#sigh. I’m very tired and on mobile where I can’t really see or edit my tags lol so I apologize for the mess

[klanced]

Man ty for popping up on my dashboard. I miss voltron, but whenever I try to check what's up I get reaaally bad flashbacks as to how the fandom was. It's kinda worse when u accidentally triggered a community of a popular ship (its not kl@nce) :')))) hnghjgn idk how u do it

voltron is just. such a funny phenomenon. the show was like a C+ at BEST but we all stuck around anyway clinging to the hope that things would eventually improve and then they NEVER did. & so we all had to make do with literal scraps and we were RESOURCEFUL!!! ���� I have honestly never seen a fandom where the fan content was so divorced from the actual source material like 💀💀💀 and i think this scarcity of good content forced people to be extra creative, which is why the voltron fandom was 1) so genuinely hilarious and 2) full of content producing MACHINES

Literally all we could do was just talk to each other. we were forced to survive off each other’s kindness & it made everyone super co-dependent. it really was a bunch of high schoolers forming parasocial relationships with other high schoolers; of course it got messy!!

also this is such a minor detail in the grand scheme of things but voltron hit tumblr at like the exact time social media became more accessible to people under 13 years old. and like. conflict and discourse is an inevitable part of fandom. but the end result was we had college students picking fights with LITERAL middle schoolers. and I genuinely cannot believe we all thought this was normal behavior!!!!!

[miekasa]

call me (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: fluff, humor? you can be the judge of that i suppose, levi is quiet and often practical, but you cannot convince that there’s not a small part of him that doesn’t enjoy having shit to hold over people lol

↯ notes: this is also cross-posted from another blog, but i tweaked it a bit to fit levi and rewrote/edited parts i wish the world had never seen </3 also i’m reposting bc i was an idiot who accidentally deleted it on mobile rip 

↯ word count: 1.3k

↯ summary: drunk you is not amused by the man who keeps trying to coerce you into his apartment; even if that man is your boyfriend and that apartment is his apartment.

“Alright mister, I’m trusting you for now because you’re Erwinnie’s friend, and Erwinnie is my best friend,” you hiccup, wagging your pointer finger as threateningly as you can in your current state, “So if he says you’re a good person, you’re probably a good person. Or good enough.”

Levi holds back a knowing smirk, and loops his arm through yours to steady your balance. He doesn’t know how or why Erwin let you get this drunk, but he’s at least glad the blonde was sober enough to call him to pick you up instead of letting you get in a cab; or worse, attempt to take the bus.

“I’m so very glad you trust me,” he says, voice flat as your wrap your other arm around his bicep. You hum back, a little spacey and like you maybe didn’t hear what he said.

You’re honestly pretty cute when you’re drunk. It’s not something he gets to see often, as you don’t allow yourself to let go frequently; nor do you usually have the time to. And it’s not that he particularly wishes for you to be drunk to the point where you can barely stand, or remember his name, but all things considered, Levi is happy that your general drunk disposition is happy, too. 

He waves Mike goodbye as he wrangles Erwin into his car, not holding back his smile this time as you wave over-excitedly at the blonde in the passenger seat, calling his name loudly to tell him goodnight and that you’ll miss him, like you hadn’t already told him goodnight three minutes ago, or spent the last three hours with him drinking. Yeah, you’re cute. 

Thankfully, Levi doesn’t live too far from the restaurant you and Erwin were at, so the both of you are home after a twenty minute walk—what should have been fifteen minutes, but was prolonged by your drunken fascination with a squirrel on a public bench.

You start to wobble more when Levi unlaces your arms to get his keys out of his pocket, and he moves his right hand to rest against the small of your back so you don’t fall. However, drunk you is not so entertained by the idea of his hands anywhere near your waist as sober you would have been.

“Hey, hey, hey—hold it right there, mister!” you stutter, words a bit too loud for the confined space of Levi’s hallway at three in the morning, “I am not going in—into that suspicious apartment with you.”

You stumble as you try to remove Levi’s hand from your waist, and he tries to steady your balance again, but push him away more forcefully, staggering into the wall behind you.

“Ah, bitch,” you curse, holding your head and groaning. The pain clearly isn’t enough to stop your accusations against Levi, as you’re back to wagging your finger at him, even hunched over from your drunken stupor, “See, this is your fault.”

Levi sighs. He doesn’t know why you’re holding your head, because you hit your back, and from what he can tell, you shouldn’t have hurt yourself that badly. He’ll take a closer look at you once you’re inside. That’s if he could get you inside to begin with.

He can’t wrangle you and open the door at the same time, so he goes for the latter, finally pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his apartment door, then attempts to move you inside. Keyword: attempts; because anytime he puts his hands remotely near you, you slap them away.

“Come on, we have to go inside,” he grunts, trying again to get a hold of your arm, but you whack him away harshly. For a drunk person, you seem to have the strength and dexterity of a pro-athlete all of a sudden. Where was all this coordination when he was trying to get you up the stairs five minutes ago?

“No!” you growl—once again, too loudly for the time and place. “Haven’t you heard of the saying no means no, mister? I might be drunk, but this is not my apartment, and I am not going in there to have sex with you!”

“I’m trying to help you go to bed. I’m not going to try and have sex with you.” Levi takes a deep breath. This could sound really bad if anyone else woke up and heard the two of you. 

But you’re not having it, crossing your arms and turning your body so that you’re now facing the wall, your back towards a less-than-impressed Levi. “Well, I don’t believe you. I’m going to call Erwinnie tell him you’re being a bad friend, and then Erwinnie is going to call my boyfriend and he’s going to come and pick me up.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi drawls, leaning against his door frame, watching your silhouette as you clumsily search for your phone in your pockets, “Why don’t you just call your boyfriend then?”

You turn on your heels as best you can, and muster up your most menacing glare. It’s not menacing in the slightest, and it actually makes Levi crack a smile, which you do not take lightly; but that only makes him smile further, because sober you doesn’t like it when he’s not fazed by your self-proclaimed intimidation tactics, either.

“Fine,” you huff, finally putting your phone to your ear, “But you’re going to be sorry, because Levi is going to come here and kick your ass.”

Levi chuckles, feeling his own phone ring in his back pocket, “I bet he is.”

“He is,” you insist, stomping your foot for dramatic effect, “He might not be that tall, but he’s strong as hell, plus he’s handsome, and he doesn’t let people fuck around with me, so say your prayers, mister.”

The following afternoon is far less than pleasant. You feel groggy, tired, and like everything is moving in slow motion. Piece by piece, your memories of your night out with Erwin start to come back to you, but you can’t seem to recall anything beyond your fifth margarita.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Levi calls, sarcastically, upon entering the bedroom.

His voice and presence surprises you, but then the realization washes over you that you’re in his apartment and not your own. You’re not sure why yet, but you could probably take a guess.

“Did you take me home last night?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement, nodding his head towards the bedside table, where you find a bottle of water. Levi watches you as you move to hang your legs off the side of the bed and reach for the bottle, groaning in the process. He mentally notes that he should make you breakfast—or, well, at this point, brunch—after you go shower, so that you can take an Advil for the pain.

He moves across the room to sit beside you on the bed, careful to not disrupt too much as to make you spill the water on the sheets. “You know, for someone who’s so happy-go-lucky when they’re drunk, you put up quite the fight yesterday.”

“I did?” you turn to him, capping the bottle, eyes wide with surprise, “You were probably sleeping and you had wake up and come deal with me, I’m sorry, Levi.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, an almost uncharacteristic and sly smile playing on his lips, “You always say something interesting that keeps me entertained. It makes up for it.”

“Dear god, what was it this time?” you groan, throwing your head back, “I didn’t confess my feelings for you again did I? This is, what, like the sixth time since we’ve been dating? I’m such an embarrassing drunk.”

“Not a confession this time,” he chuckles, “The opposite. Maybe worse.”

Levi fishes his phone from his pocket, and pulls up his voicemails before handing it to you. Curious—and a little bit scared—to find out what could possibly be worse than confessing to your boyfriend of almost four years that you’re in love with him and sad that you’re not dating him? You’re not sure that it could get more embarrassing than that until you click on Levi’s most recent voicemail and hear your own voice crackling through the speaker of his phone.

“—What, hey, fuck off, mister! I don’t want to go into your scrubby apartment! I am happily dating Levi Ackerman, and when he gets here he is going to grand slam your sorry ass into the ground!”

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

-------------------------------------------------

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

---------------

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

[ranposlittle]

Hey! I have a request! Could you do a Poe x Shy Poet reader? The reader insecure of themselves and their work but one day decided to share their work with Poe , and how tries to make them feel better about their work? (If you need some poetry for the reader I’ve wrote some poems I can give you one! Even tho I’m also insecure about my work) Sfw but fluffy please!

Genre: SFW, Fluff

Tags: Confession, Comfort

A/N: Here it is, poe-is-bean! I hope the fluff is enough and you find it worth the looong wait. Thank you so much for sharing your own poems to me (theyre great) and I hope I did them some justice ;-; ENJOYYY~ ٩( ๑^ ꇴ^)۶

((EDIT!!! idk if the read more break can be seen on mobile but when i was editing, there's a break after the ask & idk how to fix it so im so sorry aaa))

***

The room is so empty

I can hear my own heartbeat

Day and Night

The sound of pencil on paper

It echos

I just want someone to talk to

Someone to hold me close

To make the room feel less empty

The words faded on the white paper as the ink on your pen ran out. You clicked your tongue and sighed as you look around the park you're sitting at. Just the cherry on top of your already dismal day, you thought.

It was a cloudy day but you squinted at the harsh light of the sun peeking slightly through the wispy clouds. You leaned back on the warm bench and closed your tired eyes. You slowly inhaled the delicious summer air but your chest feels as hollow as the tube of ink inside your pen.

"Karl! No!"

A voice suddenly rang from somewhere near and as you sluggishly open your eyes to peek, something heavy and fuzzy landed on your lap, causing you to shriek and jump from your seat. Your heart raced from the surprise, but as you quickly realized that it was just a raccoon who got attracted by the leftover peanuts you have on your side, you heaved a sigh of relief.

"No! Stop that!" A man with messy hair and an outfit that's undoubtedly too hot for the weather rushed to you. His eyes are barely visible through his dark overgrown hair but it wasn't able to hide the handsome features beneath.

"It-it's okay," you said shyly, mentally hitting yourself for stuttering. "He can have it. I don't mind."

"I really do apologize," the unknown man said, his voice low and trembling. He scratch his temple in embarrassment. "Karl is just crazy for peanuts lately."

You just gave him a meek smile and fiddled with the notebook on your lap. You thought about how cute it is that he has a pet raccoon, how cute it is that he named it with such a humanly name, and how cute he is.

Wait, what.

Heat rushed from your body and up to your face, feeling foolish for having such a thought with someone you just met. You hunched to hide your face, fearing the stranger would see the blush covering your cheeks.

"Can I sit with you?" He asked, snapping you away from your thoughts. "M-my name is Edgar, by the way. Edgar Allan Poe."

Your eyes traveled up his slender form. Despite his dark clothing, his timid and humble appearance made it easier for you to let him enter into your space. He thanked you and asked for your name in return. And just like that, your otherwise usual and grey day became colorful like the evening sky as you sat there beside him, familiarizing yourselves with each other while the innocent racoon eat the rest of the stale peanuts on the bench.

Is this a dream?

Is it real?

He was so close

Yet so far

We sat together for hours

The time was ours

But now it’s not

It slipped away

So quickly

Birds chirped around you as you looked up from your writing, searching through your surroundings and hoping to see the stranger once again. The more hours that passed, the more that you're starting to believe that it was just all somehow a vivid hallucination. You sighed in defeat and eyed another blank spot on your notebook. You thought about writing another poem about how sometimes, it's better to stay in an illusion than face reality because at least in your daydreams, wonderful things happen.

You pressed the tip of your pen on the paper to write the first letter of your work when all of a sudden, the ink bled all over the page, causing you to spat a curse under your breath. You quickly handled the situation, making sure that your clothes and the rest of your notbeook isn't affected by another one of your daily misfortunes. You groaned and pulled out the wipes out of your bag, aggressively wiping the stubborn ink blots on your hand.

"Um, are you okay, (Y/N)?"

You glared up to the quiet voice that called out your name. The tightness of your facial muscles from frowning slowly loosening up as you recognize the figure in front of you.

Poe's tall physique shaded you from the blazing sun and from where you are sitting, he looked just like a dream; a mirage that manifested out of your imagination and into your reality.

"I'm... I'm okay," you mumbled. Your heart thumped heavily against your ribcages as you remain frozen, your wide eyes glued to him as if you're scared that he'll disappear if you blink.

He flashed you a bright smile and gingerly sat beside you. Poe eyed the notebook on your lap and saw the familiar structure of the words on it.

"You write poems?" He asked with excitement evident on his voice, pulling you back to the ground. As Poe reached out to have a closer look with the item, you swiftly pulled away.

"Don't!" You exclaimed. The volume of your voice made nearby passerbys turn their heads on your direction and Karl critter on Poe's shoulder as if by surprise, too.

Poe was taken aback by your reaction as well but being a creator himself, he quickly understand that there is a certain reservation an artist have with its works. He understands the insecurity of being not good enough or questioning yourself as to why are you even trying when there's always someone out there that can do better than you. He knows the feeling very well.

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I know an artist's works are always very personal. I shouldn't have intruded."

Guilt spilled all over you and spread a bitter taste on your mouth. "I'm sorry, too," you sighed after a while. "I'm just not ready to show it to anyone yet. It's not your fault."

"I understand. I am a writer myself," Poe said with a gentle smile. "However, if the time has come when you've finally found the courage within you to be proud of yourself and your creations as an extension of yourself, it'll be my pleasure if you'll have me as the first person that would ever lay eyes on it."

Poe's words echoed to the deepest parts of your being. You felt bare to the bones, like everything that you've tried so hard to hide is just somehow exposed for him to see. Gone was his timid character and he's now exuding confidence; a sense of sureness in everything that can only come to people who has been through the ringer and survived to be an inspiration. Your eyes glistened to see another layer of his natural mystique unfold in front of you. Right then, you were filled with the hunger to know more, to uncover more, and to see more of his fascinating self.

Karl climbed down from Poe's shoulder, searched for something on his layered clothes and ran to your lap with an object wedged between his pointy mouth.

"It's a gift," Poe explained when Karl dropped an expensive looking pen in front of you. "I hope you never stop creating, despite of life's minor inconveniences."

"Would you meet me here again tomorrow?" You asked without you even realizing that you were speaking aloud and feeling the weight of your question only after it's done.

Poe tensed up on his seat. Your question was unexpected and it made his own heart raced for a reason he can't quite explain. However, seeing your eyes looking more alive than when he first met you delighted him and he gave you a humble smile.

"Karl has an appointment with the vet tomorrow," he said with his usual gentle voice. "But we can meet at the cafe nearby after."

Your heart soared way above the cloudless sky that day as a big smile stretched your lips and you felt like you haven't smiled like this for a while now. You accepted his invitation and noted the place and time on your notebook. For the first time in a long time, you felt thankful. You thank yourself for being able to push the words out, albeit almost unconsciously, and you thanked life. Despite the mishaps and blunders it brings you everyday, it gave you the opportunity to meet someone. A someone who made you look at everything in beautiful colors you don't even see before. You view everything so differently now; everything including yourself.

Months have passed since that fateful day and you still can vividly remember how your world shifted from then on like it was just yesterday. You meet Poe with any spare time you have and with every moment you spent with him, you got to know all of the layers of his being and in return, he got to know yours. You felt like you're rediscovering yourself as you open up to him. You felt freer. As time went on, a certain feeling crept up on you. It was a strange but awfully familiar feeling that sits inside your chest, like an everlasting bonfire that warms you up from inside out.

The paperback cover of the notebook crunched as you gripped on it tightly. Your mind is foggy with nervousness and immediately doubting if you've made the right decision to finally show him your poems. You shifted on the same bench you sat the first time that you've met and you waited for Poe, all kinds of imaginary scenarios playing in your head in the meantime.

"Hey, (Y/N)!"

You finally heard his familiar voice, a sound that no music can compare to. He was cheerily waving at you, you waved back and nervously greeted him. You laid peanuts on the bench for Karl and he happily hopped off of Poe's back to get on his treats.

"So, you've finally found your courage, huh?" He said before sitting down on his usual spot beside you. "I'm really proud of you, (Y/N). I know it wasn't easy. This is a big step for you and I want to thank you for choosing me."

Your anxiety dissipated in a snap. The flames on your heart grew bigger and brighter with his encouraging words. This tender moment solified your suspicion; you're absolutely, undoubtedly, sincerely in love with him.

"No, Poe," you replied, "I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who showed me that I have that courage inside me in the first place. I can't even begin to explain how you've changed my life."

"Well, that's what art is for, isn't it? To help us express what our words can't," Poe said, his warm smile never leaving his lips. "Besides, my words wouldn't mean anything if you didn't made the decision yourself. It's all you, (Y/N). Give yourself more credit, won't you?"

You beamed at him, the fluttering feeling on your chest continue to grow and filled every part of your being where you used to feel hollow. Your fears disappeared and you handed him your notebook like you're handing him your heart. Poe reached out for it, handling it as gently as you would a china doll.

You sighed contently and gaze at the clear sky above you as you let Poe flip through the pages of your notebook like you're letting him flip through the pages of your life. Every experience you've went through, every emotions, every secret thoughts and desires and everything that lead up to the person you are now; all of them contained in a single book.

Karl muched on the last peanut you laid out for him as Poe reached the last poem.

 Love, what a beautiful thing

It makes my heart flutter

No matter how much I mutter

I always stutter

Those simple words

It races when he’s near

And falls when he’s far

Why can’t I tell him?

Poe's concealed eyes widened and his racing heartbeat vibrated on his whole body. He knows it's an absurd thought to assume the poem is about him but somehow, he was certain that it was. He thought that perhaps it's just wishful thinking brought by his delirious affection he's been hiding from you for a time now.

"You're really promising, (Y/N)," his voice wobbled as he said your name and he cleared his throat as he tried to give you a more constructive feedback. "I can really feel the emotions on your works. Every artist has their own way of making art and you shouldn't feel insecure with how you choose to express yourself. Art isn't about pleasing other people, it's only about you. If you're confident with yourself and your work, other people will reflect that. All you have to do is to stay true to yourself. And as far as I know, you are capable of making more beautiful poems, because you're beautiful."

The distant sounds of people and animals in the busy park rang as the both of you froze on your spots, equally taken aback by Poe's compliment.

"I–I–I mean, you're a great person, that's all," Poe stammered, full of worry for his well-kept secret.

You turned your blushing face away from him and chewed on your lips. Thoughts on whether you should finally admit to him your feelings rushed through your mind. Karl, finished with his snack, climbed on your lap and looked at you as if he's conveying a message. You know that he's probably just asking if you have any more peanuts for him but at that moment, you took it as an encouragement for you to tell him about the nagging feeling inside you that occupies every corner of your mind.

"The last poem," you told Poe while looking at the ground, "I wrote it for you."

Poe once again picked up the notebook, turned it on the last entry and re-read it. He felt like he's being choked out of air as he drowned on the exuberant joy he's feeling as he realized what you meant. His head whipped at your direction, looking at your fidgeting form and felt an urge.

He moved closer to you and gently called out your name. When you turn your head to face him, he reached out and touched your cheek. His finger traced along your jawline and ended on your chin. Although his eyes are barely visible, you can see the solemnity of his gaze and your heart skipped a beat.

"I feel the same way, (Y/N)," Poe confessed as his thumb caressed your lower lip.

You were happy. You were happier than you've ever been in your entire life and yet, your eyes strained as tears threatened to fall. You smiled at Poe and slowly closed your eyes, giving him the permission his gentle touches are asking.

Poe's lips closed in on yours and the rest of the world was quiet as you return his kiss, letting your feelings unravel and tangle against each other. Everything felt right, like every puzzle piece has been put in their place and the picture is complete. You felt the satisfaction, the pleasure, the joy and the pride. You finally understood why there are so many stories, poems, songs and artworks about love. It's just one of those things that can only be truly explained through art. One thing is certain in your head now: love, it is truly such a beautiful thing.

[humanmoodring-retired]

Two Truths and Another Truth || Nadia and Skylar

Edit: Never edit things in mobile 

Skylar and Nadia (if that’s really her name it’s a little up in the air at the moment) are both totally, completely, and absolutely findjalfjal;

@theskyeandsea

Nadia, if that was really her name, paced in her living room as she tried to figure out what was going on. The name thing was that big of a deal. Okay, it was actually a big deal, but she thought it’d get sorted fairly easily. Maybe. She occasionally looked down at her phone, then looked away from it. No, the thing she was most worried about was the lying curse. Because she didn’t realize how much she lied in a fucking day until she couldn’t. And now she just wanted to word vomit everything out, her fears, her insecurities, the fact that she hasn’t been fine in the twenty-seven years that she’s been alive. There’s only so much you could avoid before people got worried. Now she was without a crutch, and she felt like she was going to fall. There was a knock at the door, causing Rhiannon to raise her head from where she was dozing on the couch. Striding over to the door, she opened the door. “Hey, Skylar,” she said, a tired smile on her face.

Before she’d left her apartment, Skylar had double and triple checked that her seal skin was kept hidden in the back of her closet, as tucked away as she could get it. But, after spending most of the day with it next to her, she felt… more on edge, more worn out, more tired. Even though she’d only just changed yesterday. It couldn’t have been a side effect, of turning, could it? Shaking her head as she walked up to the door, she let out a small sigh. Nope, she wasn’t going to think about that right now. She was going to talk to Nadia, meet her new kitten, and see if she could help her out with this magical… garbage situation. When the door swung open, Skylar smiled as brightly as she could muster. “Hi. I’d ask if you’re doing okay, but I kinda get the feeling that might… be a lot. So, um, thanks for having me.” She said as she stepped inside. Glancing over at the couch, she saw the fuzzy grey kitten sleeping on the edge and she smiled. “That’s your new little roommate, hm? Rhiannon, right?” She asked, hoping she’d pronounced it right. The name was a little awkward on her tongue.

Not Nadia could see that Skylar probably felt as bad as she did, even if she did try to put on a bright smile. But Skylar looked absolutely exhausted, and she couldn’t say that she wasn’t tired, but she was used to it. Or, as used to it as a person could get. Still, she laughed a bit as she let Skylar in. “If you asked if I was okay, I’d feel inclined to answer, I think. It’s harder to, like, reign in my thoughts and words in person. I can’t lie, and I don’t have a name, so it’s a gr- weird day.” She frowns as the word catches in her throat. “But I’m glad you came over.” She watches Rhiannon wake up a bit and look from her to Skylar. Hoping to communicate “DON’T BITE” telepathically, she smiled as Skylar said her name. “That’s her. Rhiannon. Little Shit. Asshole. All are names that suit her.”

“You can’t lie? Like… not even a little white lie?” Skylar asked, her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. She’d never heard of anything like that happening before. Granted, she didn’t know hardly anything about any of this, but when Winston had been all… ‘Not-Winston’ she didn’t think they had been unable to lie. “I’m really sorry, that sounds like an awful time. But, um, maybe I can help? Or at least, try to?” She offered. All Winston had told her was not to make any promises to Regan and that, while she wasn’t malicious, she should be careful around her. Glancing down at the kitten, she hesitated before reaching out with timid fingers to let Rhiannon smell her. That was how you were supposed to approach animals, right? “Aw. She seems really cute, but I’ll take your word on her being a handful.” She said with a nod. 

“I can’t lie, no,” Not Nadia said. “Not at all. I think I’ve been cursed, but I also could’ve been, like, drugged or truth serumed or who knows, really?” She rubbed at her arms a bit. She couldn’t really think about what she’d done in the past twenty-four hours (and it had to have been pretty fucking recent, given how much she’s noticed about not being able to lie) that would cause something like this to happen. She’d been to the beach, to the library, to the grocery store, and then back home. Not too much people interaction during that time, but she just didn’t know. “It’s not… Awful is a word that I’d probably use, yeah, but I’m,” she cut herself off, took a sharp breath, “alive. Always good to be alive. But, yeah, any help is better than no help. I think… I know what caused it. I’m just waiting, you know. For it to get fixed.” And it should. It should. She watched Rhiannon carefully as she sniffed Skylar’s fingers, waiting for the kitten to get up to something nefarious. Instead, all Rhiannon did was like Skylar’s fingers. And keep licking them. She frowned. “She’s pretty cute. Uh, if she bothers you, just let me know and I’ll put her in my room. But how are you? Seriously, this name business isn’t, like, the most pressing matter in my life, How’s… Are you good? Are you, you know, feeling all right?”

