?” He asks her after a moment, and she nods, but her hands still quiver at her side. “Be right back, yeah?” He lays her back down gently and goes into the washroom to draw a bath. When he comes back, he finds her with her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.

“Can ya walk?”

“Yeah,” she says, scooting up off the bed, but her knees buckle, and they barely make it to the bathroom.

“I gotcha,” he says. “Jus’ gonna getcha cleaned up, feelin’ all better.” Her bum, the skin raised with welts made by his own hand, barely touches the water before she’s wincing. There’s a tinge in his stomach, but he continues to help her in, holding her under the armpits.

“In ya go,” he whispers, nursing her like she’s a toddler. The water is hot and comforting against her aching muscles. The lavender oil he tossed in leaves her skin silky with a tingeful burn on her bum and thighs. She clings to his arm, which has now wrapped tightly around her middle, pressing into her tender breasts.

“Come in with me,” she says. He sinks to his knees and cups her neck, elbow dipping in the water.

“Be right back, button,” he says, kissing her forehead lightly, “Jus’ need t’ change the sheets.”

He returns not a moment later and joins her in the tub, washing her body with a sweetly scented scrub. She comes fully down in the bath, with his arms coiled tightly around her, one over her chest and the other around her middle, their fingers toying together. The water’s run cold, but they don’t make any move to get out any time soon, basking in the warmth of each other.

Despite how many years they have been together, he still finds it difficult to believe that he can be so comfortable with another person.

She puts her heart, body, and soul fully in his hands and trusts him not to break it.

He trusts that she’ll do the same for him.

And when she snuggles into him and presses a tired kiss to his cool skin, after he gets them dried and in their bed once again, he knows that there is no other person in the world he would trust more with his heart than her.

—

[atsukashii]

hi! for the event could i request: lana x bakugo katsuki + she/her pronouns + ☀️+ orange

thank you!!

life goes on like this again

✘ waking up to your boyfriend is one of the best things, although waking up to him cooking shirtless in your kitchen - yeah that takes the cake.

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.6k

✘ A/N: i got your message about changing your character to daichi, so i hope you like it!

Morning light paints the world behind your eyelids a mixture of shades of pink and orange, and once you open your eyes, the room around you isn’t much different. Early morning light gently slips through the cracks of your open blinds, turning the white walls of your room into a flux of pastel dawn colours. Trying to stay in bed for as long as possible, you turn over, pulling your sheets higher over your shoulder and cocooning yourself deeper into the warmth, more than content to just close your eyes and go back to sleep. However the lack of a presence next to you makes it borderline impossible, and soon enough you find your feet hitting the wooden floors of your apartment before you shuffle out of bed to do your morning routine.

Once you emerge from the bathroom feeling a little bit more awake, you slink down the hallway, not thinking that the noise of sizzling in the kitchen is anything abnormal. However, the second the wafting stench of something burning meets your nose do you wake up completely. With hastened steps, you walk to the kitchen, worried that your boyfriend left something on the stove before he left for work - something that would be uncharacteristic of him. But as you round the wall and step into the kitchen, a soft smile pulls at your lips.

Standing in front of your stove, shirtless, with his broad shoulders tense and looking more bronze in the warm morning light from your kitchen window - stands your boyfriend. Daichi looks like something you’ve plucked out of a dream, and whilst he hasn’t noticed you, simply standing there and appreciating him is what you plan to do; even if he’s currently glaring at whatever he’s trying to cook in the pan.

But Daichi Sawamura has eyes in the back of his head, you’re sure of it. You’re only standing there, staring at his back for only a few seconds before he’s glancing your way, his brown eyes flashing in surprise before a groan tears out of his mouth. You raise your eyebrows at his reaction.

“No no no, go back to bed, they’re not done.” Daichi complains, with pinched brows. He was concentrating really hard on whatever he was cooking, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Ignoring his protests, you smile as you wrap your arms around his toned waist and press a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Are you cooking…” you start, tilting your head to see around his large frame, and into the pan sitting on the stove. The circular and flat thing in the pan gives it away straight away, making butterflies flutter inside your stomach.

“Pancakes?”

“More like cremating them,” he mutters under your breath, and you have to bite your lip to restrain yourself from giggling. You gently tap his abs with your hand and press your cheek to his back, closing your eyes and taking in the warmth that comes from being close to him.

“It’s the thought that counts, right?” You’re one hundred percent sure that your statement would have been far more convincing if your stomach hadn’t chosen that exact moment to growl in protest.

Daichi pivots on his feet, so that his side is pressed against your front and looks down at you frowning. Not at your words, you think, but the whole situation.

“No, it’s not the thought that counts because you can’t eat thoughts to sustain yourself.” Daichi replies with a pointed look. You’re trying really hard not to smile, because you can see how flustered he is about this, so instead you just tilt your head and let a sliver of one slip through.

“Daichi, really it's fine.” You promise, but your words fall on deaf ears as he finally turns to you fully, and you can tell he wants to cross his arms but can't because of your position and the fact he’s got a spatula still in one hand, so instead he just rubs his face. “I’m more surprised that you’re home. It’s a weekday after all.”

The man drops his hand from his face, his hair now a mess from him messing with it, but you think he’s never looked more handsome than in this moment.

“I wanted to take a day off to spend with my girl, and make her breakfast in bed, is that too much to ask?” He asks exasperatedly, waving the spatula around in his other hand.

“Apparently so,” you joke, quickly hip checking him away from the stove, before grabbing the pan and scooping the blackened pancake into the trash. Swiftly washing the pan, you return to the stove once more, turn on the heat and begin to cook the rest of the pancake batter. This time, it's Daichi who is standing behind you, watching over your shoulder as the butter melts in the pan, and you finally pour some batter noto the hot skillet.

“You see, this is why I wanted to cook you breakfast, because you’re always doing the work.” Your boyfriend complains in a groan, resting his forehead against your shoulder as if admitting defeat. A sweet smile pulls at your lips as you take in his gratefulness, because it’s the truth. You’re the one who cooks the meals for you both a lot, but the main reason for that is because you actively enjoy it. A fact he knows well, because he’d never stand for it if you didn’t.

