#stings voice sounds more cute and soft in these songs compared to his voice in his police or solo songs

[anonymous-eggy]

Vendetta fanfic(?) Not Alone

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst, violence mentions

Word count: 2.6k

ayo, @jadeee i finished it :l *nervously twiddles thumbs*

(this is a fanfic based off of another fanfiction series by the lovely tagged person above! If you haven't already, go read it before reading this, or you'll probably be confused!)

I will see Nicky again...Even if it kills me…

Hands firmly gripping the edge of the docks, you pulled your head out of the water that had threatened to rob you of your life. You took in huge gulping breaths of the cold night air as you scrambled to pull yourself onto the docks, blinking the water out of your eyes. Your entire body shook with determination and pure adrenaline. Little by little, you managed to wiggle your way fully onto the wood, which felt warm compared to your chilled water-soaked body. You pulled the cloth out of your mouth, spitting and coughing to rid your mouth of the burning salt of the seawater.

For a moment all you did was lay there on your side, your chest heaving and racking with forceful coughs and limbs still bound under the cold moonlight. You felt like a dying fish and chuckled at the thought of what you might look like at that moment. You rolled onto your back and gazed up at the stars, your vision swimming from light-headedness. You laid there as you felt the adrenaline that had saved your life drip away. You and Nicky had spent countless nights cuddled in each other’s arms gazing up at their twinkling beauty. The two of you had shared tender kisses and soft conversation, and the stars had always been there, listening and watching your story with a wonderful glow. They had always felt so warm and close as if you could reach out and run your hand through their calming glittery depths.

Tonight, the stars felt far away and cold. As if they were watching. Lying in wait. Waiting to see what you did next. Waiting, still with anticipation of what action you would take, if you would. Perhaps even rooting for you. Rooting for you to free yourself and reunite with your one and only husband and live out the happy ending you deserve.

You reached upwards with your bound hands towards the sky as if trying to hold a star and feel its energy, energy you desperately needed in this moment. You choked back a sob as silent tears spilled from your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth as you let out a pitiful whimper at your helpless situation.

When you opened your tear-blurred eyes your gaze drifted to the rope around your hands, and suddenly you felt a sharp spark of seething anger ignite a flame within your stomach. The spark caused you to jolt upright and tug at the water-logged rope around your sore wrists.

What did Floyd think he would accomplish from this? Did he want to break Nicky? You scoffed at the thought as you angrily bit at the knot on the rope and pulled at it. Hot tears continued to stream down your face. Floyd really doesn’t know Nicky, then. All he’s gonna do is piss Nicky off. The ropes unwound and fell to the docks. You took a moment to rub and stretch your freed wrists. With your newly freed hands, you pushed your tears away and rubbed your nose with a sniffle. I’ve never seen Nicky pissed pissed, except for when Ralph... but I imagine it looks nothing short of what he says he was like before he met me. You started on the knot that bound your ankles together. Floyd certainly doesn’t know me either. He should have known from that headbutt I gave him that I wasn’t going to die so easily. The rope around your ankles loosened as the knot came undone. As you slipped them off, another thought came to mind. Maybe I’ll keep these ropes to show Floyd and remind him of his failure to kill me.

“I lived, bitch,” You shakily hissed to no one but yourself and the universe as you gripped a pole and used it as support as you stood. You weakly smiled at the meme reference no one in the 1920s would understand. Your legs violently shook and threatened to buckle beneath you, but as you tested them some more the shaking lessened.

You tucked the ropes into your pockets and started your half-conscious hike back home. When your feet hit the sand, you stumbled forward, your gate slowed and awkward from your soaking socks and shoes. With an exhausted grumble, you pulled them off and held them as you continued.

Your bones and muscles ached, and your eyes blurred and threatened to stay closed, but you didn’t stop walking. The thought of Nicky holding you, kissing you, kept you going. He had to know that you were alive, and you had to be sure that he was safe. You wanted- no- needed to see his face again. You needed to see that beautiful smile he always gave you when you said something witty. That smile where a light blush dusts his cheeks and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. And you can’t help but feel your heart twist in your chest as it fills with love and adoration for his cute face. And you can’t help but pepper it with kisses to show it.

“Please,” You whispered into the silent night air, holding back tears at the thought that there was a chance would never hear his lovely voice or hear his heart-warming laugh again. “A taxi...or...hitchhiking? That’s safe in the 1920s, right?” Your voice was hoarse and sounded more like a whine than a mumble.

You felt like whining. You felt like crying and giving up and collapsing on the side of the street. You felt like laying down and curling up on the cold sidewalk. Like you were helpless and you might as well just give up now. But you couldn’t. No rest until I get home to Nicky and strip out of these freezing wet clothes. I’ll take a nice warm bath and let Nicky help wash this damn sand and salt off of me. Never touching another goddamn beach again for a while.

For a while, everything was quiet, only the rhythmic pit-pat of your cold bare feet on the concrete and the chattering of your teeth as you shivered to keep you company. Eventually, your tired brain used the beat as a tempo for a song.

“Mr.Sandman, bring me a car. Make it the fastest that I’ve ever... seen,” You muttered in an attempt to get your mind off of the current situation. You drifted in and out of silence with yourself, every now and then quoting a random line from a song.

After what felt like hours of mindless walking, you had to stop and lean up against a wall. It took all of your strength to not slide down and pass out as you took deep fatigued breaths. You took a hazy look around, your mind fogged, but no less determined to survive.

Judging by the nearest street sign, you were still about a few hours walk away from the place you could safely crash. You let out a frustrated whimper and pushed yourself away from the wall, new hot tears of frustration spilling from your heavy eyes.

I remember seeing a hospital a ways back...they could help...no...I technically don’t exist. That could cause problems. You thought as you shook your head in an effort to shake off the weight that was tugging at your mind. You slapped your hands on either side of your face, the stinging feeling jolting away some of the fogginess in your head. You felt so alone. So small. You looked up at the stars again.

“No...no I’m not alone. They’re rooting for me. This is a movie, (y/n). Everyone watching has got to be rooting for you. I’m not alone, I’ve gotta keep pushing. Gotta do it for the vine,” You murmured with determination before wiping your face and setting off again. Sarcastically, you muttered, “Please, I’m so funny.”

As you continued your thoughtless stumble across the city of angels, suddenly bright lights blinding your vision. In excitement, you waved both hands and let out a loud, broken “Hey!” This had been one of the only cars you had seen all night and you were getting desperate. “Wait! Help! Please slow down!”

The car didn’t slow, and zoomed past you, going well over the speed limit. You felt the wind the car had kicked up tussle your crusty salt-dried hair, carrying your hope away along with it as it sped out of view.

You felt your arms fall limp at your sides as you looked around at your surroundings. With an aggravated growl you threw your shoes at the wall, picked one back up, and then threw it further down the sidewalk. “Fuck!” You shouted as you watched it roll to a stop, upright. “This is stupid! I hate this!” You shouted as you scooped one shoe up and stomped towards the other and nabbed it off the ground without stopping.

“I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to get home, I’m going to kiss Nicky’s stupid face, I’m going to take a bath, take a nap, and then I’m going to beat the shit out of Floyd! This is stupid! I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m crusty as hell! I’m tired!” As you threw a tantrum you walked faster and faster, ignoring the burning in your legs as your muscles complained at the pace. “Fuck the ocean, fuck that car, fuck the driver, fuck these shoes, fuck Floyd, fuck this entire situation, I’m already done with this!”

You knew that the tantrum you were throwing was nothing short of childish, but you didn’t care. you would be a fool to let this energy go for the sake of being mature. Angry, burning tears rolled down your face. You held the punishing pace, letting out a string of curse words, and even repeating some Italian ones you had heard Nicky say before. Only when you had exhausted every curse word you knew did you pause to take a breath.

When you reached a cross street, you aggressively checked the road names and turned left, letting out another string of curses. For a while you pushed forward in seething silence, only breaking it to shout a curse word when you stumbled or almost fell on your face because your legs could barely keep up with your spirit. You roughly wiped away your salty tears and spit on the ground while muttering “Stupid salt.”

As the walk continued on, you slowed down and your anger slowly dissipated. The burning in both your legs and your lungs became too much to bear, forcing you to slow down to a halting walk. You continued limping forward, your sore determined eyes never dropping from where they were fixed. Your’s and Nicky’s house was finally in sight. Soon you’d see him. He was going to be sitting there on the couch, waiting to envelop you in his strong arms and welcome you home. You thought of all the witty things you could say when you walked through that door. Things that you knew would earn a chuckle or a kiss on the forehead from your lovely husband. Your eyes threatened to leak again as a wobbly smile spread across your face at the thought of him holding you, making you feel safe and loved. You walked a little faster, being mindful of what your legs could handle this time.

As you drew nearer and nearer, you betrayed a glance up at the sky. It was still dark, though it seemed the dark black and blue of the night sky was turning shades of purples and pinks on the horizon. The morning was approaching, and the stars shined brightly in celebration of your close victory. You dropped your gaze back onto your home and ambled onward like a zombie. Keep going (y/n), you’re so close. Keep going. You told yourself over and over as you got closer and closer.

By the time you had reached the door, the horizon had barely added shades of orange to its palette. I swear, if this door is locked, I’m gonna- you thought as you swung the door open. Oh, how convenient. Dangerous. But convenient.

You let out a relieved sigh as you stepped into the house. Calming fatigue washed over you, different from the desperate, life-threatening one from hours earlier when you were huffing like a dying fish on the docks. That calm didn’t last long as you kicked a crystal ashtray. You felt pain shoot through your foot, but all you could muster was a soft monotone “ah.”

You lifted your tired gaze and let out a gasp and backed into the wall beside the door. You pressed your back against the wall to keep yourself steady as your stomach dropped through the floor. Shattered glass littered the usually spotless floor, along with blood. Blood everywhere. Blood droplets splattered across the floor, mixed with glass, and the worst part; A long smear of blood that trailed down the wall and ended with a small puddle. When paired with the gun that laid on the floor a ways away from it, you could only piece together what might have happened.

You dropped your shoes and carefully navigated around the glass and looked down an empty hallway. “Nick?! Nicholas!” You called, panic in your breaking voice. Had it not been for your eyes already being puffy and tired from crying so much, you would have broken down into more tears. Instead, the lump in your throat became unbearable and you let out panicked sobs that shook your entire body. Oh god, please tell me Nicky’s okay. Please let Chris be okay too. You pleaded the universe.

There was nothing you could do about the situation out in the living room, and you hated it. You were too weak and exhausted to let yourself worry about it for too long. As you limped down the empty hallway, you gave in to the weight pulling at your mind.

Stella bolted towards you, skidding to a halt in front of you and gently sniffing and whining at you. She hopped to give your hand licks repeatedly as she bounded around you. You let out a soft chuckle and endearingly whispered, “Hi, Stella baby,” and walked into your and Nicky’s shared room and collapsed onto the bed. You didn't even bother to land on a pillow or get under the blankets, you simply laid diagonally across the giant bed. Stella nimbly hopped up beside you and continued sniffing you over, carefully avoiding getting in your face. “He’s okay, right? You’d protect him real well, right pubby?” You muttered mindlessly, causing Stella to tilt her head to one side and let out a confused noise before continuing her check-up. "yeah, good girl…"

As you drifted off, you felt Stella settle against your side, dutifully alert and watching over you in your weakened state. For a moment, everything was peacefully quiet. Your entire body relaxed and went limp. Your body felt heavy and for the first time, you didn’t resist its heaviness. Darkness swept over you before you were aware of it, wrapping you up like a soft blanket.

It felt like you had only just closed your eyes when you were awoken by Stella emitting a deep growl, but you knew you had been out for at least a few hours. The sun peaked through the curtains and warmed your stiff body, rewarding you for pushing through the night and not giving up. Despite the comforting warmth of the sun, you didn't feel well at all. A pounding headache bit at your brain, your lips chapped and cracked, and your throat filled with a dry, burning sensation. You attempted to clear your throat and let out a small cough as you looked around.

A deep threatening voice came from the living room, dripping with stone-cold murderous intent. “Show yourself!” It yelled, causing you to flinch fully awake with a gasp.

You quickly sat up as Stella leaped off of the bed and rushed towards the voice. Cold panic ran through you and you quickly followed, remembering that you had completely forgotten to close the door, which meant anyone could just waltz in if they wanted. Specifically, Floyd.