“Cursed..?” Skylar echoed, trying to make sense of that statement. How could Nadia be cursed? Was this like another part of the Fae magic thing? Or was it something else? Watching her body language, she listened intently to Nadia’s words. “What do you think caused it? And erm, do you mean the not lying thing or the no-name thing? Or were they both caused by the same thing?” She asked, a little confused. There was just so much about the situation that didn’t make any sense to her. As Rhiannon licked at her fingertips, Skylar squirmed a little, the sensation of the cat’s rough tongue uncomfortable on her skin. Withdrawing her hand, she stuck her hand in the pocket of her light jacket. “She’s very cute. Um, no, she’s fine. Rough things just feel weird to me.” She said off-handedly. Everyday little touches and scrapes always bothered her a little bit more than they did to most people-- just another aspect of being hard of hearing, she supposed. “I’m okay!” Skylar said with a nod, though the gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach said otherwise. Nope, she wasn’t going to think about her problems right now, she was here to help Nadia.

“Yeah, cursed or maybe something else, I really don’t know,” Not Nadia murmured. “I get that this is very weird, I’m a little weirded out myself, and this isn’t the weirdest thing ever. I don’t think the name thing and the truth thing are connected, though. I was telling the truth before I gave R- someone my name.” Her phone buzzed several times in a row. When she checked a group message with both her and Blanche in it, she remembered her name. “Oh. Okay, yeah. My name is Nadia. That’s,” she frowned a bit. “That felt weird.” Nadia walked over to where Skylar and Rhiannon were, sitting down and lightly rubbing the kitten’s back. She was rewarded with her hand being bitten, but lightly. “And I’m still feeling pretty truth-y, so now I definitely know they’re not related, which would’ve been better to explain. But don’t worry; I won’t let her, like lick you again.” Nadia’s frown grew as she looked over at Skylar, almost thinking that she could feel the other woman’s emotions. “Okay, see, I know I can’t lie, but I can definitely tell when I’m being told one. What’s up? Seriously, I’m fi-” The word gets stuck. “I want to know how you’re really doing.”

Skylar blinked in confusion, but nodded. Maybe nodding would trick her into thinking that this was all logical and normal and totally fine, like when you smile to make yourself feel happy. But, before she could comment, Nadia looked at her phone and seemed to go back to normal? “Wait, what? You’re, you know that you’re Nadia? What just happened?” Skylar asked, staring incredulously. Was there some kind of text ghost who was taking people’s names? She bit inside of her cheek while the other woman seemed to brush the incident off. “I-- okay. So the truth thing really wasn’t at all connected to the name thing. Did you talk to anyone else who’s erm… not entirely human about telling the truth?” She asked, not entirely sure how to frame things. Grimacing at her words, Skylar shook her head. No, no. She really didn’t want to talk about her feelings. If she did, she might burst into tears or explode or just lose it-- no, she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m okay.” She repeated, “I’m just… I’m here to help you right now.”

Nadia could practically feel Skylar’s confusion. “I’m… not doing a good job in explaining this. I’m sorry. It turns out that even when I’m spouting out the truth uncontrollably that it still doesn’t make sense. The… the person that took my name just texted me and gave it back. This person didn’t, exactly, mean to take my name, and I didn’t mean to give it to them when I did, but it just ended up happening. It’s, like, the pièce de résistance of my day. Really. Icing on top of the cake. But, it’s over, I have it back, and I didn’t really miss it that much to begin with.” She frowned. “Ignore that last bit. You know, actually, as far as I know, the other two people who have been affected by the truth thing are both human. I think. I’m not too sure about one of them.” She felt an overwhelming sadness, and she couldn’t think about what she was sad about. “Skylar, really, I’m fi-ungh. Okay, I’m not fine, but I haven’t been in, like, a long time. I mostly wanted you to come over to see how you were doing. You had me worried. Especially a few weeks ago when you told me that you didn’t want help. Which, this isn’t me offering, even though I really want to, because I don’t know if you’ll accept it, but… Yeah. I was worried. And I’m talking way too much.”

The continual flow of words was beginning to wear down on Skylar, but she kept her eyes focused on Nadia’s lips in an attempt to pick up the slight slack that her hearing aids just couldn’t pick up. The bit of French threw her off her rhythm for a moment, but when Nadia frowned and shrugged off the words, Skylar presumed it wasn’t all that important to have picked up. At least, she hoped it wasn’t. “Okay,” She said slowly with a nod. “As long as you’re okay with the whole name thing. I guess the truth thing will just… sort itself out? Maybe?” Watching as Nadia seemed to struggle with her words, she continued to frown. But as she kept on speaking, the conversation took a turn, away from Nadia’s situation and back towards her own. Her fingers tightened in the pocket of her jacket, her shoulders tensing. She didn’t-- she didn’t want Nadia to have to deal with her problems. “I took care of my situation. I took care of it, it’s fine, it’s done. It’s not a big deal, okay?” She insisted. “I don’t… I don’t want to be this way, but I am. And I’m figuring it out.”

It took Nadia far too long to understand Skylar’s confusion, but she eventually noticed the way the other girl was struggling to keep up. She felt like an ass. She was an ass. “And I’m such a fucking dick. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” She began to sign I’m sorry a couple of times, continuously making the clockwise motion. She wasn’t great in sign language, but she knew how to say sorry in multiple languages. She was always apologizing for something. She liked to have her bases covered. “I’m sorry,” she said out loud one more time, extracting her other hand from Rhiannon’s grip. This is usually the part where she’d cover her face with her hands, but instead she just leaned her head back against the couch. She let her eyes scan over Skylar, taking in her tense shoulders and defensive posture. “Oka-” the word got stuck again, but she’s not particularly surprised. “You don’t have to talk about it,” she tried again. “I’m glad you’re figuring things out. You don’t have to talk about it.” The last thing Nadia wanted to do was upset the other girl. Things like this could either go the sad route or the angry route, and she didn’t want Skylar to have come all the way over here just to be upset. 

Blinking as Nadia began to sign “sorry” in quick succession, Skylar shook her head, holding up her hands apologetically. “No, no, you’re okay. People forget, it’s okay.” She said with a strained smile. At Nadia’s words, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. All she wanted to do was help. That was it. And… it was honestly really kind of her to even offer. Rubbing her temples, Skylar mentally weighed her options. She didn’t want to talk about this, she really didn’t. But she also didn’t want to make Nadia feel bad about this-- she liked Nadia a lot and didn’t want her to think she was causing a problem. Ugh. Letting out a sigh, Skylar looked up at the ceiling of the apartment, not meeting Nadia’s eyes. “I changed on my own the other day. Into… you know,” Skylar made the sign for seal, grimacing as her hands clapped together, “And it went… fine. It just brought up more baggage for me to deal with, but it’s fine. I’m going to be fine.” She said.

“I--” Nadia paused. “Still. I don’t think it’s okay.” She watched as Skylar seemed to mull things over. She kind of hated that she was making the other woman think about this so hard. But she listened as Skylar spoke, though she cocked her head to the side for a bit trying to understand Skylar’s sign before it clicked that she meant seal. It was kind of a cute gesture. “Okay. It’s good that you did it on your own. When we were texting I was… I was worried you wouldn’t. But, I mean, if this is the first time, I can imagine it might be difficult.” She didn’t know what Skylar meant by more baggage. She didn’t know if she should ask. “What-- It’s-- You don’t have to be fine, you know? I mean, I’m not. Can’t even lie about it. And I don’t really know what you’re going through, but it’s not something you have to be fine with if you don’t want to.”

Slipping her hands out of her pockets, Skylar folded her arms across her stomach, hugging herself as she shifted her gaze from the ceiling to the ground. Mmmmm. Nadia was only trying to help, she was only trying to help, that’s what she kept repeating to herself. “It’s not exactly the first time. It’s just the first time I chose to do it for myself. That first time no one forced me into it. Or tricked me.” She mumbled shaking her head. The woman’s next words were what caught her attention. That it was okay to not be fine? That… that wasn’t true. She had to be okay, she had to be fine, because if she wasn’t, then things would just keep piling up and it would all just weigh down on her until she couldn’t handle it anymore. Sucking in a deep breath, Skylar glanced up to look Nadia in the eyes. “I know. I know that. But, if I keep telling myself I’ll be okay, maybe it’ll be true.” Swallowing, she shifted her gaze. “I’m sorry. I came here to help and now you’re trying to help me and… I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Nadia said. Alright, that was probably where the baggage came from. God, she couldn’t imagine that. Being lied to and tricked into doing something, even if it was to help you, couldn’t be good for your mental health. That had to put a bunch of fucked up strain on your ability to trust and… Nadia couldn’t imagine. She felt awful for Skylar. “Then it’s a first time. It’s good. That you made that choice for yourself.” When Skylar looked her in the eyes, Nadia felt her heart drop. Those words were too real, too personal, and she couldn’t even tell them to herself anymore. “I… hope that works for you. It hasn’t ever worked for me.” She thought about reaching out, putting her hand on Skylar’s shoulder, something. Nadia was incredibly touch starved, but she didn’t know how Skylar felt about it. She knew some people really hated being touched. “Hey, no, don’t, like, apologize. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s helped to, like, be around another person, honestly.”

Good wasn’t how Skylar would describe what she’d been through. Good wasn’t exactly how she would think of realizing that her parents had never told her the truth, that they’d allowed her to come so close to death every moment of her life. Good… wasn’t right. But, Nadia didn’t need to know about all her issues. So Skylar merely nodded “I made the choice, mhm. And that makes a difference. It really does.” Looking back at Nadia, she shrugged. “It’s kind of like the whole… “if you smile, you start to feel happy” thing. The more you do it, the easier it gets.” She said. Her lips pursed together in a slight smile, but she continued all the same. “Are you sure? You’ve been through… a lot. Just from what you’d told me about the whole… possession situation and now this truth thing? It’s a lot. You don’t need more on your plate.”

It didn’t quite sit right with Nadia, the way Skylar phrased her statement, but she wasn’t going to push it. It was enough that the other woman was acknowledging that she had the choice to decide what to do with what she was. Even if she didn’t have any positive experience around it, she could build them, if she wanted. Nadia wasn’t going to mention that now, though. So she nodded along with Skylar. She even laughed a bit at the smiling thing. “Yeah, I think there’s a scientific study behind that. Something about it tricking your brain? I wish.” She sighed a bit. “I’m sure that you’re helping, and I’m sure that you don’t have to apologize. Everything else is really kind of up in the air. The possession thing… happened. I am… learning to live with it. This truth thing is a major inconvenience, but it could be worse. I mean, if I solely focus on my own problems, I’m going to drive myself nuts because I--” Nadia frowned and clamped her jaw shut. No need to go there.

“Mhm, that’s the one.” Skylar said, relaxing at the way Nadia laughed at it. Laughing, laughing was good. And, on the brightside, the other woman didn’t seem to protest the change in conversation, which she was grateful for. She wanted to help her, she wanted to help Nadia. That’s why she’d come here, not to unload her own situation. Humming sympathetically, Skylar’s fingers relaxed at her sides, no longer hugging herself as tightly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. What do--” She stopped herself before she continued that thought. It wouldn’t be right of her to ask Nadia what she meant by that, not right now. “Okay. What if… what if we both try to help each other. So we’re not focusing on just ourselves. I can help you try and narrow down what might be causing this whole… truth thing. And you can help me,” Skylar swallowed, a lump forming in the back of her throat. “I don’t know… maybe you could help me figure out how to be more comfortable with all of this? This magic stuff? I don’t know, I’m just spitballing.”

Nadia tried to wave Skylar off. “It’s fi-- Ugh. I hate that word. I’m managing a lot better than I thought I would when I first woke up, let’s put it that way.” She watched the other woman ease up a bit. When she offered for the two of them to help each other out, Nadia could tell that it was all a bit much for Skylar, but she appreciated what the other woman was offering, and she truly did believe that they could help each other. “I think we can do that, yes. The truth thing… we should be able to figure that out. I’m not the only person afflicted, too, so this wouldn’t just be helping me, which means it’s actually beneficial.” She smiled comfortingly as Skylar. “And I can try to help with that. But I’ve got to warn you, I’m just a ghost-hacked human. There’s lots of other people in town that might be better with this. But I know what it’s like to be thrown into this shit without any clue what’s going on. So I can try.”

“That’s good, at least. It seems like you’re doing better than when I talked to you a couple weeks ago. The whole, um, not sleeping thing.” Skylar said with a slight wince. She wasn’t overstepping her bounds by mentioning it, was she? She wasn’t really sure what the etiquette on talking about possession was. “Okay. Mhm.” Skylar nodded. “Do you think someone directly caused this? I know you said they weren’t connected, but does it feel like when you lost your name, but it’s compelling you to tell the truth?” She asked. Maybe if Nadia could describe how it felt, that would narrow down possibilities? Ugh. She was grasping at straws, she didn’t know how any of this worked. “That’s true. But… you’re a friend. And I kinda need those more than I need people trying to tell me how to live my life.”

“I’m doing better, yeah. I usually sleep around six to eight hours, not necessarily consecutively, for every twenty-four hour period that I’m awake,” Nadia said, slightly wincing at her words. “Although I slept for an uninterrupted twelve hours after I went out for Valentine’s, which was nice.” She tried to think about what it felt like. “I can’t really tell, maybe? Not the same kind of person, though, I don’t think. I never made a promise, or verbally told someone I wouldn’t lie. It feels like… I go to say something, and, if it’s even a bit, like, false, I’m not saying it. My throat closes up, my hand stops typing correctly. And then I want to blurt shit out. Like, full frontal honesty.” Thinking about it more helped a bit, because she was beginning to tell that there was definitely magic involved. Not like the fae magic Regan used to take her name, or that weird feeling she’d gotten when she hadn’t been careful around the karkinoids. There was a difference to this. “I’ve never been cursed, so I can’t tell if this was, like, done by a person or a thing.” She smiled a bit brighter when Skylar called her a friend. She felt a bit stupid about it, like a child begging for attention, but she was happy all the same. “I see you as a friend as well. And I agree. I have no intention of telling you how to live your life. I’m not exactly in a position to give that kind of advice.”

Startled, Skylar stared at Nadia in shock. What? She’d been running on that little sleep this entire time? How was she still functioning? Granted, Skylar knew she slept more than the average person, particularly when things were bad for her. But, still. That couldn’t be normal. Pushing the thoughts from her head, Skylar focused her attention on the truth situation. She couldn’t really help Nadia with anything ghost related, but maybe she could help with this. “Hm. Okay... So it’s probably not related to a person. Which is kinda helpful, kinda isn’t. Mm.” Tapping her fingers against her side, Skylar quirked her lips. ��Maybe… did you ever touch the chest? The chest, it was cursed too. But, not in any kind of truth telling kind of way. I, erm, I touched it and got like these horrible chills? And a couple of other people who’d touched it also felt the same way.” She said before shaking her head. But, they’d broken the curse when they’d opened the chest. And that awful eyeball thing had crawled out… “Thanks. I appreciate that a lot.”

Nadia tried to think back to when she, Beatrice, and Arthur had been near the chest. She’d never touched it, although she’d felt compelled to. Arthur was the only one that even sort of touched it by getting the charcoal etches. “No, I never touched it, although I did get gutted by a karkinoid trying to get to it.” Damn, that was probably a bit much. “I’m fine now,” she added quickly. “But, no, I didn’t touch it the other day when I went back either. You touched it? Christ, I’m glad you’re okay.” She thought about what she’d heard, about the awful coldness that came with the chest. She hadn’t felt as compelled to touch the horrible thing when she’d taken one of the coins the other day, but still. She hoped it couldn’t still do that to people. Impulsively, she reached out to pat Skylar on the shoulder. “Hey, dude. It’s no problem. Seriously.”

“Wait, you what?” Skylar blurted out, incredulous. Had she been stabbed like Remmy-- was Nadia a zombie too? But she slept and she’d actually managed to say that she was fine, unlike the other times in their conversation. “You’re sure you’re okay?” She asked, concerned. “No, I’m fine, I’m okay. It went away when we opened the chest and it went away for the other people who opened it too. But, I don’t… I’m not sure what else it could have been if it wasn’t the chest itself. Hrm.” She shook her head. When Nadia reached out to pat her shoulder, Skylar relaxed into the touch, more out of instinct than anything else. “I-- still. It means a lot to me, it really does.”

Flinching a bit, Nadia said, “I was, uh, like, snipped. I tripped, and one of the karkinoid’s claws caught my side pretty bad. But someone healed me; there’s not even a scar, so, besides a bit of psychological trauma over the fact that I had all but accepted my death in that one moment, I’m all good, physically.” There were also a few ruined articles of clothing, but those were insignificant. “Okay, that’s good. So, you were there? You were one of the ones that opened it?” Raising her eyebrows, Nadia thought back to the translation that she, Beatrice, and Arthur had managed to uncover. “So, you were one of the pure of heart, huh?” She grinned. “Makes sense.” When Skylar relaxed into her touch, Nadia felt herself relax a bit, too. She really went to long without physical contact, usually. “It means a lot to me that you’re helping with this, too, you know? You don’t have to, but I’m glad you are.”

Seeing the way Nadia reacted, Skylar winced. She shouldn’t have pried. Of course it was something that she was still dealing with. And the torrent of objective truth didn’t help either. “I--I shouldn’t have asked. I’m glad you’re okay now… at least, physically. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She said, wishing that she’d never asked. She didn’t want to put the other woman through that again. But, at the words pure of heart, it was her turn to twitch uncomfortably. “I guess so. It opened up when we worked together, so it wasn’t just me.” She said with an awkward shrug. “It’s just the right thing to do, you know? There’s… a lot of messed up stuff happening and I want to help people if I can.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Nadia said. “You’re not the first person I’ve told about it, and, with the way this truth thing is going, you probably won’t be the last. I’m just hoping I don’t end up telling someone who, like, isn’t going to believe me.” She felt bad that she’d made Skylar uncomfortable, but, hell, after going through all the trouble to translate that demonic gibberish, she was just glad it had been fruitful. “Well, you and whoever you worked with did a fucking awesome job. You helped a lot of people.” She smiled. “And I’m grateful you’re helping me.” She watched her phone light up, a notification from someone coming in, and saw the time. “It’s getting late. Do you need to get home? Do you want to stay here for the night?” 

“Still… Either way, I’m glad that it all worked out. No more fish rain, no more cold curse, no more weird creepy magic.” Skylar replied. The chest was gone, it was all over.  Or, at least, she hoped the chest was gone. She hadn’t exactly stuck around after the eyeball incident and she had no intention of going anywhere near the beach again. When Nadia checked her phone, Skylar glanced at her watch and blinked in surprise. It was that late? Already? “I had no idea it was that late-- I’ve got to get back home. Work tomorrow, I have to be up early.” She said with a grimace before making her way towards the door. “But, if I find out anything more about this whole truth situation, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Right,” Nadia agreed, though something didn’t set right in her stomach. Fuck, that chest had been weird. And it was still there, just sitting, open, surrounded by coins and shit. At least the karkinoids were gone, mostly. As Skylar said she needed to get home, Nadia nodded her head. “Be safe. It’s, well, it’s White Crest out there.” She tried to joke, but it probably fell flat. “And that sounds good. I’ll let you know if I find out anything, too. I’m hoping it’s just limited to the three of us, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this shit.” She watched Skylar leave and then sagged against the couch. Rhiannon crawled in her lap, purring. Nadia sighed. “Fuck.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male dom orc x female sub reader (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I thought this was already up here, but I can’t find it, so here it is again. I’ve got a ko-fi commission for a part two in the form of a chunky 10 sentence drabble, so I’ll be working on that, hence looking for it.

This features someone beginning to think about maybe entering into the very early stages of d/s lifestyle, and this story is just the two getting to know each other first. Trust is an absolute must in any relationship, and none more so than in one featuring consensual submission/domination. Rules and boundaries must be talked through, it must be healthy for both parties, and needs must be met in all areas. One person may like one thing and not another. This is what Orok feels very passionately about, and he reflects my values on that.

**********************

When you’d signed up for the website, you had been at a real low point in your life, and what made it worse was you felt like you had no right to feel that way.  

You had a brilliant job – a high up position in the company – and a great group of friends, and, at the time, a great boyfriend. Before him, you’d only ever been with humans, but there had been something about the tiefling that had just drawn you in. Too bad you’d driven him away too in the end.  

So, after indulging in watching a bit of your favourite porn, you had washed your hands, and, not being remotely tired, had settled down in front of your laptop, the harsh blue light making you squint. You’d found the website first by accident while browsing around one evening that had gone not dissimilarly to this one, and now you clicked back onto it and did some more serious investigating into what it had to offer. Namely, that was putting submissives in contact with a potentially suitable dominant.

A chat window popped up and you suspected it was a robot, but when they asked if they could help you with anything, you reluctantly typed in that you weren’t sure whether this was for you, but you were curious.  

- Don’t worry, came the reply. We get that a lot. Anything I can do to answer your questions?

Your heart was hammering, and you were the next thing to slamming the lid of your laptop shut and forgetting the whole thing, but something made you pause.  

- How does it work? you typed after a moment. 

- Simple – you sign up and take our questionnaire. It’ll ask you your preferences, things you’re definitely ok with, things you’d be willing to try, and things that are absolutely off the cards. Based on your answers, we’ll forward it (without your name attached) to a few of the doms we have on here that we think might be suitable for you, and then they’ll get in touch with you via messenger on the website or the app if you have it on mobile. We’ve got human and non-human doms registered.  

- Then what?

- You can get to know them a bit first before you meet, to see if you like them, and if they think it’d work out with you too. It’s important that both parties feel comfortable. What you choose to exchange is up to you. Anything you send to your prospective dom is kept confidential. It’s just company policy, and if they want to be a dom registered with us, then they have to agree to that.  

- I see, you said. It certainly seemed professionally organised. What does the company get out of this then? Do I have to pay you or something?

- No, no, came the response. We don’t take any payment from you. That’s not what we’re about. We get enough money from advertisements on our site to cover the admin costs. It’s all free for you and the dom.

- Ok, I’ll think about it. Thanks.

- Not a problem. Just hit ‘contact us’ if you have any more questions.  

You thought about it for a long time, and then signed up. The questionnaire was very thorough, covering things from activities and scenes you were willing to do or try, to words and names you were ok (or not) with. It took you nearly half an hour to finish it and you hit the button that, rather cheekily, said ‘submit ;P’ on it with a little snort.  

The next screen showed a polite little message thanking you for completing the questionnaire and reminding you to download the app if you hadn’t already.  

It wasn’t until the next day that you got a response.  

Your phone buzzed and you drew it out, standing on the crowded Underground at half five, packed in on all sides with similarly wan-looking commuters. At least some of the trains had wifi now. That was a bonus.  

When you saw the little notification beside the demure little app logo, your heart leapt and you glanced about you apprehensively, but everyone was too glassy eyed and ashen-faced to pay you the slightest attention.  

The message was from someone named Orok, and you could tell from the little photo beside his name that he was an orc. You clicked on it, enlarging it, and you saw that he had long, black hair, and surprisingly pale skin for an orc. It was the kind of colour that might have been called apple blossom or something on a pretentious colour chart. There was a patch of darker green skin just visible at the line of his collar though, and he had some beautiful freckles across his cheeks as he smiled. The gesture crinkled the corners of his eyes and his flattened, typically orcish nose. He had thick, blunt, gleaming twin tusks on each side, which was somewhat of a rarity, and his delicately-tapering ears sported a couple of piercings.  

His eyes, however, were perhaps the most arresting thing about him. One was a dark, rich brown, while the other, his right eye, was a light, forget-me-not blue.

You minimised his picture, noticing the way his big shoulders looked in the pale blue work shirt, and read his message. You had been worried it would be inappropriate or overly sexual, but it was nothing of the sort.  

