#my take on his “badly dyed black hair”

[niinnyu]

Gerard Keay ‼️

[419jhat]

Eddie's lagging behind his friends at comicon, lazily taking in a particularly cool d20 being sold in the artist alley when he spots her. Seated in a chair, looking bored as fuck while she scrolls on her phone, was the most beautiful Blossom he's ever laid his eyes on. She wasn't wearing the usual outfit. She'd switched it out for something preppy and modern- a pleated pink skirt swishing around her thighs, cute white socks, and a sweater vest that shows off how much she goes to the gym. She looks like she would've called him a freak in high school, but in a sexy way, which is a thought that he doesn't want to reflect on without his therapist present.

"You gonna shoot your shot?" Gareth asks.

Eddie feels like he's been caught.

"I don't know, maybe I will," he says with a shrug.

"She's out of your league, friend. She looks like she'd step on you."

"I know," Eddie sighs.

Gareth looks incredibly unimpressed . "Ugh. Go. Before I leave you standing here like an idiot and she notices you staring. Which you're doing a lot, by the way."

He finishes with a shove right between Eddie's shoulder blades, forcing him to stumble toward Ms. Blossom in a way that catches her attention. And then he has to walk up to her, because he's looking at her and she's looking at him, and neither of them are looking away and it's becoming a whole thing. He walks toward her slowly, because he can't think of what to say, and the way she's playing with her wig is really distracting and cute.

"Uh. Waiting for a Rowdy Ruff Boy?" he jokes awkwardly. Blossom's face morph into pure disgust and Eddie wants to melt into the floor.

"Seriously bro?" she asks with a shockingly deep voice.

Before Eddie can make his brain snap together a response, the other Power Puff Girls are running up to them.

"Steve! I hope you didn't wait long, Chris wanted to get one of those- oh. Hello," Buttercup says, when she notices him. Bubbles' blonde hair is very real, and very cute pulled into pigtails. Buttercup seems to have just dyed hers black for the occasion.

"Hi," Eddie says lamely. He waves at them, for some reason.

Buttercup gasps. "Are you hitting on him? We can leave and come back. Come on, babe," she says, grabbing Buttercup's hand.

"Don't fuck this up!" Bubbles says as she's pulled away.

"Oh my god, ignore them. What did you say?" Steve, apparently, asks. Eddie wants to crawl in a hole and die. He can just feel Gareth laughing behind him.

"It's was a joke. You know, the Rowdy Rough Boys?" Steve doesn't seem to know, so he adds, "the evil boy version of the Power Puff Girls?"

Steve looks down at his clothes as some kind of recognition dawns on his face. "Oh! Shit dude, I haven't seen the show. Rob and her girlfriend just really needed a Blossom."

This is usually the point Eddie would tease Steve about being a poser, but he looks so sincere (and his biceps are so distracting) that his game is totally out of shape. A guy who would don a skirt for his friends? A man after his own heart! He half wants to make up an excuse and leave to save himself from further shame, but he's too enticed by the cute moles on Steve's jaw that he lets himself suffer a little longer.

Steve looks him up and down and asks, "so what are you supposed to be?"

Eddie looks down at his ripped jeans and says, "...me."

He's internally kicking himself for leaving his own outfit in the hotel room.

Steve smiles up at him in a way that shows off his makeup. "Well it's working for you. You know when you first came up to me I thought you were asking me if I wanted to get rough with you."

Eddie laughs awkwardly, cheeks burning, because bombing an interaction this badly is exactly the kind of thing the universe would demand of him. Steve just stares at him. Eddie stares back awkwardly, wondering what he's supposed to even say. He can see Buttercup and Bubbles a few feet away, mouthing something at him combined with a collection of hand gestures he doesn't really understand. Steve sighs. Then he flicks the wig in a way that's kind of flirty and says, "that was an invitation, dude. You gonna take it or sit there and keep staring at my tits?"

And Eddie does take the invitation, thank you very much.

[alessiathepirate]

Squid Game

THE SEARCH: Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Summary: The search for Gi-hun takes its toll on her. Luckily, someone's there to help.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, mentioned death and guns, mentioned and/or referenced trauma and PTSD

●●●

She was dreaming again - that was the reason why she tried to avoid sleep ever since Gi-hun went missing.

--because she was always dreaming about him: him dying, him being alone, him being scared after all that trauma... And her dreams always pointed out her self-blaming - she wasn't supposed to leave him alone, she should be there with him...

Her dreams were troubled once again - with nightmares. She was dreaming about Gi-hun and the marble game, which he failed so he could save another player's life...

That was another reason why she was scared for Gi-hun: because she knew his own life wasn't important to him anymore. She knew it, because she felt the same way.

She woke up to someone shaking her awake. She felt hands grabbing her shoulders, she heard a voice calling out for her - yet she couldn't identify the person; not immediatelly anyway.

Tears were running down her face, blinding her; she could barely breathe; and she could still hear gunshots even though she was no longer asleep.

"Y/N..." she heard her name once more, this time clearer. "You're alright. It was just a dream. Y/N, can you hear me?"

She was shaking - God, she was shaking so badly she barely knew where she was or who she was.

Still, one of those hands gently touched her face, turning her head so her eyes could meet someone else's.

Her lips started to tremble.

"You're okay now. You're awake."

Her fingers wrapped themselves around the hand on her face.

"Jun-ho?"

Reality suddenly hit her and she could feel shame climb up her throat.

She stared into his eyes as he nodded, his lips curled upwards into a faint smile. She swallowed hard as she let go of his hand. Her fingers were still trembling, but she put her hands down and pushed herself upwards into a sitting position. Her blanket fell onto her lap.

"What time is it?" she asked quietly as she raked her fingers through her hair.

"It's almost midnight." Jun-ho said as he grabbed a water bottle from the small desk in the corner of the cabin; he gave it to her, then joined her on the floor.

As she drank she slowly looked around.

They were alone, although she could hear the henchmen, Woo-seok and Captain Park talk outside.

They were probably fishing, she thought. They needed something to do and the Captain needed a distraction after she almost punched him. He would've deserved it though, since he didn't want to look for the damn island late at night. He really should've said a thank you to Jun-ho, because he was the only reason why he didn't get a black eye.

As she put the bottle aside she noted a map and a marker on the desk, under the light of a flashlight. Jun-ho must've been working on finding the island and Gi-hun, when he noticed her trembling in the corner. She was really thankful for his help: for waking her up and for the search.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked as she pointed at the map. "I could've helped."

"Because Woo-seok said you are barely sleeping." Jun-ho looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "And I agree with him."

She didn't want to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." he argued and he sounded like a parent who's about to scold a child. "You barely eat, you barely sleep... I know you want to find Gi-hun more than anything, but you need your strength for it."

Her fingertips started to play with the edges of the blanket. She didn't say anything - she didn't know what to say.

Jun-ho was right, of course he was; but it was impossible to eat and sleep peacefully when guilt and fear was killing her from inside.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she asked.

"You know what."

She knew - of course she did.

The nightmare was still being replayed in her head, again and again. She could see Gi-hun losing all ten of the marbles, she could hear the gunshots...

One of her hands shakily reached up to wipe away the tears.

When she took too long to answer, Jun-ho turned to look at her, and seeing her crying again made him regret his question.

"I'm sorry... we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." his hand landed on her thigh and before he could pull it away, her hand was on his.

She look up at him, her eyes glassy and her lips once again trembling.

"I dreamt that he died." she said after she swallowed. "That's all I can think about - what if he's dead? He's playing those stupid games again and I'm not there..." her voice sounded angry as she spat those last few words. "I'm not there with him and we promised, we promised that we'd never leave each other..." she took a deep breath. "Gi-hun saved my fucking life more times than I can count. And now I failed him... I'm failing him every single moment when I'm not with him." the tears were burning her cheeks as they ran down her face and landed on the blanket. "Why can't it be me who's in there..."

She was full on crying by then, her body was shaking.

It was a pain so deep and unbearable... And nothing could help. Her heart ached, her whole being felt numb and heavy.

She just wanted it to end - all of it.

Jun-ho let go of her thigh and put both of his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears. He made her look him in the eyes.

"Don't say that..." he put some locks of hair behind her ears and then went back to wiping away the tears - since they just didn't want to stop falling. "It's not your fault. None of it. You had no way of knowing what would happen at that party."

Gi-hun didn't let her go in with him. He wanted her to stay in the car with Jun-ho. He wanted her out of danger's way.

She should've fought harder.

"And you didn't fail him..."

"Yes, I did!" she shouted. "I fucking did..."

Jun-ho held onto her tightly, not letting her wiggle away until he was sure she's fine.

"You played Russian roulette for him!" he argued.

She just blinked in surprise.

That was how she met him again - Jun-ho. He wanted to arrest her after she won the game of Russian roulette against the Salesman. And later, when Gi-hun arrived he almost shot Jun-ho for keeping her in cuffs.

"You played Russian roulette, so that guy - that Salesman - wouldn't go after him." Jun-ho repeated. "You didn't fail him. And he knows that. He almost shot me for you."

She continued to cry quietly and he let her. He let her cry it out as he pulled her close, so she could hide her face in the crook of his neck.

She wrapped her arms around him, letting the blanket fall between them, since she finally had someone to talk to, to be honest with. Someone who understood the concept of loss and uncertainity.

"Thank you..." she whispered as she felt his fingers massage her scalp.

"It's nothing." he said. "And I promise you that we'll find him. Okay?" he felt her nod so he continued: "But I need you to get some sleep for that."

"I'll try." she mumbled.

They changed positions. Jun-ho leaned against the wooden wall of the cabin, while she rested her head on his shoulder. Their knees were touching, and she was sure it had been a while since she felt this kind of comfort.

Right then, she needed him.

Her crying slowly died down and she felt like she could both breathe and think again.

"Jun-ho?"

"What's wrong?" she found the panic in his voice adorable - and it felt great to know that someone cared.

"Nothing's wrong, I just... never really apologized for handcuffing you to the bathtub."

She felt his chest rise as he began to laugh, and the sudden change of mood in the cabin felt nice.

"I handcuffed you first. You have nothing to apologize for."

She felt a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I also apologize for accusing you of being one of Them; and for trying to shoot you." she said as she remembered him sitting in the bathtub as she pointed his own gun at him.

Jun-ho chuckled. "I kind of did those first too."

She couldn't help herself - a small, barely there chuckle left her mouth too.

"Well then... thank you, for being here."

Jun-ho didn't answer for a while and she felt ashamed for being so outspoken. Yet a few seconds later he kissed her forehead and she felt a rush of sudden heat run through her whole body.

"Of course, I'll always be here - if you need anything..."

Jun-ho continued to stroke her head; gentle touches caressing her scalp, her neck and then later on: her back. Slowly but surely her eyelids became heavier and heavier - until she fell into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

Tomorrow she'd wake up with her head on Jun-ho's chest - and somehow her blanket would be over them, keeping them warm.

Tomorrow she'd wake up with a slight feeling of shame, yet she'd have a new reason to keep on going for.

Tomorrow Woo-seok would give her an all-smile thumbs up.

Tomorrow she'd continue the search with a new amount of hope, knowing she has someone who'll help her every step of the way...

[lalunanymph]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 — miya osamu

based off this thought i had about atsumu unintentionally hooking his twin up with his future wife skibidi doo bap

I'm g'na kill him when I catch him, Osamu thinks, already coming up with a sure-fire plan to wipe his twin off the face of the earth for humiliating him like this.

And then, I'll go back in time and absorb him from the womb.

Usually, he could take whatever bullshit Tsumu threw his way—but this time, the star setter had gone too far.

Osamu literally feels like he's going to die; hands clammy and mind spinning in circles when he sees your confused expression, his number on a scrap of paper dangling uselessly in between his lax fingers.

"I... I'm sorry, Miya-san. I think you misunderstood..."

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, pearly white teeth digging into your lower lip as you chew on it in anxiety.

Thank fuck it's almost closing time and none of his regulars are here to see him fumble this badly.

He blinks, retracts his hand, and number with a forced smile, even when he feels like turning around and strangling his brother, who is, of course, dying of silent laughter in the kitchen.

"Ah." He scratches the back of his head, pink dusting apparent on his boyishly handsome face. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position, L/N-san."

Osamu struggles to control his cresting shame, forcing a smile.

"Let me make you a house special as an apology for my forwardness. I'm truly am sorry for putting you in this position."

Before he could turn and retreat back into the kitchen with his tail tuck in between his legs, you call out a high-pitched, "Wait!"

He turns, and doesn't expect your face to warm, eyes darting to the clean counter as you tap your white-painted nails on the lacquered wood.

"Wh-what did the cashier actually tell you, Miya-san?"

"The cashier?"

You nod. "The blonde man. Kinda looks like you. I told him to send the chef my compliments but I think he must've given you a different impression."

Oh. Tsumu.

Osamu tries to grin without baring his teeth too much, and as if knowing his bluff was exposed, Atsumu chokes back his chortles, ducking into the kitchen to hide.

"Ah," Osamu kisses his teeth. He debates not telling you the truth, but since he's already made an ass of himself, he might as well commit to the schtick. "Said to me a babe told him to tell me she thinks I'm hot. S'all."

If it was possible, your face warms even more.

"O-oh. Well... he isn't wrong."

"Yeah, he was really out of line with that—wait, what?"

Osamu backtracks, unsure if he's heard you right.

Your mortification is contagious, especially when you duck your head again and mumble: "He's not wrong, Miya-san." Now, it's your turn to be forward and courageous. "I... I think you're really cute."

The black shirt he has on stretches across his broad pecs, highlighting his muscular build and those deliciously impressive biceps and traps. A simple cap the same color hides his dark hair, and even under the fluorescent lights, no one could deny how much of a looker Miya Osamu is.

Right now, he has a choice: flounder and fumble you, or, take this chance to ask you out.

While he malfunctions with indecision, you remove the burden of choosing from him, reaching forward to grab his number written hastily on a scrap of paper with a small smile.

Still shy, both of you couldn't look the other in the eye, the implications of your actions giving Osamu whiplash.

"O-okay, uh, thanks," his deep, baritone takes on a shade of embarrassment.

In your sundress and pretty smile, you take his breath away as you stand, tucking his number right into your small purse.

"I'll call you then, Miya-san. See you soon."

The second the door closes behind your retreating figure, Atsumu's grating voice pierces through the daze in Osamu's mind like nails running down chalkboard, his face peeking from behind the kitchen door.

"Damn, I can't believe that worked. See Samu? S'wasn't so bad, huh? You finally got a date and I can get you out of this kitch—h-hey Samu—hey! S-Stop—stop chasing me!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 🎀 dawn says: haikyuu debut lessgoooo .... rbs and love are very much appreciated <3

©️ intellectual property of lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or change up the sentence structures and characters

[cdragons]

❄︎ House Stark & Spicy Food ❄︎ - w/ spicy loving reader

Cries if there's too much pepper:

All of them, Sansa and Robb - these two will actually die if they have the slightest sense of heat to any food they try. Like their hair, they get it from their mother.

Robb will try so hard to pretend that he has any spice tolerance...he doesn't...he REALLY doesn't

This boy wants to impress you so badly while also dying and you are not being very helpful bc you keep laughing at how red his face gets

You didn't even put that much in, it was barely a dash of cayenne or one jalapeno seed and he will DIE

If you ever try to put spice in his dishes, he will look at you with the biggest look of betrayal

Redding Wedding what? Nope, the real, most unforgivable act of treason against this King of the North was putting a ghost pepper in his stew after he pissed you off and drinking all his water to make sure that there wasn't any left near him.

Are the two of you married? Does not matter - off to the dungeons with you.

Okay, not really, but he will be seriously pissed and have a huge pouty face for the rest of the week.

He feels even more betrayed when he sees Grey Wind sleeping next to you after you put the pepper in his food.

"Are you on my side or hers?" - Grey Wind is on Team Cuddles and Being Spoiled.

If you end up eating something too spicy for you, he WILL be the most insufferable person about it

Sansa is literally no different, if not worse, than her brother.

Everything that was written above -> multiply that by 10000 in terms of spice intolerance, and you get Sansa.

She does NOT care about impressing you with improving her spice tolerance.

You could try to convince her that spicy food is better for her body and there are a ton of health benefits, but you will FAIL

You once gave her a Cubanelle pepper (About 1,000 SHU) bc the only less spicy option was a bell pepper and bell peppers are only peppers in name and not in spirit

She did not react well

She RAN 🏃‍♀️ to the well and drank the water out of the pail.

...Was it bad that you laughed at her reaction? Yes

Would you do it again? Also, yes

Was it totally worth being banned from nighttime cuddles and kisses for an entire month?...Okay, maybe you won't do it again

You could make fun of her unseasoned potatoes and closer-to-water soup all you want. She is not interested in damaging her stomach lining and developing stomach cancer.

She WILL make fun of you if you end up eating something too spicy for YOU, and you let her because you love seeing her more childish smile and side.

Slightly Dying, but Otherwise Okay and Kind of Digs It:

Jon can eat spicy foods...theoretically.

He's eaten Wilding food and the rotten food from Castle Black -> compared to that, he can take a little heat.

He was wrong - He was so very, VERY wrong. Your level of heat and spice was something that only a demon could take.

Jon was convinced that you were part dragon bc he can't think of any other reason as to how and WHY you put yourself through this?

Eventually, he DOES develop a bit of spice tolerance, and you take full credit for it, especially because this means his taste palette is more on your level. You aren't as afraid of accidentally killing him with your cooking preferences.

But it ends up lowkey backfiring on him bc you won't stop sneaking spicy food into his meals, and sometimes Tormund and his brothers in Black will sneak a bite off his plate (no one died...everyone lives...shhhhhhhhh)

Sam is dead - he died, you killed him. Gilly is officially out for your blood, and little Sam is raised with the single goal of piercing you with a pointy stick bc you killed his dad.

Pyp and Edd are also lowkey dying. Still, they actually enjoy the heat and are always happy to taste test for your dishes...despite their bowels hating them for it

Grenn and Tormund fucking LOVE the heat. They can easily down bowl after bowl after bowl of your cooking.

Bran SHOULD not eat spicy food...but he does because it makes you so happy, and he will literally do anything for your smile and cuddles.

Like his love of climbing and scary stories, he honestly lives for the thrill of taking the heat.

All of his siblings are terrified he's going to get a stomach ulcer one day because he keeps adding more spice to his food, and they are ALL blaming you, and you're just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

While he's traveling with Osha, Hodor, Rickon, and Reed Siblings, it's your cooking that helps keep them warm.

When he becomes the Three-Eyed Raven and King of the Seven Kingdoms, he and you will go to the kitchens to make your favorite dishes from your shared past because it brings a little of the old Bran back.