“Yeah but I actually enjoy it. And please, you cook for me sometimes.” You can feel the look he gives you as he raises his head from your shoulder. “Today just isn’t a good example,” You finish, biting your lip to stop you from giggling at his antics.

“I know you enjoy it, I’d never let you cook food for me otherwise.” There ya go. “But I still feel like you do a lot around here, and I'm…” his voice trails off, and you immediately turn around to face him. His voice lacks any of the dominating confidence that he carries without knowing, and that alarms you. You don’t need to look into his eyes to see something is bothering him, but as you mentally make a checklist of his tells, you need to ask.

“Daichi, what’s this actually about?” You ask, your head tilting slightly as his eyes slink away from yours, settling on the small potted herbs resting on your windowsill.

“I was talking to one of the new recruits yesterday, and he made a passing comment after he saw the lunch you made for me.” He explains, and you nod your head encouraging him to continue. You’ve always made him a work lunch from the day you moved in seeing as he had a tendency to get intensely serious in what he was doing, and would often forget to eat. But if you made him food, he’d feel guilty if he forgot to eat it. Had you essentially guilt tripped your boyfriend into being healthy and not forgetting meals, yes, and it was worth it.

“And he mentioned that I was lucky that I have someone that does everything for me, and It made me realise how little i put into this relationship.” Daichi admits and you blink at him for a moment.

And the next, you wack him in the bicep with the plastic spatula in your hand.

“Ow!” he curses, clutching his arm, even though you both know you only tapped him. SO instead, with your free hand, you point right in his face with your index finger, and level him with your most serious glare.

“Now you listen to me Daichi Sawamura, you do not lack effort in this relationship. You are not putting in abysmal amounts. You are the love of my life, and you make me so happy by just simply being in the same room as me, and the fact that you come home to me every day, call me on your break when you're bored, or buy me flowers randomly because you know I'll love them. That is more than enough.” You argue, poking his bare chest with your finger.

“And if anyone tries to tell you that you are anything less than the perfect boyfriend, you’ll have to help me hide a dead body.” Your chest heaves as you finally get all the words out. Daichi is the perfect partner in every sense of the word and the fact that some recruit made him feel less than that really pisses you off.

You’re about to ask for his number so you can beat him with your spatula before warm lips are pressed to yours with a force that almost knocks you back onto the stove. However, strong arms wrap around your waist, stopping the accident before it happens, and you drop the utensil to the floor to slip your hands into Daichi’s short dark hair. Once again you’re gasping for breath when he pulls away, but the smile stretched across his face almost has your head spinning.

“Thank you sunshine, I- I really needed that.” He whispers, placing another kiss to your brow before leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you too,” You close your own eyes, reveling in the peace of the moment, and content that he finally sees what you do.

But the smell of burning interrupts the moment and you immediately curse, turning on your boyfriend and yanking the pan with the now burnt pancake off the heat. Daichi erupts into loud, heart filled laughter from behind you, and you give up, putting the pan in the sink still with the ruined food inside before turning to your boyfriend.

“Want to go out for breakfast?” He asks through his laughter and you nod your head, grinning right along with him. It was the little things like days like today, that made you fall in love with Daichi a little deeper.

✘ EVENT STATUS : CLOSED ✘

[bittybattybunny]

Good day it’s a new au time cuz BRAIN ROT BRRRRR

Anyhow it’s a “MCU” but not kinda au

big thanks to @doodleimprovement for dealing with my word vomit over this au lol iamsosorry

Ru is a tech company CEO giant with his daughter Harriet (his business partner is his former wife who wants nothing to do with their kid) and adopted the recently orphaned Kaya Solaria after she helped stop a mugger in the alley way (well. Spider King did but her mask got hit off by a bullet and Ru saw it was just a kid and stepped in)

Working on running a company, raising his 6 year old as well as a super powered 15 year old (Kaya actually has Spiderman’s powers, King came after the fact and is tied to how she lost her dad) he ends up getting injured on a business trip after he was taken captive. Upon return he decides to try and ‘be a hero’ as a means to get his eldest to stop sneaking out (she has guilt over her dad dying so tries to be a hero to make up for it despite Ru asking her to wait until she’s 18 at least)  he figures if he can get the world (or at least their city) safer, she can rest at ease (cuz he’s a good dad and just wants her to... be a kid. not try to be more than a kid) he uses the Alias “Thorned Snatcher” (as his last name is Thatcher)

Vanessa however wants his new tech as she thinks its the key to a new weapons future and nearly kills Ru when she rips the reactor from his chest. Thankfully he had his old model still and his secretary (Eclipse) and daughters get home in time to help him. he knows if he doesn’t stop Vanessa things will be even worse for his family.

During their fight, he’s knocked down and nearly stops there to tired, but hears his daughters crying for him, specifically for the first time since he adopted her Kaya calls him “Dad”. He knows he needs to keep to his goal and if Vanessa is left free he failed a father.

He manages to get up with the Help of Eclipse who joined the fight, having stalled Vanessa hand to hand despite Vanessa’s weapon suit (sus eclipse is sus) and he’s able to fight again and put an end to her.

he gives Kaya a stipulation when they are waiting on the cops, he’ll let her fight crime, but only when he’s with her.

and thats the first part of this au eve (second bit deals with miss secretary past. A woman who is able to give Kaya a sore hand with a high five despite kaya can stop some extensive things (likepeterstoppingbucky’sfist) and went toy to toy with Vanessa with just a hub cap. Hrm. Cap. Cap. Captain...?)

I actually wrote up when Ru met Kaya. It’s a lil fast pace but I did it on purpose.

“If ya just hand ova ya wallet and yer valuables, you and yers can get out of here with a scar on your little faces.”

Arulius sighed as he heard the mugger and moved an arm to push his 6 year old behind his back. He gently gestured to his watch with a finger, to which she tapped a button on to call their bodyguard, Florence. 

“I’m afraid I really don’t have time for this. Harriet has a dance recit--” Arulius clicked his tongue when the gun was pressed up into his neck.