Hi, he began. I got sent your questionnaire, and I’d really like to chat with you a bit more about a few things you said on it. I see you’ve never had a dom before, and that you’re not sure if this is even for you, so I’d like to see if you’ve got any questions I can answer to set your mind at ease about it all. I’m happy to do this on whatever level you feel comfortable – from very low key upwards, so don’t worry. Looking forward to hearing back from you, Orok.

You stared at it a long time, and then clicked on his picture again, trying to imagine him dominating you. It wasn’t hard. He must have had massive hands, and frankly you were certain he could be very forceful if he wanted to be. It seemed totally at odds with the sweet nature of his message.  

Confused, you shut the app and locked your phone, sliding it back into your bag without answering.  

You let it go another whole day before you plucked up the courage to message him.  

- Hi, sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I’d like to give it a go. What did you want to know?

About ten minutes later, just as you were pouring yourself a big glass of wine, your phone buzzed.  

- Good to hear from you. I had begun to think you’d lost your nerve.  

- I suspect it happens…

-:) yeah. It’s ok though. People often don’t know what they want or what to expect, and get overwhelmed. I’m here to help, and make sure that doesn’t happen, whether you end up deciding to let me become your dom or not.  

- Thanks, that’s reassuring.  

- :). So, I suppose I’d better start. What is it you’re hoping to get out of this?

You sighed and reached for your wine. You had your legs curled up beneath you on the sofa, and a cushion at your back, but it didn’t make you any more relaxed.  

- honestly, I don’t really know. I need a release. I need someone else to do all the worrying and the caring for once, you know?

- I know, and I understand. Totally something we could work from and build on. I have a few ideas for us, but I’d like you to meet me first. And if you decide I’m not for you (or this isn’t for you) after all, that’s ok too.  

- thanks, you wrote, sighing and sipping your wine before sending it. This is all kind of… a lot easier/more relaxed than I thought it would be? You know?

- haha, yes, that’s a common reaction I think.  

After a few minutes you fired off another message. Do you have more than one sub at a time?

- personally, no. Some of the other doms who use the site do, but it’s not my style.  

You arranged to meet after work on Friday, with Orok letting you pick the place. You went for a quiet bar not far from the river, and you’d been sitting there for perhaps a quarter of an hour when he walked in, exactly on time.  

Your breath caught when you saw him. He was seven and a half feet tall, wearing a white shirt this time that stretched just perfectly over his huge chest and arms without looking obscene, and his hair was pulled back in a traditional orcish braid, plaited into small braids at the sides and drawn back into a larger, Dutch braid over the crown of his head. As he looked around, wondering who and where you were, you saw the beads woven into it at various stages as it hung in a rope as thick as an anchor chain, all the way to his waist. Your stomach twisted slightly at the sight of it. You’d never been with anyone who had hair that long.  

His heterochromic eyes were stunning, if a little eerie, and when they locked onto you, sitting at a table in the corner, they narrowed and you smiled. As you offered him the gesture, he returned it with genuine warmth, his tusks gleaming in the low ambient lighting of the bar.  

He came over, quietly spoke your name, and when you nodded, he grinned and stretched out an enormous hand. His skin was mottled between the pale of the skin of his face and the darker patch you could see on his neck, and you wondered if he was like that all over. God, it was attractive though.  

“Hi,” you croaked, standing up to shake his hand.  

“Hi,” he said back, his voice rich and warm and deep. His mismatching eyes flickered to your empty table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Choose something for me?” you said, not trying to be coy.  

He chuckled, a friendly, rolling laugh that reminded you of distant, summer thunderstorms. “I think we’re going to get along just fine,” he said as he turned away and you resumed your seat. 

___________________________

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

[endoftheworldpaul]

It's still technically Wednesday for me so looks like we got another close call update!

@dbhrarepairs Here's my submission for day 3, wrong blind date.

Both Convin and Elijah/Leo bc I shouldn't brainstorm when I'm tired.

If you would rather read on AO3, you can click here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611682 

Again, I apologize, but I'm having serious troubles with getting the read more break in here if anyone has tips I'm willing to listen Google isn't helping.

EDIT: I FIGURED IT OUT. Well, really, I just went on my laptop bc mobile, for all its benefits for my schedule, is super confusing when it wants to be.

Usually, Nines is rather reliable. Always prepared, always punctual, always one step ahead of everyone else. 

Just not this week. Finals week had, as always, was hellish for most students. Even Nines felt some of the end of the year panic. And by some, it was more along the lines of going into an over-studying craze. 

One problem that accompanies what his close friends have dubbed The Dark Ages is that he takes on too many extra projects in a failing attempt to distract himself. 

One such project is promising four very confused and stressed friends to set them up on blind dates. Four friends that, he decided, needed something new to distract from the stresses of life. 

Friend number one—Gavin Reed, a police officer closing in on his second year out of police academy—was the one who unintentionally gave Nines the idea to play matchmaker. 

On a cold Friday evening, their weekly "chill day," Gavin was complaining about his coworkers, as usual. 

"So, there's this new guy, a transfer from Dearborn, who is so fuckin' annoying. Dude spends his entire fucking break, I shit you not, to gush about his wife. Just got married. Who cares? Lotsa people get married, why should it be such a big deal? So I say to him, "Why don't you spend less time rambling on about the missus, and more time solving fucking crimes?" And the asshole has the gall to tell me that I'd change my mind if I could keep someone around for more than a week! What a dick right?" 

While Nines loved spending time with Gavin, he made conversations interesting and he was honest, he got into moods and would, for lack of a better word, be a huge bitch about things he didn't agree with. 

Nines shot a glance towards Gavin, taking in his position sprawled out on Nines' couch, one leg dangling off the edge, fiddling with his phone. "I suppose the only option would be to prove him wrong then. Show that you can 'keep someone around for more than a week' and rub it in his face, good ol' Gavin Reed style." He scowled, "But who would be this mystery date?"

Gavin looked up from his phone, shooting Nines a confused glance. "Well, I 'spose it could be one of those friends of yours. You've got like a million, it can't be that hard to find someone who'll like me. Even if I am kind of a dick!"

Nines hummed in confirmation, mentally creating a list of potential dates for Gavin. He had a lot of pros and cons lists to make. 

Friend number two—Connor Stern, a newer acquaintance of his—was the catalyst for the second half of what would eventually turn into Nines' biggest embarrassment. 

Connor had been more forthright with his date searching. On one of their shopping trips, devised when they found out they both lived at the same apartment complex as well as frequently shopped at the same local grocery store, he had suddenly enquired as to whether or not Nines could find someone he could go on a date with. 

"I suppose, since it's been so long that I've tried dating, that I should consider pursuing romantic relationships. Now that I am about to graduate from the academy, I have more time to do so. So you have anyone in mind whom you think I could form a serious connection with, whether it be more friendly or more romantic?" 

At first, Nines was a little surprised. But he quickly overcame that because a wave of excitement washed over him. Since he began planning a blind date for Gavin three days prior, Nines had closely analyzed the personalities of all of his companions. In doing so, he had gotten closer to narrowing down who Gavin's date would be. To find Connor a potential date, all he would have to do is make minor adjustments to his list of complementary personality traits and hobbies. 

He gave Connor a small smile in confirmation. "I think I can come up with a person or two."

After narrowing down his list of potentials for Connor, he had to ask friends if they would be available in the set few days Connor had confirmed he would be free. 

Option one, a close friend and classmate, North Dufay, stated that she had to take over for a friend who was on vacation at the taekwondo studio she worked at. 

Option two, local street artist Markus Manfred, was also unavailable. His father was accompanying him to an art gallery showing in Paris, where both artists would present new works. 

That left one person. The third friend roped into Nines' disaster of a plan, Elijah Kamski, genius and programmer, and massive introvert. It had been at least three years, half of the time Nines has known him, since he had even attempted to socialize with anyone outside of his immediate friend group. Jumping from one project to the next, he had a habit of ignoring any of Nines' attempts at getting him to redirect his attention elsewhere and relax. Nines hoped that, by introducing him to someone new who would match his wit and appreciate his devotion to his goals, it would encourage him to pursue other minor hobbies and allow him to de-stress. 

Connor, who was sarcastic and determined, seemed like a perfect match. 

Finding Gavin a date took a little more thinking than it did for Connor; he had a less approachable personality. Grumpy and irritable, many of Nines' friends would be unable to withstand sharp jabs and brutal honesty long enough to get to see his protectiveness and ambition. 

North might've been a good option, but she had prior engagements. Tina might've gotten along well with Gavin, but they had dated in high school and agreed that being friends was better for both of them. At first, Chloe seemed like she might be a good match, but she had recently come out as aromantic and asexual, so Nines ruled her out. 

The only option left was the chaotic ball of energy that was Leo Manfred, Markus' half brother. When he was younger, Leo had been in a bad situation, but finding supportive friends and a good therapist that encouraged him to redirect his anger to something more productive had helped him find a purpose in life, create goals. 

Now a full time student, well on his way to becoming a psychologist, he was likely to enjoy Gavin's sass and dorky jokes. 

People paired up, all Nines had to do was organize the details of the dates. For Connor and Elijah, he decided that a less crowded, but not isolated café just off of the main streets would be perfect. Or, was that where he had planned Gavin and Leo's date? No, he was mostly sure that he had made reservations for them at a local restaurant by Gavin and Tina's shared apartment. He didn't have time to worry about it at the moment; he had a final to study for. 

Connor had the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Nines hadn't told him his date's name to prevent him from looking him up on social media platforms and form any opinions on him before their actual date. He was just told that his date was about average height, with dark hair, often wore glasses, and had horrible posture. 

So of course, when someone matching that exact description walked through the door six and a half minutes after their scheduled meet up time, he hesitantly waved. 

The man, indeed wearing glasses, seemed slightly out of breath. He hadn't seemed to try to dress up, dressed in a faded gray, long sleeved sweater and wrinkled blue jeans. 

Flopping down into the chair across from Connor, his date sighed, stuck a hand out to shake, and blurted out "I'm so sorry I'm late! My roommate let my cat outside accidentally and I had to chase her down the street so that I could get her home and by the time I did, I had lime fifteen minutes max, and I still had to shower and stuff and then i realized that my dryer broke in the middle of this last load so most of my clothes are either soaked or horribly wrinkled and I couldn't find a shirt that made my eyes look really good and I forgot to put my contacts in and… yeah. I'm so fuckin' sorry, I wanted to try to impress you but I'm doing a kind of shit job at that huh?" 

Connor blinked a few times, trying to absorb the story his date, who still had yet to introduce himself, threw at him. He tried to smile reassuringly, and shook the still outstretched hand. "Well that seems like a horrible afternoon. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Connor. You're also a friend of Nines' then I suppose?" 

"Oh yeah! Yeah I am. Uh, I'm Gavin. It's nice to meet you." Gavin shifted in his seat. "Sorry again for being late. It really isn't normal for me, I swear." 

"Well it happens every one in a while. It's sweet that you care about your cat so much that you would go out of your way to looking for her like that. What's her name, if you don't mind me asking?"

Gavin gasped and frantically pulled his phone out, unlocking it. "Her name is Dana and she's a menace! Look, she's so fluffy!" He shoved his phone at Connor, who takes in the fluffy black mass, staring up at him through the photo. Her bright green eyes reflect a tiny image of Gavin, holding his phone to take the photo and squinting in concentration. Cute.

Connor smiles. "Well, that is the most gorgeous menace I've ever seen. She looks so soft." 

"Oh she is. If I don't brush her every day, she gets violent." Connor snorts. "Ha, yeah it's funnier when you're not on the receiving end of her tiny little dagger-teeth. I should probably stop gushing about my cat; you'll think I'm crazy soon! So, uh, how did Nines describe me? Because he described you as, and I quote, a kind of tall, dark haired twink with a nice smile." 

Connor chuckled. "It seems like the stress is really getting to him if he could only describe me as a twink with a nice smile. He was a lot more bland when describing you. He said you're average height, with glasses and dark hair and a horrible posture. Which, I mean, at least he's been pretty accurate with his descriptions, even if they do seem rushed." 

Humming in agreement, Gavin asked, "Hey, what do you do? You got a job or you studying or what?" 

"Oh I'm currently in the police academy. I wanna be a lieutenant someday." 

Gavin wiggled in his seat. "Oh shit, I'm a cop too! I escaped the academy two years ago." 

"Really? Oh that's amazing! Maybe we'll get to work together on cases. It would be nice to have made a friend or something when I graduate from the academy. So what do you do now? What's it like, being a serious police officer like that?"

They continued chatting for the next two hours, occasionally buying each other snacks and drinks. Connor was hesitant to end the date, suggesting they walk to the park or go watch a movie. 

They spent most of the afternoon together, before Gavin offered to walk Connor home. Standing on the sidewalk by the front doors, Gavin slowly took hold of Connor's hands and stood on his toes to kiss Connor's nose. 

"I had a lot of fun, I'd love to see you again" Gavin murmured. 

A blush crept up Connor's cheeks. "Well it's a good thing I'm free next Saturday, because I do too." 

"Oh, well that's good." Gavin sighed. "I'm gonna hafta leave soon, or else Dana'll throw a fit. I'll see you Saturday okay? Is seven good? I got a half brother who can hook me up with some fancy reservations if you'd like."

Connor squeezed Gavin's hand before hesitantly letting go. "Sounds like a date. I can't wait. Goodbye Gavin." 

"G'bye."

Elijah was hesitant to go on Nines' blind date. In a hurry, he only said that his date was a smart kid, a couple years younger than Elijah himself, with dark brown, curly hair. 

He didn't want the guy to think too highly of him or else he might want to schedule another date, and Elijah didn't have time for that. So, he decided to show up "accidentally" almost half an hour late. Pushing the café door open, his gaze immediately landed on a grumpy looking guy, maybe twenty-ish, who was slumped over his phone in a booth in the far back. 

Shambling over to the grumpy kid, he asked "Are you Nines' friend? I'm here for the blind date."

Grumpy guy glanced up at him, grumbling a "Yeah that's me. You a little late there dude."

Slouching into the other side of the booth, Elijah quoted the excuse he planned out. "I'm sorry. My car wouldn't start, so I had to get a ride from a friend. Maybe I can buy you like a coffee or a sandwich to make up for it?"

"Well, you don't have to bribe me. If you're offering though, maybe a blueberry muffin and a caramel macchiato. And also a name?" 

Elijah raised his eyebrows. This kid was more blunt than he was expecting. It was… nice. "Hmm I suppose that it makes sense to give you my name. Elijah." He paused. "Kamski." Some people knew who he was. It wasn't that surprising for a programmer as young as he is to catch the attention of mainstream media if they're successful, which he was. 

"Leo. Manfred." Manfred, Manfred. Why did that name sound so familiar? "Are you gonna get my stuff or were you lying about that part?" 

If he had wanted to make a better impression, he might've actually laughed at that. Instead, all he did was not and stand up, heading toward the counter. As he was walking, he glanced around the café, observing a small family, a couple teenagers working on homework, and Gavin? On a date. Hmm. That's something to tease him about later. 

Returning to the table, he expected Leo to still be on his phone, but instead he was casually observing him. Might as well pass the time by talking. That usually pushes people away pretty fast. "You have a job? Studying?" 

Munching on his muffin, Leo hummed. "Mhm. Psychology." Maybe this kid is smart. "Don't worry though, I promise I only psychoanalyze on the second date." Oh. He's actually funny. Maybe this won't be as bad as he thought. 

Elijah allowed himself to smile a little at that. "Well, well, well, looks like I have something to look forward to." Elijah what are you doing? Did you just insinuate that you would like to go on a second date with this guy? 

Leo chuckles and sets his muffin back down on its plate. "Well you still gotta impress me first. Bribery doesn't work with everyone. If this were the second date, though, I'd have a hell of a lot to say about the lying and avoidance of revealing personal details. But, like I said, that'll have to wait 'til the second date." 

Definitely smart. More smart-ass though. That was more appealing than Elijah was expecting it to be. 

He sighed. "Well, since you caught me, I suppose I'll have to share something for the class. I'm a programmer. I'm currently working on developing AI tools that will recognise voices to activate or shut down household items, like a stove that shuts off to protect young children from lighting their homes on fire."

"That sounds pretty cool actually. Gotta babyproof the fancy smart-technology. I was expecting you to be something lame, like a very antisocial plumber or a dentist or something, but you're not that boring I guess." 

This time Elijah couldn't stop himself from laughing. Maybe, just maybe, he'll let himself enjoy this date. "'Not that boring I guess' is a compliment of the highest caliber, coming from someone as attractive as you." Why not go full flirt, if he wants this to go well. 

"Keep talking like that and I'll be swooning into your arms in no time. Seriously though, be careful, I'm starting to like you. That would be horrible, wouldn't it?" Leo raised an eyebrow.

Elijah smiled a little. "I guess it wouldn't be that bad. I think I'm starting to like you too." He snuck a piece of Leo's muffin, then hummed in delight. "That is a phenomenal muffin. You've just been hoarding it all for yourself over there? You are a cruel and unjust monster. Gimme more."

Snickering, Leo smacked Elijah's arm away from the plate. "Only nice dates who ask nicely get to share muffins." 

Elijah sighed. "Well I suppose if it's for a muffin of this quality, it will be worth it. I would like some muffin." 

Leo didn't budge. 

"...Please?" 

At this,  Leo broke off a large chunk of the muffin and handed it to Elijah. "Well, since you asked so politely, I guess I'm required to give you some now. It's good date behavior. Gotta be good if I want ya to stick around I 'spose." He smirked. Then he glanced at his watch, a rather shiny silver. "Oh shit, I gotta go. I'm house-sitting for my half-brother and I gotta feed his birds."

Elijah hesitated in saying goodbye, even as Leo rushed to clean up. Suddenly standing, he blurted out, "Maybe we can schedule that second date?" 

Leo paused, looking up at him. For a few seconds, Elijah thought he was going to decline the offer, but then he straightened his spine, smiled softly, and said, "Meet me at that Italian restaurant off of Main, next Tuesday? 6:30?" 

"It's a date. I'll see you then. I'll accompany you to your car." The both of them walked side by side, just close enough that every once in a while, their knuckles would brush up against each other. Parting with a wave, Elijah started planning what he would do to show his thanks to Nines for forcing him to do this dumb blind date thing, because it seemed that it wasn't as dumb as he originally thought.

When Nines ran into Connor in the hallway, he had to see how the date went. "So, what did you think of Elijah?"

Connor froze, turned to look at Nines, brow furrowed, and asked, "Who the fuck is Elijah?" Uh oh. 

[chickenscript]

you've gotta be blind or something (rottmnt oblivious reader headcannons)

A/N: kiNd of supremely old with au stuff i barely remember. but since i'm in a writing rut, i decided to deep dive through my drafts for anything that might be finished or close to it. the first prompt i ever got was from an anon for an oblivious reader being crushed on by the turtle bros. but, i accidentally deleted their ask because tumblr mobile is stupid. hope you guys enjoy and that there aren't very many errors in this since i really didn't feel like editing it

Donatello:

- god; how haven't you noticed by now how hard he was trying here. you couldn't be this dense when you're able to understand more of his geek speak than most did and actually sit through it.

- he liked you- he figured that out relatively quickly and while he was at odds with these new, inexplicable feelings at first, he's settled with them and the fact he just had to tip you off about them.

- keeping something so important from you, something that could make or break your relationship, he just couldn't do it anymore. it created too much tension in him.

- he decided that two months after all those feelings got to sizzle under the surface, making him more inverted than what was even normal for him. he knew you could probably tell, but not if you could tell about the crush itself.

- but heck, there were just no openings for him to spit it out. even when he timed it just right, or got you in a quiet moment while you were talking. no amount of thoughtful pauses and hint dropping could get you to see what he was trying to communicate. he didn't even know how to say what he wanted, but he was sure you had to have gotten a clue at some point.

- but you haven't. and sitting here, twisting your hair into a plait (he and his brothers liked fiddling with your hair), he could barely contain his frustration at how you just missed another hint. only distracted by each calculated pass of your soft hair as he braided.

- he sighed. that was enough trying for tonight. he was tired anyway and wanted to focus on enjoying your company more than trying to get you to see he harbored so many raw feelings for you.

- he could practically feel steam coming out from his pours. but then you laughed at something he grumbled out and his emotions did a headspin, making him feel a sudden wave of turn her around and kiss the understanding into her.

- he suppressed it all with a refined ease he’s perfected over the years with all foreign or unwanted emotions he didn’t like dealing with at any given time.

- crushes on your close friend sucked.

Leonardo:

- was it hot in here, or was it just you?

- how many times he’s said that was enough to make him grimace. but even now, you still dodged the flirt like it wasn’t even one, and playfully and painful obliviously shot one back at him. no matter how many cheesy pickup lines he threw at you, you were just not getting it.

- you thought he was all jokes, and sure, in the beginning he was, but now leo knew his feelings were no laughing matter.

- he wanted to admit them all to you, tell every bit of how you made him feel and maybe even grab you and kiss it into you if he was bold enough in that moment, but god if he wasn’t terrified of what that could mean.

- rejection, disgust, the loss of one of his closest friends and confidants. the loss of someone who genuinely liked hanging out with him and finding new, hidden nooks in the city they loved.

- he couldn’t do that to himself or you when he thought about how much he meant to you as well.

- but that thought also drove him crazy with how you might just have powerful feelings for him too beyond friendship. so that’s why he was trying to ease into this whole confession things with something you both liked, but the make you comfortable part was working too well.

- the meaning of every line flew over your head and leo was getting worked up over it.

- but the way you laughed and smirked at him in that way when there was an inside joke only the two of you knew about was enough for him to say fuck it and give up for today.

- you were worth it.

- but heck if he still didn’t crave knowing what kissing you might be like.

Michelangelo:

- you’re his first ever crush and also one of his only best friends, so he really doesn’t want to blow it by telling you you’re his first ever crush.

- yes he still loves doing all the things you usually do together, but he loves it even more because he kind of loves you too now. in more than just the platonic way. he wanted more meaning behind those pecks you give him and his brothers- he wants special kisses that are just for him.

- and he wants you to be his first kiss; he can imagine what it will be, full of all the sweetness and warmth he’s felt for you and kept bottled up.

- but he couldn’t just do that. he didn’t want to scare you off or make you feel uncomfortable. he loved you and cared about, but first and foremost, you were his best friend. and he loved you in that sense more.

- he would never do anything to make you feel bad.

- he was helping you relax after a long and arduous school day. you really needed the pick me up and he was blasting a song you both loved, badly singing the lyrics with you.

- you were both so off key and awful, but you were smiling and mike used all the heart he had to make the lines in the song that resonated with his feelings stand out so that maybe you would notice.

- but you didn’t, and you just sang and danced along with him like usual, not catching the look in his eyes or anything.

- he was disheartened, but then he saw how lifted your spirits were compared to when you set foot in the lair.

- you were happy and mike was helping to make that happen. so, maybe it wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t tell how much more he meant while singing this time.

- but, having you say that you love him too might be just too much for him handle if it happened anyway

Raphael:

- gosh, he didn’t want to sound mean but, did you not know a hint when it was smacking you dead between the eyes?

- raph knew it would be hard to tell you what he’s been feeling as of late, and he knew it might turn out to have good results, but he also knew he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself forever. it wasn’t healthy and it was doing a number on him inside.

- it was getting harder to just be near you or let you ride on his shell anymore. but he couldn’t just turn you down for something that was his problem alone. you didn’t know what was going on.

- that was why he was intent on telling you it. but, you weren’t making it easy.

- you were sitting on his shoulder, resting your jaw on a palm and talking about your job at the animal center that’s been pretty long term now. he brought up how much he loved the cat-dog that was now the lair’s mascot and you shake your head with a smile, no bringing that up now.

- you could still remember how hard you had to lie to your supervisor about what happened to the pup and kitten that mysteriously went missing one night.

- raph was nervous as he waited for an opportunity where he might be able to interject and say what was really on his mind, but no way was he going to be able to do that.

- you were busy reminiscing with no foreseeable end in sight, and he was supposed to be in on the conversation, bringing up moments from the past to beguile too. 

- besides,

-  he didn’t want his confession to guilt trip you or make you feel obligated to say you returned his feelings. he especially didn’t want to make you feel as if it wasn’t fair that you couldn’t love him in that way.

- so, he would need more time to make his move and think out every little bit of what he was going to say when he did.