“Stella! no!” You whisper yelled as you hobbled after her, trying to stay quiet.

But what you saw was the opposite of Floyd or any of his guys. You froze at the sight before you.

“(y/n)? Is it really you?”

“Nicky?”

A/n- Wanna know what happened? go check out Jadeee's series and give her a follow! awooga, Vendetta really takes up most of my thoughts, I love it so much. which is something I've said… probably too much at this point. of course I couldn't resist the chance to practice writing some sweet angst. This is probably not at all what jadeee had in mind for mc, but i hope she likes it anyway and/or corrects me on what she had in mind. Here's to making fanfiction of fanfiction, have a lovely day/evening 🥂

[4booga]

I can't come up with a decent title for this so take it. Also this is my first fanfic

 Ludwig heard the quiet ringing of the bell above his head as he stepped right into the bakery. It was only four am but he could already feel the stress of the day press down on to him. He took a deep breath in as he smelled the faint scent of brown sugar and chocolate as he relaxed his tense shoulders. "Good morning Miss Cohen. How did you sleep last night?" He called out quietly to an older woman who was preparing the daily recipes for the day at one of the booths as he headed into the back of the kitchen. His eyes drifted to his brown teddy apron hanging up neatly on his personal hook. The German couldn't help but smile at the fact that his name above the hook had seemed to be bedazzled with pastel blue gems. He tied the apron around his waist tightly before he finally heard her reply.

 "I slept well sugar. Should we make the usual today or should we spice it up and make honey cakes?" Her voice was soft and gentle as she closed her faded book. She gave him a kind smile as she stood up to help "You don't have to be so formal with me Ludwig. You can call me Jane or you can call me Momma. I don't care if you choose one over the other!" Jane's voice was sweet as she made her way into the kitchen before staring up at the younger man in front of her. "Did you sleep well last night? Did you eat breakfast? Don't make me sit you down and make you an omelette!" Even though he towered over her she still couldn't help but fuss over him.

 "Yes I did eat today Jane and I slept last night." He felt like he couldn't call her momma just yet so he called her by her first name. The blonde smiled down at the graying brunette before she smiled up at him with a chuckle. "I think we should make honey cakes today since they usually sell out fast." His voice was lacking his usual brass and loudness as he began helping her with her apron, leaning down since she only stood at around four foot five compared to his six foot six. 

 Jane turned around quickly once her apron was secured around her waist before she pulled out a headband from her pocket that had bear ears attached to it. She gently pushed back his blonde hair from his forehead before pinning the stray hairs with the head band. "You look so handsome bärchen." She spoke to him teasingly while pinching one of his flushing cheeks. "Let's get started with making chick buns before the cakes so they can have some time to rise while the cakes cook!" Her hands were clasped together as she thought about all the people who would enjoy their hard work. She walked over to the sink before using her stepping stool to wash her hands before gloving them.

 Ludwig waited patiently behind her before watching her kick her stool along to the pantry door. He began washing his hands carefully while whistling a soft love song which filled the quiet room. He dried off his hands as he gloved them before helping her grab the things off the shelves that she was too short to reach. His gloved hands were already becoming stained with yellow dye from the box of food coloring before the older woman quickly put it back on the shelf. 

 "I'm thinking we change up the recipe a little, Luddy. I think we should use lemons instead of the normal food dye in the buns. It will give it a nice sweet flavor instead of the savory one that they are use to! I can just change the label for it in the food case before it goes out!" Jane spoke to him with a smile as she dug through the gigantic fridge for the bag of lemons she had just bought a few days ago. "Also someone mentioned in the store a few days ago that they can't have food dye so it will be a great alternative even though we can't get the normal bright yellow." Her voice never wavered from her kind tone as she kicked her stool back over to the sink to wash the lemons.

 Ludwig's smile grew at her enthusiasm before grabbing the juicer from one of the many pink cabinets that lined the back wall. "Are you sure we should change it?" His voice was calm as he already began grabbing the cutting board along with one of the knives from the drawer. He grabbed one of the already washed lemons before carefully slicing it in half. He focused on the task in front of him as he placed the halved lemons next to each other on the granite countertop as he moved on to the next one. His thoughts began drifting with each lemon he sliced in half before he yelped out in pain as he felt the sharp blade cut into his gloved finger. It wasn't deep but it still hurt all the same. "Ah fuck..." When he swore he felt his injured hand carefully grabbed and placed into Jane's much softer and small hands.

 "Are you alright sugar?" Jane began carefully looking at the cut as soft hiss of sympathy left her lips. "We have to wash that quickly. Lemon juice in cuts ain't fun." She led him over to the sink before running the stinging cut underneath the cool water as she removed his gloves. "I'll get you a bandage and you just wash it!" Her voice was firm as he watched her leave the room to grab the first aid kit in the small break room above them in the second floor. 

 Ludwig weakly nodded his head before scrubbing soap into the cut before letting out a quiet sound of pain. With gritted teeth she watched the soapy water mixed drip down his fingers before he patted it dry. He could hear her footsteps from before he leaned against one of the countertops to make it easier for her to patch him up. 

 "You really need to be more careful with yourself. You might think you're invulnerable but you aren't." Jane's voice was firm but still gentle as she wiped disinfectant over his finger before placing a childish Hello Kitty bandaid over the small cute before gently kissing it better like he was a small child. "Now I'll start making the chick buns and you start on the honey cakes." Her voice was still firm before she gently patted his cheeks. "And don't forget to put on a fresh pair of gloves sweetheart." She quickly removed her gloves before washing her hands to remove any chemicals from taking care of his small injury.

 Ludwig nodded before rewashing his hands, placing a fresh pair of gloves carefully over his bandaid. He walked over to the large mixer as he took a deep breath in through his nose. His eyes drifted over to the lamented book next to the mixer before flipping to the page that read honey cake in large font. His fingers slowly drifted down the page as he began quietly muttering the ingredients to himself before heading over to the pantry. He began grabbing everything he needed along with the honey before walking over to the bowl. "How many are we making today?" He asked her quietly while turning towards her.

 "I think we can make thirty four for today." Jane called back over to him as she began squeezing the lemons for their juice. Her hands were skilled with each squeeze before she began grating peel for the zest. "Remember to go easy on the honey. It's pretty strong! We actually want to make sure people can eat our food." Her teasing was different from the way his brother would normally tease him which made the young German smile. She ordered him to as she waited for the yeast to feed on the sugar in her bowl before she could begin adding in the flour and lemon juice.

 "I will." After Ludiwg spoke the pair soon fell into an easy silence with only the occasional sound of the mixer filling the air. His eyes slowly began to close as he rested against the countertop before he quickly snapped himself awake before slowly mixing the key ingredient into the batter. He watched the beater slowly mix it in before he sighed quietly while taking a steadying breath in.

 "Luddy are you alright? You're not as talkative today. Did you brother make fun of you again?" Even though it sounded like a childish question coming from the older woman but she still spoke it out loud to the German. "Or is something else on your mind? You can talk while we make buns." She patted the empty spot on the countertop next to her before she watched the blonde walk over to her.

 "Jane you're good with feelings right? There is someone I'm friends with and I feel weird when I'm with them." Ludwig began speaking as he grabbed a fresh pair of gloves to prevent any contamination from happening between the two different recipes. "He makes me feel different and I don't know how to describe it to anyone else...It's not a bad feeling though!" He stared down at the near pastel yellow dough in front of him before slowly working it into a small ball.

 "Well maybe I can help you with your problem. I might not be the best but I'll try and help you." The older of the two kind spoke to him as she began working her own ball of dough. She began quietly humming as she waited for him to describe the feeling that had been distracting him.

 "He makes me feel like I have really bad indigestion all the time when I'm with them. He makes me feel shaky but not in a bad way just like being next to he makes me feel like I could collapse. Sometimes when I stand next to him I just want to hold his hand and smile with him." Ludwig stared down at the bun before picking up the small detailing knife as he carefully carved the wing shape into the dough. "I also feel sad too like something stopping me and won't let me actually touch him." His voice was barely audible as she gave him a kind smile.

 "Well I think you're in love with him. It's normal for some people to feel that way in love. You could feel sad because you know that you can't love him or because you're scared of being loved by him. He can also be taken and you know he like the other person better." Jane's voice was carefully choosing each word as she placed the finished bun on to the baking sheet. She gently squeezed his hand before gently placing his finished bun next to hers. "You weren't taught about emotions when you were young. Am I right?" She didn't want to be right but she had a sinking feeling she was.

 "Oh..." That was the only thing that could leave his throat at the relationvation before thinking about her question. Ludwig nodded weakly before she gave him a kind but weak smile. "Gilbert was always busy so I was mostly left alone since he was the only one raising me." He bit the inside of his cheek before making another bun as she gave him a look of pity and sadness. "But I grew up happy even though I had to learn about a lot of things from my friends later in life."

 The duo fell into another quiet silence as she gently squeezed his hand in her own smaller one every few seconds. After a few minutes the buns were ready to rise for the second time as he walked over to the cake batter to pour it into the pan. He poured the batter in carefully into the four deep pans in front of him before scraping the bowl clean from any of the remaining dough. He placed it into the already preheated oven before setting the timer for it. He yawned quietly as he stretched his back. 

 "Did you lie about sleeping last night young man?" Jane turned to him with a knowing smile before patting his back. "You really don't need to act tough all the time. I know you wanted to cry when you cut your hand but you didn't. Your body needs different things and right now you need sleep."

 The German's pale cheeks began heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well I did sleep an hour so I didn't actually lie. My new blood pressure medication kind of messed up my sleeping schedule." He could feel her brown eyes drill into him before she tsked quietly while leading him to the stairs.

 "Go take a nap now. I'll watch the store and you can take a two hour nap. I'll wake you up before we're supposed to open. The blanket is on the break room couch and there are snacks for you in the fridge if you wake up hungry." The older woman spoke to him firmly before gently shoving him up the first step. "No go. Get some sleep and then you can come back down to help me."

 The young man didn't move from the first step before he turned around to face her. He gave her a quick but kind hug while taking a deep breath in as he smelled the faint scent of lavender and soap in her curly hair before he felt her hug him back with a soft chuckle. He quickly let her go before turning his back to her. "Thank you momma." Those were his last words as he walked up the wooden stairs.

[mother-snake]

I FOUND FREE TIME!! Sorry if this one is a bit rushed Jessie!!

Italics are memories

-----

The first thing a yellow side notices is that his head feels like its being split open. The second thing is that he's laying on a very soft couch. And the third? The third is that he doesn't remember anything.

He makes a slight noise of discontent before opening his eyes, only to have five people swarm him. Talking to him very fast and keep trying to touch him. He tries to curl up only to be unable to move.

One by one the colourful people back away only a dark blue person stayed by him. His lips keep moving but it all sounds like its underwater. Only to clear.

"-us, Janus! Can you hear us?"

His voice is raspy but he manages to respond, "Who's Janus?"

The people seemed to not like that answer, he didn't know why but making someone upset makes him feel like he's in danger, the indigo side didn't react that much.

"You are Janus, that is your name. Do you remember us?"

Janus shook his head.

"Well, I am Logan, Thomas's logic. The red side is Roman, one half of creativity. Green is Remus, the second half of creativity. The purple one is Virgil, he represents anxiety. And the light blue side is Patton. Thomas's morality.

Janus seemed to be taking the information in. Thinking about that one name he said... What was it? Timothy? Tobias? Travis?

"Do you remember Thomas?"

Janus had to stop and think. Thomas... Thomas was their centre. I'm one of his sides. Janus nodded

Logan handed Janus a glass of water, helping him take careful sips. The water felt like heaven, it was cool and soothing. But the heaven was gone soon enough.

"Do you remember your function?"

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember. "Deception?.....Or was it self preservation? I- I can't remember."

Logan had a small smile on his lips. "You are correct, your title is Deceit and your function is Self Preservation."

"Deceit... Isn't lying bad? Am I bad? Why does my head hurt?" Janus didn't notice the looks of pain on the others faces because they put those thoughts there.

Logan's smile disappeared. "No, you are not a bad side. You work for the good of Thomas. Why would you think that?"

"Because they told me so."

"Who?"

"..... I don't remember... They wore a lot of black."