It's only around you that he can still smile and laugh, and you love him no matter what.

Love Spicy Food and Can ACTUALLY Take it

Arya LOVESSSSS the heat - All Day, Everyday Baby

While she was in Braavos and training in the House of Black and White, she sampled so many dishes and spices from the markets.

This opened a whole new world to her tastebuds, and when she returned to Winterfell - she still loved the food because it was all the food of her childhood, but it just tasted...boring.

You and her actually met while she was training in Braavos, and your family ran a spice stall in one of the markets.

You were fascinated by the girl and always offered a warm meal and housing if she ever needed it. While cooking for her, Arya would tell you stories about Ned and Jon and all her other siblings.

When she reunited with her family at Winterfell, she thought it was adorable how happy and excited you were to meet them. She also highly encouraged you to share one of your spiciest dishes with them.

Bran didn't have much of a reaction save for a small cough, but Jon immediately reached for his water while Sansa just fainted from the shock of the heat assault in her mouth.

Rickon is the only sibling who can actually eat your food and so he automatically becomes your favorite Stark after Arya.

Rickon and you met while traveling with your siblings (Meera and Jojen) to find Bran. You carried many foreign spices with you (for whatever reason).

Immediately, he was smitten with you because you were the youngest sibling around his age. Shaddydog also loved you from the beginning, which helped your case.

A lot of the spices you carried also had medicinal purposes, so you were in charge of cooking while Meera handled the weapons and Jojen helped guide Bran to the 3ER.

It was during the coldest and most freezing blizzard nights, you used one of your hottest spices to make a stew. It was a miracle by fate that Rickon LOVED it.

Since then, he's always begging you to put hotter spices in the meals, but you refuse bc your spices are expensive and because you don't want to accidentally kill the rest of the "Save The World" Gang.

Shaddydog is a huge issue when you're making food because he's very curious about all the different smells and tastes, and you have to keep booping his nose out of the way because you love adding garlic, and it's not good for canines to eat garlic and salt.

*BONUS*

Catelyn - cannot eat anything spicy for the life of her

Ned - same as his wife, tbh lol

[sweetenerobert]

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

dean winchester x vampire!male reader

genre: vampire au, explicit, minors dni

prompt: vampire au + "i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it."

summary: trying to remember the last five hours of what happened after your transformation, you suddenly remember having sex with a stranger and you try to retrace your steps

warning: strong language, mention of blood, mention of dying. unprotected P in A, dirty talk, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, spanking, choking, creampies

word count: 2.3k

a/n: TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY?? yep! if this seems rushed my apologies.

The night sky cascaded down on you as you were shivering. The night was beautiful, but it was cold as each step you took made everything feel like you were walking closer to death.

Your blue work shirt is coated in your blood — near where your collarbone and shoulder blade rested. Your black and white canvas shoes have drops of blood on them. Tears running down your face had dried up. You hated this feeling — you felt the after-effects of coming back alive after getting your throat ripped out. This process was painstakingly slow. And you were scared — scared that you may never be the same again, scared that you might do something to hurt someone. You needed guidance from someone — anyone could help you forget about the stressful night you had.

You hear a car engine behind you, and you want to hide from the person driving behind you, but you are too weak to even jump into the bushes next to you, so you keep slowly walking. Your emotions wanted to come out; you wanted to cry a river right now. And you didn't understand everything currently, and it freaked you out how bad you wanted to cry.

The car’s engine was slowly creeping behind you, and you snapped your eyes shut, hoping that it would pass you; you didn’t want to be around anyone at this moment. You just wanted to walk — you had no idea where you were going, and you didn’t care as long you were away from everyone.

You slowly opened your eyes and saw the car driving past you, and you exhaled a breath you were holding. But then you felt the wind get knocked out of you as you saw the car approaching you in reverse. Feeling a mix of confusion, sadness, and rage all at once, you wanted to throw up, but you managed to keep yourself calm as the car slowly drove next to you and the passenger window was down.

“Are you okay?”

You glance to your left and see a dirty-blonde-haired man sitting in the driver's seat and glancing at you. You had to admit he was attractive, but you could be near. Your emotions were all over the place, and you didn't want some totally stranger being in the middle of that.

“Um—” You almost jump about how normal your voice sounds. It doesn't sound raspy or gruff, just your normal voice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” You dismissed.

“Are you sure? I mean, I could take you back to my room and make sure you are safe— It’s no —”

“I’m okay, sir. Just a little out of it.” As persistent as this guy was, you didn't want him to be in the middle of this experience; you needed to be alone, not held up in some guy's room.

You suddenly hear his car screech as he stops and gets out, jogging towards you. He steps in front of you, and you halt your walking.

“Let me help — you need it. Whatever you are going through, you shouldn't go through it alone.”

You couldn't tell if the man’s tone was genuine or commanding, but you wanted to cry either way. You nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

The man guides you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. As you slip into the passenger seat, he closes the door. He was walking around the car and returning to his previous position — closing his door and looking at you. You reluctantly smile at him.

“Is that blood on your shirt?”

You glance at your shirt and look back at the man. “It’s mine?” You shrug.

You were in a motel bathroom shower, letting the water hit the top of your head as it dribbled down your body. The sadness you felt eventually disappeared as the drive here calmed you down. You found out what the name was — it was Dean. And that he was looking at his brother — younger brother, and has a love for rock music.

You weren't feeling the sadness, but you were feeling another feeling, and you couldn’t figure out what it was, and it was bugging you a bit.

The hot water weaved around your body almost like a dress made of water, and it was the heat you needed. You were sick and tired of being cold; you miss feeling warm. The soap leaving your body made a creek of bubbles and water. It almost looked majestic in your eyes, and you appreciated how it looked for a second that you were fine, but how you felt wasn't okay.

Turning the faucet off and letting the rest of the water go down the drain, your feet hitting the porcelain tile ceramic flooring as you walk towards the mirror — grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your waist. Bringing your hands towards the mirror, wiping the condensation, and seeing yourself in the mirror, hands on the porcelain sink.

You start to sniffle because of the steam messing with your nose, but you catch the scent of something you’ve never smelled before. You look around the bathroom as you try to find the source of the smell, and you can't seem to see it, but the smell intensifies as you look at the door. Whatever the smell was coming from behind the door.

You open the bathroom door, and the steam above you rises and travels along the ceiling. You see Dean looking at something in his duffle bag. You notice he’s not in the same jacket as before. He’s now wearing a flannel shirt. But with each step toward Dean, the smell becomes more intense and almost deafening in a sense.

Dean hears the floorboards creak behind him, turns around, and sees you in nothing but a towel. “Oh, hey. How was the shower?”

“It was good,” You nod.

“That’s good. I can see you're doing a lot better,” Dean nods.

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“I don't know. But It’s almost intoxicating.”

“Huh, I wouldn't know what you're smelling. That’s how I am with pie though,” Dean chuckles.

You crack a smile and walk around Dean, and that's when the smell draws behind you. You turn your head as Dean walks towards the small table in the room.

“It’s you,” You mutter.

“What?” Dean questions.

“The smell — It’s you.”

“I stink?”

“Well, no, You smell intoxicating, and a sense a strong desire from you and — It’s lust.”

“What’s lust?” Dean asks, confused.

“What I’ve been feeling and this stupid smell and — are you horny, Dean?” You ask.

It was like a teenager who hit puberty. Dean looked defensive and scared at the same time. He didn’t know how to answer your question, so he looked at you.

You walked towards him, wanting to hear his answer, but you couldn't ask him again. You needed him to tell you. “Sorry If I overstepped my boundaries, Dean. But I would like to know.”

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. “So what? I’ve been horny for the past couple of days. My hand isn’t helpin’ as much as I think it is.”

“You need help?”

“From who? I’ve been so busy. I can barely find the time for anyone.”

You unwrap your towel, and your cock sprung out hard as a rock, walking toward Dean, who can't seem to stop glancing at your cock. “From me, you could use me any way you want.” Days ago, you would’ve never had the confidence to tell anyone this, but this feeling sent you into overdrive, and you needed to get rid of it one way you could only think of.

Your hand finds Dean’s denim-covered cock already hard. As you rub your hand against the material, Dean inhales a breath and exhales a shaky breath. You unbutton Dean’s jeans and slide them down to his ankles. His cock leaps from the constriction his pants were torturing with. You were on your knees, and you took the tip of Dean’s cock in your mouth.

Dean slowly made his head go back as he enjoyed your warm mouth on his throbbing cock. He forgot how this felt; he hadn’t felt this relaxed in so long, and you provided him with a number one muscle relaxer.

His hips slowly start going back and forth into your mouth. You lightly gag on the tip as his thrusts hit the back of your throat. You notice Dean breathing through his plump lips; your cock throbs seeing him like this.

“Damn, baby. I’ve missed this so much,” Dean groaned.

You slip his cock out of your mouth, lick the slit of his dick, and he moans. You could taste the light pre-cum forming from it.

“Such a fuckin’ tease. I should fuck you just for that,” Dean seethed.

“I did say you could use me, so why not?” You shrug. You attempt to slide Dean’s cock inside your parted lips. He lifts you from your armpits and makes you stand up. Dean glances down at your cock and sees pre-cum leaking from your cock.

“I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it." Dean kisses you passionately as his height makes you feel safe and protected, feelings you never thought you would feel again.

Your calves hit the back of the bed frame. You sit down on the edge of the bed — breaking the kiss. “Head on the pillows, now!” Dean commanded.

You comply with his command, and on your hands and knees, you crawl towards the pillow on Dean’s bed — Dean smacking your ass as you crawl to the pillow.

Dean takes his jeans off around his ankles, boots, and flannel. As he sees you lying on your back in the middle of his bed, his cock twitches, seeing the beautiful sight before him. He crawls after you and kisses you passionately, your cocks rubbing together, making this moment more intense than it already is.

Dean’s kisses trail down from your lips to your jaw and neck. Dean starts to nibble on your neck, and you whimper in retaliation — gripping the sheets, you feel your teeth getting outstretched — making you scared a little bit. Releasing your grip makes your teeth go back into their original shape.

Dean’s lips travel to your nipples as he sucks on them and pinches your nipples as he sucks the other one.

His kisses trail lower as his mouth makes contact with your hole. His tongue becomes an explorer, and he wants to explore you more. Your moans sound like music to Dean’s ear as he grips your thighs. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby boy.”

You could cum hearing Dean call you a baby boy again.

Dean crawls up back to your face and adjusts his cock. You exclaim in pleasure as Dean slides his cock deep inside you. With each inch pushing deeper inside you, your moans became the sweet song Dean yearned for. You could feel your walls getting looser and looser; your hole was aching in pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby boy. Just what I needed,” Dean grunted. Dean was clenching his teeth. It was a sight that made your cock happy. Dean’s thrust became faster and more intoxicating with each passing moment.

“Fuck, Dean. You’re hitting so deep.” Your pre cum was rubbing against your naval. “Your pussy wraps around my cock so well, baby. I can't get enough of it,” Dean breathed. Dean leans his head closer to yours and kisses your lips more rough than gentle like last time.

Dean slides his cock out of you and flips you to lay on your stomach. You grip the pillows as he slides his cock in you — slowly.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” You moaned.

“Only the best for my baby boy.”

Dean’s thrust becomes more intoxicating as you feel his balls clap against your ass. Dean makes a handprint on your ass — you yelp in response. You bring your head up, Dean wraps his arm around your neck, and you both share a passionate make-out between thrusts. You moan into each other’s mouths as you feel Dean’s cock twitch inside you.

“Baby, I’m going to overflow your ass with my cum,” Dean growls. Dean lets your neck go but pushes your head onto the pillow. You roll your head to the side to avoid suffocating. Your body starts to slide down, and you stop at an absolute point. The tip of your cock starts rubbing against the sheets, and you feel the lust almost shoot out of you.

“Dean, my cock — you're making my cock rub against the sheets,” You whimpered.

“Good, we get to cum together then, baby,” Dean growled.

You feel Dean’s cock get bigger inside you, and the throbbing intensifies. Dean’s thrust becomes more demon-like, and you're enjoying every thrust. You didn't want it to end this soon. Your teeth were feeling outstretched again, but you ignored it. You left your teeth stretched, and you bit down on the pillow.

“Fuck, baby boy. I’m cumming. I’m cummin’, baby boy!” You could feel his cum shoot inside you as you shoot strings of cum on the sheets under you. Dean clashes his hard chest on your back. “Thanks for that, baby boy.”

“Who said it has to end there? I told you that you could use me. I didn't specify for how long.” You turn your head to see a smirking Dean. “Well, then, you better get that pretty ass up. I’m going to fuck you against the wall.”

“That’s what happened hours ago?”

“Yeah?” Theo, your vampire “trainer” friend.

“Wow, does that happen to a lot of new vampires?” You ask.

Theo nods. “But, you should’ve seen me when I first turned.”

“Is that a story for another day?” You question.

“Hell yes.” Theo laughs.

“I would love to hear it then.” You smile.

[txlovesong]

ok let me share some unedited thoughts from my notes app before i get to writing

yuuup mostly hard hours

⊹ bsf to lovers! perv! soobin. .. i just know soobin is a freak. and he'd be so embarrassed about it. but he cant help it. and seeing his reactions only gets u more excited. .. telling him about all the thoughts u had about him before he knew about ur feelings. that u used to lie in ur bed at night, thinking ab sucking his dick, wanting so badly to feel him fill u up. .. and soobin literally dying as u tell him this lmao. and then finally, literally drooling as u sink down on him for the first time (fuck)

⊹ bruhhh i just want beomgyu to bend me over and feel the soft skin of his hips slamming against me as he grabs my ass to go even deeper,, , he’s so hot i want him to ruin me

⊹ no one has ever made you orgasm. yeonjun can't have that. (bffs to lovers?)

⊹ lying next to soobin in bed. him in a white tee, his jet black hair still slightly wet from his shower and sticking to his forehead. his cheeks tinted a pretty rosy pink. and that beautiful pearly smile, lighting up his whole face. crinkling his nose and throwing his head back against the covers as he lets laughter take over his body. your head turned to the side, grinning up at him in adoration (fuck i would fall in love with him fr)

⊹ gamer gyu on his computer with his headset on. u playing on ur DS n sulking bc hes not paying u any attention. bored, u throw the DS to the side, reaching out for him. bj? riding? (this is so cliche)

⊹ bruh i had such an intense dream where soobin was eating me out and it was so good i was almost crying omg n he looked so pretty between my legs and i was tugging at his pretty black hair and he was just so into it an it felt so real i cant do this💀

[imtryingbuck]

Seven part two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 2,948

Warnings: this one’s quite dark. fluff, angst, death, almost dying, being put into care, abuse in the care home, small mention of whipping a child. mentions of nudity of a child (just once and not detailed)

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

True to their word they let Y/n stay with them til Wednesday, letting her go on that day had filled them with dread.

“You can come back whenever you like, our door is always open to you sweetie” Winnie told her, meaning every word she spoke.

“Okay Miss Winnie”

Bucky had helped her climb over the fence and walked her to their spot, chewing on his lip until it bled a little he couldn’t stop worrying about Bunny.

When she arrived back to her house she was confronted by her father; by then she had grown use to his words and beatings, she knew when to scream and cry - when not too. She learnt that to make her unnecessary punishment easier was to take herself off to her special place that lived secretly and safely inside her head, the one place her father couldn’t hurt her anymore, she smiled with her eyes closed when she saw Bucky, Steve, Winnie and George in her special place waiting for her as her father’s fist slammed into her body over and over again.

Her tiny - in height and weight - body was slowly fading away as she danced along the flowery meadow hand in hand with her Ducky. Steve was sitting on the pillowy grass drawing, Winnie and George were cloud watching. Here in her special place there was fairies, unicorns, big pretty butterflies that she could ride and rainbows taking up residence in the bright blue sky. She had gasped and giggled when she saw the ducks waddling past with bunnies hoping alongside them.

That day however something was different aside from the new addition being Bucky, his parents, Steve, bunnies and ducks being there, there was blue and red lights flashing in the sky. She chose to ignore it as Ducky didn’t seem to pay and attention to it.

Bit by bit her safe place started to fade away, her eyes wide and fearful she tried desperately to keep ahold of Bucky when he too started to fade out. “No no no! Ducky come back!” She cried painfully just as everything she held sacred to her heart turned black.

She woke to blinding lights, fear overtook her whole aching body. A hospital they said, she had been in a coma they told her, when the nice nurse named Tilly told her it meant that she had been in a deep sleep, Y/n just nodded. Trying to speak but her throat hurt badly, Tilly had helped her sit up and drink some water telling her she had to take it slowly. Gently pushing the girls hair out of her face.

Y/n liked her instantly, maybe she’ll be my new friend too she thought to herself.

Doctor after doctor came in and out of the room they was in there to run checks whatever that meant. There was one doctor with bushy eyebrows who had asked Tilly to distract the girl in the bed as he took some blood, she hadn’t batted an eye when there was a sharp scratch from her arm, too engrossed in the story about the boy who stole a golden goose egg from a giant who lived in the clouds that Tilly was telling her about.

“Miss Y/n you have guests, do you want to see them?” Tilly asked softly from the door.

“O-okay”

In walked Winnie and George, Winnie gasped with tears springing to her eyes at the sight of the little girl who had stolen her heart the moment she laid eyes on her. George’s eyes dropped down to the ground, finding it hard to see the damage done to a sweet girl.

That Wednesday she had left the couple argued with one another over letting Y/n go back to the hellish nightmare that was no doubt waiting for her. Arguing back and forth that they should have done something different, Winnie pointing out that George had the money and influence to get Y/n placed into their care.

On Thursday when Bucky came back from over the fence telling them that his Bunny hadn’t showed up, they got a sense that something was wrong. The next day when the newspaper arrived Winnie dropped the cup she had in her hand at the front cover.

‘Local six year old girl attacked by her father is in critical condition’

She knew it was Y/n. Call it a mother’s instinct. But she knew.

Reading further down her heart broke at the words listing the many injuries that Y/n had, she read that the body of Y/n’s mama was found in Mexico on that Tuesday and an autopsy revealed that she had been dead for just over two weeks.

George rushed over to his wife where she stood frozen on the spot, a broken cup by her feet he called out her name and all she did was show him the newspaper. He held it within an iron grip as his hands shook. He blamed himself.

Even with George’s money and the power he held they wasn’t allowed to see her, he tried bribing the boss of the hospital who kept refusing, tried bribing the nurses and doctors but they too refused. They was told they had to wait to see if she would wake up for them to see her.

“Oh my sweet sweet angel” Winnie whimpered moving closer to the girl.

“M-Miss Winnie” even with a swollen face and bottom lip having several stitches she smiled widely at the woman, showing four more missing teeth. “Where’s Ducky?”