“I’m bein generous, man.” he pressed it further, pulling the hammer back.

“That’s not very polite! Did your dad never tell you not to stick your shooter in people’s faces?” Came a laughing voice. The mugger gasped when black webbing stuck to his back and pulled him to the ground. 

Standing perpendicular to the wall was the dark-suited figure, glowing white eyes and jagged smile laughing.

“D-Dad! Dad, it’s Spider King!” Harriet giggled as she hung onto her dad’s leg. He scowled and went to step back.

“YA FREAK!” The mugger tried to fight against the restraints, the primed gun going off in the hero’s direction.

There was a hiss as the masked figure fell off the wall with a solid thud. Arulius scooped Harriet up, only stopping when he saw the vigilante's face, the bullet having knocked her mask off.

“A… A kid?” he grimaced. Why was a CHILD attacking a mugger? Before he could open his mouth to speak there was a hissing.

“N-No King don’t! I’m fine! I’m fine!” the teenager gasped as the black claws she had tore off in slimy chunks, lunging at the mugger. She winced with the crunch as his hands were removed and she paled some, shaking.

Arulius shielded his daughter’s eyes.

“BOSS!” The red head came barreling down the alley, a bit too late when Spider King tried to grab her mask. 

“Stop.” Arulius ordered her. She looked up with frightened gold eyes. The tentacles retracting up her sleeves, “wait a moment.”

“Oh gross!” Florence shuddered as she moved to get the mugger up, the man an incoherent mess, “you do this?” she asked the teenager whose temple was bleeding.

She said nothing and gripped her arms as she tried to process. She blinked when tiny hands went to her cheeks.

“BIG SIS IS SO COOL!” Harriet giggled. Her father was talking on his phone.

“I-I’m.. No…” she looked away ashamed, “Y-You… I’m… I just… wanted to help…” she began to sniffle, “I-I didn’t mean for king to…”

“He hurt Sol. Bite back.” The snake-like creature peeked from the girl’s collar.

“I-I told you no biting h---” she placed her hands over her mouth and scurried to her feet, violently vomiting into a trash can. She panted some. Tensing when a hand rubbed her back gently.

“Yes. yes. He shot his own hands off in his confusion. Must be high.” Arulius was standing near her now as he spoke on the phone, “My guard was able to restrain him. Yes. yes I’m fine as is my daughter and the teen he was attacking. Mmhm.”

She flinched when he scowled and tilted her head up, “scratch that, looks like the teen got a bit hurt, but we’ll treat her. Yes. yes. I’ll leave my guard here.” hanging up he shifted his phone to his pocket before licking his thumb and wiping the blood away. She winced.

“O-Ow don’t! That stings!” she whined as tears pooled in her eyes.

King hissed and went to bite him but stopped when the girl sniffled. He nuzzled her cheek as Arulius let go. 

“Come on.” he pointed towards the black car that pulled around, “let’s go and then I’m calling your parents.”

She gripped her arms and stood firm, “T-Thanks for calling the police b-but you better f-forget you saw me, Mr. Thatcher.” she chuckled nervously, brushing black hair from her face.

“You know who I am?”

“O-Of course I do! Who wouldn’t?! Thatcher tech is my dream job!” she gasped, “I-I was a-at your summer program--” she covered her mouth.

He clicked his tongue, “the one for highschoolers?” he asked. She whined and moved to run but bumped into Florence who huffed.

“Give me your parent’s number.” Arulius sighed.

“I… I don’t…” she chewed her lip. She was quiet.

“Where do you live at least? I’ll drop you off.” he shook his head.

“PARK!” King chirped.

“Hush!” She fretted.

“The park? You live in the park?” Harriet asked as she stood near the teenager’s legs, “That’s not fun!”

“W-well i-I couldn’t stay at m-my apartment…” The teen frowned. She winced when she was pushed towards the car. Whining and trying to deflect she found herself sitting in the back. Harriet crawled in and grinned as Arulius sat in the passenger’s seat.

“No parents. No house. Now I get why a damn kid is running at muggers.” he rubbed his temples with a groan, “name?”

She was quiet.

“I’m not calling you ‘spider king’ name.” he asked a bit firmer.

“S-Solaria…” she mumbled, “K-Kaya Solaria…” she wiped the tears with the back of her gloves, “A-Are you going to turn me in?? I-I don’t mean any harm Mr. Thatcher! I-I promise! I-I normally do fine!!!”

“How old are you?” He opened the window and put a cigarette in his mouth and leaned out as he lit it up. “Under 18 if you were at the company summer program.”

“I… I turned 15 last month…” she admitted ashamed. 

“You’re a few years older than me!” Harriet beamed, “I’m 6!” she grinned.

“I’m more like a decade older…” Kaya chuckled nervously. She looked at the tech company CEO. he had pulled a laptop out and made another annoyed click with his tongue. She winced.

“Your father…. Gabriel Solaria?” he leaned back, “the journalist?”

She nodded.

“Damn shame. He was a decent guy. His stories were interesting.” he flicked through the news reports as Florence got in the driver’s seat.

“Done with the cops?” he asked, “stop by the courthouse.”

“Huh?” she started the engine, “courthouse.”

“P-Please! D-Don’t turn me in! I-I’ll b---”

“I need to grab some adoption papers.” he gave a smirk and looked back at the crying teen, “Since it seems Harriet's getting an older sister. But no more crime fighting.” he shifted to cross his arms and put his feet on the dash. “15… fucking 15. You know what I did at 15??”

“Built a rocket engine that was able to lift a treadmill?” she stated with a small smile.

He blinked and snickered, “okay, yes but I was also just. Going to sch--- do you go to school?”

“I-I’ve been attending school still.” she scratched her cheek, “Um… Subcon Public high…” she sank back in the seat. She jumped when Harriet sat on her and protectively put her arms around the younger girl. She shifted her seat belt around her as well when Florence pulled into traffic.

“Well you’ll have to transfer. Is that an issue?”

She shook her head, “U-Um mr. Thatcher… what… are you planning?” she asked softly.