"Do you mean the Dark Sides?"

A sharp gasp came from the yellow side. Blood, there is so much blood. Its my blood. Screaming. No, not screaming. Yelling. I'm running, the hallway is dark, the rug keeps triping me, my door lock is broken, I'm hiding... I can feel my breath.... The door to my room is open. Orange. I scream.

Janus is still screaming, he's trying to run but something is holding him down, he can feel someones breath. "Let me go! Please I'll do what you want!" he feels a slight sting in his arm before his eyes get blurry. The voices in the background get farther away as he feels himself involuntarily relax and fall back asleep.

Logan pulls the needle away as Roman, Remus and Virgil all let go of the sleeping side. Worry is blinding them as all of them walk into the kitchen to talk.

"The NopeRope doesn't remember anything. What do we do here?" Roman kept messing with his sash.

"His memory seems to come back with certain prompts or questions. However it seems to have a bad reaction-"

"A bad reaction? A BAD REACTION?? Logan, he was screaming for help while repeating the word no! That is more then JUST a bad reaction!!

Logan sighed, "Virgil, I know that you're worried about him but he does need to get his memory back."

"Does he?"

Everyone was now staring at Patton.

"I mean well, if he doesn't remember what the others put him through and what we put him through maybe he would be happier? He just looks to peaceful while he's asleep that I've never seen him have before."

"He will most likely remember anyway when he sees the scars, we can not hide this from him forever."

The kitchen was now an awkward silence. Until Remus broke it.

"How long till he wakes up, nerd?"

"Should be around 3 hou-"

"He'll be awake in five"

"What? Why five?"

"He's smaller then normal, plus he's not a full grown side yet, so-"

"What?" Patton didin't seem happy knowing that info.

Remus shugged, "he popped up in the gray when Thomas was ten, followed virgil around like a lost puppy next to a railroad. He just grew fangs a few months ago! I don't think they have venom though, bit of a shame. Everything is better with venom.-"

"Remus, getting off track here. Janus is the youngest?"

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Yep" poping the P, "he was a cute little baby snake! Loved strawberries! The other three didn't like him very much though."

Patton was pressing his palms to his eye sockets. "they burned, beat and tried to kill a child?"

Remus nodded and looked to the ground.

The sides split up to go a few things before Janus woke up again.

When Janus opened his eyes all he could smell was strawberries. A song played in the background. He felt stronger and managed to sit up. He looked on the TV to see a frog singing the loveliest lies of them all.

"Vee! Vee!" Boucing up and down. "Can we watch Over The Garden Wall?" Virgil looked over at the shorter side. "You just watched it yesterday, short stack" even though the yellow side was 15 he still bounced and gave Virgil the puppy dog eyes. Virgil sighed, "Fine. Bring up the episode." trying and failing to sound annoyed. The smaller side smiled even wider.

"Vee?" Janus mumbled under his breathe the name. The side in the memory looked similar to...What was his name? VIRGIL! That was it! Was Vee Virgil? The snake zoned out in his thoughts and the song from the frog. Only to be brought out of it when a light blue side stood in front if him.

"Patton? That was your name right?"

"Yep! You got it in one mr scales!" Patton seemed nice, wait. Scales?

Get out of here you slimy boi! reptilian rapscallion! Snake! Evil! Villian! You are no good for Thomas! Just leave! Leave! LEAVE! LEAVE!

Janus lifted his hand and touched the left side of his face. Smooth scales greeted his hand and old burnt skin next to his eye. Tears started to leak for a reason he couldn't pin point. Continuously touching the scales, stoking over the sharp bottom of scales. Sooner then he thought someone was sitting next to him.

Patton sat next to him and was counting numbers.

1 2 3 4. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Janus didn't know what the numbers where but he followed along anyway.

Soon he could smell the strawberries again. He likes strawberries right? Janus thinks he likes strawberries. When he looks up, Patton gives him a hug. Wincing when his arms touch something on his back.

More and more time passes. With each memory things get clearer. Janus still doesn't know why he can't remember anything. Until another memory happens.

"WILL YOU PLEASE JUST SHUT UP?" " No! Roman I want to apologize! I'm sorry I compared you to your brother! I'm sorry I manipulated you at the courtroom! I'm sorry I sent Remus to deal with my problems! You don't have to forgive me but ay least listen to me!" Roman growls "FUCK OFF!!" And suddenly, he is back at the dark household.

He needs to get out before the others find him. Who knows what they would do to h- "Ohhh Deceit! So lovely for you to stop by~" Too late.

He runs to his room, tripping on the carpet. The lock is broken. He hides in the closet. Wrath finds him. He's dragged to the dark side commons and chained to a wall for days to become the personal punching bad. Apathy set him on fire, Wrath beat him up and Depression.... Depression did something to his head. He was thrown into the gray after depression had his fun. Then he blacked out

Janus doesn't want to leave his room. He's being punished for wanting to apologize. That seems like bullshit to him.

Weeks pass. People keep knocking on his door, they say that they're worried. What a bunch of liars.

After a month, the sides make Thomas take them inside if the bedroom. After a bit of convincing, Janus tells them everything.

And much to his surprise. They are livid.

------

Beep boop. Thingy done! I hope this thing made sense! Brain is broken atm. This one was inspired by Once Upon a December from Anastasia.

This turned out a lot more fluffy then I originally thought.... Hope ya like it! I need to go write a poem now ❤💛❤

protcetive sides alert! yeah! may i say that this is some quality content? im running out of things to say wihout repeating myself but they are all just so amazing and normaly leave me with energy to write stuff. (sorry im responding to these now, i was asleep when i got them last night and consumed by school fr the past few hours...)

[irwintry]

Black Leather

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drugs

Summary: Calum is in a small band in the mid-90s, and Y/N stumbles into his show one weekend in October.

Word Count: 7k

Among the sea of eyes, his were the ones that stood out.

The bus had stopped by too soon. In the four minutes it took to walk to the stop, you were running instead, lungs heavy while hot coffee sloshed onto your jeans. After twenty minutes passed, you were headed down Broadway on the 68 bus, your fingers twitching against your knees to the sounds of morning commuters. You were late. You were so fucking late.

The sprint to Sever Hall hadn’t been worth the energy. It hadn’t been worth the splattered burn, red splayed in dripped shapes against your thigh. It hadn’t been worth the asthma induced, cross-country sprint, one that left you wheezing in the hallway outside of your classroom. When you stumbled into the room, it was a hundred-eyed gaze, and you soon realized you had been better off skipping altogether.

“Sorry,” you breathed out, holding your chest high as you met each pair of eyes staring you down.

He had been looking at you. His lips were tugged into an unfamiliar smile while his dark brows rose in surprise. It wasn’t an appearance he wore often, and it kept you frozen in place. You were used to the frown and the rigid stare.

You managed a small smile in his direction before finding a seat toward the back.

You knew his name. You knew his face. You knew that he had come from outside of the states. But that was the gross extent of your knowledge of Calum, other than the dingy attire and the fact that he was more brilliant than you would ever know. He spoke in class on the rare occasion, and the words that flowed from his lips were dripping in pure gold.

And on the back page of your notebook, you kept his quotes in black ink. You wrote what you could hear through his soft mumbles, and you wondered why he kept so quiet with a mind as beautiful as his.

He kept his nose in a book. You spent the last month and a half studying him when you could, mentally tracing over the creases in his skin when an unsettling opinion was spoken in class. You thought about how bright his smile was despite having never seen it. You thought about how his deep brown eyes would look in the sun. You thought about his taste in music, and you wondered if you would ever know him the way you longed to.

You were caught up in your daydream when his eyes flickered over. His stare pulled you out from the swirling headspace, and you were quick to regain your involvement in the professor’s voice. Yet, despite the collected exchange, you could still feel his gaze. It was a heavy and mysterious gaze, the kind that elicited unwarranted shivers. But you didn’t mind it. The sensation sparked desirable nerves.

The next fifty minutes were spent in a distracted haze. Even the tragedy of Oedipus could not compare to the hope of delving into Calum’s personality. He was well reserved, and you ached to crack his code. You ached to be the source of his rare smiles.

That had been the reason behind your abstracted mind. He had smiled when you walked in.

You wondered about it for the next few hours, your brain preoccupied as you absentmindedly stepped around leaves on the pathway. You kept your head low on your way to Sage’s while the crisp wind nipped at any exposed skin. Scuffed shoes met shallow puddles along the pavement, and you were careful to avoid muddy spots against the lawn. The pole of posters beside Hollis Hall suddenly tore you out of the moment.

You looked beyond the anti-gentrification and political agenda signs. You looked beyond club meetings and tutor session invitations. The one poster that caught your eye was crumpled and torn, and it read:

Knight Knuckles. Slip Tit. Mudslide. Killed for Casualty.

8pm, Oct. 13th. $2 Coverage.

87 Linden St, Allston, Mass.

You reached around for your backpack, pulled out your notebook, and wrote down the address. You weren’t going to go, you told yourself. It wasn’t your scene–– it would never be. You shut the notebook and stuffed it back into your bag, mind returning to thoughts of Calum and the sandwich you were about to indulge in. To finish your day, you made small rounds through Harvard Square and stopped by the poetry shop to further indulge in unlikely necessities. All thoughts of Calum ceased.

-

The back door was cracked open. A few guys sat on the steps before it, each with a cigarette in hand and a beer in the other, and they were laughing at some offensive joke while you stepped around them. They weren’t worth the hassle of arguing against–– they would simply make their opinions overshadow yours with the use of their superiority complexes. So, you stepped inside, and the hot air swelled around you.

About a dozen strangers crowded into the small kitchen, and another few were cramped into the living room. The home was void of any furniture, but you weren’t shocked. The squalid interior with its spray-painted walls and missing floorboards was proof that hardly a soul lived here. At least, you hoped.

You slipped two dollar bills into a jar, and a man with an eyebrow piercing grabbed your hand and stamped a bright red mark onto it without saying a word.

“Watcha want there, Maggie May?” asked another man. He was leaned up against the fridge, and he had a few piercings as well.

You rolled your eyes. “Eat my ass.”

The girl beside him snorted. “He wants to know what you want to drink,” she said. “Also, I love you. I’m Tori.”

“Hey, yeah, you too,” you sighed out, slipping your jacket from off of your shoulders. The discomfort was evident. “Y/N. Not Maggie May. And, what do you have?”

“Mostly just Pabst,” she replied and tilted her own beer your way. “Beer and stuff.”

You nodded. “I’ll take that.”

Tori lightly shoved the man away from the fridge to retrieve a beer for you. When your fingers brushed, she smiled. “What brings you here, then, Y/N? It’s usually the same crowd ‘round here.”

“Dunno,” you mumbled. “Don’t usually come to a lot of stuff like this, so I figured I’d give it a shot. It was kind of a last-minute decision.” You popped the drink open and took a sip. The taste was foul and cheap, yet you kept the sweating can close to your chest.

“Makes sense,” replied Tori. Her eyes narrowed, and it felt as though she was reading you like an open book. “Do you even know anybody here?”

You shook your head. “Not a soul.”

“Cool.” She grinned. A few people made their way downstairs. “See you down there, Maggie May. I’ll dedicate the first song to your poor, lost soul.”

You had begun to retaliate when she left your company, and you soon followed the pack down the narrow steps into the basement. The first level was Barbie’s Dream House in comparison. Down below, you were met with concrete floors and a harsh smell of piss and weed. A make-shift space was filled with boxes and trash bags, plus a stained futon over in the corner. Christmas lights were hung around pillars beside the performance space, and wires were scattered like snakes over empty boxes of Marlboro. You could only imagine how much turmoil the oriental rugs below the drum kit had been through. You pushed through bodies and stood below a mural, meanwhile admiring the glossy eyes of handsome strangers beside you. A cute man offered you a joint, and you politely refused.

The first band was ear blood, but you recognized the need for courtesy. You nodded along to the screeching noises, wishing you had bought earplugs specifically for the occasion. The second band’s sound had little representation, yet the tunes were simple, and the lyrics were crude. The can of Pabst was warm against your skin. A half-hour later, the third band had finished their set. Tori fulfilled her promise of dedicating her song to you, and you greeted the feeling of eyes like an old friend.