“Ducky’s at home sweetie, he-he doesn’t know your in the hospital darling”

“Why?”

“W-we haven’t told him yet. But we can bring him tomorrow if you’d like?”

“Yes! I miss him”

“He misses you too, a-are you comfortable darling?”

“I’m okay. Hi Mr George”

“Hello sweetheart, here we got you a present”

Pulling out a teddy shaped as a duck out of the bag the couple smiled as her face lit up.

“Ducky! It’s Ducky Winnie”

“It is, he’s super soft too”

George places the duck in Y/n’s good arm she instantly brought it closer to her chest. “Thank you so so so so much.”

“You’re welcome darling” George says sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

Visiting hours had ended so the pair had to leave her they waited until she was asleep, gripping the duck tightly as she slept.

Telling Bucky that Y/n was in the hospital was a difficult conversation Winnie had to have, his tears soaked her dress as he clung onto her. They promised him that he could have the day off from his schooling so that he could spend the day with Y/n.

That night he slept in their bed.

Bucky ran through the hallways of the busy hospital, his hand gripping the different coloured strings dangling from the many balloons he made George buy.

“Buck slow down!”

“No! Hurry up”

In the elevator he wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down. He was the first one awake, gotten himself dressed and brushed his teeth long before his parents started to wake. George tried to tell him that the visiting hours didn’t start till ten which then set the chorus of why’s being thrown at him. Bucky watched the clock like a hawk and the second the hand struck ten he was dragging his parents to the door.

“Bucky we have to talk before we go in”

“Why? I want to see Bunny”

“Son, she has serious injuries and her face is very swollen, you need to be very careful with her okay”

“Okay dad. I promise, can we go in now?”

George nodded and let Bucky open the door carelessly dragging the balloons behind him, his feet faltered a little. Winnie and George slipped into the room behind him their eyes going from their son to Y/n who was fast asleep in the bed that made her look even tinier.

“Bunny” he whispered letting the balloons float up to the ceiling. “Ma…is-is-is she gone like granddad John?”

“No, no sweetie she’s just asleep” John being her father in law who drank himself to his grave when Bucky was five years old, Margret - George’s mother - thought it was important to make James see his grandfather laying in the hospital bed just after he had died. Winnie was against the idea and so was George but Margret always got her own way.

“She’s still pretty to me” he whispers again, he was afraid to speak any louder.

“She is, isn’t she” agreeing with her son “why don’t you go and sit next to her? It’s okay I promise”

“I-I don’t want to hurt her momma” Winnie had to grip ahold of George’s hand as he called her that, it was something he always called her but stopped shortly after seeing the body of his dead grandfather. One of the many things that Winnie blamed Margret for.

“Son you won’t hurt her I promise” George says, giving Bucky an encouraging nod when he looks up at him.

Bucky slowly walks over and sits in the chair next to the bed, his hand shakily lifts over the railing and takes its place in hers.

They’d been sitting there for over half an hour when Y/n started to stir, opening her eyes she slowly adjusted to the bright lights of the room, she felt a hand in hers and she looked over.

“D-Ducky!”

“Hi Bunny”

“You are here��

“I’m here.”

“Look Ducky it’s Ducky” she says trying to show Bucky the teddy his parents had gotten her.

“Hi Ducky. Bunny look-“ asking his father to get the bunny balloon he had to have as soon as he saw it “-it’s Bunny”

“Just like me!” She giggled.

“Just like you.” Bucky agreed.

Over the next few days Bucky and his parents even bringing Steve with them - who had brought a teddy bear of his own for her - visited her. When they arrived to the hospital Bucky and Steve taking off running to her room Winnie and George saw the two boys pacing up and down the hallway.

“Boys? What’s wrong?”

“Ma we can’t find Bunny”

“What do you mean her rooms righ-“

She cuts herself off when she looks into the empty room that Y/n had been staying in.

“G-George…”

George runs to the other end of the corridor where the nurses station was, Winnie had to physically grab hold of the boys in order to get them to stop pacing.

When George returned he looked at Winnie and shook his head “S-she was taken into care this morning-“

“But she hasn’t recovered”

“They don’t care Win, she’s poor-“

“Rich, poor it doesn’t matter she’s a child!” Winnie takes the boys hands in hers and started to drag them away, when Tilly called her name she stopped and look over to the woman.

“Yes?”

“Here, they wouldn’t let her take them with her” Tilly hands over the brown teddy bear named Bear that Steve had given Y/n and the duck she had named Ducky Junior.

“Sit still and don’t move!” Snarled Kristen one of the women who worked in the care home where Y/n was taken too.

“I-I need wee wee” she whimpered.

“Do I look like I give a shit? No.”

Ever since she was brought here she’s been so lost and confused, she thought that when the hospital room door came open it was going to be Bucky and Steve just like they promised the day before but instead there was a man and a woman who didn’t look nice, she looked over at Tilly who smiled sadly at her.

Y/n didn’t like Kristen or her friend Karen at all, they were mean and hurt her. Karen had made her take her clothes off and her panties and made her stand in the middle of the room whilst the older boys stared at her. Whenever Y/n was really nervous she would accidentally wee herself, when she was at home with her father she received a beating, it was no different to being here. She had received ten lashes across her back. All the other children flinched at her cries.

She was safer at home.

Day in and day out she took beatings from the workers and sometimes the other children, she tried so hard to escape to her special place but it was just a dark void now.

Day after day she got skinnier and skinnier, her hair was matted and her skin was filthy. Every night as she slept on the cold wooden flooring she would whisper out ‘good night Ducky’.

One of the older boys had tormented her by laughing at how her father had killed her mother and had kept her body in the boot of his car for two weeks.

“No no no no no no you’re ly-ly-lying!”

“Am not! He was going to kill you too”

“Ma-mama not dead”

“Yes she is! I’m not lying!”

“M-m-my mama not dead!” She repeated over and over again as she rocked herself back and forth in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest with her hands over her ears blocking out the laughter from the other children.

A man wearing a fancy black suit came into the room she was told to wait in by Kristen, he sat down across the table from her and didn’t say anything for nearly 20 minutes.

“Is your name Y/n?” He receives a quick nod. “Do you know a boy called Bucky?” That has her looking up at the man, nodding once again.

“What does he call you?” Sighing he looks around the room and leans closer “it’s okay to speak, I promise”

“B-Bunny”

“And what do you call him?”

“Ducky”

He stands up and removes his coat before making his way around the table “stand up for me darling. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m a friend of George’s”

She stands up slowly, flinching when he puts his coat around her. “We’re going to play at little game okay? I’m going to pick you up and you need to put your head right here-“ he taps the space between his neck and shoulder “and your going to count quietly to a hundred”

“I-I only know up to ten s-s-sir”

“That’s okay, you can count to ten, ten times”

“O-okay”

“Come here darling, it’s all going to be okay I promise”

He lifts her up easily and her head goes to where he had pointed too, when he told her to start counting she did so.

Oblivious to all the men in the hallways pointing guns to the staff.

“You’re doing great darling” the man cooed into her ear. “Let’s go boys” he says, his tone much different from how he spoke to her.

The man got into a car shifting her so that she was sat on his lap, he nodded to the driver and the car started to pull away from the building of horror.

“I’m Howard Stark, it’s very nice to meet you”

The car slowly pulled up to a familiar house, Y/n looked at Howard with wide eyes smiling when he smiled at her.

“There’s a very excited boy waiting for you” he says watching her eyes shine.

“D-Ducky?”

“Yes, he’s missed you”

“I’ve missed him”

As the car comes to a halt the front door comes open, Y/n releases a small sob as she sees her Ducky come running out.

“Bunny!”

Howard opens the car door and helps the girl out just as her feet hit the ground she takes off running towards Bucky, who wastes no time in grabbing ahold of her and pulls her into his chest.

“My Bunny…”

George, Winnie and Howard stand together watching the reunion. Winnie cries freely as she sees the little girl, George tries to keep it together.

“Are you hurt Bunny?”

“N-n-no”

“Don’t lie to me Bun”

“I never lie Ducky” she giggles at his facial expression. Bucky cupped her face gently in his hands, slowly brought his head closer to hers and rested his forehead against hers.

“Y/n…” Winnie calls as soon as the pair pull away from each other. “Oh my sweet girl”

“M-Miss Winnie” she beams, looking at Bucky who nods and removes himself from her, Y/n took off running once again but this time directly into Winnie’s arms.

“My sweet angel I’ve missed you”

“I’ve missed you too”

No one notices George going inside just to return a few minutes later “Y/n” he says softly catching her attention and shes quick to pull out of Winnie’s arms and throwing herself at George who catches her easily. “How are you darling?”

“Happy Mr George”

“I’m happy too. Here these have missed you” he holds out Ducky Junior and Bear who are both instantly snatched from his hands and brought to her chest as she squeezes them, squealing with happiness that she has them back.

Winnie took her time in cleaning the many open wounds that littered Y/n’s small frame, placing kisses to her forehead every time she flinched.

Her heart broke when Y/n had told her what had happened and what that boy had told her about her mama, Winnie held her tightly when she confessed that Y/n’s mama was an angel up in heaven.

After dinner was made - where Bucky took Y/n’s plate and piled so much food onto it, he held her hand under the dining table. They let Bucky sleep in the bed with Y/n - not like they had any choice - the adults went into the living room and sat in silence when a throat was cleared.

“I would like to adopt her”

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire

[steddieunderdogfics]

Hello,

I have some suggestions for your Steve Whump Challenge Monday.

Nothing Really Sticks by Rosie447

Features Steve having a breakdown and cutting his hair off in Family Video. Currently has less than 3000 hits. :(

When it's over, you're the start by Ammis

Eddie and Robin comforting Steve post Starcourt. Established relationship steddie is cute, but cw for rape aftermath.

Just What I Needed by infraredphaeton

Steddie Different First Meeting at Tina's party. I remember Steve being VERY upset after the break-up/fight with Nancy, which qualifies it as Whump, I think.

Conversations About Love by MuseumGiftShopEraser

Another Steddie meeting and emotional hurt/comfort at Tina's party, but this one's extra whumpy because they both think Steve might be gay, but he's actually aromantic.

Blood on My Name by VTHX (V_Haley)

Steve (dying and undying) in the Upside Down instead of Barb AU. Temporary Character Death and Body Horror so I think it qualifies as Whump?

it's never enough, but I wanted it to be by starryeyedjanai

Eddie breaks up with Steve, who takes it REALLY badly. Less than 2000 hits. :(

Heal Your Shrinking Soul by help_me_no

Gothic, Haunting of Bly Manor vibes. Not sure if this qualifies, but Steve's basically abandons his old life to become the governess heroine of a spooky gothic novel because his life's so empty and he's so unloved, which seemed pretty whumpy to me.

Come Back and Haunt Me by BonitaBreezy

Steve died at Starcourt and only Robin and Eddie can see his ghost. To me it's a fandom classic so, looking at its stats, it feels criminally underrated.

I have others, but idk how you define "underdog", so I'll stop there. Anyway, all these fics deserve more love, so thank you for doing this! :)

We're breaking up this rec into 3 posts. Thank you for so many great recs!

Nothing Really Sticks by Rosie447

@itsthenovelteafactor

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

11,506 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Character Study, nonlinear timeline, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Harrington-centric, told in vignettes

Summary:

Steve cuts his hair with safety scissors in the bathroom of Family Video. Maybe he's less okay than he's been letting on.

Stardust by entanglednow

@entanglednow

Rating: Explicit

59,498 words, 11/11 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining, injuries, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Friendships, Feelings Realization, Banter, Humor, Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Sexual Content, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Recreational Drug Use, Drinking

Summary:

Steve is starting to feel like his life is just one disaster after another. He didn't mean to make friends with Eddie Munson along the way, but for some reason he's always there, and if anyone knows how to get up again after being knocked down then it's him.

Just What I Needed by infraredphaeton

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

7,380 words, 3/? chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, teenage idiocy, Juvenile Delinquent Behaviour, Slow Burn, set during season 2, Eddie Munson's Black Handkerchief, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Flirting, high school romance, Idiots in Love, When your accidental boyfriends accidentally tells you about evil parallel dimensions, background past Steve/Nancy fallout, The 'Bullshit' Scene, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Sometimes doing stupid teenage boy destructive behaviour can actually be so intimate, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, a truly obscene number of nerdy references, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Season 2 AU, Possessive Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Soft Dom Eddie Munson

Summary:

It all starts because Eddie is a sucker for a pretty face. It's not that he hates to see a pretty boy cry- under the right circumstances, he's a big fan of that exact thing, even, but more, he hates seeing someone be miserable. And when Steve Harrington barrels out the side door at Tina's Halloween party with spilled punch on his shirt and a glassy, teary shine in his eyes, he looks devastated. - Eddie and Steve make a connection a few years earlier than expected. After that, things just keep changing.

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Steve's Bad Luck (aka whump fics).

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[darkmoonchild]

•I blame the Kitchen Fan Lullaby for this idea. And I also my re-awaken obsession with Ghost.•

Warning: Angst and death. This is just sad.

Summary: As Ghost finds himself fading away, he can’t help to have his mind wander to what could have been.

— — — — — — — —

The mission had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

Simon found himself stumbling down a dimly lit hallway, wounded badly and bleeding heavily. His breath was ragged and every step he took there was nothing but pain engulfing him. The only thing that made his situation better was that his team was safe and out of harms way.

Finally allowing the pain to take over him, Simon leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling woozy from the blood lost. His vision was also going in and out, becoming fuzzy before he forced it back clear with a slight tap to his cheek. With a frustrated groan Simon removed his head gear, skull mask and his balaclava. His hair was laced in sweat and so was his face.

Simon knew he was not going to make it out of this god forsaken building. He raised a shaky hand and opened one of the breast pockets of his vest, retrieving a picture. It was a little black and white sonogram of a baby. His baby. His little girl.

You, his loving wife of four years, had sent it to him in a letter weeks ago. Of course, you had already announced to him over the many video calls you two shared of the news. He—as you jokingly said—had hit the target the first try, and before he was deployed had gotten you knocked up. Sure neither of you were thrilled he was miles and miles away facing danger while you were home, growing a life alone and could possibly give birth to the babe by yourself. You weren’t really alone. You had your friends and family to help while he was away and Simon was thankful to them all. He just hoped he’d they’d all would still be there for you with what comes next.

The sonogram of his daughter, his little Amadora, was your last one before birth. He could see from the image she would have your nose, small and cute as a button and your same pouty lips. Maybe she’d have his eye color and maybe his hair? Fuck. He wish he would be around long enough to know.

Simon used to not fear death, he’d always embraced it as a friend anytime he was in the field, and always anticipated something like this would happen. Growing up how he did made him hard. He was a solider. So, if he died being one, dying for his team, dying to protect the innocent, dying as the goddamn Lt. “Ghost” Riley he was, then so be it. Yet, that changed when you came into the picture.

You with your good hearted nature, your ambitiousness, and your power to turn everything bright around you. You were the most stubborn woman he had ever met and yet he loved that about you. The feisty side you could have and how you could have easily beat every man on the task force with a hand tied behind your back. Price always commented on how you were one hell of a woman to be the only female on Task 141.

Simon loved your feisty side. He loved your sweet side. He loved you. Love was a foreign feeling to him until you came around and he could drop every wall he built up in his life for you. Only you. His true love, his best friend and his sweet little missus.

When you left the force, it was a mutual decision. Stuff got too much for you after a while but Simon was always there. And you two kept your relationship going, and after about six years together, Simon popped the question to you. He remembered how you wrapped your arms around him, knocking the both of you to turn ground as you kissed all over his face, his lips, anywhere you could while sobbing happily like a baby.

Simon wished he could see those tears again as you both held your daughter for the first time. See them when you dropped the little tike off to her first day of school, going off to college and he wished he could walk her down the aisle like every little girl wished their daddies would do on their wedding day. Because he knew you’d have those tears coming down your face, and he was not too much of an asshole to admit, tears would be coming down his face as well.

But he won’t.

He’d have to watch all the big mile stones from the clouds. Or wherever the fuck he was going.

Feeling your body grow cold was an odd feeling. Or the slow realization that your heart was beating slower and slower, and breathing was getting harder to do. And when you could they were hollow and uneven.

Simon kept looking at the sonogram in his hand, holding to it tightly, fighting his hand that kept wanting to become loose as his body slowly started giving up on him. He smiled softly.

He thought back to a random conversation you two had one morning, laying in bed on a Saturday afternoon. You remembered a science lesson from the tenth grade, where your teacher had mentioned that at death the brain has just enough function to remember seven minutes of happy thoughts, or basically what coulds. Just like it had the same function to allow the eyes and mouth to move before the brain, too, died. And he remembered how you ran a hand over his mask less face, letting your finger tips run over the scruff he had developed from being off duty, and told him that whenever it was your time, he’d be your seven minutes.

Simon had kissed you softly after that. The kiss growing more passionate until early morning love making happened. Something the both of you enjoyed.

Swallowing thickly, hardly any saliva from how his mouth and throat were so dry, Simon closed his eyes one more time.

Memories of the both of you came to his mind. The good, the bad, the ugly and the wonderful. His team, his friends, his brothers came to his mind. And everything every one of them had been through together in the years he spent with them. Then he used the last bit to see for himself an image of you and the baby together.

You would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Amadora on your hip as you hummed that little song you always sung. Swaying from side to side slowly as you watched the pancakes on the griddle.

You always had woken up before him and giving that a baby was now added to the mix, getting up early was out of the question. You could always wake him and he made sure to always tell you that, but you never wanted to do it. You always wanted to let him sleep because you just knew he was tired. He would be but he wouldn’t mind if you woke him to help you with anything. Even settling the baby down.

Amadora was what he hoped she looked like. She had your nose and your pouty lips, and some of the faces she made were all you. Yet, some were him as well. Her skin fair with dark hair like his. It was even uncontrollable in the mornings like his was when his hair grew back after shaving it for work. And her eyes? Hell. She had his same hazel brown eyes, a little bit of green near her pupils. Her brown was a bit more warmer than his but they were still like him.

You would turn to face him with a smile on your face and at the sight of him, your daughter would beam a toothless grin behind her pacifier. Her deep dimples showing perfectly on her chubby cheeks. Simon would walk over to his beautiful girls, kissing his little daughter on her head and rubbing his nose with hers before turning to you, wishing you a Goodmorning before letting his lips meet yours. The kiss was always slow and loving, always had been. You always smiled into the kiss and placed your hand on either his cheek or cupped his chin as he lovingly held his hand to the nape of your neck.

He would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, placing a few kisses to the bare skin. A smile on his face as he would look back, wondering how he got so lucky and just glad he did something with his life to end up with you.