BonuS:

You:

you laugh off the admittance the turtle's been working on but then noticed the obliterated look on their face, "Oh you were...serious? I-I'm sorry, I..." you blink, suddenly flustered too and touch the side of your flush neck.

"I wasn't expecting that. I'm just me. Not all that much. You know?" your eyes dart away.

And the turtle says, no, he doesn't because he recklessly thought so much about you and how wonderful you are- he can't even say it all in words. Not that he'd know how to.

"Geez. Um, well," your eyes glimmer, "I like you too."

You're shaken again as the turtle is overwhelmed by their feelings and nearly drops.

You have to stop them from falling and they’re blushing a bright shade of green as you hold them steady by the shoulders.

"This uh, this isn't gonna happen often, is it?"

[growingstrongorsomething]

4. I have a robot inside me.

Original prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bo0yiq/wp_youre_a_little_slower_than_others_but_its/ If you like my story, please support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/storyforger

“The whole time you have been whispering. You are scaring people off.”

“What, I did?” Walid looks at his boss. Her face is filled with wrinkles, some from old age, some from worry.

“Yes, you are also looking at Waruna. She is crying in the freezer because she thought you are still angry at her.”

Walid slaps his face a little, trying to mold it to a more presentable look. His face now has a bit of a smile, and his eyes doesn’t gaze as sharp as before.

“She already paid for the damages. After all, I wasn’t angry at all. I just...”

Now Walid’s boss is the one massaging her face, mostly around her forehead. “Whatever it is, hold it in for now okay? We are all on the rush season. I will close this bakery for a week after Festival. Deal with your problems, get a psychiatrist, or meditate or something. Okay?”

“Yes, Mdm Kamisah.”

She holds Walid’s face and smiles broadly. “Work hard. The Festival is just three days away. I promise, we will get a big fat bonus, hm?”

“Yes. Well, I need to carry the pastries.”

“Good! That’s the spirit.”

Mdm Kamisah enters the office. Walid turns to the tray of tepung puluts. The smell of glutinous rice and pandanus flour mix in the sweetmeats are alot for him to handle. Walid thinks he is going to eat it all.

If you eat it all, you will have stomach problems again!

Walid sighs. “I am carrying food,” talking to himself again.

Oh you will, see the puddle you will flip!

[I won’t wait what oh god!]

Walid slips and almost fall flat on the tray. The floor where cakes are baked is made rough to prevent slipping, but the floor to the presentation aisles are made from smooth tiles. At least the cakes are safe.

Hamid takes the tray from Walid and places it on the counter. He then lifts Walid up, whose legs spread too far for his level of joint mobility.

“God you’re heavy!”

“Oww, oww, oww, my thighs.”

Hamid steadies Walid, who is groaning slightly from the gymnastics. “Well, I’m sending the tray.”

“No, wait.” Hamid gets a dry towel and wipes the floor from the accident to the aisle until it’s dry. “Ok, go.”

“Thanks!”

Their work that day is rather hard, and all workers are tired. Walid isn’t as tired, but his limping isn’t making things more comfortable either. At least the cleanup is made easy by the dishwashers and bots.

“That’s a wrap for the day. See you tomorrow!”

“See you!”

Walid hails a Grab and lets himself be carried to his flat. The city lights are pretty at night, especially when we are sleepy. The Grab driver thanks Walid too soon. Walid grumbles his thanks and clumsily walks up the stairs.

[Oh yeah, elevator] Walid goes to the elevator only to see that it is under maintenance. “Augh! Today?” He really wants to kick the door, but the last time someone did, that is how the elevator stopped working. Dejected, Walid winds wearily to his bed and falls asleep without even changing clothes.

Yo, how’s life?

[Life-threatening, thanks to you.]

You slipped, and I’m to blame? LOL GG.

[You’re my subconscious. How do you even know what is LOL GG?]

I am not blind when you control this body. I see what you see, I learn what you learn, I am aware of what you are aware. Well, and other things.

[What do you mean?]

We. Need. Diagrams.

Walid’s dream now forms a room. It is cozy, with two blue long sofas facing each other and a lamppost standing guard next to it. The table in between the sofas has a jug of lychee drink. Walid knows it by the smell. He pours a cup and pours the liquid into his mouth. The sweetness slams his tongue, and it flows into his body, making him... happy. He sits on the sofa, drinking more lychee juice.

You like what you’re seeing?

[Yeah, pretty much.]

Now! I will introduce myself. The subconscious slithers from behind the sofa and towards Walid. It is like the root of a ginger tree, only that it has a single straight shaft and many root fibers jutting through it. One of the larger root fibers extend a hand, as if in greeting. Walid shakes it. It does not show its face.

Subconscious, glad to meet you.

[Walid, pleasure’s all mine?]

The ‘ginger root’ slithers to the other sofa, its body reclining regally upon the sofa. Tired, Walid lies down to imitate the ‘ginger root’.

I think you have a lot of questions.

[Are you a ghost? Will you kill me? Is this poison?]

No. I need you alive. I can’t really tell you what I am yet, it will only create more questions. But I am ready to show you.

Walid thinks of the ginger root unzipping its costume and a pretty woman’s leg jut out of it.

No, unfortunately, I am not that sexy. But let me show you.

[How are you going to do that?]

I am going to take over your body. Just for a day. You will have my word, you can get full control of it once I have done my business.

Walid chugs down the lychee. The entirety of his life’s lessons flash before his eyes. All his life, his parents never told him what to do when your subconscious wants to take control of your body. Don’t open the door if the parents don’t expect guests, don’t touch other people’s breasts (and dicks once he came out), don’t steal, don’t show your private parts on the internet, and most importantly, if the offer is too good to be true, turn it down and run like hell.

I am twenty and honest to God, I need an adult.

[As frightening as it is, I am an adult. I assure you, your good health and functioning body is in my best interest.]

Come to think of it, the stress of his life isn’t going away anytime soon either. He still have to work hard tomorrow at the bakery. And he had to take Chinese exam next week, just so employers will consider him a worthy job candidate. Walid pours another cup. He raises it. To the last possible day of me being the conscious mind.

[To a more fruitful Walid.]

They both chug down the lychee. Walid sees the ‘ginger root’ face for a split second before the dream ends.

The next morning, Walid finds his body to be moving to the fridge. It dips some wholemeal bread into the black coffee and sends the bread into its mouth. Walid tried to move his body but it can’t.

Ginger root, are you controlling me?

[Yes, I do. You want answers. I am in the process of showing you. But first, your body needs some fuel and coolant!]

Fuel? Coolant? I am not a robot!

[Oh you’ll understand. By the way, you have a sick leave today. Convenient!]

Convenient for what? Hey, why are we walking?

[To the Doctor!]

The body washes itself. It washes its muscular body with water, then lathers soap on it. The body cleans everywhere, including the nether regions. Walid feels a slight pain as that area is stil a bit overstretched from yesterday. Walid can feel how clean his body is. And how it hurts to almost slip again from water puddles.

The body then pats itself dry with a towel. Walid tries wipe his face a bit more but the body doesn;t listen.

Ginger root, wipe my face!

[Alright, fine!]

Walid feels the intrinsic itch to his soul scratched for now. The body wears a tight T shirt and a sports trousers. Walid always feel comfortable wearing the trousers, but the tight T shirt is chafing his nipples.

Can we get a looser shirt?

[No, I always want to show off this awesome body.]

Walid would like to huff, but it only manifests as the word ‘huff’. He spies to the side of his eyes. There are numbers and letters, some jumbled.

Are those coordinates, distance in kilometers, and name of The Doctor?

[Yes! Now be quite and observe!]

The body hails a Grab and calmly enters the car. The body chats with the driver a bit. Walid thinks the mouth is moving but the language isn’t what he is used to.

“Ni de shangban meiyou mang ma?”

“Aiya, zui mang! Quanbu ren bu yao mai che, he quanbu de shangdian hen yuan la!”

And they both laughed. This son of a bitchy ginger root, he actually knows Mandarin!

The chat ends as the car arrived before the clinic. The sign says ‘The Doctor’s Swig’. This isn’t a clinic, this is a bloody pub.

Wait! I am a Muslim, I can’t drink alcohol.

[Oh come on, we’re meeting a doctor, not drinking!]

This is a pub!

[Oh god, just watch!]

The ginger root moves the body. Well, the insides is a pub. People are eating sunflower seeds and pistachios while watching the news. And drinking beer. There is a blackboard with a chalk drawn picture of a jar and ‘Lihing Limited Edition’ hanging above the bartender’s head.

“Bear with me bro, I need a help.”

The bartender winks. “What help?”

“Health Care.”

“One sec.” The bartender gives a call. “Number?”

Ginger root gives a small paper. The bartender whispers to the phone, and burns the small paper. The bartender then whispers to Ginger Root. “The Doctor is available now. Please come in.”

The Ginger Root smiles and nods. The back of the pub has three doors. Two unisex toilets and one closet. Ginger Root presses the code and the closet door opens. He enters the room, which is littered with brooms, mops, and scoops for the dust. Ginger Root places his hand on a brick, and pushes. A door swings open, away from the body. The body bravely marches through the darkness.

The dark path isn’t very dark to Walid, but he’s still afraid. He instinctively makes command to jerk his foot, but the body remains stoic, moving forward without flinching. They make their way down some stairs and more dark alleys, some branching.

Ginger Root, where are you taking me?

[Oh I’m Ginger Root now? Well, like I always said, just watch. We have a checkup AND a job.]

Walid is too afraid to complain further.

The darkness ends at the end of the tunnel, where the body pulls the door open. Inside is a room. Bodies of men and women are hung, suspended from the ceiling with ropes and hooks.

AAAAAAAHHHHH!

[Stop shouting, I almost jumped!]

A young man, barely 20, rushes forward and shakes the body’s hand with much enthusiasm. “I am always honoured to service you sir.”

“Hello to you too. Please check this body first.”

“Yes, this way.” The room of bodies gave way to a few beds. Ginger Root lies the body on an empty bed, the eyes pointing upward.

“Sir, we are about to begin checkup. Please leave the body.”

And Walid lose consciousness.

SYNCHRONISING NERVOUS SYSTEM... 100%

SYSTEM ERROR? ... RESOLVING... 100%

MUSCLE MOVEMENT? 100%

AUDITORY SYSTEM? 100%

VISUAL SYSTEM? 100%

TOUCH INPUT? 100%

STARTING AUXILIARY FUNCTION...

AUXILIARY FUNCTION ON. ERROR?

...

...

NONE. SYSTEM STARTING.

Walid finds himself still unable to control his body. The body is strapping some belts and pouches.

Wait, what time is it?

[10 am. We have a mission. Rescuing hostages.]

Wait, I am not a soldier!

[I am. Sit tight, you’re my mecha. Switching off auditory output, Auxilia HI.]

Wait, don’t shut me... And Walid can only see and think, not form words. The eyes emits a small screen of the ginger root. His face like an odd, jagged, jack-o-lantern, but Walid doesn’t feel a thing from it.

[I need you to listen closely. I am on a high risk mission to rescue fellow, well, ‘ginger roots’. They are stuck in some continents away. You must trust me that I will bring us alive okay.]

Walid would like to say yes, if only from desperation.

[We may get injured. Yes, even me in this cockpit. You will have extra functions in the fight, but mostly for your brainpower. Just remember, even if you lost all four limbs, you can be repaired.]

[Switching on auditory output, Auxilia HI.]

I thought I was human! Well... if I survive whatever comes, I need a lot of questions answered.

[OK, fair enough. I need to concentrate, so... Switching off auditory output, Auxilia HI]

Ginger Root meets with a few other people. Men and women, they are well-equipped with weapons and body armour.

“Listen up, our hostage situation has turned sour. The kidnappers decided not to further negotiations, and will kill all hostages this midnight. We have to save them. We do not have to kill all of the kidnappers, but we will kill anyone standing in our way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Their voiced are lowered, but their voice are filled with fire.

“Good. We Drive Humanity Forward...”

“... So Our Survival’s Assured!”

The team raced to a truck and is driven to an abandoned building. There they dismounted and fan out to secure the perimeter. “The police has been notified of our mission and they will not stand in our way. If you see any uninfected policeman, rescue them. Reports shown that some are held hostage after a failed assault.”

“Our target is 200 meters southwest. We will have to secure a rooftop entry, Damit. Then, Hamidah, Rizal, Shafwan, you three enter first and get a foot hold. We will enter as soon as it’s clear.”

The team races to the top of the abandoned building. To the southwest, they could see three men chatting and drinking coffee on a rooftop balcony. Damit scopes with the sniper rifle. “Three men, mostly bored.”

“Are they armed?”

“No, I don’t think so, Ikhlas.”

Walid knows the name doesn’t refer to him, but Ginger Root. Ikhlas eh?

Ikhlas looks intently with a binocular. “They are, I could see their rifles resting on the wall, behind the sitting man drinking.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Shoot the sitting man first. Then the two.”

Damit pushes the sniper stock close to his shoulder, aims at the sitting man’s neck. He holds his breath, and shoots.

The sitting man falls on the rifles and the two other fumbles to grab their guns. Damit shoots their heads clean off with one shot.

“Double headshot at 200 meters. Easy gg lol.”

Damit sighs. “That isn’t how humans speak.”

Ikhlas writes down the kills. “I know. Still funny though. Shafwan, the rappel.”

Shafwan shoots the rappel rope with his crossbow. The bolt buries deep into the wall. Shafwan slides down first, with some equipment. The others slide down one by one, Ikhlas being the last. They switched equipment amongst each other, as they had carried others’ equipments too.

Walid sees the map screen appear before his eyes. Ikhlas gives the signal to huddle.

“Everyone have maps and possible enemies?”

Everyone nodded.

“We stick together. Rizal at front, Shafwan and Hamidah center, me and Damit behind. Get to the target, fight our way out to the ground floor. Then we evacuate.”

Ikhlas points at the door. Rizal rammed the door with the butt of his gun and the rest streamed in. They move quickly downstairs, but stop before the first door facing the stairs. Two gunmen gets out from the door, laughing along the way. Rizal throws a smoke grenade.

Instead of shouting ‘Boogies’ or something, the two writhed in agony. Their bodies twist and turn, coughing out blood and mucus. Soon, some organisms escape their mouth. It tries to wipe itself clean from the smoke, but it drops as it shouts a small screech of pain.

The two gunmen lays unconscious. Ikhlas’ team moves forward. A few minutes later, they are stopped by three kidnappers running to them. The team manages to take cover behind the walls as the kidnappers shoot to kill. They only stop to reload.

Shafwan takes the opportunity to shoot them in the head, but they do not drop. Instead, they keep firing. Shafwan remains unfazed as a bullet rips through his right upper arm. Some wires frayed out, but his movement isn’t hindered as he reload. Hamidah is about to throw another smoke grenade, but Ikhlas stopped her. Ikhlas waits until they reload again, and turns to shoot.

He aimed at the stomach of the kidnappers. They drop dead as soon as the bullet hits them. Damit moves forward and pumps another bullet in the temple to each of them. Rizal takes the forward position and the team keeps moving forward.

Rizal raises his fist, a signal to move forward. They stopped before the turn of a hallway. Rizal watches the other side with a mirror. “Four men. Standing guard.”

Ikhlas nods to Hamidah. She hands over a defragmentation grenade to Rizal. Rizal removes the pin and moves forward to throw it. The four guards points the gun at Rizal.

They centered their fire Rizal’s head, but Rizal ducks while throwing. Instead, his right arm is severely riddled with holes as the grenade flies. The four is about to jump, but the grenade explodes. The four disintegrated into the smoke. Ikhlas’ team fires forward, as Rizal slings his rifle. He looks at the uselessly hanging right hand. He rips it off. The fingers wiggle uncontrollably as the hand is separated from the body. Rizal holds his rifle on the left hand and joins Ikhlas.

Ikhlas leads the team forward. There seems to be no more kidnappers left. It’s... too quiet. Walid begins to feel uneasy. He wants to ask Ikhlas what is going on, but he can’t say anything. They entered an open courtyard, with doors flanking it.

The silence is finally interrupted a few minutes later. Two kidnappers storm out of a door, but Ikhlas manages to shoot them both before they could open fire. Ikhlas is about to walk forward to the target area, but he is suddenly thrown away by an explosion. Ikhlas almost lands at the other side of the courtyard wall.

A large man, about 9 feet tall appears before the team. Rizal fires his rifle at the man’s face. Its face is chipped away as the bullets ricochet off from the metallic skeleton. The rest pumps their gun dry to the robot. But all their bullets do not even dent it.

Hamidah jumps to give the man a flying kick.  Her shin hits his neck. The man calmly grabs her leg and throws her straight through a wall. Shafwan jumps to the man’s shoulders, stand on it, and pumps a new magazine worth of bullets between the chest and the shoulder blade. The man grabs Shafwan and slams him a few times. Sounds of twisting metal can be heard from Shafwan’s body as he tries to stab and sever the wires in the robot’s hands. The robot throws Shafwan and he is impaled on a pole by the left chest. Shafwan tries to remove himself.

The robot is shaking, it finds itself hard to straighten its body. The robot walks to Shafwan, but he isn’t as fast as he was a few minutes ago.

Rizal and Hamidah pumps more bullets into the robot. But this time, they try to aim at the joints. Hamidah fires all her bullets into the left knee, circling to the front and back. The robot swings his fists to Hamidah but Hamidah can easily evade the robot. Rizal aimed at robot’s right shoulder. The robot turns his attention to Rizal and is preparing to launch himself to him.

The robot sprints towards Rizal. Rizal turns to run away, and the robot is running at full force.

Suddenly, the robot’s trajectory is thwarted by a shot to his head. Damit fires more sniper rounds at the robot. The robot turns and runs towards Damit. He holds his ground, but the robot still charges forward.

Ikhlas bodily throws himself at the robot, pushing the robot away. The robot is flat on its back, and Ikhlas desperately tries to reach his shotgun. The robot grabs him by the leg, and pulls Ikhlas towards him.

Walid feels all the past actions of his flood back to him. His killings of animals, his bullying of other kids, his angry rants against his parents’ He wants to say sorry for all he has done, and he can’t even say in it his inner voice!

Ikhlas the Ginger Root is sweating in its cockpit. He can feel all the anguish that Walid has. Added to his own, he is almost mad from all this. None of his training ever prepared him for this, and none of his experiences ever will. What can he do?

The robot tries to stand, but the connections in its body is too damaged to command his legs for the proper procedure. Instead, the legs dig into the soil erratically. The robot grabs Ikhlas by the neck and raises him up.

“Damit, its elbow!”

Damit aims at the elbow. The robot’s right hand plops uselessly as the bullet hits the joint but Ikhlas still can’t remove himself. He drags the robot’s right hand with him as the robot tightens its grip. But the grip gets looser and looser with each wire ripped from the robot’s hand. Ikhlas’ team gives the robot a wide berth.

The robot tries to stand up with its remaining appendages. But it only ends up wriggling and writhing.

Ikhlas looks for something in his back pouch. “Hamidah, you have anymore grenades?”

“I only have two, and it’s all used up.”

Shafwan has extracted himself from the pole. He hands to Ikhlas one smoke grenade.

Ikhlas throws the grenade to the robot, and it gives out a lot of smoke. When the smoke clears, the robot is still writhing.

“We have to deactivate it, it’s not an exosuit.”

Damit pumps a few sniper rounds to the robot’s left shoulder joint. Shafwan ties his bayonet to a stick and cuts all the wires from a few feet away, far from the robot’s grip. The robot’s hand almost come dangerously close to snatching the stick, but Shafwan deftly retracts it. Soon, the robot is uselessly moving its appendages. Rizal steps forward and jams his left hand to the robot’s neck. He pulls the here and there a bit, and soon the robot stops writhing. Its eyes loses its blue colour, fading to transparent black.

The hostages are brought outside by Shafwan, while Damit checks the perimeter. “It seems like all the kidnappers are dead or have fled. The hostages are just behind me.”

One of the hostages rushes forward to hold Ikhlas’ hands. Ikhlas raises his hands to meet it, but the right hand doesn’t budge.

The hostage looks at Ikhlas’ right hand. Shee shakes her head, but then shakes Ikhlas’ left hand vigourously. “All you have risked your lives to save us. I assure you, the High Root will reward your team well.”

“Thank you, madam, but we aren’t necessarily in the clear yet. We should get out of here quickly.”

They allow the hostages to leave from the front door. The police receives them and hands them to the healthcare unit stationed behind the blockade. Ikhlas’ team goes to the back gate. Along the way, they passed through one of the guard’s body. One being of goo is breathing weakly as the body writhes weakly.

“This... isn’t... over... We... will... be... victors...”

“It never is.” Ikhlas shoots the goo with his pistol.

The team gets into the extraction truck. Rizal holds his severed hand, while Damit ogles Shafwan’s large hole in the chest. Shafwan slaps Damit’s hands as he try to touch his dangling wires.

[Switching on auditory output, Auxilia HI.]

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

Aaa... Aaa... Aaa...

Walid could hear a small screeching on the screen. Is that the ginger root shouting too or the echo in the suit?

[Well, any questions?]

Lots. Wh... Well, what the fuck? I’m a robot? Was my memory real? Did I signed a waiver? Why does all this have anything to do with me?

[Your body is a robot. Your mind is from a human brain, taken from your body. You signed a waiver, but it’s because you are losing all use of legs and hands. It had nothing to do with you, you are just my mecha. Your service to us is how you pay back for the surgery. You also get some money on the side, but from bonuses or bounties.]

Bonuses? Bounties? So I am what, an army equipment? Whose army?

[Yeah. You’re a medium grade military equipment. We are the military arm of Court of Mother Zingiber, Grand Commandery of Lady Goddess Halya of Earth. We have branches in other planets. But in recent centuries, battles are mostly forged here.]

[That goo organism you see is one of our enemies. Just call them Oozes of Doom. As if we want to call them by their regal name, hah!]

So, what happens to me?

[You will be repaired of course. I always intended for you to know about this sooner or later. Having a human on our side helps us to blend in. We can mimic human behaviour, but we aren’t always successful.]

This is too much for me to take in now. You’re in charge I guess, Ikhlas. But can I ask one thing?

[What is it?]

I want to be conscious to see the repairs. I need to see for myself what I am.

[Okay.]

Ikhlas takes the body down to The Doctor. Walid sees the ginger root climb out of his abdomen. The Doctor sets up the machinery as they chat. The language isn’t like any on Earth, so Walid stopped bothering to listen.

The Doctor then starts checking Walid’s right hand. He massages the hand to find where to slice, and starts slicing. Soon Wires are pulled out, reattached, and returned into the body. The Doctor continues with repairing the rest of the bullet injuries. Finally, the damaged body tissue are removed and pastes of new body cells are placed on spots.

The operation as a whole is quite soothing. Walid doesn’t feel any pain, and The Doctor’s movements are as smooth as silk. Soon, Walid’s body is as good as new. Walid extends his right palm to Ikhlas and Ikhlas creeps on to the palm of his hand.

“So that’s how I got my muscular body.”

“These days. Even before the surgery, you’re rather muscular.”

Why I didn’t remembered that? But Walid remembers another thing.

“Why I didn’t feel pain during the firefight just now, but I felt pain from my fall yesterday?’

“Pain reception can be switched on and off. Usually when we take over the body from you, we shut off the pain reception so you won’t go mad from it.”

“Can you make it stay off?”

“No, we want to blend in, and includes you having to feel pain in normal life situations. Can I get into your body now?”

Walid shrugged. “Sure.”

The ginger root presses some buttons on a small key that he holds. Walid’s stomach split into two, and door hinges opento both sides. A small podium with a seat extends out. Walid places his palm before the podium and Ikhlas takes his seat. He presses a button, and the podium pulls back in and Walid’s stomach closes shut.

Walid can move his body again. “Hey, Ikhlas, you there?”

Yeah. Enjoy your bodily autonomy for now. We may be called for next mission later.

Walid sighs. Now he has two jobs, one a part-time back breaking work, and the other a part-time body-breaking work. At least this one has good healthcare benefits.

The team is escorted by The Doctor to a door. “Well, this is goodbye for now. I am always honoured to service you. Your pay will be sent to your accounts by this week. And here are the MCs you require should your bosses question you.”

Walid takes a piece of paper from The Doctor. An MC from... Yang Yang and Co. Clinic?