You leaned against the cinderblock wall and ran your fingernails along the rim of your beer. The night had been going on for longer than expected. You needed to use the bathroom as well, but you wouldn’t be caught dead using it here. A stinging dissonance filled the tight space, and you returned your gaze onto the final band.

And then your eyes met a familiar figure. A tall, mysterious figure with an infamous leather jacket stretched across broad shoulders. Small, dark hand tattoos stood out against his brown skin.

“Yeah, uh, we are Killed for Casualty,” spoke the lead singer. His voice was soft, just like the golden curls that framed his face. You had a feeling you would like this band. “Let’s fucking rock, then.”

A series of blaring chord progressions filled the small space, and the crowd came back to life. The crash cymbals drowned out the lead singer’s voice, but you hardly cared about the quality of the music. You hardly had the energy to enjoy the melody when all you could focus on was the man behind the bass. All you could see were his furrowed brows and his deep frown. His eyes shut tight as his body swayed with the beat.

You hid behind shoulders. You hid behind the thought of his smile and sweet voice melting against your skin. His lips touched the mic every time he sang, and you couldn’t look away. Calum had a light aura–– it didn’t matter what clothes or expression he wore. You saw another part of him, yet you didn’t even know him.

You nestled rim of your beer beneath your front teeth while you moved with the crowd, head bobbing along to songs you had heard on the radio before. There were songs you didn’t recognize, too, and those were the ones Calum lost himself in. So, you lost yourself in them as well.

“Holy shit, you guys are awesome,” said the other guitarist. His light fringe was surely a sight, but you admired his adrenaline. He had a bubbly, boisterous attitude that you longed to have in your life.

Calum’s face lit up as his eyes scanned the crowd. You hadn’t assumed he would ever see you, but the world froze when he did. Your blood ran cold as his smile fell, and you were seconds away from slipping into a fit of self-doubt before his smile grew again. And then he winked.

He had winked at you and resumed with the set as if it never happened.

You hugged your jacket against your body, heart stuttering at the thought of his flirtatious nature directed toward you. You had finally seen his genuine smile, and you had been the reason behind it, too. The music was drowned out by the thoughts in your head.

“Thanks, guys,” said the lead singer, his eyes bright as he spoke. “I’ve been Luke. That’s Calum on bass. Ryan on drums. Michael on guitar. We’ve been Killed for Casualty. Thanks for comin’ out.”

You took a deep breath, meanwhile, the crowd thinned out as the band packed up their things. You made your way along with the strangers, yet your plans to duck out were torn to shreds by a tap on your shoulder. The tap was quick–– almost as if it had been a mistake, but when you turned to face the culprit, Calum stood before you. And he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t expect t’see you here.”

You shrugged. “Figured there was no better way to spend a Saturday night other than listening to music I’ve never heard before in my life.”

Calum laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure you’ve heard of Radiohead.”

“Oh, duh.”

His smile never died. He was looking at you, truly looking at you with crinkly eyes that you wanted to get lost in. “We–– uh, we have another show next weekend. It’d be sick if you came.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising a brow, to which he reciprocated your gesture. “You really want me to come? Do you even know my name?” Your teasing tone hardly fazed him.

“Course,” he said. “You’re Y/N, and you’re almost always late to our Tragedy in Literature class. Like, always late.”

You pouted. “Don’t blame me. Blame the MBTA,” you replied, and he laughed.

“I always blame the MBTA.”

“It’s really the worst, isn’t it?” you asked him, and you felt yourself softening into the comfort of the conversation. In a matter of hours, you would be convincing yourself that the encounter never happened.

Calum’s smile was contagious. “Fucking awful. A man farted on me once on the red line.”

“You’re–– you’re kidding,” you said, but you soon fell into a small fit of laughter once he shook his head. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“Speaking of awful––“ Calum pointed down to the empty Pabst in your hands. “Is that what they’re handing out? Christ–– Kev’s gotta get a raise. That shit sucks.”

“It was kind of disgusting,” you said, yet you shrugged it off.

“So, I gotta finish packing stuff up,” said Calum, “but listen–– it was really cool to see you. Hope you can make it out next time.”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “Only if you promise to dedicate that last song to me,” you replied. “It was my favorite.”

Calum grinned. “You’ve got yourself a promise, babe.”

-

The bus had been early again that following Monday. So, for the second class in a row, you were stumbling in late. Only a few heads turn in your direction, and immediately, you looked for the pair of deep brown eyes that made your heart flutter. You had only spoken to him once, but it had been enough to haunt you throughout the next day. It had been enough to spark something you hadn’t felt for anyone in years.

You found Calum in a heartbeat, and he had already been looking at you. He had already been smiling at you. You smiled in return and took your seat.

He spoke up once during class, and you placed the delicate words at the back of your notebook. After the class ended, you were quick to stand, heart racing at the thought of his smile so cute and goofy. You were too preoccupied to notice the man falling in step beside you.

“Like I said––” he began, voice so golden and smooth that you believed it belonged on the radio. The idea of Calum as a newscaster was a vision to behold. “––always late.”

You playfully hit his arm, and his laughter echoed around the halls. You were certain it was the kind of laugh that birthed fairies. “The bus system sucks,” you replied. “It’s the earliest one I can get, and it’s never on time.”

“Jus’ messing with you, love,” he said. His presence intimidated you, but it was the kind of intimidation that you never wanted to leave. It created the desire to hold him by the waist and carry him with you wherever you went. “Where ya off to?”

“I was gonna pop in Widener for a small study break,” you said, tugging your sleeves down so you could hold onto them with your fingers. “Then I usually get lunch before my last two classes of the day.

Calum huffed. “Mid-terms got you tickin’, too?”

“Something like that.”

“Harvard wants us all dead,” mumbled Calum as he held the front doors of the hall open for you. “That’s what I think.”

You had been expecting a chill from the morning, but the bright sun kept the air warm. You pushed the sleeves of your sweater back up your arms, and you stared at Calum in amazement. “You want yourself dead,” you said. “Do you ever get hot in that damn thing?”

“What, my jacket?” he asked, tilting up the leather as a smile grew. “It’s not about sweat, baby, it’s about fashion.”

Baby. You laughed the pet name off.

“’sides,” he continued. “It’s not about how hot I feel either. It’s about how hot I look.”

“I mean, yeah, it looks good.”

Calum raised a brow. You enjoyed watching his reactions out of the corner of your eye.

“But I always say that comfort comes before fashion,” you said as you kicked a few fallen leaves on the path before you.

He let out a chuckle. “Is that why you’re rollin’ in late with some big ass sweater on every day? Hell, you’re already late, so you could at least have the decency to show up with a coffee.”

“Honestly, I’ve thought about that,” you said. “And what do you have against big ass sweaters, huh?”

Calum shook his head. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Maybe next time I’ll wear a black one,” you replied. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate my fashion.”

“Can’t believe I’m being attacked at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“You had it coming.”

He laughed again. “You don’t need t’wear black for me to appreciate you, love.”

The words warmed your chest. You smiled. “Well, I said my fashion, but it’s nice to know you appreciate me, Cal. Is–– is that okay? If I call you Cal?”

“Yeah,” he said. His smile hadn’t faltered throughout the entire conversation. “Reserved that nickname just for you.”

“Do you have any other classes today?” you asked him and placed yourself onto the steps of the library. You were still a few inches shorter at best. “Because you can join me if ya want.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, “but unfortunately, I’m already running late.”

Your jaw dropped as you laughed at his words. “And you make fun of me for being late. We’re gonna get kicked outta this fuckin’ school.”

Calum laughed along with you, and the sound was music. Everything about him was music. “I make fun of you because it’s cute to see you flustered.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you muttered, but your smile only grew. And so did your heart, too.

His eyes were golden in the sunlight, and they shimmered when he smiled. Sometimes, when he grinned so wide, his eyes squinted shut, and the sight left you woozy. You wondered if he knew how beautiful he was.

“See you ‘round, love,” he said to you, meanwhile taking a few steps back.

“Don’t forget about my dedication,” you replied. “I’m only coming this weekend because of you.”

Calum winked. “I won’t, darlin’. Study hard.” He turned down the path with a final wave, and you let out a sigh. And your smile carried on.

-

“You weren’t in class on Wednesday.”

That next weekend, you stepped off of the bus in Allston, your jean jacket hugged tight to keep warm down the tired streets behind music halls. The home was familiar, and it was packed full again. The bodies no longer stared at you like a stranger, but they still avoided you like one. Yet, Tori was there to keep you company as the night carried on.

You kept an eye out for Calum. The basement rocked with sound, air heavy as it filled with heat and smoke. The Christmas lights made you feel at home, yet none of it mattered when the one person you wanted to see wasn’t even there. So, you swayed to music from new bands you didn’t care about, wishing you hadn’t been stupid enough to fool yourself over a guy.

But, like always, he arrived when you least expected.

Tori gave you a wink and stepped away.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. Meanwhile, his band had begun preparing their instruments. “I forgot I wasn’t.”

“You okay?” Calum asked you. “I can get ya the notes if you want.”

“I’m—oh wow, that’d be nice, thank you.” You grinned. “Yeah, um, I’m good. Turns out my alarm clock is a goner, so...”

Calum smiled. He was wearing a flannel tonight, and you decided that he could make trash bags look good. “Damn alarm clocks can’t be trusted.”

“They really can’t.” You eyed the rest of his band and furrowed your brows. “No drummer tonight?”

He glanced over at his friends before looking back at you. “Nah. We’re looking for a new one right now.”

You tilted your head.

“Ryan broke his wrist.”

“Oh, that sucks,” you said. “He was pretty good.”

Calum shrugged, but you could tell he was upset. Tonight, he had become the backbone of rhythm. “Yeah, well. Mike thinks he has a friend who knows some other drummer. He might be able to help out.”

“He just has to do my song justice,” you replied with a smirk. You hardly remembered the song, yet you knew it was your favorite of theirs no matter what. It was your favorite because Calum had winked at you before it, and it was all you could think about.

He nodded. “I’ll make fuckin’ sure of that.” He looked back over to his friend. “I should probably join them, then. Last song is yours,” he said, a grin spreading as he sent a wink your way.

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before he was jogging off and picking up his bass effortlessly. You weren’t sure how an instrument could make someone look so handsome, yet there he was, looking like the best damn man in the room.

“He’s fucking in love with you,” said Tori from behind. Her voice crept up your spine, and you yelped.

“Jesus,” you breathed out.

She laughed. “Cool your tits, Maggie May.”

“They’re ice-cold,” you replied. “And he’s not. We only just met last week.”

Tori shrugged. “You can totally fall in love in a week. He’s done it before.”

“He’s done it before?” you asked. The music blasted, and the bodies around you jumped and pushed. You hardly budged. Soon, you were shouting over Luke’s voice just to talk. “You know him?”

“Old friend,” she said over the music. “I’ve known him since like–– how many years ago was ’88?”

“Uh, seven.”

“I’ve known him for about seven years,” Tori continued. “He was a cute teen. Moved from Australia and played a shit ton of soccer. We started a band together in our last year of high school, but then he kinda disappeared for a year afterward. Came back and said he was going to Harvard–– said he had been with this girl. So, I assumed they broke up.”

You nodded along as she spoke.

“Anytime he’s with someone,” she carried on loudly, “it’s like he’s head over heels. He tries to act all shy and cool until you really get t’know him. And it’s pretty fuckin’ clear he really wants to know you.”

You tried to smile, but something about her words made it hard. Because you had never wanted to think about him loving someone else.

“You seem spooked.”

You shook your head. “Not spooked. Just a little in disbelief.”

Tori let out a laugh. “Why? Because I think he likes you? So hard to believe that?”

You shrugged.

“He is pretty damn cute,” she said. “So, if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down.”

“You can hold me to that,” you replied. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“But you do want him?”

You nodded.

“Oh, hell fucking yeah.”

You laughed as she nudged you, and you soon returned your focus to Calum. His eyes met yours right away, and he smiled. This time, the fluttering in your stomach had become a heavy swarm, and you allowed it. You welcomed it.

The stress of the evening slipped off of your shoulders the more you danced. You no longer worried about what you would say to him or the words you had said in the past. You no longer worried about the feelings you wanted to repress. It was new, it was natural, and you wanted to deserve his company. You wanted to earn him.

When the final song approached, Calum kept his gaze on you, eyes brightening every time they met yours. His shy smile had etched itself into your brain. All he had to do was look your way, and you were his–– there was no one else. No one else in the room but you and him.