“I’ll see you soon my loves,” Simon spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, “just wait for me until then.”

His breathing slowed and slowed until he could feel his head dipping down, chin resting against his chest. This was supposed to be his last mission for a while to go watch his daughter come into the world, and this was his last mission. But it was his last mission because he sacrificed himself for his team. He had mentioned to Soap prior to the mission that morning if anything happened to him that Simon wanted him to be the one to deliver the news. And he knew Soap would and would do anything in his power to be there for you and the baby.

The right grip he held in his daughter’s sonogram loosened and the picture slipped from his grasp. It fell on the floor beside him, your neat handwriting in red pen on the bottom, acting as if the baby had written it, saying, “I can’t wait to meet you, Daddy!”

An image of your smiling face came to him once more, for the very last time. With what little strength he had left to even move his face muscles, the corner of his lips turned up into a smile before they fell again into a straight line.

Before he even knew it, darkness over took him. And Simon Riley took his very last breath.

[starsfic]

Hopeful Date

Just a snippet of an idea discussed on two separate Discord servers with @draw-of-the-moon, @mostie01, and @rain-bow-donkey, wanting to keep my writing skills sharp!

-_-

Okay, remember what Monkey King said. Confidence is key.

Qi Xiaotian took a deep breath in, paused and prayed he wasn't sweating over his rented suit, and let it out. It was fine. He was fine. Sun Wukong was managing the bidding and Xiaojiao was in the audience as a bid to make sure he didn't end up with a creep.

A creep that was paying for a date. With him.

Okay, step back. How did he get into this situation? Right, Wukong had asked him to be the star bachelor in Monkey Magic, the environmental charity that Wukong ran to help nature reserves across China, and the annual bachelor auction. He had agreed because, one, it was for a good cause and, two...well...

He hadn't really dated since he became the Monkie Kid.

He had a good reason! One, he was really busy with what he had and knew that he didn't need a romantic relationship to complete him. On the other hand, Xiaotian honestly got a little lonely sometimes, watching Pigsy and Tang's rare lovey-dovey moments. He knew, again, that he didn't need a romantic relationship, but he did want to find someone that he could share a life with.

So, who knew? Xiaotian took a risk and moved the curtain. Wukong was starting his speech to begin the auction, taking the form of a handsome man with really badly dyed blonde hair. (Apparently, it added authenticity.) He could see Xiaojiao's green tux, his bestie sipping on a drink and considering the stage.

He also saw the person who walked in last.

Before his heart could get up from its trip, there was a boom of "LET'S SEE OUR MEN!" The curtain lifted, and Xiaotian was suddenly blinded by the spotlights. Applause rolled out, and Xiaotian managed a wave, blinking dots out of his vision.

It was just in time to get a better look at the person who had made his heart skip a beat, sitting down at a table near the stage. And... wow. Xiaotian knew that, if they switched places, he would bet for this guy in an instant.

They were handsome, dressed in a gorgeous black dress with a v-neck deep enough to reveal pecs. They had long, flowing scarlet curls that framed an angular face that looked weirdly familiar and dark eyes, lined with purple eyeshadow and kohl, that met his. Xiaotian looked away with heat in his face, not in time to see ruby red lips purse into a sharp-toothed smile that made his knees weak.

Huh. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

[theharrowing]

Fledgling

Jungkook is tired of his dreary existence. So when a mysterious stranger offers him a way out of life as he knows it, he takes it without hesitation.

🩸 Human (to Vampire) Jungkook x Vampire Namjoon

🩸 word count: 12.3k

🩸 dead dove, strangers to lovers, vampire au, horror, blood & gore, major character death (kind of; to become a vampire), smut, light angst, possessive fluff, 21+

🩸 warnings: dead dove 🕊 do not eat! top Namjoon bottom Jungkook; a vampiric game of cat and mouse; this is a bloody fucking mess; Jungkook has a death wish and makes unwise choices; talk of sex work and using men for a place to sleep; Calvin Klein babygirl Jungkook; lavender Namjoon; talk of robbing men jk sleeps with; talk of a car crash and the sight of the aftermath of a crash; use of the word whore; vampire compulsion/charming; lots of pet names and terms of threatening endearment; possessiveness; classist language jk says toward himself (which does not reflect my real opinions at all); fear kink; nj drinking JK’s blood; jk literally bleeds to death (hi hello this is a vampire fic lol); smut (temperature play kind of; does this count as blood play???; blow job; anal fingering; anal sex; dying while being fucked and having a lovely time; semi-public sex beside corpses); a lot of blood drinking; having a captive person whose blood is drained; jk loses his autonomy completely.

🩸 note: in this fic, we observe a world where Jungkook has heard of zombies but not vampires, okay. suspend your disbelief just once, my loves!!! this one is quite dark but not terribly graphic, all things considered. there is plenty of blood & gore tho!!! i did not get a chance to proofread as much as i usually do, so if you notice any errors, feel free to let me know!

🩸 happy halloween to my lovely @sweetestofchaos! 🧛🏻 👻 🎃 🍂 i hope you enjoy this!!! i only meant for this to be a short, sweet oneshot and it completely took on a life of its own.

🩸 written for the bts fantasy & fangs trick or treat event! check out more hauntingly good works!

🩸 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🩸 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The moment the older man walks into the bar, Jeongguk takes in a deep, fortifying breath and instinctively holds it. Something about the way this man carries himself – tall, broad, and strong, with an aura of danger surrounding him – makes Jeongguk weak in the knees, and he grips onto the poles of the tiny caged-in stage and swishes his hip as he gets low into a squatting position. 

Being a go-go dancer at a bar this seedy tends to attract the attention of the wrong type of men – men with families waiting for them; men with enough power and influence to make them greedy and mean; men who know damn well that a pretty little thing like Jeongguk disappearing from a shithole like this would not raise many alarms. 

Jeongguk gets a thrill from being spoiled by rich married men; he dares one of them to swoop in and make him disappear – even if it means death. Anything would be better than this life, he thinks. 

Unfortunately for him, the wealthy men who gravitate toward him are all talk – anything for an easy fuck. They promise Jeongguk the world, telling him how badly they want to get him out of his current rundown apartment and wax poetic about a better life – modeling contracts or sugar baby arrangements. 

Oh, how they moan and groan and lament over how stunning Jeongguk is – talented, and thoughtful, and pretty. And then they fuck him and leave him, never calling back, moving along to the next sad little poor thing to utter empty platitudes to while balls deep inside them. 

Jeongguk can already tell that this man is different. This man is dangerous beyond just money and an appetite for young meat. This man could make Jeongguk disappear in the blink of an eye. 

The man who approaches the bar is gorgeous, dressed head to toe in black – a fitted jacket over a button-up, tucked into fitted slacks. His slightly grown-out hair is lightened to a soft lavender-blond and pushed off his forehead, his eyes are razor-sharp, and his pillow-plush lips are pulled into a smirk. As he walks, men straighten out and step to the side, quick to get out of his way.

Jeongguk watches as the man approaches the bar and leans with one elbow against the wood, ordering a drink and letting his gaze drift around the smoke-filled space. And when the man's eyes land on Jeongguk, he feels his pulse quicken. 

Something dark and indiscernible flashes in the man's gaze and Jeongguk feels a pull, leaning forward, bare chest touching the cold metal bars that his hands loosely hold onto. His blood shimmers and soars through his veins, and he swoons to the cold touch of steel. 

All sound around him – music and voices – seem to slow and morph, as if he is sinking deep underwater. The man's smirk grows to a salacious grin, and then he turns his gaze away from Jeongguk, who crashes back to reality as he heavy-blinks his surroundings into place.

Slowly, Jeongguk swishes his hips up to a standing position, finding he has to grip a little harder onto the poles, which are slick from sweat that has pooled beneath his palms. The man does not look back at Jeongguk, talking instead to another patron with his back facing this way, leaving him feeling empty and disappointed. 

In an attempt to save face, Jeongguk dances for two more songs, eyes never straying from the back of the man, and then picks his black denim jacket up off the floor and exits the cage, hours too soon. 

"Need a bathroom break," he mutters to his manager Sunmi, who stands with her arms folded over her chest, scowling at him. 

"Make it quick," she snaps, to which he simply grunts, in return.

Jeongguk has half a mind to walk out the back door and go home. He cannot explain why, but he experiences such a pull to the lavender-haired man that having him turn away and not regard him leaves him feeling so disappointed and frustrated that he would rather call it a night than continue to work.

Of the dancers, Jeongguk is easily the most attractive, and he garners the most attention, meaning the managers are on his ass the most, and would definitely berate him for leaving. Luckily, he has no working cell phone at the moment, which could make leaving a lot less annoying.

The bathroom is a dimly lit shithole with yellowed walls and chipped tiles that may have once been white, years and years ago. It reeks of piss and urinal detergent blocks, and every surface is inexplicably wet. Jeongguk scrunches his nose uncomfortably, never able to get used to the stench, as he approaches the sink and stands before it, not quite sure what to do with himself. 

Staring at his reflection, Jeongguk begins to give himself a silent pep talk. The way he looks now – bangs hanging in his eyes, which are smudged black like coal – he is far too fucking hot to let some asshole ruin his night. 

Tonight, his hair is down – falling nearly to his shoulders in pretty dark brown waves. He wears a thin black tie under his black denim jacket, and black loose-fitting denim pants – no shirt. Dressed like this, men never turn their attention away from him once he has it, so what was that guy's fucking problem?

Jeongguk runs the sink and splashes some cold water on his face, letting it drip down his chest. He uses a paper towel to blot at his forehead and cheeks but allows the droplets on his pecs and abs to linger and glisten. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he can score the hot lavender-haired man. At the very least, he anticipates someone will take him home tonight. Someone always does. 

As he exits the bathroom, the first thing Jeongguk notices is that the man is no longer at the bar. Briefly, he scans the space, looking for him, then he clears his throat, lifts his head high, and walks back to the cage. The moment he steps in, some older man in a suit walks up and grips onto the bars in front of him, like clockwork. 

"Hey, pretty thing," the man snarls, reeking of cigars and gin. What he lacks in looks, he makes up for in confidence, and hopefully money. 

"Hey there, handsome," Jeongguk responds sweetly, squatting low enough to be just under eye-level with the man, which only seems to excite him more. 

"What time you off work?"

It's always the same with these men, and Jeongguk heavy-blinks once, schooling his plastered smile so as to not grimace. 

"I finish when the bar shuts down."

The man is antsy, shifting left to right, gripping onto the bars. Jeongguk can tell that he is considering all the ways in which his money has allowed him to skirt past rules and authority; he can tell the man is going to try to insist that Jeongguk, too, is above his own responsibilities if the man can flash enough notes. 

"What do you say we get out of here now, instead?" the man tries, causing Jeongguk's right eye to twitch. "I'm sure your boss can be bought, eh? There's two more dancers here; what's the harm in letting one go?"

With a sweet smile and a shrug, Jeongguk looks over his shoulder demurely. "Boss is back there. The woman standing by the wall – the one who's frowning. If you can convince her to let me go, I'm all yours, big boy."

Fat chance in hell Sunmi noona would allow Jeongguk to leave even a minute before close, but he likes letting these men try their best shot. If anything, being told no only makes them more desperate to have him and they wind up spending a pretty penny on getting him drunk enough to fuck them later. 

The man hobbles away, and a curious tingle travels up Jeongguk's neck, filling him with the sudden urge to glance around, certain that someone must be watching him. But as he makes a little spin in his cage, eyes tracing over every patron at the bar, peering over every shadow, he doesn't notice anyone paying him special attention. In fact, the only person he makes eye contact with is Sunmi noona, who is glaring at him while the man before her attempts to barter for his freedom. 

Things go just as Jeongguk anticipates, to such an exact formula that he would find it amusing if it were not so fucking tedious. The man is ultimately turned down, then he proceeds to sulk at the bar, only ever leaving his post to bring Jeongguk a new drink or go take a piss. This goes on for an hour and a half, and then the man announces that he is going to use the restroom once more, and for Jeongguk to stay put and don't go too far.

Jeongguk leaves the cage and approaches the bar, feeling tipsy and tired as he leans against the far end and waits for the man to return from the restroom. He oscillates between feeling impatient and wishing the man would not return, saving him from having to suck his drunk, flaccid cock in a desperate attempt to get him hard. He just knows this man is going to have to contend with all the alcohol he has been drinking, and that Jeongguk will be the one paying the price. 

Although the man is not Jeongguk's type at all – nothing like the Adonis of a man who walked in hours earlier – Jeongguk supposes he is just happy to have somewhere warm to stay for the night. Never mind how undoubtedly bad the sex is going to be. If he is lucky, Jeongguk may even find an opportunity to rob him. Nothing too wild, just a few notes from the man's wallet and some cufflinks or a watch that he likely wouldn't even miss. 

Once more, a tingle works its way from Jeongguk's spine to the nape of his neck, and he shivers, glancing over his right shoulder and then his left, puzzled by the strange sensation. 

"Ready to go?" the man asks from Jeongguk's right, taking him by surprise and making him flinch. 

Jeongguk sighs out an embarrassed exhale and scoffs to himself. "Sure. Let's go."

"I have a room nearby," the man says. "Five star."

Of course, he has a room nearby, Jeongguk thinks. Men like him always have wives; they never take Jeongguk home with them.

Jeongguk still only wears a black denim jacket, a black tie, and no shirt underneath, and the moment he gets outside, he shivers, tensing his shoulders up to his ears and exhaling visible puffs of air in the cool autumn breeze. Being that it is bar time, the sidewalks are crowded with drunk people stumbling to and fro, and Jeongguk digs his hands deep into his jacket pockets as his shoulders and elbows are slammed into. 

The man leads Jeongguk to the end of the block and to the left, around the corner, where the street is somewhat quieter. Just up ahead, a black sports car beeps, flashing its lights. With a crooked smile, the man gestures, keys in hand, to the car and says, "This is me."

Jeongguk halts, kicking the cement with the toe of his boot in an attempt to assess the situation. Ordinarily, men who bring him back to hotels do so in a taxi or with a personal driver.

"Yeah, I'm not getting into that car with you," Jeongguk says slowly, taking a tentative step back. "You've had a lot to drink."

Despite having a bit of a death wish, being smashed in a head-on collision is not his ideal way to go. 

The man laughs, or maybe he hiccups – it's hard to say. "Come on, don't be a prude," he slurs. "Get in the car."

With a sigh, Jeongguk takes another step back, pulling his hands from his pockets. He hates it when drunk men get pushy, and he begins to crack his knuckles with his thumbs – a nervous tic. 

"Sorry, man," Jeongguk insists, continuing to slowly back away. "I'm not getting into your car."

The man looks incensed, and he turns around in a quick swaying stumble, barreling five or so steps to reach Jeongguk, who holds his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if in surrender. 

"Hey, man," Jeongguk begins, "Look, I'm not trying t—"

The man lunges, grabbing one of Jeongguk's wrists, yanking hard enough to make Jeongguk stumble. "I'm not trying to fucking argue. You and I both know I can pay you more money to keep me company than you're worth at that shithole. So why don't you be a good little whore and get in the fucking car!"

Jeongguk attempts to rip his arm away, but the man is surprisingly strong, and he yanks him enough to make Jeongguk stumble once more, causing anger and fear to spike in him. And then the tingle works its way through Jeongguk once more, much stronger than before, and he sways forward and back, blinking heavily as if trapped in a mental fog. 

Slow footsteps click-clack against concrete behind Jeongguk, and without looking he knows the handsome man from the bar is standing behind him – he has no idea how or why, but he can sense him.

"Gentlemen," the man says, voice deep and rich, raising Jeongguk's goosebumps even higher. "I trust that this is not a physical altercation that I am walking in on."

The drunk man stands tall, yanking on Jeongguk's wrist again. Feeling intoxicated by the man's presence behind him has Jeongguk's arm relaxed, and he stumbles into the drunk man, causing him to huff angrily and continue to yank Jeongguk toward the car.

"He told you he isn't interested in going with you," the man behind him says, and Jeongguk gasps, curious how much of the conversation he could have overheard. 

The drunk man squeezes Jeongguk's wrist before throwing it down and pointing at the man, shouting, "And just who the fuck do you think you are?"

In a blink, the new man is standing right beside Jeongguk, cloying his senses with a rich, heady scent of wildflowers and musk. The drunk man gasps and stumbles a step backward, mouth moving frantically as he quakes with fear, and the man by Jeongguk's side slowly lifts his hand, gripping the drunk man's throat. 

"I," the man says slowly, "am your worst…fucking…nightmare."

Silence hangs and then the drunk man begins to laugh, snot and drool flying from his lips. He grips onto the hand around his throat and shoves it down, then he shakes his head, face turning a gruesome shade of red under the golden streetlights. 

"You almost had me," the drunk man says, slapping his hand against his thigh. "That was a good one."

Jeongguk finally turns his head to face the lavender-haired man. The man only stands slightly taller than him, but his presence feels enormous. The man smiles, which creates a pretty little dimple in his cheek, and he dryly chuckles along. 

"That was pretty funny, wasn't it?" the man beside Jeongguk asks. 

The drunk man nods and continues to laugh, looking between Jeongguk and the lavender-haired man. 

"Get in your car," the man beside Jeongguk commands firmly. 

Suddenly, the man stops laughing, and his eyes lose their shine. As if being piloted by some invisible force, he turns and begins walking toward his car. 

"Wait," Jeongguk mutters, looking between the men as the drunk man rounds the hood of his car and opens the driver's side door. "What is he—"

"Drive out to the countryside at top speed and crash into the first semi truck you see," the man beside Jeongguk commands, and Jeongguk watches with confused horror as the drunk man utters something to himself and closes his door. 

Instinctively, Jeongguk jolts forward, eager to stop the drunk man from driving in the state he is in. But the man beside him very quietly, almost seductively says, "Oh, baby, you aren't going anywhere," and Jeongguk's entire body freezes. 

It is almost as if Jeongguk's skin, down to the marrow in his bones, shimmers and heats up, heavy and dreamy as if every nerve – every blood vessel – is listening to the man beside him and wants to do exactly as he says.

"What are you doing, leaving with a man like him, anyway, hmm?" the man asks. 

Jeongguk, finding he is incapable of speaking anything but the absolute truth mutters, "I need the money, and you weren't there."

"You were hoping for me?" The man asks, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"You're handsome…and you appear dangerous. I wanted to know what it was like to get lost in a man like you."

"Awe," the man groans as he leans close, right beside Jeongguk's ear, voice deep and dangerous, "little ol' me?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters, feeling any miniscule sense of control quickly leaving him as the man says, "Then come with me." 