Walid fishes out his handphone from the pocket. Funny how it survived the carnage. Walid hails a Grab and lets the car carry him to his flat.

[sunlightdances]

from the start, i was in too deep

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Rating: M (18+ only, please!) Summary: While you’re apartment-sitting for Sebastian, he comes home early and dream prompts a late night conversation that leads to a confession. Author’s Note: Hi, I’ve been staring at that gif for entirely too long to be normal. There’s a text message conversation inset. Hopefully it isn’t too difficult to read on mobile, but let me know if it is and I can edit it to just type it out instead. The title comes from “Heart of Me” by Green River Ordinance.

You wake suddenly, aware that someone is in the room with you, watching you. For a horrifying moment, you freeze, until he moves, and the moonlight spilling in the room illuminates his face, and you relax, sighing.

“You scared me,” you tell him, voice raspy from lack of use.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Surprise?” 

You prop yourself up on one elbow and he comes closer, sitting on the edge of the couch next to you. “You’re back early.” 

He’s quiet. “Felt like getting back sooner rather than later.”

Are you imagining it because it’s dark, or are his eyes a little more intense? Is he looking at you differently, or are you just tired and seeing what you want to? 

He clears his throat and looks away, the moment gone. “You’re not supposed to be out here, you know.” He says, frowning. “I told you to sleep in my room--”

“I didn’t want to...” You squirm a little, “That’s your space. Felt weird to be there without you.” You blurt it out without thinking, and his eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raising. “That’s not--” you sigh, “That’s not what I meant.”  

He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you--” He stops, swallowing hard, “How did you mean it?” His eyes are wide, imploring. “Have I just been reading too much into everything, or tonight, did you--” 

“I did.” You say quickly, interrupting him. “I do.” Your heart is racing, and as he stares at you, even though you’re practically speaking in incomprehensible sentences, things are suddenly so, so clear.

Earlier that night... You’re scrolling through Instagram when you see it - a video of Sebastian and Allison Janney on the red carpet at a film festival. You make a noise when you see his all-black suit, and the new haircut he got. 

You immediately go to your text messages.

You hit send before you can talk yourself out of it. You and Sebastian are... what are you? You’re not really sure. Friends, definitely. He trusted you enough to house-sit for him while he’s out of town, anyway. 

But what are you supposed to do? Not flirt with him when he looks like that? Fat chance.

Your phone buzzes. 

You snort and start typing.

You laugh to yourself and stand up from the couch, folding the blanket you’ve been under before heading into the kitchen to try to figure out what you could have for a snack before bed.

You feel your phone go off in three quick successions in your pocket.

You do laugh out loud this time, because how did he know? A warm feeling settles in your chest as you think about how well he really does know you.

You don’t say anything back to him, knowing by know he’s already being dragged to some after party where he’ll probably drink too much and leave his phone in his jacket pocket. He told you once that he tries not to have his phone on him when he’s drunk - too worried that he’ll say something stupid.

After another hour or so of watching TV, you decide to turn in for the night. You’ve been sleeping on Sebastian’s couch while he’s out of town, even though before he left he threatened you with bodily harm if you slept on the couch.

You can’t help it - it feels... intimate, in a way that you’re not used to with him. It’s just sleeping in an empty bed, but it’s his empty bed. You feel dumb, but whatever. 

You’re just starting to settle into sleep when you feel your phone go off again. This time, it’s ringing, and you frown as you look at the screen, the light bright in the otherwise dark room.

“Aren’t you busy?” You say as way of greeting.

“Hello to you too.” He says, and there’s a noise in the background like he’s shuffling around, a murmur of conversation, and then the click of a door before it all goes quiet. “Were you asleep?” 

“Not really. Are you four beers in by now?” You tease him, and he makes an affronted noise that makes you smile.

“I’ve had one drink, thank you very much.” There’s more noise on his end, a rustling, and you can picture him loosening his tie and the top button of his shirt. It’s hardly an erotic image, but picturing it still leaves you blushing and a little breathless. “Just wanted to check in. Heard it’s fucking freezing in New York.” 

“This isn’t the Old West,” you laugh, “You have central heating.” 

“Will you let me be worried for two seconds, please?” He asks, exasperated, but there’s a fond undercurrent in his voice. 

“I’m fine, Seb.” You say softly, the just missing you, going unsaid, but the implication is somehow there, the silence between you saying more than you intended it to. You don’t know why you suddenly feel like this is such an important moment. 

“I, uh... I miss you.” He says, and your eyes flutter shut at the tone of his voice. “I know it hasn’t been that long since I left, but still.” 

“Miss you too.” You tell him.

“I’ll be back soon. We’ll hang out for a few days before I have to travel again,” he promises, and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Be safe.” Those three words are this close to coming out, and the air seems thick. 

“You too. Good night.” 

You hang up, and it takes you a full hour to fall back asleep.

Now...

Your heart is racing, and as he stares at you, even though you’re practically speaking in incomprehensible sentences, things are suddenly so, so clear.

He leans a little closer, his hands hovering over your shoulder. When he finally touches you, his skin feels hot, and you shiver, watching as his eyes go darker, his eyes sweeping over your figure. 

“Come to bed.” He says, and his eyes widen a half second later as he rushes to clarify, “To sleep!” 

You chastise yourself for making this weird, and start to sit up, watching him as he stands, waiting for you. You fold up the blanket you’d been using, and start to follow him to the bedroom. You still have butterflies in your stomach, and they really start swirling when he stops, and reaches behind him with his arm outstretched, fingers wiggling invitingly at you. 

You bite your lip, thinking for a half second before you reach for him, lacing your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand twice before he starts walking again, tugging you along behind him as he opens the door to his bedroom. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says, disappearing into the en suite bathroom.

Feeling a chill, you pull back the covers on the bed and slide between the sheets, sighing at how soft and warm they are. You still feel nervous, but less so when he pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth. He says something to you, and you roll your eyes.

“Rinse first, talk later.” You say, and he narrows his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I said, take whichever side you want.” 

“Way ahead of you,” you say cheekily, but he just smiles at you, coming out of the bathroom and going into the closet, where you hear him rummaging around in his drawers for pajamas. He comes back out with flannel pajama bottoms and a worn t-shirt, and you’re momentarily drawn to the way the fabric pulls snugly across his chest.

He walks around the bed and gets in on the other side, sinking into his pillows with a relieved sigh. “Shit, it’s good to be back in my own bed.” He turns to you, “You’re a bonus.” He winks. Actually winks.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” You say, and he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Go to sleep,” He says. 

You want to keep talking to him, want to stay awake, but you’re fighting a losing battle as your eyelids get heavy. The last thing you remember before you fall asleep are his fingers finding yours under the heavy quilt, linking your hands together gently before your eyes finally close.

A few hours later, you’re dreaming. You dream that he’s pulled you close, every hard line of his body matching up with your curves as he presses his front against your back. 

A sigh slips out from your mouth and he’s quick to echo it, his lips attaching themselves to your neck before you can say anything. His hot breath sends a shudder through you, and you rub your legs together to quell the sudden ache there. 

He says your name quietly, a deep rumble that has your eyes fluttering and your head lolling back against his chest. His hips rock forward once, then twice, and your hand grips the arm that’s wrapped around your waist keeping you pulled tight against him. 

You’re just about to roll over and do something about it when you become aware of a noise, and you know you’re dreaming. You frown, not wanting to wake up, not wanting to realize it’s all been a figment of your imagination.

Against your will, your eyes open.

A bleary-eyed glance at the clock reveals it’s not even four in the morning, and you look around for the reason you woke up. Sebastian is on his side next to you, arm outstretched in your direction. His face is smoothed out, and he looks so young like this. 

Your phone is going off on the nightstand next to you, and you squint at it, seeing a bunch of messages from your best friend, who apparently just had the best night of her life and met her future husband. You groan quietly, dropping your head back to the pillow.

 Your movements wake up Sebastian, and he looks at you, rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?” Good lord, his voice. You’re immediately drawn back into your dream and the way he said your name.

You’re glad it’s dark in the room so he can’t see the way you blush. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.” 

“Why’re you up?” He slurs, and you want nothing more than to push closer to him, to absorb his warmth and have his hands on you. You clench your fist to keep from reaching for him. 

“My phone. It’s no big deal.” 

He’s more awake now, and he looks at you, looking like he’s trying to decide if he wants to say something. Then, softly, “I dreamed about you.” 

Your entire body flushes. 

“I dreamed about you and then I woke up and you’re here, and I’m scared to fuck this all up but if I don’t say it now then I never will--”

You’re kissing him before he can finish his sentence. He freezes momentarily before his big hands reach up to frame your face and he guides you back into a second kiss, and then a third, and a fourth. 

You melt into him, the space between the two of you gone in a flash, your legs intertwining and arms wrapped tight around each other. His kiss is deep and ravenous, and you wonder if you won’t burst into flames. 

“Always wanted to do that,” He breathes when you finally break apart for air. 

“I dreamed about you, too.” You say, feeling your face heat up. “I--”

“We had the same sex dream?” He asks, grinning at you, and you smack his chest lightly. 

“Shut up!” 

He laughs, tugging you closer, “No, no. I think you should tell me more about this.” He bites his bottom lip. “You know, compare notes.” 

“I hate you.” 

His eyes are so, so dark. “No you don’t.” His hand slowly creeps between your bodies, knuckles skimming along your stomach until he reaches the drawstring of your pants. Your face is on fire, but you know its nothing compared to what he can feel with his hand. “I dreamed about this.” He whispers, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan. His eyes lock onto yours, silently asking permission, and you nod, his own mouth falling open when his hands dip inside your pajamas, finding you warm and wet for him. 

“Oh, god.” You whisper. 

“You’re so... hot.” As his hand works you, he kisses you again, and you almost lose your damn mind at the white-hot pleasure working its way through your body. It’s been awhile since you’ve been touched like this, and even then, with someone else, it never felt like this. “Fuck.” He says, and when you open your eyes, his are glued to your face, watching you intently. 

Feeling bold, you shove at his shoulder until he rolls to his back, eyes immediately rolling back in his head when he realizes what you’re after. “Shit, shit...” he curses, hand falling over his eyes almost like he can’t look at you at all. You grin and begin to kiss your way down his chest, taking care to caress every inch of him. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

“What a way to go, though.” You say, and he snorts.

“You’re amazing. Jesus, fuck.” 

He falls quiet as you get closer to your destination, and when your hand closes around him, his entire body locks up before melting into the mattress as your mouth touches him, a deep groan coming from his throat. 

You work him for a few minutes before he’s practically begging you to stop, and pulls you back up on top of him, his mouth attacking yours with renewed vigor. When he rolls you over onto your back, he stops, and his brow furrows. 

“I-- I’m clean, was tested not too long ago, but I’ll get a--”

“Don’t go anywhere.” You say, tugging him back in between your legs. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean too. I trust you.” 

His eyes are filled with something that thrills you and scares you in equal measure as he reaches between you and slowly enters you, his mouth falling open again as he feels the stretch of you. He groans, and you echo the noise. You’re both moving pretty slowly, but all it does is amp up the fire between you, and every single slow movement has you seeing stars. 

“You feel so good.” He breathes. 

“You’re perfect,” you tell him, and his head droops until it’s resting on your collarbone, is harsh breaths fanning out across your skin. 

Soon you’re both cresting that peak, and he says your name in this tone that you swear you’ll never get out of your head as long as you live. You think you say his name, or some variation of it, as fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids.

After, he drags you to the shower with him, the hot water feeling amazing on your muscles. He helps you clean up and stand on shaky legs, pressing chaste kisses to your shoulder and the top of your head every so often, taking care to keep your long hair out of the water. 

You practically collapse back in bed afterwards, the clock reading five in the morning. “Let’s sleep for like ten more hours, okay?” You tell him, and he chuckles.

“Sounds good to me, as long as you can keep your dreams to yourself.” 

You roll your eyes. “Idiot.” You say, but you’re laughing as he tugs you closer to his side. 

“It was the suit, right?” 

“Oh, definitely.” 

“Knew it,” he says, and then you’re both asleep.

[westywrites]

Story with Gods - Chp 7

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

This chapter needs some hardcore editing when I eventually rewrite this, but for now, this calm (and for some reason super political, damn it Sophia) little van ride is our pause after the doozy of chapter 6 (which I can’t link yet because I am away and don’t have my laptop.)

Also, if you haven't yet seen my giveaway, go take a look at my blog and the post! I would link it, but as I said, travels have me trapped on mobile

Tagging: @infinitelyblankpage @ratracechronicler (if you wish to added/removed from the tagging list for this WIP just let me know!)

EXCERPT:  "It's a big hill, a foothill for the mountains, covered by a forest. It looks out at a human town. The hill itself is covered in the homes of gods, right now I can see lights on in the houses. Families home together for a calm and peaceful evening." The van started to descend. "It's so beautiful here, Sophia, especially once winter comes and snow covers the trees."

"It sounds wonderful." Sophia had this lovely picture in her mind of the hillside town. The others enjoyed her smile as they pulled into the only building on the hill that was still inhabited, the rest broken and abandoned because of the war.

"I could have sworn I heard something from here," one man said.

"This is about where we saw a light too," another man replied. It hadn't even occurred to Sophia that is was probably dark out and the realization that she would never see the stars again made her shudder.

"What was that?" The first man took a step towards Sophia. "I heard movement from just here somewhere."

"What if this wasn't just the girls and they have a Creep with them?" A woman spoke up. "We'll never find them."

"They can't hide forever, judging by the blood in the halls the girls are suffering a lot of blood loss." The first man took a few steps away. "We'll scour these woods until we hear them." All of the footsteps retreated, split directions and wandered off into the woods. They didn't move for a while, just sat as still and as quiet as they could.

"What did they mean by a Creep?" Sophia had grown tired of the silence. "And why didn't they see us?"

"Creep is a name they call gods like me. We are rebirths of various gods of stealth, thievery, things like that." Heidi shifted her weight on the leaves. "The reason they couldn't find us, despite standing close enough to touch, is because of my powers. I can camouflage myself and those around me so that as long as we don't move or make a sound we can't be found."

"That's really cool." Sophia numbly imagined all the useful applications of a power like that.

"You really think so?" Heidi sounded doubtful. "Most of the more powerful gods think it's basically cheap parlour tricks."

"It's really useful, like you just saved us all." Sophia nodded. "That's super cool." Her words were staccato and Sophia thought she sounded like an idiot.

There was a weird buzzing sound from by Heidi. "Ben's on his way," Heidi said a moment later. "They'll park the van in the closest clearing."

"How far is the closest clearing though?" Sophia could imagine trying to walk through the woods blind.

"Don't you worry about that," Heidi assured. "We always work in at least three, our other partner will be able to carry one of you." Within minutes Sophia could hear two sets of footsteps running through the woods. Her heartbeat rose, she hated not being able to see who was coming.

"We need to move now," Ben hissed. "we think the Soundies heard the van." Heidi cursed under her breath and they started to rustle around the leaves doing something.

"Hi, I'm here to help,” a kind voice said next to Sophia. The man gently picked her up, his arms were even warmer than Ben had been and a whole lot gentler. The man ran with the others, they hadn’t run for very long before they stopped.

"Heidi, we decided you have to drive," Ben said as Sophia heard the sound of a sliding van door.

"I hate driving the van,” Heidi complained.

"The girls need to be healed and you remember what happened last time I tried to drive." There was the sound of other doors opening and closing.

"I'm going to set you on the floor of the van now." The man did as he said before gently climbing in around her. "Let's go,” he told the others. The van started with a slight jerk and started to climb a hill.

"How can a van drive in the forest?" Sophia felt like an idiot for asking.

"This is my vehicle, it's kind of special. Right now we're climbing up to fly above the forest." The man put a hand on her knee. "But don't you worry about any of that, I need you to try your best to tell me what happened so I can help you and your friends."

Sophia curled into a ball in the corner and explained what happened. Every time she said one of their names the man would clarify to make sure he knew who was who. She could hear him moving around the van as she talked. Every so often there would be a flash of warmth from where he was.

"Can you tell me your name now?" The man asked from just in front of her. "I'm going to do a few things around your face, I just want you to tell me a bit about yourself."

"My name is Sophia Grader,” she began, her words felt like they belonged to someone else, someone who had died back in that room with Bob. "I'm seventeen and I was supposed to be going into grade 12." She just kept talking and he would respond sometimes with questions about herself. At first, it hurt when he touched her face but after a bit, it just felt numb.

"I had hoped..." The man muttered.

"You had hoped what?" She prompted him to continue.

"I had hoped that the damage wouldn't be directly to your eyes." He sighed. "I had thought we may be able to restore some or even all of your vision but..."

"The damage is directly to my eyes and I'm screwed to be blind for the rest of my life." Sophia shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Which means forever apparently."

"I was freaked out by the idea of immortality at first too." She heard him lean against the door beside her. "You get used to it."

"Where even are the seats in this van?" She stuck out her foot to see if she'd kick one.

"Smooth topic change." He laughed slightly. "Dani, the Hades rebirth, right? She's on the back seat. The rest of the seats are taken out so it's mostly open space. The other girl is on the ground."

"Her name is Olivia." Sophia curled back into a ball.

"Right sorry. I'm really bad with names." He paused. "Speaking of names I don't think I ever introduced myself. The name's Apollo, god of the sun, knowledge, poetry, music, healing, and all that."

"Wait like the real actual Apollo?" Sophia sat up straight in excitement.

"So far as I know there's no other god with my name." He paused awkwardly. "Oh right, um, I'm sticking out a hand for you to shake if you want."

"It is so amazing to meet you." She waved her hands through the air until she found his and shook it with both of hers. His hand was much smaller than she would’ve expected from a great god.

"We've got a long ride ahead of us, is there anything you'd like to talk about?" It was as if she could hear the warmth of the sun in his voice.

He was right, the ride was long. For Sophia, it seemed to last forever. They talked for most of it, about various things. Heidi and Ben would sometimes chime in from the front seat. The topic changed often, whenever it got to the subject of gods. Mostly they talked about music and listened to music on something similar to a smartphone that Apollo had in his pocket. Sophia laughed when she found that all it could do was play music and Apollo thought it was very advanced technology. The device could play any song that had ever been made, even if it had never been recorded, all it took was for someone present to know of the song. She showed them some of her favourite songs, most of which had simple tunes and meaningful lyrics that she knew Olivia would’ve called “hippy bullshit” or something like that. Prompted by a line in one of the songs the conversation shifted to politics.

"Look, I just think that something similar to elections are needed, and if both sides are saying no, it's probably because they know they wouldn't win." Sophia had been defending democracy against the others.

"But if you hold elections the majority gets to decide who is in charge, what if the person they choose is unqualified?" Ben asked.

"Only people who are qualified are eligible to run." Sophia shrugged. "It's simple."

"But it could result in some low-level god in charge of the higher level gods." Heidi seemed appalled by the idea.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, this system of power or class, or whatever it is you have going on, is stupid." Sophia was very animated about the subject and throughout their discussion, she had almost hit Apollo multiple times. Her hands moved everywhere as she talked. "You guys are just as bad as humans for thinking different means unequal." Sophia's words caught as she finished the sentence, the idea that they were anything but human was still foreign to her, though at this point it was undeniable. "We're going to talk about something else now."

"Why do you keep changing the subject?" Apollo probed. "When it comes to anything about gods, in particular, you being a god, you change the topic completely."

"It doesn't matter." Her voice cracked, giving away her emotions.

"It's ok." He placed a hand on her knee. "Tell me why you're upset."

"It's weird, scary, I don't know. I just don't want to even think about it." She pushed his hand away. He left her alone after that and they fell silent. The rest of the ride - Sophia refused to call it a flight - felt even longer. It was sitting there that she realized that she couldn't go to sleep, she definitely wanted to, but it just wouldn't happen. She started to cry. Silent tears that she couldn't feel through the scars on her face.

"I can see the hill now," Heidi announced. "Sophia, you'd love what it used to be. Lights and parties all the time. All kinds of music and fun."

"Tell me what it looks like now," Sophia said softly.

"It's a big hill, a foothill for the mountains, covered by a forest. It looks out at a human town. The hill itself is covered in the homes of gods, right now I can see lights on in the houses. Families home together for a calm and peaceful evening." The van started to descend. "It's so beautiful here, Sophia, especially once winter comes and snow covers the trees."

"It sounds wonderful." Sophia had this lovely picture in her mind of the hillside town. The others enjoyed her smile as they pulled into the only building on the hill that was still inhabited, the rest broken and abandoned because of the war.

Heidi and Ben carried Olivia and Dani, Apollo led Sophia by hand. She stumbled slightly as she walked on her own but they went slowly. Apollo explained that the building was essentially the hospital and headquarters. Every god who wasn't a resident of the town stayed in that building. At that moment it was only a small gathering of gods, most of Zeus's armies were spread across the Americas for safety. They walked through long hallways, their footsteps echoed against the tile. When they passed anyone they would fall silent and Sophia swore she felt them stare. Apollo carried her up a few flights of stairs and finally, they stopped.

"You all will be staying in these rooms for the time being." He led her into a room on the right. "This is room 107. There's a bed, an end table, and a dresser we will fill with clothes for you. There's also a small washroom in the back right corner should you ever want to wash yourself." He guided her to the bed and placed her hand on a button at the top. "Just press this whenever you need anything."

"Please don't leave me alone," she whispered.

"I have to, I have other things to do." He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You will be alright."

"I'm scared." Her voice could barely be heard and her hands shook and suddenly her head started to hurt. It felt like it was going to burst, like she was going to burst. Apollo yelled her name as she fell to the ground convulsing. 

[bxebxee]

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

Note: Cat!Hybrid Yoongi 💕 😼 You can read the first part HERE and the second part HERE. Thank you for being so patient with me posting all those tiny spoilers ages ago which weren’t really spoilers but just me getting ideas out. POV shifting, clichés, and ridiculous, unrealistic word porn ahoy. I'm guilty of doing that thing where I neglect exposition in favor of smut because I'm tired and this has been SITTING in a drafted state since literally 2016 while it's fkcinf August 2017. Also I typed this 99% on mobile so I'll edit formatting later. 

The specialiest thanks to @joondaily and @94hixtape for reading through everything and giving me amazing feedback. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: smut, hybrid au Warnings: graphic sexual content (fantasizing, masturbation, oral, penetrative - dear lord holy hell), hybrid smut Word Count: 10k (over ten thousand fucking words)  Rating: X, for eXtra graphic (MA/NC-17) 

*

Yoongi doesn’t get to finish his sentence or his thought because you tilt your head up to lick at the thin stream of milk that runs down his neck. Your tongue meets the soft skin covering his adams apple, and you move up towards his chin. You have officially lost your goddamn mind.

*

After sixteen long months of dating, Taehyung ends the relationship in the same room where everything started. You feel like the walls of his small room in the dog compound are closing in on you when he rushes out words that sound too eloquent to be something said out of a fit of emotion.

“You didn’t have to take it that far,” he lists as one of the reasons for breaking up, referencing yet another fight the two of you had in the recent past which you already forgot about. There's too many fights these days, and you can't keep track. “You just say things that go too far, and you think it’s okay. Because you’re a cat. And I can’t be with someone who’s that unkind about every little thing.”

Taehyung is beyond relieved to finally say it. Truthfully, he isn’t one bit sorry about breaking it off because the relationship was falling apart anyway. And maybe it’s because a little bit of your cattiness rubbed off on him during the time you were together, but he doesn’t want you to get the last word. The past three months had been hell with all the fighting, and not even the sex could mend anything. He doesn’t know if he deserved it for starting a relationship solely on the basis of sex.

You're only half-listening, stunned into disbelief.

Taehyung continues his little speech; the words that come out of his mouth fall into neat sentences arranged in perfect paragraphs. He introduces the subject (breaking up), lists the reasons why (there were too many for you to keep count), and concludes by saying he’d like to remain friends (fuck him).

There's emotional pain that causes you to teeter on the edge of your pride because you truly did like Taehyung - a lot.

But mostly it's just downright insulting because the mutt has the nerve to be the one to dump you.

“We were never friends,” you reply, voice trembling in an unholy combination of angry and hurt.

When you feel tears bloom around the corners of your eyes it’s as if the Dam of Sadness breaks through the Angry Kitten exterior you wear so well, and you start to sniffle pathetically. Taehyung looks at you with pity, and you’ve never wanted to cause someone physical injury as bad as you do right now.