This stuff didn’t happen in a week. It never worked like this. But you blocked out the harsh noise of your pessimistic thoughts. You weren’t bound to doom what could be good because of your insecurities.

“This next one is dedicated to the person who thinks that 9:15 is the new 8:45. Or the one who just doesn’t bother showing up to class at all.”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching while his face broke out into a grin. The song began after the silent exchange, and he kept looking at you. He looked at you until the crowd had dwindled and the music faded with their heads. He looked at you as if he had been waiting to have every ounce of your attention.

“Kicked ass,” you said, “as usual. You were a little flat at the end there, though.” Your teasing tone lightened while you crossed the floor toward him.

“Oh, really?” he asked you. He zipped the case of his bass closed and lifted it over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were a music critic. I’ll do better next time.”

You chuckled. “You better.”

Calum adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and you admired the comfort in his appearance. You wondered how he would react seeing you in the gray flannel he wore currently. He no longer intimidated you, not like he used to; you lost yourself in the strength of his gaze.

“You live around here?”

You shook your head. “I live down past Central.”

Calum raised his brows in surprise. “Shit, you live that far?” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s why you’re rollin’ up late every damn day then, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “It’s not that bad, though.”

His frown deepened. “I can keep ya company if you want.”

“Well, where do you live?”

“Like, a ten-minute walk from here,” he replied. “I’m a night-owl, so it’d be no problem. Only i-if you’re–– if you’re comfortable with that.”

You smiled once he stammered, and he blinked rapidly to cover up the fault in his words. Your heart was swelling. “Really nice of you to offer,” you said, “but you don’t need to go out of your way. The ride goes fast.”

Calum nodded, lips tugging into a small smile. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you mumbled. “But you can walk me to the bus stop if ya want.”

His face lit up in an instant.

-

The next show was at a new location.

Calum came to you that Monday with a torn flyer, hands shaking as he reached over your shoulder while you walked down damp pathways. You were going to arrive on time that day, and you were eager to rub it in his face until he stumbled up behind you. He appeared nervous to talk to you, yet the words he spoke were calm and collected.

“New place,” you observed, eyeing the messy letters. Meanwhile, Calum caught up in step beside you. “Looking forward to it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’ll come?”

“You think I wouldn’t?”

A grin spread on his face. Later on, he sat next to you in class.

That following weekend, you arrived at the house alone, bones shivering while the cold air crept under your skin. Calum stood at the base of the driveway with a cigarette in hand, and he was smiling like he always did when he saw you. Like he always did.

“Hey, Maggie May,” he said.

You groaned as you nearly fell into him, and he grabbed your arm to hold you steady. He smelled of cigarette smoke and earthy cologne. “Not you, too. Isn’t the song about a cougar?”

Calum shrugged and loosened his grip. But it was slow, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. “Who knows?” The cigarette slipped from his fingers, and he stomped it into the pavement. “Come on in. I wanna introduce you to the guys.”

“Oh, the guys?” you asked, chuckling. “Did know we were there yet. I’m honored.”

He looked back at you while he led you in through the back door. “You should be. They’ll like you, though. You’re cool, I guess.”

“That’s convincing.”

Calum laughed. He walked you beyond the men asking for coverage fees at the front, giving them subtle nods while you avoided eye contact. You continued to keep your head down low as he led you down to the basement. The house layout was similar, yet the room was larger, and the lights around the posts were purple bats instead. A few familiar faces were passing around a joint beside the drumkit.

“Hey, idiots,” said Calum. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Luke, Mike, and Ashton.”

“The new guy,” you spoke softly, eyeing the strong arms of the stranger across from you. You could tell that, just by his build, he was going to rock the house. “Why are you all so fuckin’ tall?”

The new drummer, Ashton, laughed. His smile was the type to light up the entire room. “Maybe you’re just fuckin’ short,” he retaliated.

Michael chuckled along. “Ya probably need a step ladder jus’ to hug Cal.”

“She can’t even do that,” said Luke. “Her arms aren’t long enough.”

You narrowed your gaze. “Touché.”

Calum’s hand slid down to the small of your back. His touch burned through your clothes. “Okay, that’s it. Y’all can find a new band.”

“Are you leaving us, or are you kicking us out?” asked Michael. He placed the joint between his lips.

“Kicking all of you out,” said Calum, and he tugged the joint away from his friend. “It’s just me now.” He turned to you. “You wanna join my band?”

“Are you kidding?” You leaned into him, and he pulled your closer, hand finding your waist while he gazed down at you. His eyes were warm, and there was something new. Something hidden behind the crinkles that seemed to never cease when around you. Like you could finally feel everything Tori was telling you about. “Can I take Luke’s place?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, snagging the burning joint from Calum’s fingers before taking a hit. “No more for you.”

A handful of people made their way down the steps, their voices carrying through laughter and drunken screams. Calum’s grip on your waist loosened and dropped.

“Ready to fuckin’ rock?” he whispered to you.

The timber in his voice rattled through your spine, but the shiver only lasted so long before he was guiding you back into the crowd. He hardly spoke after that. The music did enough, and instead, he talked through gazes— warm, heartfelt eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a while, if at all. For the night, you felt like he admired you the way you had always wanted him to.

“—just annoying as shit. Screaming and bouncing like a fucking slut, man. She was so loud. But who gives a shit, you know? Like, she’s a goddamn whore when she’s—“

Calum tensed at the sound of the men behind you. You could picture the scowl on his features, yet you didn’t dare to glance over. You wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had been said.

But you couldn’t.

Calum whipped around, and you were quick to grab his arm. “Do you guys mind not fucking disrespecting women like that?” he asked, the pitch of his voice lowering as the words slipped out with ease.

One of the men—you guessed the one who had spoken originally—laughed. Anger coursed through your veins as well, but Calum’s radiated off of him. You moved your hand up to his bicep.

“What? You really gonna do something?” asked the man. He looked down at you and smirk. “I’ll totally take it back if you give me a spin on your little bi—“

Calum lunged, fist flying toward the face of the man with a devilish grin. Immediately, someone tugged you back— you assumed Michael, but you didn’t bother to check. Instead, you were forced to scream over shouts and cheers while the boy you liked fought for you. He fought for you.

The other man had gotten in his fair share of punches, his frightening, rigid knuckles crunching and colliding against Calum’s jaw. Every crack echoed. Every grunt, every groan sent sparks through your nerves, and you felt tears pricking beneath your eyes. Limbs flew and bodies slammed against one another, but you stood there helpless. You stood there wishing you could blink away the fear and adrenaline.

Everyone was shoving each other as the fight spread throughout the crowd. Petty brawls broke out, and you were barely shielded by Ashton’s interference in front of you. But beyond the noise, you still heard Calum, and he was shouting for you.

Shoulders knocked against yours while you fought your way beyond the mayhem. The air was hot, thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol and everything in between, and all you wanted was to find Calum and get out in one piece. You just wanted to be alone with him, to make sure he was okay and to tell him how much he meant to you. To tell him how much his actions meant to you.

A hand reached out for yours. A bloodied and bruised hand with a familiar tattoo stretched across the thumb.

“C’mon,” he muttered once he got close enough, and he pulled you through the chaos to reach the base of the stairs. You were hot on his tail as he walked up, but you chose to remain quiet.

And you stayed quiet the entire walk back to his place.

He was angry, fingers tightly locked between yours while the breeze picked up around you. His pace was heavy, and yours was, too. The door to his apartment slammed shut behind the two of you. You fought the urge to pull him back and calm the frustration, but he was stomping up two flights of steps with you on his heels. You hardly had a chance to glimpse at his small space before you were being pulled into an old bathroom down the hall.

“Cal— Calum.” You pried his fingers away from yours as he paced the tiled floor. “Calum.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. He turned to face you, and you were finally able to look at the damage that had been done. You finally saw what he had put himself through just to defend you. Or, maybe it was much more than that. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “They just— I wasn’t just gonna let them say that shit to you.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

But you wished you did to have to feel any gratitude. You wished you hadn’t been forced to watch him break his bones in order to keep harmful words at bay. He suffered a bloody nose, swollen lip, and bruised cheek, and you felt responsible for every single scratch that tore through his skin.

“Do you— do you have an ice pack?” you sputtered, hand reaching up to grab the air. Because you weren’t sure if you had the right to touch him.

Calum nodded, and you didn’t wait for a verbal answer. You hurried into his kitchen, and despite the cramped size, you lost yourself in the details. It was his kitchen— it was Calum through and through. You searched the drawers for a dish towel, trembling hands picking out a dark cloth before soaking it under the dripping faucet. Next, you retrieved an ice pack from the freezer before rushing back into the bathroom. Calum was leaned up against the porcelain sink, and he had taken off his jacket to reveal a thin white tank.

You kept quiet and approached him slowly, heart heavy at the sight of him so bloodied and broken. You thought about his touch and how it felt earlier on in the night. You thought about protective he was despite barely knowing you for two weeks. And lastly, you thought about how, even when provoked into unattractive behavior, he still managed to look so damn hot.

So, you didn’t speak as you pressed the damp cloth against his blood-soaked skin. He stayed still, watching you as you scrubbed lightly until all that was left was a pinkish residue. You felt the weight of his gaze, and it burned deep in your gut. You had said he no longer intimidated you, but tonight, that wasn’t the case. Ir was the kind of intimidation that drew warmth and left you wanting more.

He was close, so close you could hear your hearts beating as one. The heat of his breath touched your skin, and you were forced to steady yourself with one hand against his bare shoulder. You hadn’t noticed his chest tattoos before, but maybe you hadn’t been this observant. Maybe you hadn’t felt as much as you were feeling right now.

You set the ice pack against his cheek and sighed. “Why did you do that?” you asked him, chest heavy while you yearned to reconstruct your words. You hadn’t wanted to plant the blame on him.

Calum swallowed. “The words he was saying, I—“ His eyes watered as he peered down at you, and he winced once you adjusted the frozen pack onto his blossoming bruise. “Couldn’t stand for that shit. Couldn’t bear to hear him say it. And I— I didn’t wanna hear him say it about you.”

You frowned. The hand that had been on his arm moved down to his chest.

“You don’t have t’take care of me,” he mumbled, lips tugging into a soft smile.

“But I want to,” you said to him. Your fingers traced the edge of his tank.

Calum’s smile quickly fell, and the room was quiet. You wondered if he could feel what you were feeling, too.

“Put down the fuckin’ ice pack,” he whispered, words tight and intricate as his hands slipped around your waist.

And then he was leaning in, lips hot as they pressed against yours in a captivating, lustful kiss. The ice pack slipped from your hands, and you felt frozen in his grip. Desperate hands clutched your waist while the kept you pressed against the sink behind you. You tossed your arms around his neck once you got a feel for his smooth, plump lips aching to taste yours. His fingers maneuvered beneath the thick layer of your sweater in order to feel your skin; you just hadn’t been aware of how truly sensational his touch would feel against your back. His lips melted against yours.

You reached a hand around to hold his face, and he seethed.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spat, and your eyes fell to the fresh bruise you had just touched.

“I’m— I’m so sorry,” you breathed out, expecting him to pull away, yet he pulled you close and reattached your lips with as much passion as the first time. Your teeth clashed, tongues slipping against one another while the heat of the moment made your insides churn. Calum’s large hand splayed across your jaw to keep you close.

His lip was still swollen from the fistful impacts, yet he seemed unfazed; in fact, it only spurred him on. But the heat of the moment overwhelmed you. You wanted him, but you wanted to know you had him.

You brushed your top lip against the corner of his mouth, hands gripping the loose material of his tank while you leaned into him. He held you with strong arms, ones you never wanted to let go.

“You’re really fuckin’ something else, babe,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could feel his smirk. “You know that?”

You chuckled. “I think the name is Maggie May.”

The warmth of his laughter spread through you. His fingers danced along the ridges of your spine, and you leaned back to look at him. His smile was small, yet it was soft, and it held every confession you had wanted to hear.

The black leather jacket on the floor caught your eye. A moment later, you pulled your sweater over your head, and Calum stood across from you in awe. His gaze was intense as you reached down for the jacket and tugged it over your arms. The leather creaked, but the loved material had softened through wear-and-tear. It slipped on with ease, and you stuffed your hands in the pockets with confidence.