The man turns and begins to walk the way he came, and Jeongguk feels his limbs twist and buckle as if led by invisible strings. He stumbles as he attempts to keep up, unable to move his lips to speak or to pull his gaze away from the back of the man. 

Lavender hair, broad shoulders, and an expensive suit – nothing else in the world exists. That is, until the man turns onto the still crowded street, and Jeongguk follows along so obediently that he causes pedestrians to trip over him. 

Drunk people stumble and swear, telling him to watch his step, muttering under their breath about what a fucking degenerate he is. Jeongguk pays no mind – hardly hears them. All he can focus on is the strong man with the floral and musk scent, leading him along. 

For the second time tonight, Jeongguk and a strange man approach an expensive car. Only this time, when the man motions for Jeongguk to get into the passenger seat, he doesn't think twice – couldn't think twice if he wanted to. 

A voice in the back of his head wonders where they are going, what the man could want from him, how he is leading Jeongguk to act against his will. But he cannot form these thoughts into words; he cannot speak. 

The car this man drives is nice – nicer than the generic sports car the other man drove. Far too nice to be flashing it around in a neighborhood like this. If the wrong person catches someone driving around this side of town in something this expensive, it is likely the owner will end up floating face down in the river by dawn. 

Not that a man like this one has any reason to fear others. 

"Close the door" the man commands as soon as Jeongguk slides into the passenger seat, and he does as he is told. Jeongguk can sense the man turning toward him as he asks, "Wanna see where our friend ended up?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters against any better judgment he could have. Ordinarily, he would never admit it, but he is curious. 

The man chuckles, presses the ignition button, and speeds off down the road. Jeongguk sits stiff as a board, eyes wide and staring at the cars and buildings passing at speeds that he is terrified to comprehend in the middle of the city. And without a seatbelt, because the mysterious stranger never instructed him to put one on. 

"What is your name, pretty?" the man asks, voice magnanimous but still containing an edge to it.

"Jeongguk," he mutters in response. "Jeon Jeongguk."

"Jeongguk," the man repeats nice and slow. His name sounds like honey dripping from the man's tongue, and Jeongguk wishes he could turn and properly see him. "My name is Namjoon. But you can call me sir."

"Yes, sir," Jeongguk responds without thinking. 

Namjoon chuckles deeply, leaving the slums for the wealthy outskirts before veering off into the countryside. At the speed which Namjoon is driving, the outside may as well be a black abyss, shrouded in shadow. Headlights and taillights streak by as Namjoon weaves through lanes. And then, up ahead, Jeongguk sees it. 

The bright glow of a large headlight shines up ahead, and as they approach, Jeongguk realizes the other headlight is obstructed by what hardly looks like a black car. The front of it is smashed almost like an accordion, surrounded in exploded glass. 

“It’s safe to say he won’t be bothering you anymore,” Namjoon announces with a smile in his voice. 

“Why did you do this?” Jeongguk mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from the crash. 

“Look at me,” Namjoon commands, and Jeongguk’s head snaps to the left before he is able to think. 

Namjoon is devilishly handsome – eyes sharp, dark almonds and heavy-lidded, with pillow lips pulled into a smirk. "I didn't like the way he touched you," he explains, lifting a hand to delicately caress Jeongguk's cheek. The touch is ice cold and electric, making Jeongguk suck in air quickly through his teeth. 

Sirens and lights blare from in front of them and behind, and Namjoon lifts his eyebrow, then says, "Well, this is our cue to go!" while flashing a smile so bright, it gives Jeongguk chills.

Namjoon reverses and then whips around, tires screeching as the car does a 180 and speeds off back toward town. Jeongguk continues to watch Namjoon, eyes stuck on his side profile, in part because he is so beautiful, but also because he has not been given instruction to look elsewhere. 

How Namjoon is able to weave through cop cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance without anyone turning their attention to him is beyond Jeongguk, but he is unable to think too deeply about it, mind too full of fog. Jeongguk expected Namjoon to continue driving deeper into the countryside and take him somewhere terrifyingly secluded, and he is surprised when the city lights return. 

"What is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like that, anyway?" Namjoon asks, breaking a tense silence. 

Jeongguk continues to stare at the side of Namjoon's face, feeling his pulse quicken when the man turns his gaze to him briefly with a hint of a smile. 

"Places like that are where all pretty things like me end up," Jeongguk mutters somewhat methodically. He has more thoughts on the matter, but he finds that all his brain and mouth will offer are exact responses. 

"And why is that?" Namjoon asks as he pulls to a red light and turns his full attention to Jeongguk.

Tears build in the edges of Jeongguk's eyes. He cannot tell whether it is because he has not blinked since he was told to look at Namjoon, or if the man has struck a nerve. He thinks perhaps it is somewhere in the middle. 

"I'm a dropout with no direction," Jeongguk responds quietly, voice cracking around his words. "No rich parents…I don't have anything to offer but my body."

Ordinarily, when Jeongguk bothers to open up to men, they put on a pitying act. They promise Jeongguk this and that while assuring him that he does have purpose – he does have something to offer to the world. Namjoon, on the other hand, perks up. He practically snarls. And when the light turns green, he continues watching Jeongguk for a few more tense seconds. 

"Ah, yes," the man finally says as he returns his gaze to the street and continues driving. "Another pretty face who could disappear and nobody would miss them."

Although Jeongguk feels like Namjoon is mocking him, there is no mockery in his tone. He is so perfectly matter of fact, that Jeongguk is unable to feel angry if he wanted to, because he is a classic case of a nobody, as far as anyone is concerned; Namjoon could murder him tonight and the only person who would notice him missing would be his boss, and even she wouldn't go looking for him. 

"Do you like that job?" Namjoon asks as they begin to wind through darker streets that Jeongguk assumes is a more residential area. 

Jeongguk quietly mutters, "No."

"Are there aspects about it you like at all?"

"I like dancing," Jeongguk responds as tears break and streak down his cheeks. His eyes feel dry and heavy, and he forces himself to partially blink, finding that his eyes will not close entirely. "And I like the attention. Getting spoiled by rich men is fun, but I wish most of them weren't so gross."

Namjoon laughs, turning his attention briefly to Jeongguk. His eyes appear to be dark black pools of nothing, and Jeongguk does not have a mind to question it. 

"Do you think I'm gross?" he asks in a playful tone.

"No," Jeongguk responds instantly. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"And if I want to spoil you?" Namjoon continues as he seems to pull to the side of the road but keeps his ignition on. He turns to fully face Jeongguk, cocking his head to the side.

"Please," Jeongguk all but whispers, then he clears his throat. "It will hurt like hell when you abandon me, but I'm used to it."

If Jeongguk were not spellbound, he would surely feel embarrassed over his admission. Being this honest with strange men is not his wheelhouse; he has never fully admitted to his feelings with anyone in the past. 

"And if I choose not to abandon you?" Namjoon asks as he scrapes his pearly teeth over his plush bottom lip. Jeongguk's eyes follow the movement; he desperately wants to know how that lip feels between his own teeth. 

"Don't tease me," Jeongguk responds, voice slow and distracted as he continues to stare at Namjoon's mouth. 

Namjoon smiles wide and Jeongguk could swear his incisors were sharper than before. As he runs his tongue along the bottom edge of one pointed tooth, Jeongguk's heart gallops behind his ribs. 

"Not a tease," Namjoon says with a snarl, sharp smile remaining on display. "But it would come with a price."

Jeongguk swallows thickly, gaze stuck on Namjoon's devilishly inviting mouth. "And wh-what is the price?"

Rather than respond, Namjoon shuts off the ignition. "Follow me," he commands as he gets out of the car, and for a split moment, Jeongguk's body pulls toward the driver's seat before correcting and opening the passenger side door. 

Namjoon rounds the hood of the car and approaches a large, angular house set back in tall, spiky trees that appear massive in the pitch dark. Although there are other houses around, there is a feeling of seclusion as Jeongguk follows Namjoon down a short path and up a set of cement steps that lead to the side of the home rather than the front of it. 

"Are you scared?" Namjoon asks over his shoulder.

Shadow closes in the further they walk. Jeongguk wants to say no, and he is disappointed when his mouth utters, "A little."

Namjoon punches a long passcode into a keypad, then pulls the massive wooden door open, holding out his hand as if to invite Jeongguk to enter. Only Jeongguk cannot enter, because his instruction was to follow. 

"If I break the spell will you run?" Namjoon asks with a playful lift of an eyebrow.

"No," Jeongguk answers plainly. Where would he even go?

With a snap of Namjoon's fingers, Jeongguk's shoulders quickly droop and his body adjusts to the natural force of gravity that holds him. He takes in a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill painfully as his dry eyes blink away the last of the tears that had formed. Jeongguk is able to weigh whether or not he wants to enter this man's home, and even though he is certain that Namjoon is not entirely human, he finds he does not care. 

So, with another deep breath, Jeongguk steps forward, into the dark space. He can hardly see what is in front of him, but he takes a few more steps and begins to toe out of his loosely laced boots, shaking his ankles until they hit the floor with a hollow thunk, one after the other, then bending to remove his socks, as well, worried they might stink. 

Namjoon's home seems to come alive as the man walks deeper through the foyer and into a large living room. Sconces light on their own – faint golden glows that illuminate just enough but keep the space somewhat dark. The walls have deep red wallpaper with dark wood wainscoting, and there are large portraits hung throughout the space, all of which look like Namjoon painted during various artistic periods throughout history. 

"This is…" Jeongguk mutters, eyes trailing from a faded image of Namjoon painted somewhat crudely over yellowed parchment to a clearer painting of Namjoon dressed as a nobleman in a style that would be centuries more recent than the last, but centuries older than the one they live in, now.

"Impressive?" Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk shakes his head, stopping in his tracks to look at his host fully. "Weird. This is fucking weird."

Namjoon smiles widely, standing tall before Jeongguk – as beautiful as he is terrifying. Jeongguk wants to lean close and run his hands over the man's chest and push away the lapels of his expensive jacket.

"I suppose it is quite weird," Namjoon responds, gaze becoming somewhat sad. "Seeing all and surpassing everyone I have ever come to know…hiding away as a monster…all of it is, indeed, quite weird."

Although Jeongguk is certain that he has full control of himself, the tingle persists, settling at the base of his spine and spreading a curious, eager warmth throughout. "Make me into a monster like you," he utters without really considering what he asks for. 

Namjoon squints, gaze curious, almost mocking. “Do you know for what you ask, little one?”

And, sure, Jeongguk could wager a guess, but all he responds with in the moment is a petulant utterance of, “I’m basically the same height and build as you.”

With a hum, Namjoon takes a step forward, causing Jeongguk's entire body to react. He feels like cornered prey as his hips twist and he backs into the wall, heel hitting polished wood as a brass sconce scrapes the side of his head. Namjoon truly is only a bit taller but he looms over a cowering Jeongguk as he stands his full height, elongating his spine to look down at him. 

"Yes, you are a sizable match in many ways," Namjoon says softly, raising a hand to gently detangle Jeongguk's hair from the elaborate sconce. "But I have lived lifetimes before finding you. Dynasties have risen, fallen, and faded into obscurity, and I have seen all. I could snuff your life out in the blink of an eye, like a tiny little rodent."

The absurdity in Namjoon's statement makes Jeongguk want to laugh, only he finds all he can do is snicker before something in Namjoon's presence makes his mouth rest. He has already experienced the man's magic…could he be telling the truth?

"Do it," Jeongguk urges, eager to reach out and touch Namjoon but incapable of lifting his arms. 

"You don't know what you're asking for," Namjoon responds lowly, eyes appearing sad despite the edges of his lips rising. 

"Aren't you lonely?" Jeongguk urges. He has no idea whether he and Namjoon would even get along, or whether they could be sexually compatible, but he is desperate for a life outside the one he has known for so long. 

Namjoon smirks and drags his ice cold hands along the curve of Jeongguk's neck, making him shiver. His jacket hangs open, and Namjoon gently pushes the material back, running the backs of his hands down Jeongguk's chest, ribs, abdominals. 

"You're so cold," Jeongguk mutters under his breath, watching as Namjoon's gaze follows his own hands. "Cold as death."

"That is correct, little one," Namjoon says, eyes flicking to his. "My own blood has not flowed through my veins for centuries."

Although Jeongguk struggles to wrap his mind around everything Namjoon says, it feels real…sort of. "Are you a zombie?" he mutters half to himself, not fully intending to say the words aloud. 

Namjoon's eyes crinkle, his cheeks dimple, and he laughs. He laughs loud and boisterous, sounds echoing throughout dark space, and Jeongguk is certain that he has never seen or heard something more beautiful in his life. With a shake of his head, Namjoon continues to laugh, and Jeongguk stands and waits while the smallest smile creeps over his own lips.

"Not a zombie," Namjoon replies, still shaking his head. "But I am technically undead."

In a flash, Namjoon's expression darkens. His eyes go almost pitch black, and his incisors sharpen before Jeongguk's eyes, confirming that what he saw earlier was not a mistake. The familiar tingle works its way up Jeongguk's spine, only this time, it triggers his fight or flight response. All he can do is freeze.

"Namjoon," Jeongguk mutters as he presses further into the wall, hands shakily grazing over the ridges of wooden panels.

"You seem so eager to know what kind of monster I am," Namjoon responds, leaning close and wafting cold breath that reeks of decaying flowers over Jeongguk's face. "Shall I show you?"

"I—" Jeongguk croaks, voice becoming lost in his throat. 

The tips of Namjoon's frigid fingers begin to dig into the skin of Jeongguk's tummy, just above his waistline, by his left hip. He doesn't remember Namjoon having long or sharp nails, but he swears he can feel his skin begin to puncture – he finds he is too afraid to look. 

"You…what?" Namjoon prompts, dark eyes pooling with black abyss. "Too frightened to speak?"

Jeongguk's lips tremble, creaking broken sounds that find no resolve. He is absolutely horrified, and more curious than he has ever felt about anything before. 

Namjoon lifts a hand, proving that what Jeongguk felt was real – the index and middle fingers have sharp claw-like nails that drip with blood. Jeongguk can feel wet warmth on his left hip, but he does not look; he can only stare as Namjoon lifts his hand to his lips and sucks the blood from his fingers. 

The sounds Namjoon makes are borderline pornographic – hums and groans of pleasure. Jeongguk watches intently as Namjoon pulls his fingers from between his inviting lip – as Namjoon's pink tongue pokes out and laps up a drop of blood that has run between his fingers. 

He knows he should glance down and assess what Namjoon has done to him, and he practically begs his brain to allow his gaze to move. He almost feels caught in the same trance as earlier, only Namjoon has not commanded anything; how is he trapped in place, unable to look away?

"God, I love that look of fear, confusion, intrigue," Namjoon purrs, voice somehow deeper than Jeongguk remembers. "We should really tend to that wound. Wouldn't want it to kill you."

"Would it?" Jeongguk murmurs, feeling somewhat dissociated from his skin. He does not feel pain, but he can feel the trickle of blood. 

Namjoon begins to sink down to his knees, gaze never leaving Jeongguk's. Only when Namjoon settles and sits high, leaning toward where his nails dug deep enough to puncture skin, does Jeongguk see the wound. It does not bleed too badly, but it is leaving a wet black spot on his black pants. 

Without a word, Namjoon opens Jeongguk's black denim jacket and pins the fabric to the wall with both palms. Then he leans in and licks a slow, firm path from the waistline of Jeongguk's jeans and over the wound. 

Namjoon groans, eyelids fluttering as he licks and sucks. All Jeongguk can do is stare, watching Namjoon's tongue streak deep red before disappearing. Jeongguk cannot deny that it feels good. In fact, the visual of Namjoon on his knees before him, lapping at his skin with such hunger while his dark eyes stay on Jeongguk's face has arousal coursing through his veins just as quickly as oxygen does. 

Jeongguk's cock begins to harden, and he decides it is best not to allow the myriad questions and concerns muddy the spell that Namjoon must have him under. One particularly firm flick of Namjoon's tongue makes Jeongguk shiver, and before he knows it, the pleasure he feels is enough to make him sigh out a hint of a moan. This catches Namjoon's attention and makes him grin, lips stained with blood and yet so inviting. 

"Please," Jeongguk whispers, fingertips tingling to reach forward but planted to the wall. 

"Please…what, little one?"

Without a clue as to what he is asking for, Jeongguk simply watches as Namjoon's hands lift from the wall and begin to rub over Jeongguk's skin, along the hem of his pants, to the fly, where he works the button open. Blood and saliva cover Namjoon's chin, and his ice cold fingers send another shiver down his spine.

Namjoon's eyes fall to Jeongguk's jeans – undoubtedly to the bulge that lifts the fabric – then he glances back up, grin widening with his sharp white teeth on display. He scrapes his tongue along his teeth before asking, "That turned you on?"

Jeongguk could swear Namjoon's pupils were brighter than before. No longer are they deep black pools, shining a rich umber that appear outlined in red – a trick of the light, Jeongguk surmises – and making him more alluring than ever.

All Jeongguk can do is nod, mouth too heavy and dry to make coherent sound. That did turn him on, and he is terrified of what it could mean for him. 

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before him. Jeongguk startles, bumping his head into the sconce and wincing from the pain. Namjoon's chin is still smeared pinkish-red, and his breath smells like decaying flowers and iron. 

"Do I scare you, little one?"

Jeongguk's exhale trembles from his lips, and his voice is barely audible as he says, "You know you scare me."

"Do you like it?"

Jeongguk doesn't give himself a chance to mull it over. "Sort of."

"I can scare you more if you would prefer."

Although he is certain that he should not be asking leading questions to someone who has proven himself to be a literal monster, Jeongguk swallows thickly then asks, "Why would you want to do that?"

Namjoon licks his lips and hums, putting on a show of thinking over his response. Then he leans in close to Jeongguk's ear, groaning through his words. "There is something about the way your blood courses through your veins when you are afraid that makes it taste…so…sweet."

Jeongguk's fight or flight impulse returns, and he tenses. Suddenly he wants to run far, far away from Namjoon. Worse, he thinks that he would like Namjoon to give chase. 

"God, I can smell the fear on you, little one," Namjoon whines, rubbing his nose over Jeongguk's throat. "I'll give you a ten second head start if you want to run."

"Shit," Jeongguk mutters, suddenly unglued from the wall, limbs relaxing only to tense back up again. He was definitely just under Namjoon's spell, and he had no clear confirmation of it while it happened.

"Ten…" Namjoon says with a grin, taking a large step backward. 

Jeongguk looks around the darkened space, unsure where he could even go.

Then Namjoon lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side as if silently asking Jeongguk what he is waiting for as he says, "Nine…"

Jeongguk runs to the right, deeper into the large house, blinking in the darkness while he attempts to get his bearings. There is no way he could hope to fight Namjoon off, so he does not attempt to go to the kitchen to search for anything sharp or heavy to use as a weapon. Not that he wants to fight Namjoon off, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him that he should.