“Adopting a lost child, and making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.” he snickered, “Any school you want to attend?”

“I… i you can’t! Y-You just met me!” she gasped in shock, “I-I’m a freak! I’m an accident! I-I have an alien!”

“Meeee” king stated proudly with a cackle.

“Yes but you know what I see? I see a scared kid who’s trying a little too hard.” he scoffed as she stared, “and we’re going to grab adoption papers, then I’m ordering pizza. Any allergies?”

“EAT EVERYTHING,” King laughed.

“Perfect then.” Arulius huffed, “and you can call me Arulius. Since I guess calling me dad off the bat would be weird.” he began to type on his laptop.

She sat there in confusion. She’d simply gone to help someone. And now her idol was adopting her. Her. a mutant spider freak with a parasitic alien.

She reached and pinched her cheek and whined.

Arulius caught this in the rear view and began to cackle loudly.

“Sorry kiddo. You’re awake.”

“B-But why are you just adopting me and not turning me into a lab or something?!” she asked fearfully.

“Dad’s nicer than he looks~!” Harriet giggled, “Can you shoot webs?”

“Mmhm.” Kaya shifted her gloves off and removed the cuff under her sleeve, “its um. An artificial webbing actually, unless King is the one shooting it. He has a gooey webbing.” 

Arulius peeked and reached a hand back. She frowned before handing the cuff to him.

He turned it over in his hands with an impressed whistle, “you construct this?”

She nodded, “I-I like engineering and I figured it’d be useful when king’s tired, i-it’s bio degradable too! But really strong!”

“That's how you swing around right?” Harriet asked with sparkling eyes, “What else can you do?!”

“Well I can walk on walls.” Kaya sighed, “I’m pretty strong too? I can lift a car if I focus. I can move fast?” she frowned, “I’ve never really… tho-- STOP THE CAR!” She gasped.

Florence slammed on the brakes as the truck at the intersection sped by.

“There’s um that. Normally I can semi tell something can happen.” Kaya frowned, “s-sorry for yelling.”

“No, by all means!” Florence laughed, “So. Spider King huh?”

“W-well it’s cuz I’m spider-esque and then King.” she pet the alien who chirped.

“What’s his deal?” Arulius asked but got silence, “alright another day then.” 

Florence parked the car as Arulius got out.

“Wait here,” he stated and Kaya just gave a nod. He threw her web shooter back and she caught it with wide eyes, “You’re grounded from crime fighting until you’re 18, but I won’t take your web shooters.”

“Ah… okay…?” she blinked as he shut the door and headed up. She leaned into the seat and just sat there. Very confused.

“Can I call you big sis? Or kai??” Harriet asked the older girl.

“Oh… um… I guess you can call me whatever….”

“Kaya’s a cute name.” Florence chuckled, “Crime fighting though. What a hobby.”

“I… I just wanted to help people…” she admitted softly, “I have these abilities so I thought I needed to…”

“Can you swing with me when we get home? We have a big tree in the yard!” Harriet giggled, “can you sign my daily bugle of you??”

“I’d rather not…” Kaya chuckled.

“Sleepy.” King huffed.

“Exhausted,” Kaya admitted as she shut her eyes. She barely registered she’d fallen asleep.

After a bit Arulius returned with the needed paperwork. He blinked and smiled as he looked in the back seat. The superhero passed out, his daughter sleeping against her.

Kaya’s arm rested around Harriet, and even King was putting his head on the girl.

“Well, not the oddest thing I’ve ever dealt with.” he spoke softly as Florence started the car once more. He flipped through the papers, “seems people had no idea she was on her own. Thought her uncle had her but turns out he lied and was just taking the financial support.” he grumbled, “there’s some messy hearings but I think I can just. Pay it off.” he looked back and gave a smile, “hey free babysitter.” he snickered.

------

He tapped his foot as he crossed his arms with a huff.

“Kaya.”

She looked away ashamed.

“What did I say?”

“No webbing in the house unless you’re watching.” she mumbled.

“And then why is the house covered in webs?” he asked with a twitch of his eyebrow.

“I-I was just playing with Hattie!” she defended. She huffed and he smirked. She seemed a bit more settled in if she was copping an attitude, “I-I’ll clean it up! I promise Mr. Thatcher!”

“Arulius. I told you, use my first name. You’re my kid now you know.” he sighed and headed inside.

She stepped aside and rubbed her neck, looking at the floor, “I-I can’t just… call you your name… that’s rude…”

“You’re my kid now, it’s weirder if you keep calling me “Mr. Thatcher” I’m not asking you to call me dad but.” he chuckled.

“THOT!” king sang loudly as the teen’s face turned red.

“I-I didn’t teach him that! I swear!”

[fruitydiaz-archived]

with the comfort of a billion stars (and you)

chimney and eddie get high in eddie's backyard and talk about what it means to be a good father

because of @hetheybuck's tags on this post about chimney and eddie being blaze buddies

drug use | sweet conversations | stargazing

1,691 words

AO3 link

Chimney wrapped his arms around himself instinctively as he slipped out into Eddie’s backyard, rubbing his hands rapidly along the tops of his arms as he breathed out, watching his air puff out into the cold like white smoke before quickly dissipating. The bite of the cold air against his skin was a welcome reprieve to the flush brought on by too many bodies in too small of a space.

He thought he was alone for a moment, leveling out his breaths and staring up at the sky, squinting as if he could stare just long enough to actually be able to make out some stars in the black of the LA sky—before he heard another sharp intake of breath from his side. He turned, staring down the line of Eddie’s backyard, surprised to find Eddie there, alone, curled up on a lawn chair, head tipped back as he blew out a soft puff of smoke, a joint dangling from his fingers. Chimney blinked, hesitating just for a second, before he stepped off Eddie’s porch and made his way over to the chairs.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Chimney called out as he neared him. Eddie’s head tipped back forward, eyes wide, then squinting in the dark as he tried to make out who was approaching him. The corners of his lips curled up into a soft smile.

“Every once in a while. It was a bit much in there,” He explained with a shrug. Chimney smiled back at him before settling down into the chair next to Eddie.