Calum was silent as he took your appearance in. His jacket sat draped across your torso with only a bra underneath; you could only imagine how the sight made him feel.

He smiled and told hold of your waist. “Well, then, Maggie May,” he breathed out, lips pressing against your cheek and down your neck. The sensation made your chest ache. “I got something to say to you.”

You tangled your fingers through his dark curls as his voice vibrated through you.

“You stole fuckin’ heart, babe,” he said. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

[cottonblush]

blooming days | pjs

❧ word count: 3,418

❧ genre: floof

❧ notes: i kinda hate this?? but it’s whatever. i’ll be working on more bulleted list scenarios soon (hopefully lmao). i have my ap stats test tomorrow and i literally feel like i’ll get a 1 even though i got 5s on my practice tests but imma go crazy anyway. also i started bujo-ing my ideas for my fics and i have these cute stickers that remind me of hamtaro!! anyway, i hope everyone has a nice day and is happy and healthy. don’t forget to drink lots of water. i actually started drinking it more often and i feel a lot better!  ty for coming to my ted talk! if anyone has any upcoming exams, good luck! uh also p.s: i probably spelled some stuff wrong but several of my reference sites were saying different things. p.p.s: this is unedited whoops

❧ parts: planting, budding, ---

The bustling sounds of the city slowly fade into background noise as Jisung finds his way back home after work, one foot slowly being placed in front of the other to form a peaceful saunter. He stops when he reaches an intersection not too far away from his street, eyes coming to rest on the soft glow of the neon sign that the neighborhood ramen shop has recently added. The light emanating from the quaint little restaurant is one of the few light sources that dots the street this late on a cold, wintry night as this one.

“It won’t hurt to get some on the way,” the boy mutters to himself, already stepping into the small, warmly lit restaurant, as if he would have needed any convincing in the first place.

He’s greeted by the familiar face of the ahjussi who owns the place. Eyes quickly scanning over the menu, he settles on the newest item that the store has to offer: fire noodles. He tells the older man what he would like, figuring it’ll be just like the processed noodles sold at the store he works at, before he strolls over to his usual seat by the window.

The young man turns around to resume people-watching the many teens and adults getting home at this time as well, releasing a soft sigh, placing his head in his left hand, and drumming his fingers against the soft skin of his face. The sun is setting, the last rays of marmalade tinted light streaming through the window. Jisung takes this time to remind himself that this is the part where Jaemin would tell him to take a selfie and get that “golden hour glow.” He almost does, but at that moment, a bowl of steaming noodles covered in a glistening, ruby colored sauce is placed in front of him.

The owner warily says when he finally comes around with the noodles, “It’s pretty spicy, just so you know.” However, Jisung brushes this off, telling the gentleman that he’s used to spicy food, and digs in, enjoying the familiar tingling feeling on his tongue that fire noodles tend to bring. The wet, pink muscle peaks out of his mouth and lap up any sauce that happens to escape.

After a while, the dull tingling turns into a burning sting all over Jisung’s mouth and salty tears start to well up in his eyes. Before he knows it, Jisung is full-on crying with ears full of the sounds of his own sniffles and doesn’t even notice the old lady that comes up to sit next to him.

The woman looks to be in her upper 60’s and when she gently pats Jisung’s shoulder to provide a sense of comfort, he recognizes her as the owner of the flower shop just next door. She rests her chin in her other hand and lets out a dreamy sigh. “Ah, I remember the feeling of young love,” she says.

This makes the young man turn to her, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He tries to explain, tone flustered and face quickly turning a bright shade of red, “I think you’re misunderstanding the situation. I’m not in-”

“Nonsense,” she replies, “I know just by the look on your face. You were thinking about someone special, weren’t you? And you were looking at those pretty gardenias in that vase. Everyone knows that’s the symbol for a secret love. Have you not told them yet? I think it’s best to just rip off the band-aid and get it over with, in my experience at least.”

Jisung wants to tell the lady that kids don’t just memorize the meanings of flowers, but he thinks that one: that might discourage her seeing as she runs a flower shop and seems to care a lot about it, and two: it’s a little rude. Instead, he puts on a calm façade and reassures her, “There really has been a misunderstanding here. I wasn’t really looking at those flowers on purpose. And I just ate some spicy noodles, so it looked like I was crying.”

The old lady slowly gets up and hums, “Whatever you say,” before going to place her own order. Jisung takes this as his queue to leave and gathers his things. Just before he places a hand on the door, he takes one last glance at the little flowers in the clear vase, wondering if maybe the lady is on to something.

It clearly sticks with him because later that night as he lays in his bed, covers pulled up and lights turned off, Jisung can’t seem to take his mind off the pretty white blossoms. For some reason, your face comes to mind, unknowingly bringing a small smile to his visage. His eyes slowly flutter shut, little memories of you playing against the back of his lids as if he’s in a dark movie theater watching a montage of the two of you.

I.

Halloween is quickly approaching, now less than a week away, and the gang (Jisung, you, Chenle, Haechan, and Renjun) has decided to get some pumpkins from a farm not too far away from town. As soon as you arrive, you and Haechan run ahead of the others, both trying to find the perfect pumpkin.

Jisung, on the other hand, chooses to take his time, leisurely walking alongside Chenle and Renjun as they discuss something about Chinese traditions around this time of the year. The leaves started to fall the week before, so for each step that Jisung takes, he hears a satisfying crunch beneath his shoes. The weather is still fairly pleasant, not yet to the point where you can see your breath in the air.

Sauntering through the gates to the pumpkin patch, the kids are greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of vibrant orange pumpkins, some small and cute, others larger and optimal for carving. Not even a couple of minutes in, everyone hears a high pitched yelp and looks over to find that Chenle has managed to trip on literally nothing but air, ending up face down on the ground and crushing several mini pumpkins beneath him. Renjun can’t help but snicker, leaving Jisung to help the poor, pouting boy back up to his feet.

Jisung is in the middle of helping Chenle wipe pumpkin guts off his shirt (that’s probably worth more than all of his life savings) when he notices you and Haechan bickering out of the corner of his eye.

“Dude, I totally saw it first,” you argue.

Haechan deadpans and says, “Sure, Y/n. And I’m actually Thor from The Avengers.”

You don’t hesitate to scoff at that and say, “More like Loki.”

The two of you are in your own world, not even noticing that Jisung, Renjun, and a now clean Chenle are sitting on the ground and acting like they’re watching the final showdown in an action movie.

Haechan picks up the pumpkin you two are fighting over, one of the largest in the patch that has no blemishes at all, and sets it behind him so that he can guard it. It turns out to be the wrong move because without a moment of hesitation, you launch a roundhouse kick into his side, watching as he flails on his way down to the ground. You quickly grab the prized pumpkin and run toward the owner of the farm.

Your voice is boisterous and full of glee as you call out, “Excuse me, sir. I’d like this one!” The sound of your laugh follows soon after when you see that Haechan is hot on your tail.

It’s cheesy, but as you get farther and farther away, Jisung tries to imprint the sound your laughter into his mind, wanting to save it for whenever he is feeling down.

II.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you get yourself in these situations, Y/n,” Renjun says, mirth lacing his voice as he wraps a bandage around your ankle. You’re slouched on a stool in the nurse’s office, leaning forward so you can observe the blonde-haired boy.

Renjun is the nurse’s assistant, which means that he sees you quite often given how clumsy you are. This time, you’ve managed to twist your ankle simply walking from your class to Jisu’s so you could compare grades on a recent test. Jisung happens to be there when it happens, so he helps you over to the nurse’s office and sits next to you, carefully doting over you until Renjun arrives.

You huff and cross your arms, rebutting, “Give me a break! I’m telling you one of the tiles in the hallway is uneven. I’m not that clumsy that I just trip over the air.”

At this, Renjun coughs into his elbow, muttering, “Yes you are.”

Jisung can’t deny that he feels a little twinge of something as he sees you playfully slap Renjun’s shoulder and give him a hearty laugh. He tries to laugh along, but it turns out to be an awkward chuckle.

Renjun turns to him with lips quirked upward and says, “Dude, you don’t even know how often she comes here. I’m surprised she’s not just a pile of bones at this point.”

Feeling plenty attacked, you say, “That’s it! I’m telling the administration that the literal nurse’s assistant is out here bullying me. And next time, I’ll just suffer on my own instead of coming to you.”

When the aforementioned assistant raises his hand to pinch your cheek and tell you to stop pouting, Jisung is finally able to identify the feeling bubbling up in the pit of his stomach: envy.

 III.

It’s probably well past midnight and Jisung has just fallen asleep. The sound of crickets chirping flows through the tiny opening of the window he forgot to close. His desk lamp is still on and the fan of his laptop is still softly humming. He’s woken up with a startle when the sound of his ringtone (which Chenle had recently set to the original Pokémon theme song in honor of the new movie) blares out, reverbing against the walls of his small bedroom. He’s about to throw his phone out the window when he squints at the screen and notices that it’s you and it’s a facetime video call.

The video is blurry at first, but the sound of your voice as his name falls from your lips in a shaky sigh is surprisingly clear. You aren’t crying, but every now and then, you let out a tiny sniffle. In addition, even with the low resolution of the video call, Jisung can see salty tears pooling up against your eyelids.

“I’m so nervous, Jisung,” you say shakily, “I don’t know what to do.”

Your phone is propped up against your wall or something on your desk, so the teen gets a full view of you as you drop your face in your hands and rub your eyes aggressively.

Jisung urges you to calm down, asking what’s wrong but being careful not to be too pushy. You explain that you feel like you’re going to fail the upcoming history test.

“I’ve tried to study, but everything is just going in one ear and out the other,” you explain.

The young man assures you that you’ll be fine, but when you shake your head and vehemently deny it, he tries a different approach. Giving you a couple of minutes to calm down, he offers to help you review for it.

And so he does. He starts from the beginning, carefully explaining each topic covered in class and making sure you’re paying attention. By the time you’ve covered the entire chapter, you’re resting your chin on your arm and gazing sleepily at your phone screen. After you’ve let out what Jisung thinks is your thousandth yawn, he tells you it’s time to sleep.

He packs away his notes and textbooks and is about to bid you goodnight when he notices that you’ve fallen asleep already. He freezes in his place, eyes not able to move from the way that your eyelashes gently fan against your cheeks and the way that several strands of hair have fallen to cover your face. He notices the heavy, dark eyebags that surround your eyes and the small amount of drool that’s already starting to escape your mouth.

Jisung quickly snaps out of his daze and presses the red button that ends the call, sitting back against his desk chair and closing his eyes. He’s much too tired to move to his bed and is probably bordering on a state of delirium, but he realizes that your face, no matter how sloppy or tired, is a sight he could get lost in any day at any time. And with that revelation, his mind descends into sleep while a soft smile rests on his lips.

 IV.

Jisung is stuffing his face with cheesy tteokbokki when his phone lights up with a several new notifications.

The first one is an email from his teacher, probably a response to a question he asked the day before. The second is a reminder that he has an appointment to get a haircut in a few days. And the most recent is a snapchat notification telling him that you’ve sent him a snap.

He sets down his utensils and picks up his phone, quickly unlocking it and opening the app. Tapping on your name with the red square next to it, he’s greeted with a picture of you with a small white puppy tucked under your chin.

The caption of the picture reads, “Moomin is doing great but he misses you :(”

To add some context, Moomin is a the stray dog that you, Jisung, and Renjun found one day on the way back after school. Of course, since Renjun “found him first,” he argued that he would get to pick a name.

Not even thinking about it, Jisung takes a screenshot of the picture, heart melting just a little bit at the sight of your smiling face pressed up against Moomin. But then the ten second timer expires and he’s greeted with the sight of two blue arrows, one overlapping the other. He drops his phone and covers his face with his hands, fingers split so that he could peep at his phone. He gets a text message from you not a moment later and he thinks he’s about to get exposed. His whole form is shaking with nervousness as he checks your text.

However, Jisung literally wants to bang his head on a wall as he sees that you’ve just sent him a picture of Moomin (this time without your face in the frame) and a message that reads, “If u wanted a pic of moomin so bad you should’ve just asked lol”

Only the gods will ever know how you can be so oblivious at times, but Jisung is glad. Now, he has a cute picture of you and a cute picture of Moomin, and he’s saved himself a ton of embarrassment. He also isn’t complaining because he finds it quite endearing when you’re dense (which happens a lot).