Namjoon's voice echoes from behind him, calling, "Eight!"

Stairs come into view and Jeongguk storms upward, taking two at a time in the darkness, tripping over himself at the top landing and stumbling before pummeling shoulder first into a wall. 

"Seven!"

There is a faint golden glow that comes from the far end of a long hall and Jeongguk runs toward it, bare feet sliding along hardwood and stomping onto carpeting. He can vaguely make out more portraits and photographs lining the walls, as well as closed and open doors.

"Six!"

Jeongguk slams his open palms into the door, which is cracked a few inches, and he stumbles into a bedroom. He is surprised by the furnishings, eyes finding velvet upholstery, intricately carved wood on a large four-poster bed, and matching wooden dressers and vanity. 

"Five!"

Briefly, he considers hiding, but if Namjoon is truly able to smell his fear, he does not think he would be able to stay concealed for very long. He turns somewhat uselessly, noting a door that he assumes leads to a closet, lounge chairs deeper in the room, and a large glass door at the far end. 

Running toward the door, he considers whether he may be able to jump off the balcony and chastises himself for not just running outside while he was still downstairs. This is how characters are caught in horror films, he reminds himself – by running upstairs instead of outside.

"Four!"

There is absolutely no way Namjoon wouldn't find him, if what he has said is true. But what if it is not? Jeongguk considers that some of what he has said could have been simply to scare him.

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk pushes back thick, blood red curtains in search of which side of the glass panel is a door. On the far right, there is a black metal handle, with a small metal latch that Jeongguk works open. 

"Three!" 

Jeongguk feels a surge of excitement as he throws the door open, then instantly regrets his choice as he steps out into the cool night air. The balcony is large and rectangular, made of wrought iron and concrete, and it overlooks a steep hill that leads down to a large pond. Even if he could jump down safely, where the fuck would he go? 

Without a proper shirt, he could catch  any number of ailments from submerging himself in that water. But all thought of wanting to play Namjoon's game seeps away as Jeongguk's mind screams at him to get the fuck away from this house. 

"Two!" 

And there is no way in hell he would be able to outrun the man. Namjoon has already proven that he has the ability to move too fast for Jeongguk to even fathom. Fear spikes, and his teeth begin to rattle in the cold night air. All of this seems futile, and yet…he has to try. 

Namjoon's voice calling, "One!" is all Jeongguk needs to close the glass door behind him and then run to the edge of the balcony. He hardly thinks of the repercussions as he throws his legs over the railing, one after the other. With a glance over his shoulder, he tells himself that if he can manage to land on his feet and roll down the hill, he has a pretty good chance at survival. 

Jeongguk releases his hold on the railing, but rather than falling down, two strong, ice cold hands grip onto his wrists and yank him upward. 

"Going somewhere, little one?" Namjoon teases as he effortlessly returns Jeongguk to the balcony. 

Jeongguk cries out and trembles in the cold air, taking a step backward as soon as Namjoon lets go of his hands. His lower back hits the railing and he gasps, feeling like cornered prey once more.

"I thought you liked being afraid of me," Namjoon pouts, closing the space between them. "Were we not just playing a game?"

"I do…we are…I just—" Jeongguk cannot get his thoughts straight. Truth be told, as much as he considered flinging himself over the balcony, all he really wanted was for Namjoon to catch him. And catch him, he has. But what does this mean for Jeongguk? 

"Are you afraid of death?" Namjoon asks, cocking his head to the side. His reddish-brown eyes seem to glow in the pale light of the moon.

Without hesitation, Jeongguk shakes his head, muttering, "No."

"But you are afraid of me?"

As Jeongguk licks his lips, he watches Namjoon's eyes follow the movement. He wants Namjoon's tongue back on his body, and maybe…just maybe…he wants to become whatever Namjoon is.

"Sort of," he admits.

Namjoon steps so close, Jeongguk can feel the cold radiate from him. But he likes the way Namjoon's thigh slots between his legs. He likes how Namjoon's lips feel as they graze his throat as he says, "Elaborate, my sweet."

"I want to know you," Jeongguk says, eyes fluttering closed. "I want to become like you. But I don't…I don't know what that means."

"Life as you know it will be over," Namjoon breathes against his neck, forcing each of Jeongguk's exhales to shake from his lungs. 

Jeongguk is certain that there is nothing more inviting than leaving his life behind. "I know. That's what I want."

Namjoon takes a step back, just far enough that he can look Jeongguk in the eye. For the first time, he appears uncertain, and perhaps even a little sad. His hands gently cup Jeongguk's face, thumb leaving a chilled path over his cheek. "The first few months of this new existence will be full of pain and confusion."

With a scoff, Jeongguk mutters, "My entire life has been full of pain and confusion."

There is understanding in Namjoon's eyes, and Jeongguk questions everything he knows about the man. Could someone so delicate and handsome really be a monster? 

But then Jeongguk remembers the wound on his hip, and the superhuman speed, and the way Namjoon can command Jeongguk to think and do exactly what he wants. And he thinks he wants to have that kind of power all to himself. 

Without another word, Namjoon takes Jeongguk's hand and pulls him back inside the warmth of his bedroom. He releases Jeongguk's hand to close and lock the sliding glass door, and then he pulls the deep red curtains closed, leaving the two of them in the golden glow of a lamp that sits on the other side of the room, beside the massive bed. 

Namjoon turns and begins to make his way toward the bed, arms lifted and moving in a way that suggests he may be unbuttoning his jacket. It takes Jeongguk a moment to follow him, stepping softly onto an intricate rug that covers most of the floor. 

"I don't turn people often," Namjoon says as he looks over his shoulder and then begins to shrug out of his jacket. "In fact, I only planned to drain you tonight. If you were interested, I would have wanted to fuck you first, but ultimately, the plan was to leave you to die."

Something about Namjoon's candor is not only oddly comforting, but alluring. Perhaps Jeongguk should be most concerned with the bit about draining him and leaving him to die, but all he finds he can circle back to is the thought of Namjoon wanting to fuck him. 

Of course, he saw the way Namjoon licked at his skin, and his jeans are still unbuttoned from Namjoon opening them before deciding he would rather play a sordid game of cat and mouse. So it should really come as no surprise.

"Guess that makes me special," Jeongguk responds somewhat cheekily, feeling there is still a bit of a heaviness that hangs in the air, making him nervous. 

Namjoon spins on socked feet with his black button-up shirt halfway undone, nimble fingers working a button just below his pecs. The expanse of bare skin is inviting, and paired with the hungry look in Namjoon's eyes, it sends a thrill through Jeongguk.

"I have been wanting a companion for some time," Namjoon says, "and you do seem like a worthy man. You are very pretty, and I like your attitude."

"A companion?" Jeongguk responds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He is not exactly a relationship type of guy, and suddenly, he feels a bit apprehensive. "Don't you think that's moving a little fast?"

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before Jeongguk, pushing at the collar of his jacket. Jeongguk actually chuckles at the thought that Namjoon's response to his remark was to quite literally move too fast. 

"Once I turn you," Namjoon mutters as Jeongguk's denim is pushed past his shoulders and begins to slide down his arms, "you will depend wholly on me for quite some time. Your hunger and other urges will be so strong that it will physically pain you to exist, and I will be the only tether you will have to any sense of sanity."

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "You make it sound so dramatic," all the while his jacket crumples on the rug around his feet. 

Namjoon grabs the black tie that hangs around Jeongguk's neck and gently yanks on it, forcing Jeongguk to stumble into Namjoon and place his palms against his cold, muscular chest.

"Not to mention," Namjoon adds with a lift of his brow, "after I fuck you, you won't want to leave my side."

At this, Jeongguk scoffs, rubbing his hands over Namjoon's clothed nipples, which harden to the touch. His shirt hangs open around the waistline, still tucked in and forgotten. 

"I've been with a lot of men," Jeongguk challenges, tilting his head to the side. "A lot of men who have made a lot of empty promises. What makes you think you're so special?"

Namjoon's grip on the tie tightens, then releases, and he reaches for Jeongguk's left wrist, gently lifting it to his lips. 

"Oh, my darling boy," he mutters, lips dragging over Jeongguk's skin. "I have experienced centuries of pleasure. Those so-called men could not possibly fathom what I have to offer. And, not to mention…" Namjoon lifts his mouth and smiles widely, showing off his sharp teeth in a way that is both too menacing and intriguing for Jeongguk to comprehend. "...I can show you pleasurable pain the likes of which so few living men have ever experienced."

Without warning, Namjoon sinks his teeth into Jeongguk's wrist. The pain is so white-hot intense that Jeongguk's entire body tenses and he attempts to yank himself free. Namjoon's eyes open widely before rolling back, and he moans with pleasure as he retracts the teeth that have left two puncture marks in Jeongguk's skin, and he begins to suck. 

Blood play is something that Jeongguk has always done his best to steer clear of, and now this monstrous man has already made him bleed twice. What is more, Namjoon seems to really enjoy the taste of his blood – is this what he meant by draining Jeongguk and leaving him to die? Does Namjoon actually drink blood?

Jeongguk almost misses the tingle that works over his skin, leaving goosebumps and warmth in its wake. "You son of a bitch," he mumbles, knees turning loose like gelatin. "You're charming me again, aren't you?"

With a deep groan, Namjoon releases Jeongguk's wrist. Blood pools in two tooth-sized holes, and he is certain that he would be panicking over the blood loss if it were not for the mind control, or whatever the fuck Namjoon is done to him. 

"I prefer the term compulsion, but charm works, too," Namjoon says. He drags his tongue over Jeongguk's wrist, streaking it with red. 

"Will you be able to do this to me even after you have made me whatever you are?"

Namjoon smirks, responding, "Sadly, no. My charm only works on humans. Living humans." He drops Jeongguk's wrist, and even Jeongguk is surprised by how heavy his arm feels; he wonders if he is only standing because Namjoon has somehow commanded his limbs to do so. 

"I like the charm," Jeongguk mutters, feeling somewhat dizzy and light. "I like how shimmery and floaty it makes me. But I want to experience the fear and the pain. Please."

Jeongguk knows, somewhere in his mind, that what he is asking for might be something he comes to regret. But if what Namjoon says is true – if he really is going to transform Jeongguk into something not human – then Jeongguk wants to feel those intense human emotions one last time.

With a wide grin, Namjoon reaches down and begins to unzip Jeongguk's jeans. "As you wish, my pretty little human," he says, dropping to his knees. "But don't be surprised if it becomes unbearable. Now…let us finish what we started downstairs, shall we?"

He is silent and still as his senses return, watching as Namjoon reaches with sharp nails into the waistband of Jeongguk's briefs and begins to yank his garments down. Slowly, Jeongguk lifts his arm, feeling somewhat distressed that his wrist continues to bleed enough that blood runs down his palm and drips from his fingers. 

He even considers whether he should bandage the wound and apply pressure and all of that first aid stuff, but the feeling of Namjoon's ice cold palms gripping onto his half-hard cock has all thought leaving Jeongguk's mind. 

"Whoa," Jeongguk mutters, feeling the forces of gravity momentarily disagree with his body as he shifts on his feet in an attempt not to fall. Even from just a single touch, Jeongguk is buzzing and needy for more. 

"Ever do temperature play?" Namjoon asks as his hands stroke Jeongguk to fully erect. 

Jeongguk is not sure he even knows what that is, and he shakes his head, saying, "No."

"Some find the chill of my mouth to be rather exquisite," Namjoon responds without missing a beat, sitting high on his knees. 

The cold, wet drag of Namjoon's tongue along the length of Jeongguk's shaft makes him groan and shiver. It is striking how different it feels, and he struggles somewhat to get his bearings. And then Namjoon opens wide and engulfs Jeongguk's cock, causing him to sob out from how cold but simultaneously wet and inviting his mouth is. 

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, lifting his hands to grip onto Namjoon's lavender hair. "Holy fuck."

Namjoon sucks Jeongguk's dick with a fervor he has never experienced. With seemingly no gag reflex, Namjoon swallows deep and hard, groaning when Jeongguk's hips buck and tremble uncontrollably. Pleasure builds and crashes inside him, and he worries he may cum in an instant. 

And then he feels the sharp drag of teeth against his cock, and fear spikes so intensely that he roughly tugs on Namjoon's hair, to no avail. Namjoon stares up at Jeongguk as he presses the tip of his cock far into his throat, causing tears to form in his pretty, dangerous eyes. 

He is certain that Namjoon is fucking with him – making him feel the fear that he asked for only moment ago – and he does his best to relax. With his pants and briefs hugging around his ankles, it is not as if Jeongguk would be able to go anywhere, anyway; Namjoon more or less has him trapped, as always. 

Namjoon hums deep as his eyes flutter closed and he slurps and sucks, picking up speed. He wraps his hands around Jeongguk's hips and manually rocks Jeongguk against him, forcing him to fuck his mouth. Jeongguk finds the rhythm with his hips, though the pleasure is so overwhelming, he is certain that he will bust very soon. 

"Oh, god," Jeongguk moans, head lolling back while he continues to hold Namjoon by the hair. "I'm gonna cum."

As he chases his high, his hips rock faster, and Namjoon accommodates without any trouble, slurping and sucking and humming to the rhythm of Jeongguk's body. Even as flashes of Namjoon's terrible superhuman speed and affinity to lick his bleeding wounds play through his mind, Jeongguk only becomes more aroused rather than disgusted, pushing him over the edge. 

Namjoon swallows deeply the moment Jeongguk opens his mouth to croak out a warning that only falls from his lips as a moan. He cums hard, whimpering and sobbing as his body bends at the hips and threatens to topple over. Somehow, Jeongguk remains on his feet, hands sliding down to Namjoon's shoulders to anchor himself up. 

When Namjoon finally releases his cock, Jeongguk is relieved to find there is no blood. His relief is quickly dashed, however, when he notices red streaks in Namjoon's hair and realizes his wrist is still bleeding. Not only that, but he feels incredibly dizzy, and he is certain that it cannot be entirely from how talented Namjoon is at sucking dick. 

As Jeongguk lightly lifts his left arm and watches blood trickle past his fingers, he sighs. He should really be more concerned about bleeding to death, and he wonders if Namjoon has compelled him not to care. 

"On the bed," Namjoon instructs as he stands and finishes untucking and unbuttoning his black dress shirt. "I want to enjoy you while you're still warm."

Jeongguk grumbles something under his breath that even he is uncertain of, then stumbles forward, forgetting that his pants are still snug around his ankles. He reaches for Namjoon, who takes hold of his non-bleeding arm, and uses him as leverage to step out of his right pant leg and then his left. 

Wearing only the black tie around his neck, Jeongguk shuffles over to the bed, placing his palms against cold black satin and hoisting himself up. He is definitely woozy, and he practically falls face-first onto the blanket before crawling to where he surmises is the center. 

The mattress dips and Jeongguk is shoved down against the bed, gasping as he uselessly tries to find purchase against the sheet. Cold hands press his ass and spread him wide before an even colder tongue laps over his hole, making Jeongguk tremble and sob. 

Namjoon is rough with the way he prods Jeongguk open, barely giving him time to adjust before stretching him further. Jeongguk would beg for him to slow down if he weren't so enthralled with the way Namjoon handles him, and he wonders once again if he is charmed by the monster, as well. 

"So pliant and tight," Namjoon groans. "And so warm."

Jeongguk loses track of which ice cold appendage or muscle prises him open, occasionally feeling one wetter than the others. It isn't until Namjoon shoves him roughly onto his back that Jeongguk watches a beautifully nude monster in the form of a human man spread his thighs nice and wide and begin to spear him on his thick, frigid cock.

When barely a sound louder than a croak comes from between Jeongguk's lips, Namjoon pouts mockingly, whining, "Awe, don't die just yet, little one; give me one more orgasm first."

All Jeongguk can do is lay and take what Namjoon gives him, barely capable of moving his own limbs. The bed is soaked with blood that he knows has come from his wrist, and although Namjoon's cock feels incredible inside him, he is unsure whether his own cock is hard at all. 

"Fuck," Namjoon groans as he leans forward with one hand anchored against the bed. He looks impatient as he lifts his other wrist to his mouth and pierces his teeth into the flesh. 

Jeongguk gasps at the sight, certain that now they are both doomed; surely they cannot both survive puncture wounds to their arteries. Never mind everything Namjoon said earlier about surviving centuries, and all that. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, only seems mildly inconvenienced as he holds his wrist above Jeongguk's face and allows his blood to drip down onto his mouth. 

At first, Jeongguk flinches, disgusted by the ice cold, thick and brassy blood that drops onto his lips and chin. He closes his lips tight in the hope of keeping any of the liquid from seeping in. But then he gets a taste of the blood, and everything changes. 

Instantly, Jeongguk feels a pull to Namjoon that seems to take him by storm. He needs the blood, and he needs it now – of that, he is certain. 

Jeongguk reaches up with weak hands and grips onto Namjoon's hand and arm, tugging the bleeding wrist down to his lips. With an amused chuckle, Namjoon complies, giving Jeongguk what he needs while continuing to fuck into him. 

The combination of drinking blood from Namjoon's wrist while getting fucked by him feels like there is glitter shimmering in his bloodstream, alighting every blood vessel. Arousal crashes more intensely than it had before, and Jeongguk not only feels healed from his earlier wound, but he feels strong. 

The blood also tastes better than anything Jeongguk has ever sampled before, and he is desperate to get his fill, eyes rolling back as he moans and sucks and moans some more. He feels fucking drunk. 

Namjoon is a mess of groans and whimpers, and he begins to yank his wrist away from Jeongguk, who grips tightly with both hands as if his life depends on it. He is certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that without this blood, he may die. 

"Enough, little one," Namjoon grits, clearly struggling as his hips continue their assault, smacking sounds echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Before, Jeongguk could swear he heard and felt the pounding of his own heart, but now there is nothing.

Jeongguk finally releases his hold, moaning and sobbing through the quick, dizzying build and crash of an orgasm. Without warning, he sprays cum on his tummy, only to feel the pleasure build and build once again. 

"Yes, that's it," Namjoon moans, reaching to cradle Jeongguk's head, which lolls uselessly against the satin sheet, "I want you to cum again."

Namjoon grips onto Jeongguk's thighs, spreading him impossibly wider, and fucks him at a pace so punishing, he worries Namjoon's cock might burrow too deep inside him. Briefly, he considers begging for a break, but the feeling is so euphoric, he only teeters on the edge of overstimulation without fully plunging over. 

But then he begins to black out. Little blips of time and space at first, before he wonders if he is imagining things, entirely. Jeongguk blinks his heavy eyelids open to find Namjoon appearing like some kind of beast from hell with long, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes, fucking him with a fervor that almost feels like hatred. 