“Kitty…” Taehyung's face is pulled into a sympathetic grimace.

You see red when he calls you that familiar term of endearment. You feel the snap coming because it starts like an ulcer in your gut and spreads faster than a fever. And your hand is raised before you know it, coming down hard across Taehyung’s handsome face. It’s unclear whether it’s by design or by chance, but your claws are not retracted when the hits lands.

You leave the dog compound with the browning residue of Taehyung’s blood underneath your claws; and Taehyung sits quietly on his bed after you leave, alone, with only the four small, diagonal scratches on his left cheek to remind him that you and he ever had anything at all.

It's only when you're outside, smelling fresh, non-canine infested air that you want to take everything back. You didn’t want to hit him. The faint scent of blood on your hands and the regret that wrenches at your heart are enough to make you sob as you walk down the street.

“Idiot,” you hiccup with an angry huff, aware of the looks from other people on the street. “Such an idiot.”

You regret hitting him and then up and leaving. You regret not holding on to him. And you certainly regret proving his point right about your tendency towards meanness.

When he told you he wanted to end it you should have fought it instead of accepting it and leaving him with a slap to the face as the very last memory he’d have of you. But it’s too late to go back now because your pride doesn’t allow for that. So you do the next best thing and lean against a dirty light pole covered in weathered bits of paper advertisements, crying until your head feels like bursting. Everything about you screams Pathetic Girl Who Just Got Dumped, but nothing matters right now because all you feel is pain.

Everything Taehyung had said was true, and it only hurt you because he's right.

You arrive at the cat compound an hour later, face a mess of tears and smudged makeup, your feet bleeding because you walked all the way home in heels instead of taking public transportation or an uber like a normal person. Jungkook, your best friend from the litter days, is the first one to see you.

“I wish you wouldn’t cry over that damn dog,” Jungkook sighs after you spill your soul to him, “The mutt’s not worth it.”  

You sniffle and let your tears fall freely. “He may be a mutt, but he’s my mutt,” you wail.  

“Was,” Jungkook corrects. “He was yours, but now he’s not.”  

“You’re being incredibly unhelpful. And insensitive.” You glare at your best friend who just rolls his eyes.

“Sorry,” he tells you, voice surprisingly sincere. “I know it sucks, but you won’t find coddling with me. And you know that already.” This is true. Jungkook had never been the type to offer empty words as a flimsy band aid, so why would he start now?

But you want the empty words. You want him to tell you that it would be okay. You want Jungkook to tell you that everything would get better soon. You want him to lie to you – just a little.

“Wanna know why Taehyung dumped me?” you ask, rhetorically of course.

“Not particularly,” Jungkook answers, getting off the bed and rummaging around in one of his desk drawers.

“Prick,” you scoff, deciding to tell him anyway. “He called me mean.”  

Jungkook pauses from whatever he’s doing to look at you. “What?”  

“He dumped me because he said I was too mean,” you repeat, frowning as you relive the moment.

“What the fuck,” your friend fumes, face contorted in some semblance of annoyed camaraderie, “I mean he was dating a cat.  The hell did he expect? We’re not sheep.”

You love him, but Jungkook doesn't help at all.

*

You take it as a personal insult when Taehyung hooks up with some hamster girl nearly overnight. What did you even expect showing up to a rodent-hosted party after hearing that his frat would be attending?

“We should leave,” Jimin sighs pulling at your arm to distract you from the sight of Taehyung shoving his tongue into that lucky girl's mouth. You remembered all too well what that tongue felt like. Your human friend might not possess all the senses that you do, but he still had eyes. Jimin could see quite clearly that you were obsessing.

“Sure,” you agree easily, smiling sadly at your friend who was doing his best to make the hurt go away. “Let's go.”

“Where the hell is Jungkook-” The words barely leave Jimin's mouth before the two of you spot him with his hands up some girl's skirt.

“Let him be,” you tell Jimin when he takes a few steps towards the pair. You take one last look at Taehyung, hoping he'd make eye-contact. He doesn’t.

And you thought dogs were supposed to be loyal.

*

You feel the exhaustion creep into your body like an unwanted cold when Jimin drops you off at the cat compound. He wants to walk you to the door, but you bolt faster than he can say a word. You needed comfort, and Jimin would understand. You feel a little bit bad at your abrupt departure, but right now what you needed was something Jimin couldn't provide.

It takes about thirty-seven seconds for you to move from the front of the house up to Yoongi's room where you barrel into his chest as he's sleeping.

Yoongi’s first reaction is to hiss when the unwelcome force jolts him awake at such an ungodly hour of dawn.

“What the f-” He stops mid sentence because he smells you and your tears. He senses how distressed you are, and he goes silent. There’s no point in asking what’s wrong because you're hysterial, and Yoongi knows questioning you right now would be pointless. You'd tell him when you’re ready.

“I'm sorry,” you hiccup, burying your face into his chest, “I'm so-hic-orry.”

Yoongi acted like an older-brother-slash-caretaker to most of the younger cats who moved in when they attended this college. Cat hybrids rarely left their family homes, so moving out for college was something difficult and jarring to most. He was a helpful and caring upperclassman, albeit unassuming in the way he cared for others. Yoongi had been here for longer than most of the cat hybrids living in the compound since he was working on his DMA, so he was sympathetic to the struggles of being away from home.

You and Jungkook had taken to him almost immediately after move-in day, and Yoongi would be the last one to admit he held a soft spot for the two of you. (It was pretty obvious though.) Yoongi also had the most comforting purrs you'd ever had the good fortune to experience. Jungkook came nowhere near close to the volume or vibrations generated by the older hybrid, not that the prick even purred for your comfort these days anyway.

So when you sniffle into Yoongi's chest, all he does is hold you and purr despite wanting to pass out and never wake up. (Because comforting you will always come first over sleep.)

“He called me mean, and now he's fucking a mouse,” you sigh into Yoongi’s chest after you've calmed yourself. You cringe because it sounded so juvenile, but calling you “mean” hurt you more than anything else he had ever said to you.

Taehyung had called you worse things in the heat of sex (with your consent, of course) or any of the times you’ve flirted or fought. But this time Taehyung had called you too mean to stay with. You suppose your boyfriend, no, EX-boyfriend had a point because being nice wasn’t your main thing.

Yoongi is silent, but you feel him rub your back soothingly. He doesn't even need to ask who you're referring to because there's exactly one asshole that works you up to the point of tears ever. Yoongi can put two and two together.

You sob drily against his chest when the tears stop coming out, breath drawn in deep with ugly, harsh swallows. You notice Yoongi's chest is wet from all your tears, but he makes no effort to push you off or express disgust.

“He’s an idiot,” Yoongi finally says, knowing full well that while words didn't fix anything, you still wanted to hear something to hold onto. He shifts away briefly so that he can look at your tearstained face. You look ruined in the worst way possible. He wishes he left a permanent mark when he scratched up the unfairly symmetrical-looking mutt the first time he found out the two of you were dating.

Yoongi spends the rest of his precious sleep time comforting you with purrs and fingers threading through your hair, and you absolutely adore him for that.

*

You start to visit Yoongi in his room anytime you feel down because he offered, and you know Yoongi doesn’t offer unless he has every intention of keeping his word. Sometimes all you do is nap on his bed while he works on his music or finishes school work. Sometimes you talk.

(And sometimes you wake up encased in his arms because you slept over in his bed again. He smells good and you can feel the outline of his soft dick press up against your butt. You usually slip out of his bed with a thrumming heart whenever you catch your mind wandering.)

On campus he even lets you hide into his shoulder anytime you see Taehyung coming.

Taehyung, to his credit, isn’t rude to you or particularly harmful when the two of you have to interact directly for class. But he does date that cute hamster underclassman he tongue-fucked at the party, and you feel irrational and bitter about his trend of entering into relationships with girls he's hooked up with at parties. (That was YOUR thing.)

“She's ugly,” Yoongi says one day when he catches you making sad eyes when you catch a glimpse of them making out by a fountain on campus. “The idiot downgraded big time.”

“Appearances aren't everything,” you say unconvincingly. After a few seconds of awkward silence you ask, “Am I prettier?”

Yoongi chuckles, ruffling your hair gently. “Yes, you compliment-fisher, yes, you are prettier. Overwhelmingly so.”

If it were anyone else that touched your hair that way, you'd swipe your claws at them. But any touch from Yoongi feels…nice.

You try your hardest not to smile at the confirmation of your appearance. And then you remember you've given yourself permission to be as mean as you wanted, so you settle for donning a smug smirk.

*

Over time it hurts less and you find ways to occupy yourself. Your grades had never looked this good before.

The one thing you find yourself missing to the point of unhealthy, obsessive daydreaming is the physical intimacy you shared with Taehyung. In the sixteen months you dated the dog hybrid, the only time the two of you went more than three days without sex was when you had an internship to finish in a different city.

And it's not really the orgasm you miss. Orgasms were easy and fleeting. You know what goes where better than any third party participant, and how much pressure is needed, and the exact number of seconds it takes to get you from point A to point O.

But what you do miss is the scent of an aroused boy rubbing his dick against your thigh. Canine origins aside, Taehyung really did smell nice. You miss the way he tasted, and how he used to whine and shiver and beg anytime you ran your tongue over his dick. You miss the pre/during/post-sex cuddling.

And it's not like masturbation was some easy fix because fucking yourself into satisfaction proves to be difficult when your brain makes you feel mildly sad at thoughts of Taehyung instead of aroused. Missing sex but physically unable to get turned on confuses and frustrates you. A terrible, nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you about the fact that the most recent time you've felt the stirrings of arousal was when you woke up to Yoongi's erection poking into your back instead of his usual soft dick. And, of course, you fixate.

“I'm out of my mind,” you mutter to yourself in the dark of your room, hand creeping underneath your panties. This isn't new. There may have been a time or two when you've rubbed one out to thoughts of Yoongi, but that was in the very distant past. You hadn't had these thoughts for years.

Your fingers slide past your clit to touch your entrance. Wet. You're already wet from your brain supplying you with endless, graphic fantasies of Yoongi fucking you awake with his morning wood. It's beyond ridiculous, and Yoongi would never, but when you close your eyes, you can practically feel him sliding the fabric of your underwear aside to nudge himself inside you.

One finger goes in with a squelch, and you feel more relieved than anything. You swirl your finger inside, purring softly when you catch a nice rhythm of in and out and in and out and-

“Ngh-” You catch yourself from getting too loud when you grind the heel of your palm against your clit.

Oh Fuck.

You want to drag this out because you haven't had a decent orgasm in months, and this finally, finally feels like a situation where you can edge yourself and really play. But the clock also tells you it's way too late to fuck around.

The finger comes out, and it only takes you fifteen seconds to rub your clit in practiced circles before you're cumming silently, body singing from mild satisfaction. You'd give yourself a B minus on that one.

Yoongi is the first person you see in the morning, and he asks if you've slept well - alone.

“I did,” you admit with a small smile. You are not at all mortified to come face to face with the object of your masturbatory fantasies from last night; you only feel…oddly grateful. Yoongi's nostrils flare slightly when he finally catches the unmistakable scent of pheromones mixed with sex fluids hovering around you even though it's fast fading. Masturbation is normal, and logically he knows you probably indulged yourself every now and then with some healthy self-love.

You smile sheepishly at the look of understanding that passes between the two of you. You know Yoongi could probably smell a little of what you were up to last night since you didn't shower this morning. But that small fact doesn’t bother you too much. At least he’d know you went to bed relaxed

“I'm glad,” he finally tells you, reaching over to ruffle your hair while you wait for the coffee to finish brewing. “Not that I mind you sleeping over, but I want you to be happy and steady on your own.”

“I know,” you reply, resisting the impulse to grab his hand when he pulls away.

*

One evening as you sit next to a bowl of half-eaten ice cream in the communal kitchen, the longing for something more than fleeting pleasure from your fingers gets bad enough to the point where you’re tempted to set aside your famous pride and call Taehyung because all you want is a Body To Fuck. Judging from how the hamster girl he was fucking seemed to be avoiding him, you assume he's single again.

But seeing Yoongi walk in for a glass of milk makes you pause from reaching your hand towards the treacherous phone and texting a contact marked as “DO NOT CALL UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES” with something you'd regret for the rest of your life. Yoongi is sweaty, you notice. His hair sticks up in five different directions while other sections lay matte against his scalp from the sweat. His shirt is near-drenched, and you wonder what on earth he did to look like that.

He looks so handsome and vascular with his veiny hands gripping the milk carton. All thoughts and desires to call Taehyung fly out the window because you've already decided that you'll probably just touch yourself again tonight.

“Remind me never to work out with Jungkook again. Ever,” he groans.

You raise your brows at the news. Your friend was known to go overboard with the health thing. He even gave up fish for a good two months because he read some article about unhealthy mercury levels (or something).

“Why would you do that to yourself?” you chuckle, spooning another healthy scoop of ice cream into your mouth. You track a bead of sweat that trails down his neck, and you nearly give yourself brain freeze from swallowing too fast. You’ve never gagged on swallowing anything befo

“Oh, you know… Vanity,” he smirks with a sardonic lilt to his words. “Some people aren't born with naturally toned bodies, and I have to keep up appearances.”

“I don't know, you look pretty good to me,” you speak carelessly before you have a chance to really process what it is you're saying. “You certainly felt good.”

And Yoongi knows you're talking about you using him as a pillow for whenever you're sad, but it still makes his mind move towards a dangerous direction. He lets it go after a beat.

Yoongi abandons his search for the bag of disposable cups after a minute and looks at the ice cream bowl in front of you pointedly.

You move it towards you as a silent warning. Just try it.

“You’re gonna get ulcers from eating all that sweet shit,” Yoongi lectures half-heartedly when you refuse to share, and instead sips his milk directly from the carton. He miscalculates how much is left in the carton because it tips back too much, and he ends up with a face full of milk.

Yoongi splutters and swallows the milk, pouting cutely as he looks for something to clean up the mess. You would help him except you’re a little preoccupied with ogling at the way the milk dribbles down his throat, mingling with the slight sheen of sweat that remains after he wiped down most of it.

Your heart feels like it's dropped to the ground because suddenly you can't really see or hear anything besides Yoongi's soft cursing and drenched state. You get up slowly and walk over to Yoongi before he grabs the paper towels.

“That’ll teach me not to eat too late,” he sighs, “Hey hand me some napkins, would you?”

You ignore the older hybrid and grab his wrist.

“What-”

Yoongi doesn’t get to finish his sentence or his thought because you tilt your head up to lick at the thin stream of milk that runs down his neck. Your tongue meets the soft skin covering his adams apple, and you move up towards his chin. You have officially lost your goddamn mind.

Yoongi freezes at the sensation, mouth falling slightly open as he realizes what you’re doing. The carton crumples in his hand. When you pull away, you meet his eyes nervously, heart a hammering mess.

“You better not have done that because you were hungry,” Yoongi warns with a hoarse voice, feeling stupid and out of sorts because what the fuck... He feels the uncomfortable sensation of milk on skin melt away rapidly, only to be replaced by desire.

Yoongi isn’t mad, you notice with a relief. He’s not mad that you temporarily lost your mind and licked at his neck. And dare you even hope…he looked like he actually… Liked it. And just because you are an impulsive, reckless mess of a cat, you decide to tongue his neck again, this time licking a streak of nearly-dry milk, making Yoongi’s skin unnaturally shiny and sticky.

“You taste good,” you murmur, heart hammering at the thrill of what you've just done, what you are currently doing.

The voice that first pushed you into masturbating to Yoongi a few nights ago is practically cheering at this new turn of events. Yes girl, it shouts, pursue your dreams.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, more to yourself than at him.

Yoongi looks down at you with hooded eyes. So much for guarding his mind from The Deep End of Lust. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower to wash this shit off me,” he tells you, “And when I get out, I want to see you in my room.”

“Okay,” you reply, your heart beating so fast you're convinced he could find your pulse without even getting too close.

Yoongi leaves the kitchen without cleaning up the milk on the floor. The empty carton lies crumpled on the counter next to your ice cream which is now slowly melting. You stand still for a good couple of minutes processing what had just happened.

You had licked Yoongi’s neck. And it wasn’t any ordinary, playful, or innocent lick either. But he still let you do it (twice). And then he ordered you into his bedroom. Your mouth goes dry at the possibilities that rush through your brain. Even though you know the caretaker is going to yell at you tomorrow, you leave everything behind and rush up to Yoongi’s room.

As you sit on Yoongi’s bed waiting for him to come back from the communal showers on his floor, you realize that you’ve been in Yoongi’s room nearly every day since the Break Up. Whether it was for ten minutes or a whole afternoon or overnight, you’ve pretty much invaded his space for the past two months. Try as you might, you don’t feel bad about how accustomed you’ve become to being around him. You note with a tiny, selfish leap in your heart that his room even smells like you live there. You could have theoretically navigated the room eyes closed without bumping into anything, but it was more fun to leave understated remnants of your scent on his personal effects. Call it marking your territory.

You like being around the older cat hybrid, and you’re pretty certain he likes being around you too. Min Yoongi was a lot of things (blunt, sarcastic, curt), but he never pretended to like something or someone when his heart wasn’t in it. Why else would he tell you to be in his room after he got out of the shower?

The bedroom door opens, and Yoongi steps in toweling his wet hair, his shirt sticking to his body with dark spots from the water that hadn’t quite dried off. He looks like he threw on his clothes to come back as soon as possible.

“Hi,” you greet him, a wave of shyness hitting you out of nowhere. He looks soft and ridiculously handsome even with his hair sticking up in all different directions. Yoongi smiles at you fondly, and it makes your heart leap to know that he smiles this particular smile just for you. (Because yes, you have been making it a recent habit keep track of Yoongi’s smiles, and yes, when he smiles at you it’s different.)

*

It’s something straight out of one of Yoongi’s wet dreams to see you waiting for him in his bed wearing his t-shirt and a pair of obnoxiously skimpy shorts. He recognizes the shirt immediately as the one you stole from him during one of the many nights you've commandeered his bed. It's from the very first concert he ever went to, but he decides he's not at all upset with your theft.

Your shy little “hi” has him grinning because a particularly good dream from three nights ago, which he had unfortunately tried to repress per concerns that you wouldn't appreciate it, started just like this.

(In his dream you had shyly asked him if you could suck his dick, and Yoongi woke up with a painful hard on to the fading memory of jerking off on your face in his dream. Thankfully, you were gone when he woke up, but he also smelled residual traces of your pheromones in the space where you slept. He had wondered if he was just projecting.)

“You came,” Yoongi says instead.

“You told me to.” You stretch on the bed and yawn, shooting him an inviting smile. “Did you enjoy the shower?” The loaded question is asked with an impudent wink.

“I didn’t jerk off if that’s what you’re getting at,” Yoongi snorts, tossing the wet towel in your direction. He likes how you giggle and relax. If he could make you laugh at his expense, then it was pride well spent.

But the two of you still had unfinished business from downstairs…

“I didn’t jerk off because I want to cum inside you,” Yoongi states factually as if he were stating the weather. It's bold, but after you licked him so sexually downstairs smelling like you wanted him, he had decided to let go of any hesitation he had held onto while shampooing his hair furiously in the shower and consciously ignoring his dick.

The smile on your face freezes, replaced by a joyful curiosity “Yoongi…”

"Or on you,” he continues. “I’m not that picky.”

It is so like Yoongi to skip through all the bullshit. You feel the stirrings of excitement bloom in your stomach as you watch him sit on the bed and pat the space next to him. You sit up with a smile and sidle next to him eagerly.

“So?” he asks, “Which one do you want?”

You shouldn’t find it so sweet that he’s letting you choose where he’s going to cum, but your heart can’t help but to beat faster at his words.

“As much as I would like it inside,” you sigh, hesitating for a just a second, “I think I might be fertile right now. Best not to chance it.” Yoongi looks the furthest thing from disappointed, but you can’t help but to curse your cycle. “Next time maybe?”

“Next time,” he hums, chuckling at your blush. “Next time when?” Yoongi whispers this directly into your ear making you flinch from the unexpected air gracing the side of your face and neck. It’s a heavenly mixture of a tickling sensation and arousal.

Was it a week? Two weeks? When did your fertile period end again? It’s a little hard to think with Yoongi so close in such a different way.

You are a vision in front of Yoongi. He sees the way you squeeze your thighs together, and he wants nothing more to slide his hand right between them and finger you until you shake. He bets you’d look really adorable cumming.

There are times these days when he feels odd and old because you were so young when you came to the cat compound for school. You and Jungkook had been the babies at the time, and everyone practically spoiled you (Yoongi included).

And Yoongi could honestly say that he never had a single sexual thought about you until about six months ago.

(You had come home late after your date with Taehyung, and Yoongi had been on his way to the nearby convenience store to buy some late night snacks. When you passed him by the door after a perfunctory hello, he caught the unmistakable scent of semen mixed in with soap and perfumes.

It had really hit him then that you had grown up - graduating from sneaking in delivered chicken past quiet hours to fucking guys on dates and washing up before coming home to cover it all up.

“You-” Yoongi had caught himself before he said anything that could piss you off.

“Me?” you had asked cheekily. You had even reapplied your makeup, he noticed.

Yoongi had not known what to say that night, so he had brushed past you without a word, intent on forgetting about the whole thing.)

Although Yoongi finds some of the changes in his life to be tiresome, he had learned to accept that his growing feelings for you weren't going away anytime soon. He would have to just learn to repress or get over you. But then that stupid dog did the unthinkable and had the audacity to dump you.

His fucking loss.

“You smell good,” you breathe out as Yoongi nuzzles your neck wearing a wide grin on his face.

He’s not doing anything really; there’s barely any contact. And yet you find yourself short of breath from anticipation. You can feel the heat pool between your legs. Licking his neck in the kitchen feels so long ago and so foreign because you had caught Yoongi off-guard. He had been frozen under your tongue, and you had stupidly thought that was how it would be when you met in him his room.

And you are wrong - so wrong.

He lets out a half-hearted chuckle that was more exhaled air than actual laughter. “Yeah, that’s what showers do.”

He overwhelms you just by sitting next to you, hair still damp from the shower. The warm puffs of air gracing your neck do more than tickle; they send small shivers down your spine as you fight to keep yourself from throwing yourself on top of him.

You fidget unconsciously as you grow wetter while your mind rummages through all the dirty fantasies you’ve had of the older cat hybrid growing up. You wonder what Yoongi would do with the knowledge that the first time you ever touched yourself in your entire life was a month after meeting him in the cat compound during freshman year.

“Why are you so wound up?” Yoongi mutters, pulling away to look at you.

“I’m just…..” You gape at how good he looks, cheeks tinted with just a hint of pink from the shower and arousal. You look down and see him hard against his sweats if the tent in his pants meant anything.

It’s not like you haven’t felt Yoongi’s dick before. You've always liked curling up on his lap, and hugging him, and being platonically, physically affectionate - not to mention most recently the nights sleeping on top of him and spooning. All of these things have led to accidental dick touches, and it wasn’t like you were trying to grope him.

But you suddenly feel the smallest bit shy when you see him in this state because he's fully awake now. He's not nursing a boner while sleeping. This one is consciously for you. This is not a fantasy. You squeeze your thighs together because you just need something to tide you over; because you’re dying to feel him slide inside you and thrust until he’s satisfied.

“See something you like?” Yoongi reaches over to stroke your cheek, running his thumb over the soft line of your jaw.

“Yoongi,” you swallow, throat feeling thick and tight. You reach up to remove his hand from your face and place it over your breast. You squeeze over his hand, but Yoongi remains still.

To put it bluntly, you only put Yoongi’s hand over your breast because you're a giant horny mess, and you're also feeling a little overwhelmed that this is happening at all. It’s kind of hard to think around him. With Taehyung it was so easy to be blunt because that was the nature of your relationship. You gave just as good as you got. But with Yoongi everything feels different and awkward.

“I…” you trail off, unsure of what you're going to say because he chooses that moment to squeeze gently. “Oh,” you sigh, eyes closing.

Yoongi is beyond pleased because you’re so honest in your reactions. There is no artifice in the way you let yourself cautiously enjoy what's happening. He knows you’re not playing coy because you want to put on a facade of innocent seduction, but because you genuinely don’t know what to do.