 V.

“Jeno, have I mentioned that you and Hana would look really good together? And she’s super smart just like you!”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you should totally ask her out or something.”

It’s another regular day, and another occasion on with you are trying to set Jeno up with one of your many friends that are head over heels for the poor boy.

“I’m not really interested in her, though. Sorry, Y/n,” Jeno says awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck.

“You haven’t even given her a chance though,” you say, knowing that you’re beginning to sound childish.

At this moment, Chenle and Jisung run up to the two of you, asking what’s up.

You explain, “Jeno keeps turning down all of the friends I try to set him up with.”

You’re expecting Chenle to at least give you a sympathetic nod or something, but he releases a loud laugh instead.

In between his chuckles, he manages to say, “Are you kidding, Y/n? Jeno and Jaemin have been dating since my Halloween party.”

“What? What the actual heck?! Jeno! How could you not tell me?”

You stomp ahead of the trio, arms folded and head facing the ground. Jisung jogs to catch up with you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and assuring you that they aren’t even that public with their relationship anyway.

You continue to sulk, asking, “Am I really that oblivious though?”

Recalling many previous experiences in which you were very much oblivious, Jisung decides it’s best not to answer, causing you to pout even more than you already are. And while Jisung thinks it’s a cute expression, he’d much rather see you smile. So he spends the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, spending the rest of his allowance on snacks at the tuck shop.

At the end of the day, his wallet is weeping and he’s never craved the red bean bun that you’re eating more than he does now, but it’s worth it to see that your spirits are lifted.

 VI.

It’s the first snow of the season and the gang is out playing in the park, reveling in the fact that they have no assignments or after school classes for the day. You’re sitting on a swing, sipping some hot chocolate and swaying back and forth. You inhale deeply and let out a sigh, watching as your breath vanishes into the air.

Jaemin runs up to you and asks to try some of your drink, probably thinking it’s some type of coffee. Of course, you comply, holding your steaming steel tumbler out to the young man. He takes one sip and his nose scrunches up.

“What is that? Oh my god,” he says.

“It’s peppermint hot chocolate, Nana. Not everyone can drink coffee 24/7 like you do.”

“Peppermint?! Dude, gross. The only things that go in hot chocolate are whipped cream and cinnamon.”

You shoot Jaemin an incredulous look and ask the rest of the group, “Shut up. Peppermint is superior, right guys?”

The rest of the boys are too busy sliding down the slides or trying to make snowballs out of the thin layer of snow that’s on the ground, so the only response you get is a couple of careless shrugs.

A couple of days later, Jisung is sitting in the convenience store once again and reminiscing about the good old days like any high school student does. He remembers you saying something about peppermint and subconsciously starts perusing the store, briefly recalling that they just got a shipment of Christmas themed air fresheners.

His eyes light up when he finds the peppermint scented ones nestled at the back of the display. He grabs one and takes it to the register, trying to convince himself that he wants to make his room smell nice and not that he’s going to use it to spray on his school uniform.

However, several hours later, he finds himself spraying the canister into his closet, coating all his clothes with the soft scent of peppermint candy.

You take notice of it immediately the next day, telling Jisung that he smells really nice, and his face turns a bright vermillion.

Chenle chortles and elbows his side, saying, “Yeah, Jisung. You smell sooooo good! What is it again? Peppermint? Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Jisung proceeds to shove Chenle against a set of lockers and cover the loud-mouthed boy’s mouth with one of his hands, ignoring the way you raise an eyebrow in question of his behavior.

He’d probably die if he got found out, but he’s glad you like it and will probably continue to use his new “cologne” well into the summer seasons.

As Jisung finally descends into a state of light slumber, a warm feeling spreading across his body. It’s like he’s sitting by a fireplace wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, wearing the fancy slippers that he stole from hotel that Chenle took him to one time. It’s like the sun is shining down on his face on a cloudless day. Every memorable instance of you (which is basically every single one) is coming together, each one like a petal of a delicate flower.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that metaphorical flower will soon be in full bloom, and with it will come a realization that he may or may not be ready for.

[foxsdana]

she’s singing to me, “glory”

rating: T pairing: bellarke chpt: 2/? summary: ancient rome!au. Bellamy’s a gladiator, Clarke’s a senator’s daughter, and they might as well be Rome’s Romeo and Juliet. (pt 1 here)

Bellamy’s sword swung down hard, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the air harshly. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked Finn’s sword to the side and stepped into him, slamming his shoulder against the boy’s chest.

His opponent tumbled to the dust, the wind clearly knocked out of him. Breathing heavily, the dark-haired man didn’t bother to follow through, instead offering a hand to his friend.

“You need to not plant your feet,” he said as he pulled Finn back to his feet. “We won’t ever be the strongest men in the arena. If we want to survive, we have to use this,” he tapped his temple with his index finger, “and these.” He dropped low and swung his foot out, swinging a circle to take out Finn’s legs from beneath him.

But this time, the boy was ready. He let out a small shout and jumped, Bellamy’s legs swinging through nothing but sand and dirt.

“Good!” he exclaimed, dropping his sword. His hands came up in defensive fists as he nimbly shifted his weight from one foot to another. His movements were sharp, precise. A light hit on Finn’s shoulder. A tap on his ear. A duck as Finn swung at his head only to rise up as he surged forward, landing a softened uppercut in his friend’s gut and swiping at his head. Before the younger boy could react, Bellamy had him in a headlock and was swinging him in circles as he clawed at his arms. A smile like a wolf baring his teeth and a harsh laugh escaped him as obscenities spilled from Finn’s lips.

“Hey!” a gruff voice called. “Are you playing or training? You boys know I don’t allow anything but focused preparation among my gladiators!”

The two friends separated immediately at their head trainer’s words. Bellamy’s eyes locked with Pike’s, his spine straightening. “Yes, doctore,” they said in unison, waiting until the trainer’s gaze shifted away from them.

Finn elbowed Bellamy’s side.

Bellamy slapped the back of his head.

“That’s cute,” a voice came from behind them.

Read More: (Ao3) (FF.net)

“Shut up, Miller.” Finn’s voice held no animosity, and a small smile escaped Bellamy as he turned to see his friend.

The youngest gladiator gave a grin, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “Is it my turn to fight?” he asked with sarcastic anticipation. “The Sandwalker or the King of the Arena? “

Finn tossed his sword in the air. “I’ve suffered enough humiliation today,” he said. “You have your turn.”

Miller snatched the weapon out of the air and grinned. “The King it is.”

Bellamy let out a sigh, shaking his head ever so slightly. The sun was hot and his body was slick with sweat. The wounds from the day before still ached, and he felt a small trickle of blood run down his arm where he had reopened a small scab. He crouched down, picking up the sword from where he had let it drop to the ground. His eyes found Finn’s as his friend walked beneath the overhang of the house and into the shade.

“Always leaving me out to fend for myself, aren’t you Finn?” he said.

Finn smiled. “Only because I know you can handle it.”

His right hand tightened around the sword while his left dug into the sand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miller lunge forward. A flick of his hand and sand covered the air. He ducked and rolled.

He sensed a body moving where his own had been a moment before. Instinctually, he swung his foot out, the same move he had used on Finn moments before. This time it worked. Miller’s foot caught on his calf and the boy went tumbling. He was on top of him in an instant, his knee on the boy’s back and his sword to his spine.

“Too aggressive, Miller!” Pike called from across the training yard.

“You fucking suck,” he muttered under his breath.

Bellamy laughed, not knowing if the statement was directed at their doctore or himself. He clambered off the boy and gestured for him to fight him properly, a smile still ghosting across his lips.

Their swords’ song echoed across the yard, mixing in with the music of the countless other gladiators training. A block. A parry. A duck. Even a few punches. Bellamy had to admit; Miller had gotten good. He had come far from being the beaten boy slavers had dragged in from Carthage. 

He still favored his left shoulder though.

Bellamy was just about to take advantage of his friend’s weak point when Finn spoke.

“You missed out yesterday at the colosseum, Miller,” he said haphazardly, leaning against the door frame in the shade. “Our favorite viator was there.”

Clarke. My name is Clarke.

He didn’t know how he missed the arc of the sword or why his movements were slower than they should have been, but before he was fully away or what was happening, he was jumping backward, and Miller’s sword was slicing a long, thin cut across his chest.

The sword fell from the boy’s hands as soon as he saw the blood. “Fuck, Bellamy!” Miller said, rushing towards him. “Shit, are you okay? I’m sorry.”

Bellamy waved him off, inspecting the wound. It was shallow. Barely bleeding. More of a sting to his pride than anything else. “Don’t be,” he replied. “It was a fair hit.” He gave a smile, assuring his friend that everything was fine. “All that practice with Sandwalker must have made me rusty. Not enough of a challenge.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Just the truth, Finn.”

“Miller!” Pike’s voice interrupted them again. All three men looked to see their trainer gesturing for the youngest gladiator to come. Miller shot Bellamy a nervous look.

The dark-haired man clasped him on the back. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “He probably just wants to work on your form.”

Miller nodded. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked once more.

Giving him a small shove, Bellamy replied, “I won’t be if you ask me that again.”

The boy shot him a smile over his shoulder before jogging to their doctore.

Bellamy picked up his sword and made his way to the shade, sitting on the ground cross-legged in front of Finn. His chest stung, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his arm and the ghost pains in the scars across his chest. It was moments like this that he realized just how much of a toll the arena had taken on his body. There had been a time he didn’t feel like this, so broken, so tired, as though each breath made his limbs heavier and heavier. There had been a time, he just didn’t remember when.

“You need to be more careful,” Finn said quietly.

 Bellamy didn’t even have the energy to pretend not to know what his friend was talking about. More than that, he didn’t have the energy to have this conversation. But he knew Finn better than he knew his own self these days, and if Finn wanted to talk about something, there was no way to avoid it. So, he simply chose not to say anything.

“The viator. You have a soft spot for her.”

“You sure you’re not projecting?”

He didn’t have to turn to know that the Sandwalker was angry. The viator (Clarke) was a sensitive subject between them, one he had often been careful not to bring up. He had seen gladiators favor the same woman before, and it never ended well. They had no say in when they killed, who they killed, or how their bodies were used. The little control each still held over his own lives was guarded viciously, and love was one of the few things that could turn a gladiator mad.

“This isn’t about me,” Finn hissed behind him. “This is about you being reckless. All it takes is one man finding out and suddenly, every gladiator you’re up against is taunting you in the ring. You’ve lost a lot of people a lot of money, Bellamy. You know they’re constantly on the lookout on how to take you down.”

“It’s not an issue, Finn,” Bellamy said, his face expressionless as he gazed out at the gladiators training before him. His mind was in two places at once, both listening to Finn’s words and examining those training before him. Riley’s foot was dragging. Atom’s posture was too tense. Derek was still favoring his left knee, the one that had been injured two weeks ago. Pike was watching Miller spar with Ethan. A swell of pride bloomed in Bellamy’s chest as he saw the boy throw a handful of sand in his opponent’s eyes and sweep his feet from under him.

“You won’t think it’s an issue until death is staring you in the face, Bellamy. You never do.”

He stood, tearing his eyes away from the training yard and striding up to the Sandwalker until he was nose-to-nose with him, staring into his eyes, unblinking.

“It won’t be a problem,” he said slowly, “because we won’t be here much longer. C’mon, Finn. Look around. We’re legends. We’ve won hundreds of fights; they know our names in the streets. No one’s been able to stand against us for a long time now. They can’t hold us much longer, not without it looking like something suspicious. We’re winning our freedom soon. I can feel it. And when we do, we’re buying Miller and getting as far away from this place as we fucking can.” He reached out his hand, “You with me?”

Finn’s eyes looked into his, intensity and skepticism behind his brown eyes. Then he reached forward and clasped his friend’s forearm. “You’re just trying to save your own skin,” he said, a smile dancing across his lips.

A grin broke across Bellamy’s face. Maybe he would know life without sand and blood again.

“I always am, Sandwalker. Good thing I always end up saving you while I’m at it.”

~*~*~

“Tell me again what they’re like.” Raven flopped on the couch, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I can’t believe you actually talked to them.”