“I hear ya.”

Eddie smiled again, glancing down at the ground and nodding a bit before stretching his arm out towards Chimney. He shuffled the joint between his fingers, holding it out in offering. Chimney considered it and then looked back at Eddie, eyebrows raised.

“You sure?”

“Course, Chim. It’s my house. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t share?”

Chimney nodded appreciatively, taking the joint and holding it up to his mouth, inhaling gently. It’d been a while since the last time he smoked and he struggled to maintain a cough, tipping his head back against the chair like Eddie had and releasing the smoke back into the air.

“God,” He said on the exhale. “It’s been a while.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgment, taking the joint back from Chimney’s stretched out hand.

They didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, both of them staring up at the night sky, trading off the joint every once in a while, in comfortable silence.

It was nice, Chimney thought, getting to have this quiet moment with Eddie. They didn’t get to do this often; always racing off to different emergencies or juggling conversations with everyone else on the team. This was nice. He felt loose and relaxed—and maybe that had something to do with the weed—but he was also pretty sure it had something to do with Eddie, and maybe something to do with how dark the sky was, and how instinctively he knew that staring up there were actually billions of stars in the sky, and how actually he wasn’t staring at some flat surface but rather the entire universe that expanded all around them, and how even though he couldn’t see any stars, light from those stars was currently traveling at speeds he’d never ever be able to comprehend, and how some of those stars that he couldn’t see but could see under different circumstances were actually dead, like long dead, and how some stars were dying at right this very second, and how some stars were being born this very second, and how all of that made him feel very small and comforted and insignificant and important all at the same time.

He was a little high.

When Eddie’s hand knocked against his, joint stretched out between his fingers, Chimney laughed a little and waved him off. Eddie smiled, taking one last drag before tapping it out on the ashtray next to him and setting it down.

Another moment of silence stretched between them. Chimney furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m scared of being a terrible dad,” He said suddenly, no idea where the thought came from. He saw Eddie nod slowly from the corner of his eye, like he was fully expecting Chimney to say that.

“How do you do it?” He asked, turning to face Eddie, who turned back towards him, eyebrows raising. “With Christopher. How do you...how do you...not mess it up?”

Eddie snorted and took a deep breath before answering, the corners of his lips curling softly.

“I mess up all the time, Chim.”

Chimney frowned. That’s not at all what he wanted Eddie to say.

“You’ll mess up,” Eddie continued, turning forward again, his face serious. He looked back up at the sky and sighed, rolling his neck from side to side. Chimney waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better, Eddie,” Chimney pointed out. Eddie giggled a little. It made Chimney giggle a little, though he kept trying to force his face back down into a scowl. This was serious. He was serious.

“No, I know,” Eddie straightened up in his chair. “I think...I think the sooner you realize that you will mess up—the less you’ll...mess up.” Chimney blinked and Eddie frowned, face scrunching up like he was trying to work exactly what he was trying to say. “I mean. We’re in charge of this...little life, now, you know? Sometimes I still feel like a kid myself but—I’ve got to be responsible for my actual kid now. And...I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. My parents weren’t...the best examples. So I’m just...doing my best. That’s all we can do.”

He nodded again, more confidently this time, solid. Eddie turned back to Chimney.

“I think Christopher’s okay, right?”

“Eddie,” Chimney said, voice stern. “Christopher is amazing. And you do this all on your own. I can’t imagine. I’m...so lucky to have Maddie.”

“I don’t really do it alone,” Eddie smiled. “Buck helps a lot. And we have Carla.”

“You're his dad,” Chimney felt the need to remind him. Eddie ducked his head, smiling wider, prouder.

“I am.”

There was a pause. Chimney watched, transfixed as Eddie dug the heel of his shoe into the dirt in front of him, dragging abstract patterns into the ground. It was fascinating.

“I think we’re too hard on ourselves,” Chimney said. Eddie snorted again.

“That’s what Buck says.”

“He would know.”

“He would know.”

Another pause.

“I don’t want to be like my dad.”

“You won’t be.”

“Are you sure?”

Eddie sighed, flattening his foot and dragging it through all of the lines he had just made. Chimney was pretty sure he heard his heart break. Over the dirt art.

“Well, you will be, sometimes, in tiny ways. But you’re not him. You’re...parts of him, parts of your mom, and parts of you, you know?”

“I hope I’m mostly parts of my mom.” His voice sounded wistful.

“You’re mostly parts of you.” Eddie didn’t see the way Chimney’s face pinched in disappointment, still staring at the patch of dirt on the ground.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Eddie’s tone was determined and final—and with that he pulled his legs back up into the chair and leaned back, blinking back up at the stars. He looked strikingly childlike, loose and relaxed.

Chimney sniffed. He felt—he felt warm. It was cold out but he felt this warmth radiating from somewhere in his chest or maybe his stomach—somewhere in his core, he wasn’t really sure—and it spread everywhere throughout his body. He almost felt like it spread even further, encompassing Eddie and his backyard and his house along with everyone inside it and all of LA.

The last few months had been hard. The last couple of years had been hard. Hell—life had been hard. And sometimes it was easy for Chimney to get lost in that; to look at Maddie fighting to pick herself back up, to look at Albert pushing to become a firefighter, to watch the Lees take on his kid brother and watch him go through the same process their dead son had, to watch Eddie and Bobby recover from their shootings, to watch Bobby and Athena mend their relationship, to watch Buck fall apart and stitch himself back together, to watch Hen and Karen grow attached to Nia only to lose her when they had expected it all along and somehow that hurt worse, to pretend through it all that he could shoulder the responsibility of having it all together, to be the friend and partner and father that he knew he needed to be.

It wasn’t about him—but it was. And he felt heavy and tired.

But sitting next to Eddie, a little high, comforted by Eddie’s sincere words—Eddie who would never sugarcoat it, would never lie, who always chose his words with careful intention—he felt lighter. Looking up at the sky, feeling the presence of stars young and old, alive and dead, feeling but not seeing, knowing that just inside were all his friends and family, laughing and reconnecting and healing after months and years of trauma, knowing that all around them billions of lives were being lived. And while bad things happened and people got hurt—good things happened too.