And then he imagines his chest being clawed open. The pain is dreadful, but he is also being fucked so good, he is incapable of reconciling the two feelings. He even thinks that perhaps all the blood in his body erupts from his chest cavity in one final, harrowing tug of strong cold hands ripping him at his ribs like an animal carcass. 

And then he wakes up.

He feels no pain or fatigue as his eyes blink open. In fact, he feels more invigorated and alert than he has in all of his life. There is nobody in the bed beside him, and as he glances around, he realizes that it must be dark outside, which begs the question of whether it is the same night, or whether he has fucked and slept well into the following night. 

The events of his night with Namjoon are so eerie, that as they seep in and he begins to remember what happened, he almost feels confused. Certainly none of that could have been real, but he clearly remembers the man existing, and he has woken up in a bed that must belong to Namjoon. 

Jeongguk sits up and stretches his limbs, pleased with how incredible he feels. He thinks that he could run a marathon and hardly break a sweat with the energy that courses through him, and he surprises himself with how it takes hardly any exertion at all to toss the comforter aside. 

Discarded on the floor are his jeans, briefs, and jacket, and folded on the nightstand appears to be his tie. However, Jeongguk decides that he is feeling brazen, and he stands from the bed and heads for the door in the nude. He feels so invigorated that he wants to find Namjoon and entice him into bending him over whichever surface they encounter first and fucking him until he is dizzy. 

As Jeongguk makes his way out of the master suite and down along the second floor hallway, he becomes aware of two things simultaneously. The first is the smell, and the second is the sound.

Just before the top landing of the stairs, to the right, there is a door cracked open and a light on inside, and without giving it any thought whatsoever, Jeongguk knows that what he senses is coming from that room, so he picks up his pace and walks a little quicker, feet padding over a soft rug that lines the center of the hallway. 

Nothing can prepare Jeongguk for what he walks in on when he opens the door, nor can it ready him for the way the scene makes him feel. 

In the dead center of a rather small, dimly lit room, is a nude person restrained by the wrists and ankles to a large wooden X. Blood pours from the person's left wrist and arm, and Namjoon stands off to the side, to the right of the person, also nude with blood covering his chin. 

Before Jeongguk can make his presence known, Namjoon's eyes are on him, and his grin is wide. "Hello, my little fledgling," Namjoon calls somewhat menacingly as he turns his body fully to Jeongguk and opens his arms wide and invitingly.

Jeongguk should be horrified, but instead he is filled with an overwhelming need to taste. He shuffles forward, almost robotically, and approaches Namjoon, slotting himself against his side, beneath one of his open arms. And then he begins to lick the blood from Namjoon's chin. 

The person restrained to the X groans – the sound that Jeongguk is certain he heard earlier – and rather than filling him with the urge to save or protect the person, Jeongguk finds he almost wants to mock the person and make them produce even more desperate sounds. In fact, Jeongguk finds that more than anything, he wants to rip the person's skin open and drink all of their blood. 

"I trust you slept well?" Namjoon asks sweetly as Jeongguk finishes lapping the blood from his chin and turns his attention to their captor. 

"I did," Jeongguk mutters, surprised by the quality of his own voice. He sounds dreamy, almost as if he is put under yet another one of Namjoon's spells, only this time, all he can focus on is the blood that trickles down the stranger's arm. 

Namjoon's fingertips on Jeongguk's chin and throat no longer feel cold, yet Jeongguk shivers to the touch as Namjoon asks, "And how do you feel?"

Moments ago, Jeongguk felt more alive than ever before, but now—

"Hungry."

To simply say he feels hungry is an understatement, but Jeongguk is so wholly enthralled by the wriggling person captive before him, it is all he can express. 

Fingertips push back at the hair around Jeongguk's forehead and neck in a delicate motion that makes him swoon for blood even more. Is this his life now? To crave and to drink and be loved? Is Namjoon really the monster he says he is?

"Feed, my darling. Drink until you feel their pulse still."

A strange pain overtakes Jeongguk's mouth, and he quickly reaches to his gums to feel the impossible – his incisors are sharp, just as Namjoon's had been. With a gasp, he turns to Namjoon, startled. What strange ritual has taken place? Has he already begun to change? Is he already dead?

Namjoon cups the end of Jeongguk's chin and smiles softly, asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Jeongguk has so many questions that swirl and dizzy him, but the only thing he can bring himself to care about is that tangy, inviting scent of blood. He stands high on his tippy toes and reaches for the person's wrist, but Namjoon presses a hand over Jeongguk's chest, keeping him from reaching with his lips. 

"The neck is so much better, my little darling." Namjoon reaches to tap his sharp fingers on the side of the throat. "Sink your teeth in right here, where you can see their heart beating."

Without hesitation, Jeongguk steps forward, grips the captor by the hair and roughly moves their head to the side. He can see the pulse beating against their skin – can hear the sound of their heart as if its squeeze and relax were being amplified straight into Jeongguk's mind. When he leans in close, dragging his lips over the skin, there is an alluring scent that seems so indescribably human that pulls him closer. 

Jeongguk sinks his teeth into the skin of the person's neck just as he had watched Namjoon sink his teeth into his own wrist, feeling a spark of arousal as the person whimpers and sobs. It takes him by surprise how much he has to really dig his sharp teeth into the flesh, but once it breaks, the blood pours into his mouth. So much, in fact, that he gasps and feels it run down his chin. 

It takes Jeongguk a moment to realize he needs to pull his teeth from the puncture wounds to properly drink from the skin, but once he does, he feels every inch of himself burst and bloom with life. How could Namjoon call himself undead when this is the most energized he has ever felt?

Jeongguk can feel the heartbeat against his lips – can feel as it slows. The captive continues to wiggle and cry out, but it is impossible for them to match Jeongguk's strength as he languidly sucks and licks at the pouring blood. He even decides he has had his fill before their heart has a chance to stop. 

"All done, my darling?" Namjoon asks, taking Jeongguk by the chin and licking over his neck and his lips and anywhere the blood may have been spilt. 

Jeongguk smiles and shrugs, saying, "You can finish them," and steps aside to watch Namjoon take his place at their neck. Blood pours from the wound down the dip of their clavicle and chest, and Namjoon licks a streak leading to their wounds, groaning as his lips close over the holes. 

Something about this visual makes Jeongguk desperate to feel Namjoon on and inside him – makes him want Namjoon to rip him apart and piece him back together again. Despite feeling sated, he also yearns so desperately to be fucked and adored and touched and tasted. 

Namjoon must sense it – or, perhaps, knows the way he must feel – and he steps away from the body that hangs lifelessly and smiles with blood-stained lips as he closes the space between their bodies to bring Jeongguk in for a kiss. 

Every cell of Jeongguk's body yearns for Namjoon. In an act of desperation, Jeongguk spins out of Namjoon’s hold and places his palms against the wall near the open door leading to the hallway. He pushes his ass out and glances over his shoulder, batting his lashes and asking, "Please?"

Namjoon drops to his knees and wastes no time tongue-fucking Jeongguk until he is whimpering and begging for more. Jeongguk must still be stretched from before, because Namjoon presses his cock in nice and deep without much preparation and grips Jeongguk by the neck as he carves him open, bowing Jeongguk's back so their faces touch. 

"All mine," Namjoon growls as he fucks Jeongguk so hard he fears his spine might just snap. "My pretty little fledgling, I will never let you go. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine."

"Yours," Jeongguk babbles between sobs and broken consonants, speeding toward orgasm as his body struggles to keep up with the myriad sensations that overwhelm.

In between moments of blissful pleasure come fierce, sharp moments of confusion, pain, and a thirst so unlike anything Jeongguk has ever experienced. It is as if he blacks out occasionally and returns a fiendish monster whose only drive is to kill, kill, kill! 

Namjoon placates him at times, pushing his buttons to make him more devilish – more angry. He fills Jeongguk's mind with a distrust for humans and teaches him how to lurk in the shadows and hunt. 

"When you learn to control your urges better," Namjoon assures, balls-deep in him beside two corpses in a dark alleyway with Jeongguk's leg slung over his hip, "I will teach you how to blend into society better."

Jeongguk has no idea how much time passes, but he lives only in darkness, only to feed on the blood of living humans, only to serve and please Namjoon. He feels frustrated, confused, and angry with Namjoon, who seems to lavish Jeongguk's unfettered need to be by his side. 

Despite the overwhelming pleasure and insatiable appetite Namjoon has for fucking him, Jeongguk feels trapped both in his need, and in his desire, to stay by Namjoon's side. 

"The urges will pass, my darling fledgling," Namjoon promises against his lips, hand tugging Jeongguk's cock until he screams out Namjoon's name. "Until then, I will take such good care of you. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! 🦇🩸🧛‍♂️🍂🎃👻😈💀 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

i hope you had fun with this. please do not ask for a part two lmao my brain is mush and i refuse to perceive these two further. i have too many eggs in too many baskets!!!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED, TOO!!! 💜💜💜

no tag list for dead dove contents! thanks for understanding!!!

Fledgling is copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

[slightlyunconventional]

long overdue second dbhwks fic (2.8k)

SLAVED AWAY at this for days (i didnt. i could have done it in one but i procrastinated so much it’s unbelievable. but heres some food) quite happy w how it came out too if i do say so myself,, hope u enjoy!! 🫶

-

“Sorry I’m late.” Dabi. He’s picked the damn lock again. 

“Oh my god, do you seriously not know how to knock?” Hawks calls back, practically skipping into the living room. 

“Don’t wanna stand around outside your door like a creep, thanks,” deadpans the villain. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“You look like more of a creep picking the lock, but sure. Come here.”

He takes Dabi by the hand and leads him toward the couch. His fingers are warm, like usual. God, has Hawks missed that. Between hero work, villainy, and conflicting schedules they’d barely had time to see each other and, man, was it miserable. It takes everything in him not to bowl Dabi over with an absolutely suffocating embrace - it’d probably kill the man. 

Dabi raises his eyebrows. “You cleaned?” 

Hawks had expected Dabi to notice, but not point it out, so he’s a little caught off guard by the halfway-question. “Oh, yeah,” he says, a fraction sheepishly, “Is it too much?”

“Mm, no, looks good,” Dabi smirks, “Makes a nice change from all the crap you’ve usually got lying around.” Hawks hits him playfully and he laughs, clear and smooth, not at all like the peals brimming with malice he’d usually hear from Dabi.

“Uuugh, I hate you, leave me alone,” he complains. When Dabi’s eyebrows raise again, Hawks pulls a face and adds, “I’m a busy man! I don’t have time to clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m flattered.”

He sits Dabi down on the couch, maybe a little too eagerly, and comes down to straddle the taller man’s lap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Dabi’s with an urgency that only comes from being deprived of seeing one’s lover for far too long. Dabi loosens underneath Hawks and they quickly fall into a long practised pattern, all pretences dropped for this moment of touch-starved tenderness. Nothing exists outside of this room, everything is so warm, and Hawks melts even more when he feels Dabi smile against his lips.

“Seems like someone missed me,” murmurs the villain, voice sleek and low. The response is simply a hand laced through the dyed-black hair at the back of Dabi’s head, taking hold of him and pulling him closer with nothing short of absolute need. In turn, Dabi’s hands find the small of Hawks’ back, and heat begins to pool in his stomach as they slowly threaten to sneak closer to the bases of his wings. And his lips are warm, so warm, and he always seems to know exactly what to do with them to make Hawks collapse like putty in his hands. For a crazed villain who incinerates shit for fun, Dabi’s a fucking good kisser. 

…And a tease, apparently! Hawks knows that Dabi knows how badly he wants this, and how long he’s been waiting - yet he still seems to be taking his sweet time. He can feel the villain absently tracing circles into his back, with the same pace as his mouth is working against Hawks’. The little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing; well, two can play at that game. Hawks takes it as a challenge, takes Dabi’s scarred face between his hands, and takes control. He presses closer, kissing the man with some previously unseen vigour, practically forcing him to match the increased pace. A little wave of triumph passes through Hawks as he hears Dabi’s breath catch in the back of his throat, nearly silent, but they’re close enough that nothing can really go unheard. Feeling like he’s succeeded, Hawks goes to indulge further, perhaps elicit some more reactions like that, when he feels Dabi’s hand leave his back. Before he can register it properly, the hand is upon his chest, pushing with some insistence. Hawks pulls away, panicked.

“Oh, shit, fuck, sorry, was that too much?”

The arm Dabi has outstretched towards Hawks’ chest slackens slightly, as do his facial features. He doesn’t reply, but rather his lips part and his eyes glaze over, forming an expression so laced with vulnerability that Hawks is almost taken aback - though, he can’t dwell on the display for long, as he’s quickly instead watching Dabi bring his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, up to his own face and press it most firmly to the underside of his nose. His chest rises once with an inhale not unlike before, only this time a little louder and deeper, and he ducks forward slightly with two slightly-awkwardly stifled sneezes.

“hhahh-! ..hh’nGXT! kxNTsh! Ugh, fuck.”

“Oh!” Hawks says, a little surprised, “Bless you.” A part of him wants to chide the villain for holding it in like that, but he refrains, knowing full well he himself would stifle exactly the same.

Dabi hums in lieu of a thanks, and Hawks returns his hand to his boyfriend’s face and leans back in.

“Can I go back to kissing you now?” he murmurs.

Dabi rolls his eyes but drapes his arms lazily over Hawks’ shoulders, an invitation, yes, you can go back to kissing me now. Their lips interlock once again, picking up where they left off, with Hawks feeling absolutely on top of the world from the fact that he’s doing the work here, he’s the one kissing Dabi, not the other way around. He’s never been opposed to Dabi taking control, in fact he loves being ravaged by the man, but sue him, sometimes it feels good to be the one doing the ravaging. However, his elation at this seems to be poorly concealed, or perhaps Dabi just wants to knock him down a peg, because Hawks feels teeth closing on his bottom lip. Not so hard that it hurts, but just enough to tease an audible gasp from him as he tenses up on Dabi’s lap. He’s fairly certain he’s never needed someone all over him so badly until this point. Clearly it shows, too, since Dabi insists on being such a menace and playing the long game with him. Well, Hawks decides that’s not going to fly; he presses in closer, almost entirely closing the gap between them and slides his other hand behind Dabi’s head, not-so-subtly tugging him closer and kissing him harder, once more regaining the upper hand. He takes to gently thumbing back and forth against the base of Dabi’s neck, to which the man lets out, involuntarily, a little noise of satisfaction, finally accepting submission. Hawks is almost tempted to bite Dabi back, but maybe that’d be pushing his luck. Besides, this side of Dabi - soft, pliant, accepting - is one he rarely sees, and he’s kind of into it. It’s a good look on the villain. 

Before long, however, their rhythm is broken once again. One of the arms laying around Hawks’ neck begins to move, and the hand meets his shoulder. Hawks has a sneaking feeling he knows what’s coming (for the second time), as Dabi’s hand pushes against his shoulder - slowly, though, as if he’s really trying to prolong the inevitable. It really doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away, so Hawks does it for him, gently separates their faces, strangely endeared by Dabi’s reluctance - and it seems he did so at exactly the right moment. Being so close to him, Hawks can easily see the way his face immediately crumples, eyes flickering shut and lips parting with an inhale that sounded as though it had been waiting to be drawn for… a while. In a split second, he’s tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand with some urgency, and Hawks catches the flare of his nostrils right before he pinches his nose, clamping the thick black fabric over the bottom half of his face. There’s hardly six inches between the two of them, so Dabi twists awkwardly to the side with a set of cruelly stifled sneezes.

“hh’GKTtch! ‘KXXSHh! Ugh, god– h-hahH’KGXt’sh!”

They sound harsher this time around, harder to stifle, probably.

“Bless,” says Hawks, “You okay?”

“Mm… yeah, just something really… stings,” Dabi replies. He’s knuckling the side of his nose with some force.

“You’re, uh, not getting sick are you?” Hawks asks, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness that seeps into his tone. As much as he loves the man, he’s got some long days on patrol coming up soon, and a cold from Dabi would severely compromise him.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Kei.”

“Right-! Yeah, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t really think there.” Hawks grimaces internally at himself, and Dabi shakes his head.

“Ugh, Jesus, hold on–” He turns away again, breath wavering, “hehh’nGXKt!” A shaky exhale escapes from him as he releases his nose.

“So, what’s got you all worked up, then?” asks Hawks, teasing.

Dabi half-sighs, half-groans, and replies, “Don’t know, but I wish it would fucking stop.” As if for emphasis, the sentence is punctuated with an irritated-sounding sniffle.

“Well, it probably would if you stopped stifling like that,” Hawks says pointedly. That earns him a hazy blue-eyed glare… that doesn’t last long, since Dabi’s squinting again, and his mouth curls up into the beginnings of something akin to a snarl. Hawks smirks as he ducks into the crook of his sweater-clad elbow to muffle yet another sneeze.

“hehH’DSHHh’uh! What the fuck?”

At least he didn’t stifle it.

Hawks hums. “Bless you.” He sends a feather to retrieve a box of tissues, then decides the villain probably also needs some space, so he manoeuvres himself gracelessly off Dabi’s lap to sit beside him on the couch. 

“Very elegant,” Dabi remarks.

“Ugh, shut up,” he replies, elbowing Dabi in the ribs. The laugh this elicits almost straight away rises into a staggered gasp, that itself turns into a pair of hastily covered sneezes.

“hhahH’KXXTshuh! hh’huuhh’DZSHHhue!”

“Jeez, bless you.”

Dabi sniffles thickly. “Yeah.”

Hawks’ feather zips back into the room and drops a box of tissues into Dabi’s lap - the thicker, softer ones that the hero always insists on buying despite them being double the price of regular ones. 

“Sounds like they’re getting stronger,” Hawks observes, a note of concern in his tone, but then adds, more teasingly, “Not allergic to me, are you?”

Dabi scoffs and tugs a couple of tissues from the box. “I wish,” he says, scrubbing at his nose. “Then I’d actually have an excuse to avoid your annoying ass.”

“Wow, okay, that was so uncalled for. Just say you hate me at that point.”

It’s Dabi’s turn to elbow Hawks back. He probably deserves it. 

 “Ow, bitch,” he says in mock offence. 

“You’re the bitch,” comes the reply, from behind a handful of tissues (which are then promptly screwed up and tossed, flying in a neat arc, straight into the trash on the other side of the room). 

“Whatever, bitch. Are you done sneezing yet? This couch isn’t as comfy as your thighs-”

“Ugh, shut up, you are so weird,” Dabi interjects in fond disgust. 

“Oh my god, what if you’re allergic to my apartment being clean? Then I never have to clean ever again, hah!”