You licked him in the kitchen because you wanted to, you came up to his room because you wanted to, and now you’re feeling out of sorts as you’re actually about to fuck him. He gets it.

Because Yoongi feels pretty much the same.

Yoongi continues to squeeze gently and rubs his thumb over your nipple slowly, feeling the smooth, rounded tip through the fabric of the t-shirt. You practically push your breast into his hand and let your hand fall to your side to grip his sheets.

“No bra,” he remarks quietly with a satisfied smile. You crack open an eye to look at him shyly, hoping he'll do a little more without you telling him. Yoongi's not having that though. “You good?” he asks. “We can stop-”

“Don't,” you quip, cutting him off and shaking your head vigorously. “Don't stop. Please…” You bite your lip and gather your courage. “You said you wanted to cum on me… I want it too.”

Yoongi lets out an unsteady exhale and pulls you directly on his lap facing away from him. He cups both of your breasts, and you want to fly away in happiness. The touch is firm and confident, and Yoongi's finally dropped any pretense of assuming you'd break.

“Just so you know,” he mutters, toying with your earlobe with his teeth, “My first priority is you. I'm gonna make you feel good, okay?”

You whimper, fidgeting on his lap. Yoongi plays with your nipples through your shirt, and the sensation of the fabric dulling the pinches and pulls makes you lean against him desperately.

“Okay,” you finally say, completely late to the game while distracted by his soft teasing. The palms of his hands are only just barely supporting the weight of your breasts, and he's not even touching you skin-on-skin. “You can do more…”

You wanna die because this isn't how your fantasies go. Fantasy!Yoongi usually just gets right to it. Not that you remotely minded what's happening right here and now, but…

“I know,” Yoongi huffs, amused by your impatience and your cute way of demanding more without all the explicit details he wanted to hear. “But I don't want to just yet.”

“Why not?” you pout, turning your head to look at him.

Yoongi's eyes fall on your lips, nostrils flaring just the smallest bit from the proximity. “Gotta ease you in,” he trails off, throat going dry from the desire to kiss you.

You lean closer to his face, actively offering up yourself for everything he wanted to do. “I'm not some inexperienced virgin,” you remind him. Kiss me, damn it, your mind shrieks.

He pinches your nipples. Hard.

You gasp, mouth falling open in shock and body tensing up from unexpected pleasure. So much for easing you in anywhere because he takes that moment to take your lower lip between his own, and sucks. And it takes literally no time at all for you to forget the shock and kiss him back.

Yoongi knows how it started with you and Taehyung – how you entered into a relationship with the dog hybrid because of the events surrounding your late heat. And Yoongi’s fucked others during heat before, and he knows what it’s like. The overwhelming need to get off (repeatedly) is simultaneously wonderful and terrible. Quite honestly, he doubts the dog hybrid would have been that patient with you (but it’s just a guess).

There is no way he's fucking this up with you by rushing anything, no matter how much you begged for it. He detaches himself from your lips to press soothing kisses down the side of your face and neck.

“Be good,” Yoongi mutters, slipping his hands underneath your shirt to feel you properly. Your ass is pressed to his crotch, so he feels the way your fidgeting changes with the way he plays with your tits at will.

You sigh, the desire between your thighs mounting. “Yoongi, this is…”

He kisses the side of your forehead and offers, “Good?” to which you respond with a deliciously enthusiastic “yes” that has him grinning.

“It's good, but-”

“No buts.”

On your part it’s the most pleasant torture you’d ever felt. It's only torture because you’re dying for him to touch you elsewhere. But objectively speaking, the whole thing is perfect because this slow build up is something you had never gotten to experience with Taehyung.

With your ex it was always instant gratification (even if you fucked for hours). Taehyung may have teased briefly you in the past, but it wasn’t like this. No, what Yoongi is doing riles you up so slowly that you're barely aware of how much it's keying you up until he does something different - like now, when he wrenches a True Moan from your throat after dragging his thumb nail across the tip of your nipple.

And other than the sudden moan, it’s pretty quiet save for the sounds of soft, mingled breathing from the two of you.

You can feel how hot and slippery you've gotten between your legs, and he's done nothing but prod and play with your breasts. You grind your ass into his lap, the desire almost painful now because Yoongi is right there, all hard for you. If you took off your sleeping shorts and panties right now, and pulled down his sweatpants, you could sit on his dick and feel him stretch you out.

“Can you… do something else?” you beg softly. You're beyond wound up at this point, wet and desperate to feel something (anything) penetrate you.

And that’s when he knows you’re ready. Yoongi tilts your head towards him and kisses you without any reservations. While you looked adorable and all too fuckable squirming on his lap, he too wants relief from your incessant rubbing.

You are so worked up and past the point of embarrassment that you reciprocate his kiss too easily, moaning when he slips his tongue inside your mouth for a short three seconds just to tease. He gives your nipples another hard pinch that has you panting.

“I bet I could get you to cum just like this,” he pants against your neck, nipping your neck gently while rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “You’d probably hate me, but I bet you could do it.”

“No I fucking couldn't,” you gasp, panicking because what if Yoongi, for some random reason you couldn't comprehend, decided to stop here? You'd die.

You beg him with a piteous whine, exposing your neck to him enticingly and gripping his wrists to stop him from teasing you any further. Yoongi sucks on your neck, yanking his hands free to continue touching you.

“Please, Yoongi,” you whisper, feeling the stickiness seep through your panties and onto the thin fabric of your shorts. When you grind on him, you can feel your panties wedge up further against you, and soon all you need to do is clench repeatedly to feel soft pressure on your clit. It’s nowhere near enough, but you’re desperate.

Yoongi loves seeing you horny and begging for him. God, it’s such a turn-on to see you like this. So far he’s denied himself the pleasure of seeing your body, but judging from the way you smell and feel, he knows you’re going to look beautiful. And suddenly he’s hit with the astoundingly clear visual fantasy of you naked on his bed, spreading your legs to show him your wet pussy and begging for his dick.

And oh, he’d give it to you.

“Okay,” he finally relents, “Lay on the bed.”

You could cry in happiness. You listen to his words promptly. He removes your shorts and underwear in one smooth pull, and without him prompting you to do so, you fling your t-shirt off too.

“Jeez…” Yoongi licks his lips at how eager you look. “Spread your legs,” he orders in a choked voice.

At this exact moment in time, you would probably do whatever he told you to do if it meant getting fucked. You obey Yoongi, spreading your legs slowly so that you're completely open and exposed to his gaze. And all he does is look at you, and it's enough to make you cream from excitement.

You see the way Yoongi’s gaze fixates on the spot between your legs, and you, being the overachiever that you are, hike your legs up higher and use your hands to spread yourself apart to show him your shiny, wet center.

“Please,” you swallow, “I want you, Yoongi.” As if it weren't the most obvious thing in the world.

“You really-” he cuts himself off with a shake of his head and a short laugh. He adores how obedient you're being. “Fuck this.”

He moves quickly, shedding his shirt before crawling over the bed to where you lay naked and wet and waiting for him. Without so much as a “heads up” to let you know he's about to give you head, Yoongi bends down and gives your clit a gentle kiss.

Yoongi practically eats up the gasp you let out and takes in your smell with a soft smile. You’re so wet, and it’s all because of him.

“Relax for me,” he tells you, gently pushing away your fingers that haven't moved from their position in exposing yourself to him. You let your hands and legs fall to the side as Yoongi coats his lips with your arousal, nearly purring at how soaked you are.

Yoongi runs his tongue over your entrance, and you very nearly cum just from that sensation alone. You inhale sharply when you feel the rough ridges of tongue for the first time. It shouldn’t be a surprise because you know how much Taehyung loved your tongue. And yet to feel it first hand is something entirely different.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, “Oh fuuuuuck…”

Yoongi rewards your obscenities with another good lick. He places another small, soft kiss on your clit before laving your opening using the flat of his tongue. This wrenches a piteous whine from your throat, and he nearly shushes you. The walls are somewhat soundproofed since it is a hybrid house, but it’s not the best quality. Sounds of loud sex are easily noticed.

It's not polite, but he's feeling selfish enough to want everyone to know you're going to cum because of him. Yoongi drags the tip of his tongue over your entrance, teasingly poking it in and drawing small circles on your skin. It’s maddening and wonderful.

You reign in as much as you can, but your unintelligible groans still escape your throat in stubborn intervals. And you notice Yoongi has a tendency to tongue you down harder with every sound that claws its way out of you. Positive reinforcement, you notice.

When you clench, he sees it, and Yoongi wants nothing more than to be inside you to feel that beautiful motion firsthand. He wants you clenching down on his length while you're out of breath from riding him. But Yoongi is not ready to do that just yet; not when he still wants to make you lose it on his tongue first.

When Yoongi finally goes in, licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside your damp heat, you can’t help but to pant and buck your hips into his mouth. And he lets you do whatever the fuck you want because he's completely gone, drunk on the taste and smell and sounds of you. You are tangy and bitter, but he adores it – adores how you taste just like how sex should taste. And he feels like he’s going to blow his load when he feels just how tight you are around his tongue and how plump your aroused pussy feels against his lips.

“I-I-I, oh god-” You are an incoherent, stuttering mess. A fool.

You can’t look at him. It takes everything in you not to scream because waking up the entire compound through the sounds of you screaming Yoongi’s name is Not on your college bucket list. You fix your eyes on the ceiling as you grasp at his bed covers. Yoongi’s grip on your shaking thighs isn’t hard at all, but he holds you open with a firm enough hand.

He sees you trying your absolute best to keep it together which makes him want to ruin you more. Yoongi is a contrarian by nature, so naturally that provides him with enough impetus to flatten the roughest part of his tongue against your clit and press down hard.

Your sharp inhale is not enough, not nearly enough, and he rubs his tongue in a rapid pace, centralizing all the pressure on that one, magical spot. You want to scream and cry because this is beyond anything you'd ever dreamed of, but you need to be mindful of your volume.

So you do the next best thing and pant – loudly. Your chest heaves as you suck in air, and Yoongi is captivated by how erotic you look. You are dying to call out his name, to scream it. You want to shout at how good he's fucking you up.

Come on, Yoongi thinks, curious to see if he'd really make you scream from this.

The panting makes you dizzy, and coupled with the expert cunnilingus and overload of oxygen, you somehow manage to cum silently, legs twitching and back arching off the bed. You grip his pillow with both hands, scrunching and twisting the fabric.

Yoongi takes the opportunity to slip his tongue back inside you, groaning at how you spasm around his tongue. He knows you’d feel perfect around his dick. Too bad he can’t cum inside you tonight, but he’ll take what he can get.

You did say you'd take his cum somewhere on your body.

A tear leaks out from the corner of your eye because it had taken everything in you not to be a shrieking mess. Your neck feels tense and tired from the strain of your orgasm, and you finally let yourself let out quiet, staggered moans that filter through your breathing. It's music to Yoongi’s ears.

When he pulls away to see you looking wrecked, he feels a warm combination of affection, pride, and horniness.

“You look beautiful.” And Yoongi means it. It’s a sight he wants to see all the time. He lays down next to your recovering body, swiping his wrist at his mouth to wipe off the residue of your pleasure.

“You too,” you smile, turning your head to look at him warmly. Without any consideration as to where his mouth just was, you turn your body towards him fully to give him a quick kiss on his lips. They're still mildly damp from him eating you out a minute ago, but you note that Yoongi is a relatively neat eater compared to Taehyung. The unconscious, offhand comparison your mind supplies you with gives you pause precisely because of the lack of nausea and heartache that usually accompanied thoughts of your ex. You guess that’s progress. Or maybe it was the orgasm Yoongi just gave you.

Yoongi pulls you into his chest, and you gratefully cuddle up to his form. You nearly swoon. This is it. This is what you missed so much, the feeling of physical closeness with someone who you were completely into.

“Thank you,” you tell him, “That was… really good.” A weak description, but true nonetheless.

“It’s hardly something to thank me over,” Yoongi scoffs, snaking an arm around your waist to have you even closer to him. “I probably enjoyed it more than you did.” Evidence of Yoongi’s enjoyment is in plain sight beneath the fabric of a pair of well-worn sweatpants. You swallow with desire.

Because honestly, now that you have had a taste of Yoongi - though the more accurate statement would be that he had a taste of you (semantics) - you want more. That was warm up for you because you haven’t had sex in what feels like ages, and you’re just getting started.

“Impossible,” you contradict, pulling him in for another kiss that turns heated all too soon. Yoongi tastes and smells like you; the feeling of the tip of his tongue coaxing yours out to play and knowing that the same tongue was buried inside you only moments ago is enough to rile you up again. This time you want more than his tongue. You place your hand on top of his covered erection, rubbing softly and feeling the way his warmth radiated past the fabric. No more waiting.

Your wanting consumes you with too many desires competing for prominence. You'd give everything you owned to have him inside of any part of you right now, thrusting away until he spilled his seed wherever he wanted. You want him in your mouth, in your hands, in your ass - anything.

“You're so hard,” you whisper, voice dropping an octave as you continue to fondle him through his sweats.

Yoongi grabs your wrist when you get bold enough to reach inside his pants. He kisses your fingertips – one at a time. It’s a gesture that makes your heart thump, and before you know it, your face feels hot from arousal that won’t quit. You want him so, so bad it hurts.

“You have condoms, right?” you ask, and the plural doesn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi.

He kisses you for a hot two seconds before bolting off the bed and rummaging through his desk drawer. He comes back with four. “The rest is somewhere,” he explains, “I'll find them later-” And he resumes his kiss, covering your body with his and enveloping you with warmth. Yoongi is softer and smaller compared to Taehyung’s frame, but you know for a fact you'd willingly submit to him in a heartbeat. During your time with Taehyung, you had thought you tried everything under the sun. The dog hybrid was adventurous by nature. But you never considered that the Who was just as important as the What.

Yoongi's weight feels like it belongs there on top of your body. If he were a little less clothed down south it would truly be perfect. And you tell him this in no uncertain terms.

He feels fan-fucking-tasic when you complain about his dressed state. “You are adorable,” he laughs, loving your pout at his descriptor of choice to define you.

“I'm also horny.” There's not a trace of embarrassment left in your system from earlier after Yoongi licked you to completion. Yes, you are still feeling very much overwhelmed, but the caution has melted away in favor of reckless desire that screams now, now, now.

“Greedy,” he teases, not meaning it at all because if anything, he's the greedy one, wanting nothing more than to see you writhing on his bed in ecstasy again and again. “But okay.”

He strips, pushing down his sweats and giving you a second to ogle the sight of his straining length outlined along the fabric of his boxers with some cute design with bears on them. Yoongi grasps himself through the fabric because you look hot, for lack of a more concise term. You are naked as the day you were born and waiting for him to come fuck you - a literal dream come true.

“You're going to have to put the condom on yourself,” you tell him, “My hands are too shaky.”

Off come his boxers, and you take in everything without looking away. His dick looks suspiciously nice, skin smooth and dark purple, a sharp contrast against his paler stomach and thighs. He grips himself, sliding his fist over the tip of his penis teasingly because he sees you following his every movement.

“I wanna do that,” you sigh, unconscious of how you're rubbing your thighs together.

“Do what?” Yoongi smirks, ripping open the condom package with deft fingers.

“Play with your dick,” you admit as you nearly salivate at how he stretches through the latex of the condom. You look up to meet his eyes. “I really want to jerk you off.”

That admission sends a thrill of arousal down Yoongi's spine. “I'll let you jerk it anytime you want,” he chuckles, moving towards you slowly and settling his naked weight over your body. Finally.

“Not right now though,” you amend, adjusting your body so that he settles in comfortably. “Fuck me first?”

Yoongi doesn't answer, choosing instead to lower his mouth over your neck and suck his way down to your pulse, worrying a hickey onto your skin. His condom-covered length is pressed right up against your wetness, and you take the moment to roll your hips upward to really feel him press into you.

“Just like that,” Yoongi encourages as you rub against him enticingly, “I'll fuck you soon, okay baby?”

“Okay…” You close your eyes and wrap your arms around the older hybrid and continue your motions, letting out soft, barely-audible pants that drive him crazy. You can feel the moisture of your arousal and his saliva seep out of you, mingling in with the barely-there lubrication from the condom.

Yoongi knows this is dangerous territory because if he's not careful he could probably cum just like this, pressed up tightly against your opening. But he also loves the way you feel under him, squirming and so damn cock-hungry. You move desperately, trying to catch as much of his dick with every buck, and it's both heaven and hell for Yoongi feeling the slippery rub between your pussy lips.

He stills your motions with a hand pushing down your hips and a nip to your chin. And if your pleading eyes weren't enough, you actually purr for him. Yoongi swallows and reaches down to line up his length with your entrance and slowly sinks inside of you.

You don't even blink when Yoongi enters you for the first time. Your eyes are locked on his, mouth falling open with pleasure at how fucking right this feels. And Yoongi is in complete agreement with that sentiment even though you don’t voice a single word. He can read it in your expression. His stomach tightens because he's about five seconds from losing it from all of the self-inflicted teasing and foreplay, and from the scent of your pheromones clouding his senses and egging him on to discard the condom and just impregnate you.

The baser need to procreate wrenches a growl from his throat, a muddied sound that is a cross between a groan and a hiss.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, still motionless but dying for him to fuck you properly.

And he doesn't need anymore encouragement, slamming his lips over yours and thrusting to his heart’s content. It's an abrupt departure from the way he entered you so slowly, but you squeal into his mouth from satisfaction. His hands leave your hips and tangle up with your own over your head.

The two of you are silent save for the smacking of your lips and scattered pants. There is no room for words when your minds are too occupied with chasing your mutual pleasure. Yoongi rolls his hips downwards as you arch your back, and he presses in so deep on that thrust you feel like he could stay there forever. Your toes curl from the thought.

Yoongi plays a game in his mind, counting the number of seconds it takes for you to release a choked sound from your throat and resetting the counter when you do make noise. It's for his own sanity because he's too close to the end, and it's barely started.

You grip harder on his hands when he resorts to grinding down on your clit to calm himself down. You practically see stars from his action. With a desperate squeal, you disengage your lips from his and throw your head back on the pillow to mewl. Loudly.

He should remind you to be quiet, to be mindful of others who are trying to sleep. But there is a part of him that wants you to be loud enough to wake the entire house and maybe the neighbors as well. She's being loud because of me, Yoongi wants to brag, Not that dumbass dog.

“Yoongi,” you let out another high-pitched mewl, baring your throat for his gaze.

“You want to know something,” Yoongi grunts mouth running over your pretty neck as he pushes in and out of you rapidly.

“Wh-w-what?” you manage to get out, “G-god, what?”

“Smelling that dog on you really-” There is a particularly hard thrust.

“-really-” And another.

“-really pissed me off,” Yoongi finishes, biting down gently on your neck for emphasis. “And as soon as you're not fertile, I'm going to cum inside you regularly so that you walk around smelling like me instead.”

You tighten at his words, choking on your own spit at his dirty talk because yes, yes, and yes you wanted that too. Extra points if he came inside you just in time for Taehyung to take a whiff too. But you can't do or say anything else to respond except nodding vigorously since Yoongi chooses that precise moment to sit up and move his hands down to your thighs to push them up.

“Oh,” you gasp, “F-fuuuck…”

His hands are damp from clammy hands and your thighs are no better with the sheen of sweat. But it still works out, and Yoongi still manages to press your legs up to your ears with his dick lodged inside of you.

The change in angle makes your head spin. Yoongi makes a few experimental thrusts, letting loose a filthy string of muffled curses when you whine about how good it feels.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. Your hand is shaky while you obey, fingers bumping into his penis as you rub wet circles on your clit. Yoongi goes completely still as he feels the way you keep tightening around him. You are a sight for sore eyes with your legs spread out and up, pussy fully opened up to him, and playing with your clit.

He swallows, letting go of your thighs and pulling out slowly, much to your disappointment.

“Keep going until you cum,” he says when you pause. Yoongi peels off the condom.

Oh.

Your breathing picks up as Yoongi rubs himself on you, coating his bare length with as much of your wetness as possible. He spits in his hand for good measure before pumping his length in rough, practiced strokes. You forget yourself, mouth agape and fingers stilling once more.

“Keep. Going. Don't make me repeat myself again,” he warns you.

You bite your lips and resume, holding one of your thighs open as you show him how you touch yourself in private when you want to get off as fast as possible. Yoongi's not playing around either. His strokes are far from teasing grips meant to tease you. No, this was a man who was giving in and actively doing his best to spill his load on you.

Yoongi moans low and steady, the sound a sharp contrast to your high-pitched gasps. He feels the familiar stirring in his gut, the pull to strong to ignore. And without so much as a warning, strings of milky-white fluid splatter against your mound and fingers and clit. Right where he wants it.

You don't stop touching yourself this time as he cums rather silently. It's an awful, beautiful mess with his cum mixing with your arousal. You crush the desire to stick your cum-covered fingers inside of you.

He looks spent and ruined as he gazes upon your prone form with tired yet satisfied eyes. And it's ultimately his soft smile and encouragement that does you in.

“Be a good girl, and cum.” And oh yes, you do.

After, as you let your legs relax on the bed, Yoongi rummages around his room to retrieve things that look like shower stuff.

“Two showers in one night,” he mutters, “I'm on a roll.”

You don't say anything because you're too busy staring at his naked butt.

“As much as I'd love for you to stay just like this,” Yoongi sighs, “We should probably get you cleaned up. Dried cum is not fun.”

You nod in complete agreement because you know firsthand how unpleasant dried cum felt.

“Help me up?” you ask, holding out a soiled hand. Yoongi helps you up out of bed without even a glance at the mess. He plays crutch, bodyguard, and lookout as he escorts you to the communal showers. Thankfully, no one out in the hallways to see the two of you hobbling around naked.

*

*

*

He fucks you again in the showers. Of course.

*

*

*

(Some Time in the Near Future: Yoongi gets to see another one of his wet dreams come to life when you corner him after finals wearing nothing but another one of his shirts. You beg for the chance suck on him, and who is he to deny his cute girlfriend when you ask so nicely? And after your talented mouth and hands get him to blow his load in record time, Yoongi decides you look pretty fucking amazing with your face covered in his cum. You don't let him take a picture, but you do promise he could do this to you regularly.)

[torisfeather]

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It was in the middle of the morning. Kiku had gone out for some fresh air and, true to himself, had settled on a bench in the playground, in the shade of a tree, to read. Except…

"Kiku-chan!" Kiku looked up. Alfred smiled at him, a coke can in his hand. The Japanese boy couldn't open his mouth before he sat down next to him. "Wait… A biology book?!" the American exclaimed when he saw the cover. "Kiku-chan, it's Sunday, we've had like a week of lessons and you're already studying? Aren't you a little crazy?"

Kiku seemed a little uneasy and looked away. "I'm used to… starting early," he said hesitatingly.

"What the fuck…" Alfred said. "Well, whatever floats your boat. "He finished his coke and threw the empty can into the nearest trashcan, yelling "GOAL!" when it successfully disappeared into the black plastic bag. "So?"

"So what, Alfred?"

"Tell me! What did you do yesterday? Did you find yourself a club?"

Kiku stayed focused on his book and kept silent for a moment. "I joined the journalism club."

"… That's all?"

"Yes, why?"

Alfred breathed a sigh. Kiku couldn't tell if he looked rather disappointed or relieved. "How many are you? Two?"

"We're three."

Alfred snickered.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just a pretty ridiculous number of people for a club!"

"It's completely fine!" the Japanese said, slightly offended, before speaking up again. "How many are you in your student help club?"

"Six."

"That's not a lot either."

"It's more than three!"

Kiku let go of the issue. He wouldn't fight about such futile things. That a club had three or six members was about as important at the percentage of snow in August on the Mississippi River. He glanced at his friend, still laughing a little with that genuinely happy smile on his face. "You look happy that my club has so little people."

"Huh? Why would you think that?"

"A feeling."

Alfred scratched his head. "It doesn't really make me happy… I mean, it's not a real journal team, they only publish a few pages a month and there aren't even sexy pictures. Plus, they never tell about my HERO exploits, they just talk about things nobody cares about, it's not fair!"