Good things like his baby girl being born. Good things like his baby brother making it out of a terrible car accident.

Good things like survival and healing and happiness and love. Things that persisted.

It was all around him constantly. He didn’t feel it all the time—but he did then.

“Hey, Eddie? I love you.”

Eddie stilled for just a second before his face cracked into a wide grin and his shoulders started to shake as he giggled, again.

“I love you too, man.” Chimney swiveled around in his seat.

“No, seriously, I mean it. Family we chose, right?”

Eddie’s giggles died down and he studied Chimney’s face carefully, smile softening, before nodding.

“Yeah, Chim. Family we chose.”

[choco-mark]

[10:06pm] ♡ ✹

“what do you mean we’re not doing it?!” boyfriend!renjun asked with huge eyes bulging out of his sockets. “i think it’s an absolute perfect time to bake cupcakes and i really don’t see the issue in general.”

you sighed, closing the laptop that was on your lap as you looked over at him, an annoyed expression etched on your face. “the issue is that i have a report due tomorrow and it is nearly midnight and i really don’t see why we have to do that right now.”

it was weird, seeing someone like renjun get all excited about doing something simple, but he had recently gotten so into baking since quarantine started and always felt that something was left out in his delicious results: that being you. and you, being the procrastinator that you are, had decided to leave your important biology lab report till the last minute and you had been working on it all day. to be fair, renjun only wanted to give you a break.

when you reached for your laptop again, you heard a sigh from beside you, and the next moment you were over his shoulder, having a nice view of his ass (that he had ‘been working on’ according to him). “renjun, what the fuck?! put me down!”

“no,” he said calmly, giving a sharp slap to your ass to shut you up. “i’ve been waiting all damn day to spend time with you, and i don’t really care what time it is. we are making the fucking cupcakes right now, and you aren’t objecting or i’ll throw your laptop out the window.”

“you do realize that we live on the ground floor—”

“besides the point!” he continued, placing you down on the island counter. “i want to do something with you, y/n. it’s sunday and you’ve been doing shit for the whole day, just give me an hour. that’s all.”

renjun turned around, handing you the recipe he had printed out earlier. “i have everything out already, we just need to—” you eyed him from behind the paper, gulping as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the veins trailing up his arms.

he stopped halfway in his words, watching how you were getting turned on by the slightest thing and he sighed, giving a slap to your thigh. “focus, babe, don’t you want to get back to your work?”

putting down the recipe, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him between your legs close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. “or, you know, we could do something else?” you looked at him with anticipation, but his expression didn’t change a bit.

“i’m not dicking you down, y/n,” he whispered in your ear, pinching your waist slightly to make you yelp. “i am trying to prove to the both of us that we can do something other than work and have sex.”

“but you’re hot,” you whined, pulling him back as he walked away. “how am i supposed to concentrate when you’re out here looking like the hottest thing in this kitchen?”

there was a moment of silence, right before you and renjun burst out in laughter. “y/n, i understand that i’m irresistible, but please control yourself.” he leaned in carefully, placing a kiss upon your lips that left you pouting for more. “behave, babe, let’s actually do something.”

the actually preparation of the cupcakes wasn’t that long of a process, since the both of you were decent enough at cooking that it wouldn’t burn down the apartment (it made you think back to the last time you two allowed mark and jeno to prepare celery sticks and dip, which led to a confused disaster).

while the cupcakes baked in the oven, the two of you had attempted to make your own icing for the first time in three different colors. it turned out well, better than you had expected, except for the fact that it ended up all over your hands as you put it into the piping bag.

considering you had been focusing on renjun’s (very clean, hicky-less) neck, you swiped some onto his skin, making him jump back. but before he could wipe it off, your tongue was already doing the job and your lips had very nicely produced a mark. 

“you horny creature,” he said, attacking your neck with a force that would have had you collapsing if he hadn’t held you. his teeth nibbled on your skin, making you giggle at his annoyance. “i swear, you really make me question my sanity sometimes.”

thankfully, the oven screeched at the two of you, telling you to take the cupcakes the fuck out before they burned to inedible smithereens. excitedly, you reached for the hot pan, but retracted your hand immediately as you touched it. “ow!”

“stupid,” renjun teased you, making you stick out your tongue at him in response as he pulled out the pan with an oven mitt. “did you burn yourself?”

you looked at the finger that had touched the pan, watching as it grew in color and pain. “yeah, i think so. it doesn’t hurt that—bad though.” your boyfriend gave it a small touch and you winced.

“liar.” he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand under cold running water as he turned on the faucet. “wait here, i’ll get the burn pads.” he turned away, walking to the medicine cabinet.

“we have burn pads?”

“yeah, they’re like the small bandage type things,” he returned with a small band-aid looking strip, pulling your hand out of the water. “well, these are technically mark’s that he bought after he burned himself. but since that happened in our kitchen, i kept them. plus, he probably has a hundred of these at his house considering his horrible cooking skills.”

you snorted as renjun dried off your hand, applying the bandage to your finger. “more like non-existent cooking skills.”

finally, after making another mess while frosting, the cupcakes were finally done and perfect. you clapped your hands at the masterpiece, looking at renjun who had a soft smile on his face as he watched you. “let’s taste them!”

you had to say that those were probably the most delicious thing you had in a while (other than some renjun di—), and you probably could have eaten the entire batch in the next hour if you didn’t stop yourself. as you took another one in your hand, renjun wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing his head on your shoulder. he opened his mouth, signaling for you to give him a bite.

lucky enough for you, the cupcake smashed right against his nose as you tried to aim for his mouth, making the frosting smear all over his face. gasping, he attacked your stomach, tickling you mercilessly.

the cupcake fell from your hand (thankfully onto the plate) as you leaned back, your fits of laughter increasing as you tried to break yourself out of his grasp. “babe—i didn’t—do it on—it was an accident!”