Dabi gives him a look. “You say that as a joke, but honestly, you migh-might be right…hh.. hehH’KXNTtsh’uh!”

Dabi’s expression falls midway through his sentence, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he gives into another sneeze, hastily half-stifled against the back of his hand.

“Seriously,” Hawks deadpans, eyebrows raised. That’s new, he thinks.

“Well, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a pet cat - which I doubt - then yeah, seriously,” says the villain flatly, though with a note of congestion starting to creep into his voice. “Last I checked, your place didn’t reek of fuckin’ –all of spring and then some.” 

Hawks suddenly remembers the air freshener he’d used–the only one he had, some floral one found right at the back of a cupboard, unused for entirely too long. He hadn’t had a clue what clean apartments were supposed to smell of, so he’d sort of just… went ham with it. Definitely a mistake.

“Don’t slander my choice in scents,” he teases, “Are you sure it’s… that?”

“Nothing else changed ‘round here, has it?” Dabi pauses to give his nose a brief rub. “I’m here practically every week and I’ve been fine, so, you tell me.”

Hawks will never not poke the bear when he’s got the opportunity, so he says, “So this does mean I never have to clean the place ever again, right?”

Dabi’s mouth falls open as he feigns offence. He says, dramatically, “Wow. That’s all you have to say? When I could literally die right now in front of you? I’m.. hah- I’m-”

Hawks snickers. “Bless you,” he sing-songs prematurely, utterly pleased with himself. It’s almost cute, the attempted glare Dabi gives him through his glazed over expression. Nobody can look menacing in the slightest when they’re trying not to sneeze (and that’s a fact!).

“Sh-shut uhhhp..” replies Dabi, his voice quavering. He lifts a hand slowly, bringing it to hover weakly before his face. His breathing is unsteady and his eyes half-lidded, and the crease between his dark brows deepens.

“Okay, point proven, idiot,” Hawks says with a laugh, “Just sneeze, this is torture even for me.”

The hazy glare returns, and Hawks clocks it. 

“Oh!” he laughs, giving Dabi a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh my god, I jinxed it. You deserve that ‘cause you’re mean to me.”

“I hahh-hate you-” Dabi responds breathily. He rubs at the side of his nose with two knuckles, pressing decently harder than is probably necessary. The bridge crinkles in irritation when the rubbing clearly has no effect. “Jesus, it won’t go away.”

“Mm, what a shame.”

There goes a third bleary glare from the villain. “I’d like to remind you wh-whose fault thhihhs.. was in the first place,” he says. Any malice intended to be behind his utterance is immediately negated by his breath catching and wavering through the words. Though, at a point, Hawks begins to feel a little… voyeuristic just watching Dabi struggle. Sure, he’s his boyfriend and all, and yeah, he’s definitely seen worse, but it’s easy to tell Dabi’s getting a little self-conscious about this… spectacle. He’s never been a fan of having things out of his control, especially not displays of vulnerability like this, and Hawks knows this, so why prolong it?

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it,” he says, taking matters into his own hands. 

“Fuck off- what–” Dabi gets out, as Hawks takes his face between his hands and begins to press kisses softly down the bridge of his nose. Hawks doesn’t let him twist away from it, trying not to laugh to himself about how dumb this probably looks. At least one of them is having fun. He considers pulling away with a “Gonna sneeze yet?”, but refrains - he’d probably end up on fire. He does, however, pause for a moment when he reaches Dabi’s trio of silver nose studs, hovering. There’ve been feathery, wavering breaths coming from his boyfriend consistently but, nothing has come to fruition, so Hawks decides–those piercings have always been sensitive, a fact he’d discovered about Dabi rather early on (and maybe, possibly sometimes used to be a menace). He plants a final, delicate kiss right upon where the three studs lie, and finally lets Dabi pull away.

“Oh, oh, fuck– s-screw you–hh’ehH’IIDTSSHh’uh! ‘kXXTS’SHhue! …Christ, you’re such an ass.” The pair of sneezes that result are harsh to say the very least. And even after all that, he still tries stifling the second– unsurprising, but at that point is it even worth it?

 “Sorry! I had to!” Hawks says, really trying to look like he isn’t laughing. It doesn’t work.

“You absolutely did not have to,” corrects Dabi. 

“Okaaay, okay, sorry. It was funny though.”

“Yeah, for you, maybe,” Dabi mutters, shaking his head, “Oh, fuck’s sake, hold on–”

“I’ll wait till you’re done to say bless you, this time,” says Hawks with a fond snicker. 

“Good plah-an–! hhuh’hHDSHH’SHuh! …Ugh, fuck.”

“Bless,” Hawks replies. He averts his eyes, a little sheepishly. Dabi pulls a face.

He asks, “What the fuck’s with the guilty face?” to which Hawks throws his head back with a groan and slides his hands across his face.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he says, “You know, clean the place up a bit. Since it’s always kind of a massive mess.”

“Jesus, Kei, I don’t care about that,” says Dabi, breathing a laugh. “It’s you I’m here for, not your fuckin’ apartment. I can kiss you whether or not there’s crap on every surface.”

Hawks isn’t used to Dabi outright saying nice things, so his cheeks flush slightly hearing this. He’s unsure what to say. Thankfully, Dabi speaks again.

“Okay. Where didn’t you spray that shit?”

Hawks scoffs. “I sort of went crazy with it, uh… my bedroom? If that works?”

“Very forward,” Dabi replies, raising his eyebrows. “Almost like you wanted me in there.”

Hawks jabs him in the ribs but still smirks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

[smuttyassholes]

To See is to Want 🔞

by Asshole #6

~voyeurism, supernatural, dark, dangerous Jimin, human partner, self- insert, lustful ogling, will eventually be NSFW.~

The moon is full and high in the sky, the sea waves lapping at the shore. There is the slight breeze of September signaling that the summer may be over but it still lingers in the not yet freezing touch of the air. Normally, I would enjoy the beach at night but tonight was not an ordinary night. Tonight I was essentially a stalker. It wasn't my fault not really. But after that one time he had implied that he enjoyed skinny dipping, curiosity burned in my mind. What did he look like under the moon, emerging from the waves, only the dark shape of him visible? And this was the night to find out. There was a bonfire for all the guys at our dorm in the middle of the beach. Everyone had already cleared out at least an hour ago, the sand only littered with a few beach towels some had forgotten.I WAS supposed to be on my way back with my best friend Jen but I waved her off, instead hiding behind some rocks. Waiting. Would he actually be tempted and take a swim now that everyone was gone?

Jimin was sitting by the rapidly decreasing flame, smoking a cigarette. It seemed like forever, waiting, when he stubbed it out rising and towing off his Converse. He pulled his t-shirt off then bent to strip off his jeans.Like he knew he was being watched, he peeled them off achingly slow along with his boxers. I choked on my breath as the long hard lines of his body were revealed, accented by the glow of the dying bon fire, a tattoo barely visible along his spine.Were those the phases of the moon? His ass was even more perfect than I dared imagine, now no longer hidden by the jeans he usually wore on campus. His steps were quick as he walked to the edge of the shore, walking into the dark water, letting it cover all that glorious skin I wasn't even done admiring. I stepped closer, by the bonfire, still able to see him submerge himself completely. I thought he would drown, he was under so long but he rose, silver ringed hands running through his inky dark hair.

Jimin made his way deeper into the ocean, swimming fast and efficiently, enjoying the caress of water on his skin. He dove more than once, his speed increasing. I was curled down on the sand by the fire, mesmerized by him. I knew I shouldn't be watching him like this but he commanded my gaze. My mind. I had wondered over weeks what lay under those clothes and the reality didn't disappoint. I was so deep in my own thoughts of admiration and emerging lust that I missed the man himself emerging from the depths. Except….was he larger? Bulkier? I frowned, trying to understand what I was seeing. As he approached, long fingers with longer nails ran through his black hair, his face more visible. He grinned, full plump lips parting to reveal sharp….fangs? Glinting in the moonlight. Was I hallucinating?

I should get up, I shouldn't be here. I should run. Why couldn't I? His voice, when it came, was a rough hiss, totally unlike the Jimin I had met. I was arrested by the sight of his wet body, the ink adorning his rib cage, the line of his throat when that voice commanded my attention. "It is rude to stare you know." I crawled back just as he knelt bare on the discarded towel by my feet. My voice was a croak as I muttered "I…I wasn't..'' "What, lingering waiting to see me naked? Come on sweetheart. Don't you think I have seen you look at me?" He leaned closer and I could really see those fangs, long and sharp but also his eyes. All black, no pupil. I was terrified and yet still couldn't move. He smelled like the ocean, his wet hair dripping on my shoulder and collarbone. Could he hear my heart hammering? His breath was hot as he whispered in my ear. "Don't you think I can tell…how badly you want a taste? Aren't you afraid?" I couldn't utter a word. Instead, my mouth open and shut a few times, just as he pulled back, my tongue darting out to lick my dry lips. His gaze was fastened to my mouth as I finally shook my head and said "No…" and I heard that same unnatural chuckle that this time made something low in my belly clench in heat.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look at him. Really look. He looked unnatural, dark, something that belonged in the depths of the ocean he had just emerged from. Something that hunts and captures. And devours. Before I realized I had spoken, my voice came.

"I want…a taste. Of you.''

Jimin slowly crawled closer, his mouth inches from mine, his breath hot. The closer he got, the more intense the smell of salt water was to me. I was rooted to the sand, my breathing ragged, my eyes glued to his, occasionally drifting to that full mouth. Had I fantasized about feeling that mouth on mine? Yes. Numerous times in class, alone in my bed. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined this. That the Jimin that was about to kiss me was…this. I licked my lips just as he stopped, what he said next taking me by surprise "are you sure?" I blinked. "what?" He continued, his voice lower but still the same unnatural timbre as before: monstrous but not really. A hint of my dorm mate still there beneath the surface. "Are you sure it's me you want to kiss? Or that boy you see every day at campus?"

It was as if the fog lifted from my mind as I took my second proper look at him that night. His black hair the only thing that remained exactly the same as before. The rest was completely different. His eyes were still flat black, no pupil, his skin was pale and his hands… his hands had long black talons which was all I could see. Before, I wouldn't have known the answer. But now, as his question drifted between us, it took everything in me to look him solidly in the eyes, holding his gaze and whisper as clear as I could "It's you. Here. Now. Unless…" A perfect eyebrow rose in question as he replied "Unless what?" I flush as I reply "Unless you are just toying with me."

That made him laugh aloud, the sound ringing off the rocks, carried away by the currents and breeze. He reached out, those taloned fingers tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, the touch gentle in spite of his tone earlier. "You'll know if I'm toying with you pet. Trust me." To prove his point, he leaned in his lips finally capturing mine. My eyes closed, immobile, my lips frozen until finally his coaxed them to move. The rhythm I find is something I didn't need to figure out. It comes naturally, my lips parting to let the taste and feel of him flood my senses. My own hands, itching for so long to bury themselves in dark inky hair came to his neck then threaded in the inky strands just as his tongue stroked along mine. I groaned, the taste of the sea somehow stronger, his hands suddenly at my waist almost tentative in their grip, feather-light, a stark contrast to the way his tongue and lips worked me. The heat low in my belly was stoked as Jimin seemed to make up his mind, his fingers tightening on my waist pulling me flush against his chest.

His wet skin seemed to sear mine right through my shirt and bathing suit beneath it, my nipples hardening immediately, embarrassingly so. He growled, his hands suddenly moving snake like down to my thighs pulling me flush on his lap. He must have sensed me stiffen because his mouth drifted to map along my jaw, up to my ear, his voice more rough than before, his breath coming shorter as he whispered "stop?" I immediately shook my head as my fingers did what they had been wanting for all the months I spent ogling Jimin: they burrowed deeper in his wet hair and tugged. The growl that erupted from him was less human and more feral than anything I had elicited from him so far. His fingers hardened, talons almost digging in my flesh as I felt my full weight settle on his lap. I don't know what prompted me to say what I did next but I did anyway. "how about you kiss me like you really want to instead of treating me like I'll break?"

TBC

[matchayogitea]

Downward Dog - Sirius Black x reader (part 2)

Part 1

"Good morning, ladies!"

James greeted you and Lily with the brighest smile he could muster and sat down opposite her. Remus took a seat in front of you, smiling slightly. He looked tired.

"Hey boys." You placed your fork down and wondered why Sirius - who practically lived glued to them, or at least to James - hadn't come down for breakfast yet. It was Saturday, but it was ten, and if James and Remus were awake you were pretty sure he must be, too. "Where's Sirius?" 

"Oh, he couldn't move from his bed. It's all your fault, Y/N." James grinned but you merely blinked, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he worked out with you yesterday, didn't he? And when he woke up he said he was sore all over and that he was probably dying and we should go ahead and get breakfast without him."

"He's such a drama queen..." Lily mumbled, rolling her eyes. 

"We didn't work out. We did yoga." You pointed out. "It's much more than that. It's for your mental health as well as physical, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, we believe you!" James interrupted you, clearly not in the mood to listen to any details. "But if you're done eating, since it's basically your fault Sirius can't move, I would go and bring him some breakfast if I were you. He'd appreciate it."

Without waiting for your reply, he started piling all sorts of foods on a plate which he then handed to you, along with a mug of hot coffee. He was grinning ear to ear and you shot a confused look at Remus, but he nodded and smiled encouragingly, so you grabbed everything and said bye to everyone. 

Lily didn't look too happy to be left alone with James. Well, Remus is there too, she'll be fine.

When you knocked on the boys' dorm room you realized you had no clue where Peter was and you hoped he wouldn't be in there with Sirius... things were already kind of weird anyway. But when you heard Sirius' voice tell you to go in you were happy to notice he was alone, sitting up in his bed, wearing a t-shirt and what looked like sweatpants. "Y/N?" He looked surprised to see you, but immediately jumped out of bed. "Is that for me? I'm starving! Thank you!"

As you handed him the plate and observed him move around the bed to sit down once again you thought he didn't look sore in the slightest. "Sirius?"

"Yeah?" He muttered after swallowing some coffee, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I thought you were... dying, as James eloquently put it."

Sirius stared at you as if you'd turned into a Hippogriff. "Me? Why would I be?"

"That's what James said, he told me you were all sore and couldn't move cause of yesterday's yoga practice, and-" You froze, as you realized. That idiot had done it on purpose to send you up to Sirius' room. "I'm going to murder him."

You turned to leave, but Sirius quickly got to his feet and stopped you. "Wait! I thought... maybe we could share?" He offered, pointing to the plate, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. He was damn good at it. 

"Well... technically I've already had breakfast... but I could do with some more coffee, I suppose."

You gingerly sat at the end of his bed, reaching for the mug. Sirius sat close to you and for the first time since you'd met him many years before he seemed at a loss of what to say. He kept poking his food with the fork, taking very small bites, as you sipped the coffee.

"So... do you feel okay after yesterday?" You finally asked, just to break the silence. "No sore spots?"

"Oh, I'm fine! Just my legs are a bit sore, but not too bad." He glanced at you with a small smile and you wondered how the hell he managed to look so great on a Saturday morning. Even his hair looked perfect, not a strand out of place. I want to run my fingers through his hair so badly. No, Y/N, calm down. Don't think like that. Keep your cool, and-

"So when are we going to do some more yoga? I loved it yesterday. I felt really refreshed, after." Sirius added, as he bit into a piece of toast.

"I need to study for Potions..." You made a face. You hated Potions. "So I'll be busy today and tomorrow, I think."

"I'll help you with that. We can get it done by today."

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at him skeptically. "Remus is the master, not you. You hate Potions as well."

"I do. Doesn't mean I'm not good at it. I usually just don't bother." 

"Well, maybe you can help, but if we end up just wasting time-"

"We won't! Do you really think I want to spend one more minute than necessary on Slughorn's subject?" Sirius made a face and you started laughing, almost spitting the coffee out. "And then we can do yoga and you can teach me that raven pose."

"Crow pose."

"Yeah, that one."

Sirius smiled at you warmly and you smiled back as you placed the now almost empty mug down. He also got rid of the plate and moved closer to you. "Y/N..."

"Yes?"

"I was thinking that next weekend maybe..."

He'd moved so close that you could almost count his eyelashes, but your gaze kept drifting to his lips and although you knew he would notice you couldn't help yourself...

"PADFOOT!"

You almost jumped, startled. Peter had run into the room but he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed you. He frowned, confused. "Uh... sorry?" 

"It's ok, I - I was leaving anyway." You replied, getting up, flustered. "I'll see you later, Sirius."

You didn't look back as you left the room and closed the door behind you. 

Great timing, Peter, you muttered to yourself as you descended the staircase, annoyed and frustrated.

[the-forgotten-gh0st]

My First Post is my Call of Duty Oc i hope you like her :)

Claire Rorke

Born January 1, 1999

Place of Birth: Langely Virginia

Nationality: American

Age: 28 years (2027)

Rank: Lieutenant

Affiliation:

Medic

Infantry

Ghosts

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Height: 176 cm

Characteristics:

Cut on the lip

Personal environment:

Father: Gabriel Rorke (Captain of the Ghosts)

Mother: Lainey Rorke [previously Connor] (CIA Agent)

Aunt: Susan Niemann [previously Rorke] (member of the Ghosts)

Uncle: Ralf Niemann (German Police Officer)

Boyfriend: David 'Hesh' Walker

Max Malinois (will be put down)

Lotty black German shepherd (Riley's older sister)

Claire was raised by her mother and father together until she was 4 years old. When both were not there, however, she was looked after by a nanny. When she was 4 years old, she came home from an outing to find her mother lying on the ground, badly injured and dying before her eyes. After the death, her father threw himself into work, trying to come to terms with his wife's death. He gave Claire to his sister, who lovingly looked after the little girl.

When Susan was seriously injured in a covert operation, Claire became 6 and Rorke decided to take Claire in. So that Ralf could look after his twin sister. However, Claire was unable to bond with her father. As she only ever had to deal with a nanny or the parents of a teammate. Claire kept having problems because of her anxiety, which is why Rorke decided to give her lessons at home. As Claire became more and more isolated from him. He took time out to show Claire that he wasn't who he was.

Rorke made everything possible for Claire so that she no longer felt disadvantaged.

When Claire was 16, she lost her father. Merrick took her in and supported her when she decided to join the army at 17. Claire met David Walker. She had a brief dating phase which broke up when she focused more on her education. They got together 2 years after the ODIN incident.

Claire was recommended as a candidate for the Ghosts at the age of 23.

As a teenager, Claire was already interested in medicine.

Personality:

Claire is a quiet person. She finds it difficult to form bonds with people because of her childhood. She also finds it difficult to show emotions.

3D Render was a comission from @skylovesducks ❤️