"Oh, so it's grudge…"

"Wha…" Alfred seemed about to choke, his eyes exaggeratedly wide, wiggling without visible intent. "Absolutely not! A HERO never holds a grudge, unless there's a good reason!" He was so ridiculous Kiku let out a tiny laugh that he tried to hide behind his hand. Too late. Alfred noticed and gave him a large smile. "I knew you could actually laugh! You should try to do it more!"

"Huh…" Kiku hesitated for a while and then eventually chose not to answer.

"But about what we were saying… Journal club isn't the best to make friends."

"Hum? Why? Ludwig-san and Feliciano-kun are both quite friendly."

Alfred laughed again. "Ludwig? Friendly? Are you serious?"

Kiku thought for a moment and had to refrain from giggling again. "I have to admit it isn't exactly the best adjective to define him."

"No kidding? Plus two friends can't be enough."

"You know, Alfred, I believe it's better to have few solid friendships rather than many hazardous acquaintances."

Alfred looked at him like he was reflecting on his words. "Come again in English?"

Kiku had to refrain himself from face palming. "Quality is better than quantity."

"Oh, okay, you couldn't said that earlier!" The American started to laugh and Kiku just smiled. Alfred's good mood was contagious. Silence fell again between the two of them and Kiku went back to reading, thinking they were done. "So it's my HERO duty to help you in your quest for friendship!"

The black-haired boy sighed. "I assure you there is no need for this now, Alfred. I believe I can fit in just fine."

"But… You don't have a lot of friends and…"

"And I like it that way, thank you," Kiku interrupted a little sharply.

Alfred went quiet and looked at him with a sad little pout. "So you don't need me anymore?"

Kiku gave him a surprised look and smiled before his puppy eyes. They were probably about the same age but Alfred acted so much like a kid… "Why would you say that, Alfred? You are the one who told me we were friend, aren't you? It doesn't matter if you are helping me or not!"

The American's eyes sparkled and, without warning, Kiku was prisoner of a pair of arms seemingly trying to crush him. The Japanese felt his face go white, then red, started shaking, reflexively struggled, tried to calm down, observed the situation, put things in perspective and, finally, dared to put his own arms around Alfred's waist after making a lot of efforts to see this as normal for occidental culture. Give him a big hand, it was difficult but he finally managed to hug someone back!

He realized far too late that he had dropped his book. When Alfred let him go, he was too fast for him and grabbed the book instead of Kiku. But instead of giving it back, he looked at the page the Japanese boy was reading. "What's so interesting in th…?"

He stopped. His expression went from curiosity to surprise to amusement in a couple seconds. Kiku shrunk back into his seat, mortified. There, between the biology book's pages, he had slipped a doujinshi to use the studies as an excuse to read it. Alfred smirked at him. "So you know that technique too! I'd rather do that to read comics in class but hey, you do you…" He laughed loudly and turned the manga's pages. Kiku was as red as a poppy, trying to disappear into his own shirt. Alfred suddenly stopped laughing, squinting his eyes to take a closer look at the manga. "Kiku?"

"Y-yes, Alfred?"

"What is that guy doing with the… Wait, what is that thing? Is that a skewer?"

Kiku looked at the page he was talking about and blushed even more. He really didn't think he'd ever read this kind of stuff with someone else… Alfred was looking at him insistently, waiting for an answer. Kiku took a deep breath and whispered an explanation in his ear. Alfred blushed as well and winced but didn't seem too disgusted, much to the Japanese boy's relief.

"You read very weird stuff, dude," he commented as he took a look at the rest of the manga. He laughed several times, avoided a few pages that looked too "weird" for him and asked plenty of questions Kiku did not want to answer. After a couple minutes, he looked up and gave Kiku a look that was way too serious for his character. "Kiku… Don't tell me you're in the crazy-yaoists club?"

"Um… Let's not change the subject, Alfred…"

At the very beginning of PCD, that Monday morning, Luna had taken a few minutes to announce that their yearly September Ball would be held on next Saturday. She had watched as the students' eyes sparkled, as the girls started chirping about the kind of dress they absolutely had to wear, as the boys started talking about who they'd invite. She smiled fondly. Then the lesson began, like the week before, with an intensive tiring session. But as their last strengths left the kids, her mobile phone rang and she left the room to pick up. When she came back, she looked perturbed. Like divided between annoyance and worry. To the point where she actually didn't realize the students had all taken advantage of her being gone to take some rest. She started to give her instructions for the lesson, like nothing happened.

Everything went smoothly. Those who knew their powers gladly worked on them and the others, which meant Vash, Lily and Mei, spent the session watching horror movies, since the teacher was obviously too shaken to surprise them like last time When the bell rang the end of the lesson, Feliciano innocently asked Luna what was on her mind but she sent him off a little dryly, which didn't comfort the Italian boy.

Thankfully, the next day, she seemed to be back to her usual mood, so the problem might not have been that bad.

The first journalism club session was quite short as Ludwig had declared that the first week would be dedicated to finding interesting topics for the school newspaper. Since he was taking the small number of members and their inexperience into account, he had put the publishing date at the end of October so that they could produce quality articles. To make it short, the journal was composed of a front page article on which they had to cooperate, as well as several smaller topics they could manage separately. Ludwig was taking care, ever since he had joined the club, of the "practical advice" page, focusing on studying methods and health. Kiku had inherited the "criticism" page, which was actually to his liking. Lastly, Feliciano was in charge of the "school info" page. He just had to report whatever was happening in the school, which was akin to a simple rumor page.

Ludwig had then started a brainstorming to find a topic for the front page of their October edition. But with a pasta-obsessed boy and an otaku who would only submit very Japanese topics, the research was not going well. Because no, "pasta popularity by country" and "the ten best places to celebrate the hanami" were not suitable topics. He decided they would simply think about interesting topics for the rest of the week and pick one at random the next Monday.

Then Feliciano woke up and they had a snack while talking about September Ball.

On Wednesday afternoon, during free time, Gilbert put his plan to execution.

He had to do without any accomplices this time. Antonio had been kidnapped by Bella and Francis was in detention for "exhibitionism". Granted it wasn't socially accepted to go skinny dipping in the school's swimming pool during swimming practice but a detention for that… It's not like it was the first time, they should be used to it by now.

He was carefully walking through the empty corridors, making sure he was as silent as possible. Mostly because he didn't want to get caught, but also because, if he listened carefully, he could hear the discreet sound of footsteps following him since noon. He smirked as his destination came into view: the kitchen. Francis had told him it was completely empty between two and four in the afternoon. Cooking club didn't start until then, and the cleaning staff was long gone already. Gilbert stepped into the room, tip-toed further in, as if checking no one was there. Then came back and closed the door.

Now came the work part. The albino boy walked up to one of the many numbered cupboards in the room and started checking them, one by one. He found numerous interesting things, such as bags of ingredients with unpronounceable names or diversely shaped cake pans, until he found what he had been looking for: a bag of flour.

He walked back to the door with his loot but, instead of leaving, he just opened the bag and started spreading its content all over the kitchen floor, making sure he didn't leave a single clean space. For good measure, he threw the rest of it across the room, and watched the results unfold.

At first, nothing happened for several minutes. Gilbert was waiting, standing in a corner, but his idea seemed to have failed… Pfft, as if! He was awesome, all his ideas were consequently awesome, and thus had to work! Thankfully for the albino's ego, after a while, two footprints suddenly appeared. They quickly made their way towards the door. The mysterious stalker was running away once more. Gilbert had an impatient grin. The hunt had started.

He teleported in front of the wooden door. The footprints in the flour stopped suddenly and tried to take a few steps back to run in the opposite direction. Except whoever this invisible person was, they had forgotten a crucial detail: flour makes tiles very slippery.

A large white cloud raised in the air when the invisible person fell onto the ground. Gilbert jumped on the hole that fall had created in the white powder and kind of managed to restrain the spy by sitting on them. He felt them struggle but not manage to shake him off, which made him smile even more.

"Behold the way you were tricked by the awesome me!" An annoyed growl answered him as his prisoner slowly calmed down. It was almost like they were sulking, which made the albino laugh. "So, won't you show me your face, Birdie?"

A long moment of silence followed his question. Gilbert wondered if he had heard him well and wanted to repeat himself when, finally, his stalker slowly appeared. He could first see their blue student jacket form some sort of transparent veil above the tiles. Then their beige vest appeared underneath, then their white shirt. Their brown tie took a while to show up at his collar. Then he could see a pinkish neck, pretty blond locks, and the lines of a slightly chubby face, like a child's. His ruby-colored eyes traced their large, round jaw, their full lips and straight nose, and ended up diving deep into huge blue purplish eyes. He drew back a bit, taking in their half-annoyed half-sheepish face and decided, after taking a good look, that this boy was the cutest stalker he had ever seen.

He was very disappointed when the boy ended up not turning completely visible. He was staying in a transparent state which, although allowing to see his face, made it difficult to make out clearly his silhouette; he looked like a ghost. A very cute ghost.

After a while, he turned completely invisible again and Gilbert whined.

"I can't stay invisible for very long, it takes a lot of focus," the ghost explained in a voice as transparent as he was.

"What's your name, Birdy?" Gilbert asked.

"Matthew."

"Why are you following me?" Gilbert was determined to get the truth out of him.

Matthew hesitated for a few moment before answering. "I… I spy on problematic kids on the principles' behalf. I might have to tell them about what you did here."

Gilbert gave him, or at least looked at the spot where his head was before, a doubtful look. He was awesome enough to know a lie when he heard one, and Matthew had hesitated too much to be sincere. "And the real reason is?"

Matthew went quiet for a minute. "I'm looking for confidence," he finally said. Gilbert did not move, waiting for him to keep going. Matthew sighed and explained. "As you can see, it's pretty hard to notice me," he said. "I have a hard time being visible and everything I touch, from my clothes to Kumayolo…"

"Who?"

"Over there." Gilbert turned and noticed, further away, a white teddy bear sniffing the flour and sneezing quietly. Matthew had probably let go of it when he fell. "Anyway, everything I touch goes invisible too, so it doesn't help. Most people in the school don't know I exist, or forgot from not seeing me. S-so I try to get others to notice me but…" You could feel from his tone of voice that he was blushing. "I can't, I'm too silent," he said like it was a secret. He then stopped for a moment. Gilbert tilted his head, not getting where he was going. "So I followed you to try and understand how I could be noticed. I mean, you're one of the most famous kids in the school. The Bad Touch Trio, all that stuff. Everyone know your name, even if it isn't to say nice things about you. So I thought that, by observing you, I could learn to be the same. It's stupid, I know."

Gilbert gave him and incredulous look. Then dropped to his side, freeing the blond boy, and started laughing nervously. Matthew didn't move. The albino was guessing he hadn't told him the entire truth but he'd make do with his explanation for now. "So that's why you've been following me for weeks?!" he exclaimed, shaken by his uncontrolled laughter.

"Y-yeah?"

"Dude you should've just asked me right away, Birdie! You need awesome advice to become awesome!"

"Wha… Oh, ok, sorry…"

"Don't apologize! It just took longer than it should have, that's all!" Gilbert stood and reach out towards the space where he thought Matthew was. He felt his hand in his and pulled to help him up. He himself stayed visible, which meant Matthew's ability only affected objects. Kuma-what's-his-name was a teddy bear so, even if it moved, it still counted. "So, Birdie, in my awesome generosity, I will teach you everything you need to know to become almost as awesome as me! Kesese…"

"Um… Really, Gilbert, you don't have to bother…"

"Don't worry, Birdy! I was bored anyway!"

"Why are you calling me Birdy?"

Gilbert stopped and thought. "It's a nickname I used for you… I guess it stuck because… You're hard to catch, and you fly away as soon as I find you, like a little bird." Matthew didn't answer, Gilbert assumed that meant he liked the nickname. "Well, then. Lesson number 1, Birdy! When an awesome dude makes an awesome mess, he proudly faces the consequences. So we're going to leave the flour here and go before someone sees us…"

"Um… Aren't contradicting yourself right now?"

"No, why?"

"We could at least sweep the floor, there are people working here that have better to do than cleaning…"

"Yeah, but we also have better to do."

"But…"

"Second lesson, Birdy!"

"But…"

"Wanna go to September Ball with me?"

"But… What? What does this have to do with anything?"

"Well that's rule number 2! An awesome guy never goes to a party alone! So, Birdy? What do you say?"

"…"

"Birdy?"

"…"

"That's when you say 'Oh Gil'! I'd love to go to the party with you! When are you picking me up?' and you fall into my arms crying happy tears."

"Wh… Y…C… Y-y-you really think anyone'd do that?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

There was another silence. One could almost hear the gears turning in the blond boy's head. "Ok, fine," he eventually said. "I'll go with you…"

"Yeah! That's cool, Birdy!"

"On one condition." Gilbert stopped. Matthew walked to a closet, opened it, took two brooms out and threw it to the albino. "We're going to sweep the kitchen."

Gilbert scratched his chin and pretended to think. "Blackmail, huh? Cool, I didn't even have to teach you lesson number 3!" He felt a light hit on his arm and laughed. "Feisty, aren't you, Birdy?" he said before starting to sweep the flour-covered floor.

The invisible blond boy was intriguing. He couldn't remember the last time someone had managed to make him clean up one of his shenanigans. But hey, it wasn't such a heavy price to finally have someone entering the party with him. Even someone invisible.

"The time is up, you can all stop."

Francis sat his pen down and checked the list of feelings he had detected among the students. Arthur let go of Carwin's hand and hurriedly put his gloves back on as the older boy kept talking with his Shadows. Yao blew off the tea light candle he was training with and was finally allowed away from the fire extinguishers. Eduar closed his laptop before Young Soo and Hyung Soo's attentive gazes. Gilbert went back to his human form after going through all the animals he could think of all morning. Antonio stopped playing with his force fields and Bella lowered herself as delicately as she could to the ground.

Luna was noting her observations on a notebook that she always had with her, as she watched from the corner of her eyes the fourth year students preparing to leave. She had a small smile as she noticed the progress some had made during the summer. Bella, for example, had been levitating for a whole hour without batting an eye, a new record. Unfortunately, others seemed still unable to progress…

Francis handed her his list and she let him go with a little "good job".

"For those with two powers, we'll work on them next week," she announced as she read. "Carwin, excellent work but remember to make sure you have control before summoning more. Eduar, good work, you can leave. Yong Soo, Hyung Soo, you'll do what you've seen next time, try working it during the week-end…" The students she called would listen what she had to say to them and then leave immediately with their stuff. That was how Luna's classes usually ended. "Bella, very good, I'm glad you practiced. We'll work on precision together. Antonio, Gilbert, you did well but stop playing during the class, you're here to work. Yao, Arthur, you both stay."

The two boys shared a look, slightly anxious. It also was common for her to keep one or two students to speak to them, but it wasn't usually to congratulate them… The rest of the class left the room, leaving the two students alone with the teacher. She went and sat at one of the tables that had been pushed against the wall and gestured at them to do the same. They complied, nervously.

"Who wants to start?" she asked with a firm voice that said yes, you are being scolded. The two boys shared another look and Arthur pointed at himself. Luna nodded and told Yao to go and wait in the projection room. He obeyed without a word, which only added to the heavy atmosphere that had settled. The English boy waited, uneasy, for her to start. "So? You still can't control it?" she asked with a troubled face.

"No, still can't."

"Still as powerful?"

"Yes, I believe it's even growing stronger…" She looked at him in the eyes, waiting for him to continue. "I made sure not to touch anyone outside of my family, don't worry. Although it's hard with that damn frog who uses all his time to spoil mine and keeps harassing me and…" Luna cleared her throat and Arthur realized he was rambling. "Yes, so, as I was saying, even with touching anybody, I feel like it's getting stronger. I can't explain it it's like… I don't know, drugs getting stronger without a change of dosage."

"It must be growth," she said almost to herself. "And you still can't calm the effects?"

"No, impossible," Arthur grumbled, pulling on his gloves and bringing the teacher's attention on them. "Are they new?" she asked.

"Um… yes, I lost last year's ones…"

"And you're wearing them already?"

Arthur didn't answer and blushed. Luna smiled and wanted to ruffle his hair, but remembered he didn't want to be touched. She stopped herself just in time, which the English boy was thankful for. "Don't worry, I know why you're wearing them. You know it's a permanent capacity, like Matthew's…"

"Sorry, who?"

"A second year student. You know, the invisible little guy? Alfred's brother?"

"Alfred has a brother?"

"Oh, whatever. So I was saying… yes, permanent capacity, so it's hard to control, but I am sure you'll manage in a few years. You just have to keep working on it."

"Yes, miss…"

She gave him a blinding smile and nodded at him to leave. She watched maliciously as he gathered his stuff. "One last thing!" she said before he could disappear though the PCD room's door. "I'm certain this power will be useful to you, so you might want to test it? Your little 'frog' seems rather receptive…"

Arthur almost choked as he glared at his teacher who burst into shimmering laughter and shooed him away, taking note of the redness that had appeared unexpectedly over his cheeks. Oh how she loved teasing the students about this!

She got up and went to open the projection room's door. It was Yao's turn to sit in front of her, as he obviously tried very hard to control himself. He probably thought she was going to scold him about his non-existent progress. He wasn't exactly wrong, but she didn't want him to have a new fit. She had to weight her words and to be tactful, while still telling him the truth. She took a few moments to think as the Chinese boy grew impatient. "Yao," she eventually said. "Don't worry, you work well, even if you are not progressing very fast. This is what I want to talk about."

She dangled the list Francis had written in front of his eyes. Next to his name, Yao could read Very tense since the beginning of the session, but that's not usual. Anxious and defensive. All of this has to do with his power + being confused about his feelings. Personal note: needs a hot bath with lavender oil and relaxing music. "Can't he mind his own business, aru…"

"He still needs to practice. If I'm correct, it was almost the same thing last year. And the one before that." Luna sat the paper down and gave him a beautiful smile. "Would you talk to me about this?"

"No, ma'am, sorry…" Yao looked away and bit his lip awkwardly.

"I already told you that, if you wanted to control yourself, you had to make peace with your emotions. I didn't tell you to force them away."

"I know, aru…"

"You need to understand, Yao, as long as you won't be calm during the exercises, you won't be able to progress and everything will stay erratic and unexpected. I know it's something difficult to do for someone with a past like yours, but we need to avoid putting others in danger. If you fight it, your power will fight you too, do you understand?"

"Yes, aru…"

"If you have trouble controlling them, it simply means you are not accepting your powers as a part of you. After three years of training, you should already be able to manipulate candle flame away from the fire extinguishers, you know? Same thing for…"

"Miss!" Luna stopped. Yao's face was red and his eyes glistening with tears. He couldn't listen, as always… "Miss…" he repeated, in a lower voice, trying very hard not to snap at her. "When I found out about this capacity you say is "part of me", I set my former school on fire, aru. Kids almost dies because of me, aru. And when I got here, I had to find out about some other curse that I had to live with, aru. So don't tell me these… things are part of me. I don't want to be a freak!"

"Yao. Calm down." Yao ignored her and started gathering his stuff. He did not want to talk about this, not now, not ever. He felt his pulse raise and was clever enough to sit back down and breathe, so he wouldn't illustrate what he had just explained. "Yao, rejecting your capacities won't make them less dangerous."

"I know, aru! Put I still can't accept them, aru!"

"Then you're in a dead-end."

He stood without answering and headed for the exit. He tried to think about something else, kittens, plush toys, flowers… Something cute and peaceful that could calm his thumping heart. He needed to get those problems out of his head.

Ivan was waiting at the door. Tâ mâ de!

He was alone. Which meant he had left his friends/scapegoats/servants/others to stay with him a while. Double tâ mâ de!

Yao could always pretend he didn't see him but it was pretty hard to say that to an almost seven feet tall guy standing right next to the door. Especially when the playground was empty because everyone was having lunch.

He could also try to dig a hole and bury himself alive so he would have to endure the Russian's presence and the very unpleasant his body tended to have in his presence. Right now, it seemed like the most enticing option. Unfortunately, there were material limits so he would have to choose another option…

"Yao-Yao~!" The Russian boy's playful voice interrupted him in the middle of his thoughts. Yao felt his large hands cover his shoulders and shivered. His heart started beating harder. He already wasn't very calm, but now the situation had gone from bothersome to dangerous. He started power walking towards the cafeteria like nothing was wrong, making sure he was breathing evenly. Ivan followed him.

"Sorry, Ivan, but I'm really not in the mood for anyone's company right now, aru," he said with a blank voice.

"Eh? Even though I waited for you all this time?"

Yao checked his watch. Classes really did end fifteen minutes ago. "You didn't have to, aru."

"But I wanted to be with my little Yao-Yao!"

The shivers increased. Bad omen. "Well I don't and that's it, aru! And stop it with the nickname!"

As only answer, Ivan caught up to him and closed his arms around him, slowing him down. He held him tight. "But Yao-Yao want to be with me too, da?"

Yao couldn't react immediately. He could feel the Russian boy's warm breath on his neck, the sweet scent of his scarf, the strange exchange of temperature between their bodies, through their uniforms, a surprising side-effect of their respective powers. Part of him wanted to hold onto that large back and accept the embrace. But the rest of him was freaking out at his heart going crazy, at the shivers increasing again, and at the ball of heat blossoming in the depths of his chest. He only hesitated for a second. He kicked the Russian in the legs, freeing himself, and ran as fast as he could to the closest bathroom. Once more, Ivan didn't chase after him. He just watched him go with a bitter eye, sighed and walked to the cafeteria. By himself. He'd have his chance anyway. He knew it when he saw him the first time. Yao would be his. But not like his friends. The Chinese boy would be completely and entirely his. Someday.

Locked in one of the stalls, curled on the toilet seat, Yao wanted to cry. He was breathing as deeply as he could, gripping the fabric of his pants to try and steady himself. Why? Why did he have to hide such a shameful thing? Why was this happening so often these days? Why couldn't he just have that kind of affection from Ivan? He knew he could be cruel when something wasn't to his liking. He knew he was probably a little mad. But he also knew how frighteningly nice he could be with him. With this sort of kind dominance that made his head spin all the time. He had been hiding for three years and controlling himself was getting more and more difficult every time his roommate tried to get close to him. Until when would he be able to keep it a secret?

All these questions weren't helping at all. His blood was boiling, the heat had claimed his entire body. His muscles and bones were a little sore, as always. There was nothing to do. He had to wait. Wait for his body to stop being a jerk.

He startled when he hear the bathroom door open. Slow and silent steps walked on the tiles and a pair of black flats stopped right in front of his booth. He heard three knocks on the panel but didn't move. "Occupied," he said with the most normal voice he could manage.

"I know, Yao. Let me in."

It was a woman's voice, low and calm. Yao recognized it immediately. He stood, trembling, and unlocked the door.

It was a woman in her forties. She was slender, and a little hunched but you could feel she had once been very tall. Her skin was dark and her hair was blond, a darker blond than her sister's. The long blue dress she wore was hardly hiding the weakness of her body. However her almond-shaped eyes were filled with colors, shimmering like stars.

Gaia came in, closed the door and held him close. No word was spoken. Yao let her, thankful. He even let a tear roll onto her shoulder. She just held him silently. She knew. She always seemed to know. "You don't have to be ashamed, you know…" she whispered.

Yao didn't answer. He knew that, if he was to open his mouth, he would start sobbing.

"I know you don't want anyone to know but nobody will judge you for being different. Because everyone is different here."

He shook his head. Her words felt so right and yet…

"You don't want to accept it. I know. The problem isn't about others. It's about yourself. Unfortunately, you'll soon have to accept yourself."

"When?"

"Soon." He wouldn't hear more. She probably didn't know about the details either. Little by little, he felt the heat leave his body. His heart had calmed down. Feeling this, Gaia stood back a little and looked at him straight in the eyes. She gave him a wonderful smile and played with his brown hair for a moment. "Better?" she asked.

He nodded. Without another word, she left the booth and started walking slowly towards the exit. "You don't leave your office very often," Yao commented.

"That's true," she said, still walking slowly. "But I cannot let my sister take care of everything by herself. And I've had more than enough of all the paper work."

"Do you need help to go back?"

She stopped and looked at him with a sad smile. "I can still go by myself, thank you. I am sick but not disabled yet."

He watched her leave. He felt a little lighter. Gaia was great at cheering her students up. She was always at the right place at the right moment and always knew what to say. With an appeased sigh, he headed back towards the cafeteria.