“you’re such a bad liar,” renjun said in chuckles, letting go of you to wipe off the icing on his face. “i’m surprised you didn’t try to lick it off my face this time.”

“do you want me to? because i—”

the last words never came out, because his fingers found your ticklish spots, abusing them until you were on the floor. now damn, you were so glad that you had gotten off your bed to spend time with your boyfriend, since the little moments were the ones that you loved the most.

renjun is SO boyfriend i want to cry my lord and this turned out to be a lot longer because i was in my renjun feels i miss HIM

[fanficimagery]

Secrets

Summary: Imagine having a secret boyfriend that your friends are all too eager to figure out the identity of.

Words: 2.4K Warnings: Language. Mentions of a MINOR car accident. Apologies to ‘anonymous’. I was so in love with the idea that I didn’t realize I didn’t actually know how to write a shy/timid person. I hope you still enjoy this.

Requested by anonymous who said: Hi! Can you write something where reader is really innocent and shy and she blushes/gets embarrassed easily but one day she has a hickey and everyone is trying to find out who she’s dating ? Thank you!!! (Omg sorry I’m so dumb😭 could it be for the vlog squad and the boyfriend being someone in vlog squad ! Maybe Jeff but I’m okay with anyone! Tysm!!)

Jeff asking you out came as a big surprise.

You had been a fan of David's videos, tweeting here and there to the group whenever they tweeted something random. You had never got a reply, which was to be expected, but you kept on tweeting them as if you were a long lost friend of theirs. But then everything changed one night when Natalie tweeted you back.

It started off slow, but she would reply to every one of your replies whether it be a couple of words or an emoji. Eventually, Natalie followed you back after a month of so of tweeting. And afterwards, it was a coincidence that the two of you ended up at the same restaurant. She tweeted a picture of her food and the place she was eating at with her mother, and you had replied you were there too.

Natalie had recognized you from your profile picture and she was happy to see you face to face. You were happy too, but you kept the meeting brief since she was there with her mother and promised to message her later. You took no pictures and didn't make a big deal about meeting her, and went about your own dinner before taking your leave.

Then on a whim when you tweeted you were bored, Natalie invited you to lunch. You agreed and met up with her, and it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Meeting the rest of the gang left Natalie surprised. Where most people gushed and gushed, you were suddenly timid and didn't stray from Natalie's side. It wasn't that you were intimidated, but their personalities were flirtatious and innuendo dripped from every other statement that left their mouths. You had laughed and blushed, and then blushed some more when they teased you for it.

The group instantly accepted you and grew accustomed to your innocence. The girls took to protecting you when out in public, and when they couldn't the boys did. But a majority of the boys were more interested in either filming or finding a one-night-stand, and you really only had one person in your corner. Jeff.

You weren't really a party girl, but you went out with the gang when you were free. And more often than not, Jeff was never too far away and ready to whisk you away from an uncomfortable situation. So even after months of hanging out with Jeff when everyone was too crazy, late night phone calls, and hundreds of texts, you were beyond shocked when he asked you to dinner. At first you had politely declined because someone as handsome as him and who had the reputation Jeff had didn't go for someone like you. But he was patient and promised to go with the pace you set, and you eventually found yourself interested.

And true to his word, Jeff followed your lead and was more than down to spend time at home with you rather than going out on flashy dates.

Then after a couple of months testing the waters with him, you were ready to be exclusive even if you and he agreed to keep it on the down low. You knew your friends and you were dreading the big deal they'd no doubt make.

Standing at your kitchen counter, you're slicing up a bit of fruit when hands slide around your waist from the back. A scratchy beard settles nuzzles near the crook of your neck before lips press softly to the side of your throat.

Chuckling quietly, you angle your head to the left to give Jeff more room. "Having fun there?"

"Mhm." Teeth nip and you groan, the fruit momentarily forgotten as his tongue then soothes the small sting. "Still want that snack?" He asks as his hands slide just underneath the hem of your tank.

His teeth bite a little harder and you gasp. You quickly set the knife down, sliding it and the cutting board of fruit to the side. "Screw the snack."

All too eager, Jeff turns you around and immediately lifts you onto the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, his hands pull off your tank, and your hands link behind his neck. Your lips are drawn to one another and you lose yourself in the kiss.

"If only.." Kiss. "Our friends.." Kiss. "Can see you now." Jeff says between kisses.

You pull away, panting and groaning when Jeff's mouth moves back to your neck. "Don't jinx us." Your cellphone suddenly rings and he chuckles. As he continues to lick and nip, you look at your phone and see David calling. "Shit. It's David."

"Don't answer it."

"I have to." Jeff doesn't let up, instead he merely moves to the other side of your neck. Grumbling, you pinch his side just as you answer the call. "Uh, hey David!" Jeff bites, harder than he has been doing, and you muffle your groan into his shoulder.

"Uh, Y/N? You okay?"

"Mhm. Stubbed my toe," you lie. Jeff suddenly pulls back and smirks at you, and you unwrap your legs from his waist to use one of your feet to keep him at bay. "What's going on, David?"

"Me and the boys are going out for some lunch. You in?"

Glancing at your forgotten fruit, you sigh. "Yeah. Give me twenty. I need to shower."

"Okay. I'm picking up Todd right now then heading over to Jeff's since he's not answering my texts. We'll get you last."

Eyes widening, you can't help but stammer. "O-Okay. See you soon." As soon as you hang up and set your phone aside, you hop off the counter and immediately start shoving Jeff out of the kitchen. "Go, go, go. David and the boys are going to your place to see if you want to grab lunch with us. You need to learn to answer your texts."

He laughs. "What? You know I can easily just tell them I'm on my way to yours and they can just pick us up here together."

"Nope. No way," you say. "I don't trust you to let me shower in peace."

Jeff sighs. "You make a valid point."

As soon as you're by the front door, he bends over to slip his feet into his shoes. Then as he stands back up, he presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Okay that's enough. Shoo," you say as you push him out the door.

          ----------

After one of the quickest showers you've ever taken, you apply a faint amount of makeup before tying your hair up in a messy bun and then shoving your feet into a pair of shoes. David texts that they're outside, so you readily pocket keys and cash before making your way outside.

David's driving and Jason's in the passenger seat. The back passenger door opens and Jeff steps out smirking, you rolling your eyes at him as you slide in before crawling into the third row. Todd greets you with one of his beaming smiles and once you're situated in the back, and Jeff's reclaimed his seat before shutting the door, you lean forward between Todd and Jeff.

But before you can say anything, Todd's eyes widen. "Oh my god! Who hoovered your neck?!"

You freeze as Todd pokes at a particular spot on your neck, your eyes widen when David and Jason twist in their seats, and it takes everything in you to not glance at Jeff.

"Y/N.." David says, slowly smiling. "Care to explain?"

"..fuck."

"Seriously though, kudos to the guy or girl who managed to get you to let loose."

"Will you stop poking me!" You say, swatting at Todd as he suddenly cowers away from you, laughing. David and Jason are laughing hysterically in the front, Todd can't stop making kissing noises, and Jeff is chuckling softly. You groan and then hide your heated face in the palms of your hands. "This is why I didn't say anything. You guys know how I am with this stuff and look, you're all being assholes about it."

"Alright, alright," Jason says, ever the dad of the group. "Let's all leave Y/N alone. We're making her uncomfortable."

Instead of thanking him, you merely slide over to hide behind Todd's seat. Then when Jeff glances at you, you glare at him with one hand covering the side of your neck. The apology is in his eyes, but the bastard is finding this all too amusing.

          ----------

Lunch was quite the amusing affair. Well at least for the boys it was. They couldn't stop staring at the hickey adorning your neck, or asking who the mystery person was, so you had to let your hair down to cover it. And all the while, Jeff never once came to your aid. Which, looking back on it, it was probably for the best. You couldn't chance your friends being suspicious.

But then things only got worse when everyone was back at David's, and Todd found it his mission to inform the girls of the hickey in hopes they knew something the boys didn't. But after much squealing and questioning, they realized no one had a clue as to who your mystery partner was.

It feels like your face has been flaming for hours, eyes on the verge of stinging with tears of embarrassment.

"Can you guys just.. stop," you ask, voice low. "I understand this is out of the norm for me, but I- I don't want things out in the open yet. I mean, just look at what you guys did to Suzy. You all got together and videotaped the first meeting. It's embarrassing."

Natalie, your first friend from the group, leans into you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sorry, but it's just- it's you. You, my shy and beautiful and awkward friend," she coos.

You laugh, but the redness still doesn't recede.

"Will you at least tell us if it's a he or she? And if we know them?"

Hesitating briefly, you say, "Him. And you maybe know of him."

Everyone's back to oohing and awwing, and throwing out wild suggestions of who it could be.

Not once do they guess correctly, then again it doesn't help that your little shit of boyfriend is tossing out suggestions of his own, and eventually you leave them to keep wondering as Natalie drives you home.

Two days later everyone is still trying to figure out who Y/N's boyfriend is and Jeff is grateful that she's not here, she choosing to run a few errands instead.

He's grabbing a drink from David's kitchen when his phone rings, he having left it in the living room where everyone else is. Natalie sees it, picking it up and waving it at him. "It's Y/N."

And not wanting to be suspicious by hurrying for the phone, he says, "Answer it."

Grinning, Natalie does as she's told. But only after seconds of answering the call does her smile her fall and she holding out the phone to Jeff once more when he nears. "It's, uh, it's the hospital."

That seems to shut everyone up and Jeff shakily takes his phone. "Hello?"

The call lasts less than a minute, but it's enough to make everyone suddenly understand why he was the one being called. The second Jeff hangs up and rushes to put on his shoes, everyone else is only a step behind. Only before he can open the door to leave, David stops him.

"Why don't you let someone else drive? Your mindset is all-"

"Look man, not now. I need to get to the hospital because-"

"Because something happened to your girlfriend. Something serious," David says. Jeff doesn't deny it. "We kind of figured it out just now."

"Come on." Natalie sidles up to Jeff's side when he can't come up with anything else to say. She gently takes the keys from his hands. "I'll drive. Y/N won't forgive us if something happens to you because you were in a hurry to get to her."

"I- yeah. Okay."

No one says anything to Jeff about being the mysterious boyfriend, at least not yet, but the seriousness of the situation doesn't stop the others from glancing at one another and mouthing did you know or what the fuck to each other.

          ----------

Groaning, you rub your temples to keep the headaches at bay. You've never been in a car accident before, so really you're just grateful all you had was a mild concussion from where your head hit the door window. And fortunately for you, you were being released so long as your significant other kept an eye on you as the Doctor explained.

"Is it time to go home?" You ask when Jeff returns from handling some paperwork for you.

"Yeah. About that," he drawls. You glance up at him, frowning. "Everyone kind of figured out we're dating."

"What? How?"

"I panicked!"

You want to be upset or disappointed, really you do, but Jeff's frantic I panicked! has you giggling. "God you're such a goober," you say while subtly shaking your head in amusement.

"A goober? Is that a good thing or-"

You grin. "Sure. Now can we please go home? If you're going to keep me from getting long blissful hours of sleep, I rather do it in the comfort of my house or yours."

"Sure."

Jeff helps you gather all your personal belongings and paperwork from the Police, and you should be surprised but you're really not when you realize your friends are all waiting in the lobby.

The moment the grins start forming, you groan and tuck yourself in Jeff's side as he chuckles. "Don't."

"What?" David feigns innocence. "We're just here to show our support after such a scary ordeal."

"Bullshit. You're here to find out everything about how Jeff and I ended up together."

"Well.."

"I hate you guys so much." Still blushing, you manage to turn your face so you can meet some of your friend's gazes. "I was literally just in a car accident. Can we please not do this now. Or ever."

"Fine." Natalie steps forward, taking you from under Jeff's arm and putting you under her own arm. She leads you out of the hospital and a little further ahead of everyone before lowering her voice. "But seriously, you and I are talking because Jeff? Nice."

You snort and then groan when your head aches. "Fine. Just give me a couple days to recuperate."