Clarke sipped her wine, trying to hide a smile as she sat in her room with her best friend. “They’re just men,” she replied. “Often men in pain when I see them. I don’t know why you seem so fascinated by them.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” the dark-haired girl replied, rolling her eyes. “You’ve met them. I, on the other hand, have neither the connections nor the clout to sneak into gladiator pits by myself, so your stories will have to satisfy me. So spill.”

Clarke snorted, almost choking on her wine. “Okay, okay, okay,” she said, placing the glass on the table and leaning forward. “What do you want to know.”

“Tell me about the Sandwalker.”

Clarke grinned. Of course she’d ask about him. “He’s probably the most charming of the bunch,” she said. “Kind. Outgoing. A little bit of a flirt. But…” she paused, hesitating for a moment. “But it’s obvious that he doesn’t enjoy it. The games, fighting. I don’t think any of them do. They always are saying things like, ‘if I leave,’ and ‘if I ever get out,’ but so reverently. As if hoping for freedom is almost too dangerous.” She paused, swallowing hard. “Raven, it’s so heartbreaking.”

Raven reached forward, her hand wrapping around Clarke’s. “Then I bet they’re all the more grateful to have you there with them,” she said softly. “If there’s anyone who could bring hope to such a tragic place, it’s you.”

A forced smile passed her lips. Bellamy’s words echoed in her ears. “You don’t get to say that,” he had told her. Was her privilege really so obvious? Gods, she hoped not. “I hope so,” she said softly. Fighting to bring brightness back into her tone, she said, “I think you’d really like them. They really seem like kind people at heart.”

The joy seeped back into Raven’s face. “Finn, definitely,” she said. “I hear stories about him from the colosseum guards and the girls who work in the ludus. They say he’s compassionate, that he doesn’t care for violence like most the other gladiators. But the King of the Arena?” she shook her head. “Clarke, I can’t believe you even talked to him! He seems so terrifying. The girls at the ludus say they never even see him smile.”

“He is somewhat of a brooding character, I will give you that,” Clarke conceded with a laugh. “But he is clever. And intelligent. And honest.” Her eyes shifted, making sure that no unwanted ears listened in. “He found out my true identity.”

Raven gasped. “He didn’t!” she exclaimed. “Clarke, you can’t go back there. What if he tells someone?”

“He won’t,” she assured her friend. “What would he gain in doing so? Besides,” she hesitated for a moment, “I trust him.”

Raven raised her brow. “Clarke,” she said, skepticism lacing her voice. “You can’t be serious.”

She felt herself bristle and fought to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “I am!” she said. “He’s not like the other gladiators, Raven. I can tell he hates the violence, hates killing men. It wears at him, exhausts him.”

“You barely know him!”

At that, she had to blush. Her friend wasn’t wrong. She really didn’t know him that well. But still, something inside of her trusted him. He would not be cruel for the sake of being cruel. And besides, going to the gladiator pits as a healer was dangerous enough as it was. What would be the difference of one man knowing her name?

“Uh oh,” Raven said under her breath, “quick, pretend that we’re talking about something other than your dangerous hobbies.”

Clarke’s eyes looked across the courtyard to see her mother walking into the villa, pale white toga wrapped tightly around her figure and her hair done in ornate golden braids. She must have just returned from the senate meeting at the palace. She looked frustrated; a nearly constant emotion etched across her mother’s brow since she took the mantle of her husband after he was assassinated nearly four years back. Her swift stride brought her to the entrance of the house in moments, and before Clarke could form a cohesive thought, her mother was standing at the entrance to the terrace.

“Mom,” Clarke said, offering a smile. She tried to mask the caution in her voice with happiness, her mind running a thousand miles an hour, reading the situation to recognize anything awry. “How was the senate today?”

Her mother did not answer her question. “Raven,” she said sharply. “Go help Roma prepare the evening meal.”

The two girls sat in shock for a moment, caught off guard by the older woman’s harsh tone. Their hesitation clearly was not the desired reaction, because almost immediately, Abby snapped, “Now!” and Raven scrambled towards the door.

“Yes, Domina,” she said. “Apologizes, Domina.”

Raven’s figure had just disappeared out of sight when Clarke turned to her mother, livid. “You can’t speak to her like that,” she seethed, anger seeping through every atom of her being.

“I will speak to her as I wish,” Abby said coldly. 

“She is a sister to me! And a daughter to you!”

“By adoption only.”

Clarke’s whole body was vibrating with anger, but her mother’s gaze remained terrifyingly stoic. She hadn’t seen her like this often, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what the hell happened to cause this kind of behavior.

“You rejected another suitor.”

Oh. That’ll do it.

“Was Senator Cage not good enough for you?” her mother asked, anger and frustration permeating her own tone now. “Not attractive enough? Not wealthy enough? Not powerful enough?”

“Not kind enough,” was Clarke’s short reply. “He is twice my age, and I already have heard the stories of how he treats his women servants. Plus, he owns the second largest ludus in Rome. I will not marry a man who profits on the pain of others.”

“Then you will never find a man to marry.”

“Good.”

Abby let out a sigh, sinking into the recliner across from Clarke. Her hand ran over her face, and for the first time, Clarke noticed just how exhausted her mother looked. Though to be fair, she had not looked rested since before Jake Griffin died.

“He was not an ideal match, that much I will admit,” Abby conceded. “Somewhere deep in my heart I am relieved you turned him down. But I wish you would have told me first, so I didn’t have to find out about it when he was the deciding vote on a law I was trying to pass in the senate.”

Clarke bit her lip, a minutia of guilt passing through her for a moment. “The one lowering taxes for the poorest sectors of Rome?” she asked. Her heart sunk as her mother nodded. She had worked on that proposal for months. “I’m sorry,” the blonde whispered. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

Abby sighed and shook her head. “It’s alright,” she replied. “There was no guarantee he would’ve voted for it even if you had said yes. It would be taking money directly out of the senators’ pockets. I’m surprised it was even considered by so many in the first place.”

“You could always talk to Emperor Thelonious about it.”

Abby snorted. “Too many senators already resent the Griffin family’s close ties with the emperor. If I use that avenue, my fitness to be senator will be questioned even more.”

“It’s already constantly questioned by the mere virtue of you being a woman,” Clarke responded angrily, “even though you’ve passed more legislation in the past three years than some of those men have in decades.”

A wry smile passed Abby’s lips. “Such is the way of a woman,” she replied. “Do twice as much for half the credit.” She stood and sat next to Clarke, raising her hands to gently cradle her daughter’s face between her palms. “We must use the gifts the gods have given us,” she said softly. “Though sometimes those gifts do not translate as well for our calling.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line, studying the blonde’s face. “You should have been born a man, Clarke,” she whispered. “You have so much to give. You are such a gifted being. Such a leader.”

“There is nothing that I have that I cannot give,” she replied. “You taught me that a woman can lead just as much as a man can.”

“And I believe that,” Abby said. “It’s the rest of the world that needs to learn.”

“Then we will teach them.”

Abby laughed, a loud, genuine laugh. Those moments were becoming increasingly rare, and Clarke cherished each one. She beamed at her mother, and a semblance of the former tension dissipating like mist in the sun.

“Go.” Abby waved her hand, shooing Clarke away. “Go find Raven and steal some sweets, or beads, or boy’s hearts. Whatever it is you girls do.”

Clarke leaped to her feet and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek before rushing out of the terrace, her eyes already searching for her friend.

“Make sure she knows I love her!” Abby called after her daughter.

“She always does!” Clarke shouted over her shoulder, her bare feet feeling the pleasant coolness of the marble stone as she ran.

Another day, another arranged marriage avoided.

Let them try to tie me down, she thought to herself. I will fly like a sparrow up into the clouds and when I return, they’ll learn a bird’s song is so much sweeter if she is free.

[bisectionalbisexual]

Something To Believe In

Word Count: 1,369

Pairings: Prinxiety (so fluffy)

TW: Some mild cursing and some self-deprecating thoughts.

A/N: What's this? Another fic? Okay so I just went on a date and got inspired for this. So enjoy the fluff! So cute! Much cuddles!

~~~

"Oh, come on! Let's watch Newsies!"

Roman's face beamed in excitement looking to Virgil,

"If we watch a musical, you'll just sing every word yourself." Virgil pointed out, letting out a small huff as he crossed his legs and arms sitting on the couch.

"That's the best part," Roman winked and Virgil felt a soft blush spread across his cheeks.

"Fine," he sighed, "but if you expect me to sing with you, you're wrong."

"We'll see, my damsel in constant distress," Roman chuckled.

So there they were, sitting on the couch, Virgil snuggled up to Roman as they started the movie (Broadway version of course). They had their snacks and drinks, ready to just sit there together for hours.

Just as Virgil predicted, his dashing prince began citing almost every other line, while trying to sing every part of the songs. With his head right on his chest, Virgil could tell when certain notes took a lot of air, but mostly when Roman sighed dramatically after every song, huffing to catch his breath, always making Virgil at the very least crack a smile.

He was sure Roman would hate it if he knew he wasn't even paying attention to the movie, only focusing on how warm his boyfriend was. He kept snuggling closer, almost to where he was sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around his torso.

Why the hell did he smell this good?

Virgil buried his face into Roman's chest making the Prince chuckle.

"What?" Virgil asked, his face peeking up to Roman's.

"Nothing," Roman replied, "you're just so cute."

He finished by placing a small kiss on Virgil's forehead making him hide his face again.

He friggin' loved forehead kisses.

Roman smiled and reached up to tangle his fingers in Virgil's hair, slowly running his hand through the purple locks. Virgil melted into the touch before he heard a soft gentle voice in his ear.

"Let me go. Far away. Somewhere they won't ever find me, and tomorrow won't remind me of today... And the city's finally sleepin'...And the moon looks old and grey. I get on a train that's bound for Santa Fe..."

Virgil knew Santa Fe wasn't the most romantic song, but it was still so sweet to hear Roman sing it while he held him close. He wasn't belting the song out in his usual manner, especially for this song, but he wasn't. That confused Virgil, he didn't get why Roman was so gentle with his voice all of the sudden, but then a little peck on his cheek made him see that it was for him.

It was all for him, this whole date. Sure Roman picked the movie, but Virgil was in charge of this whole night. He picked the snacks, the drinks, Roman even gave him the remote so if it was too loud, he could turn the volume down.

Roman was treating him like the Prince, taking all of his thoughts into consideration. Usually, all of their dates were extravagant, like a recreation of Cinderella's ball, or even a magic carpet ride throughout the mindscape. This date was pretty lackluster compared to all the others, and it's all because Virgil would prefer a quiet night in over any over-the-top evening. It was... Perfect.

So perfect that he wanted to...

Virgil picked up his head and shifted around to bring his face to Roman's. It was such a bold move that even Roman was blushing, both of them got lost in the moment before being yanked away by a soft clank.

"What was that?" Roman asked a little pout coming to his lips when Virgil got up off the couch.

Somehow Virgil's foot had knocked over his drink, making chocolate milk spill all over the floor and part of the couch.

"I- I'm so sorry I-..." Virgil's breath hitched as he slowly backed away.

"Hey hey..." Roman stood glancing at the mask then looking to Virgil, "it's oka-"

He couldn't get the words out before Virgil ran off, locking himself in the bathroom.

Look what you did. How could you fuck up so bad? He's so mad. He'll hate you. He hates you.

Virgil was always walking on thin ice, his relationship with Roman was so new, only about 2 months. He knew if he did one thing wrong he would mess it all up.

That's it. Say goodbye. You just had to try and kiss him. You didn't even ask. You selfish ass-

"Virge? Virgil, honey, please open the door. It's okay."

He had lost track of time, he had no idea how long he'd been in there, but Roman sounded... Worried.

Why was he worried? I messed up...

No, no, it's a trick. He just wants to kick you out.

"Virgil!"

He flinched, whipping his head around to see himself in the mirror. His eyeshadow was streaking down his face, his chest felt so tight he thought it was gonna burst. He sniffled whipping his eyes on his sleeves, letting black smears spread down his cheeks.

"What?" He croaked softly.

"Just... Open the door? Please? It's okay, I can clean it up."

Roman was met with silence.

"Virgil please, everything's okay, I promise."

A few long, and painfully silent seconds ticked by before he heard the door unlock from the other side. Taking this chance, Roman slowly cracked the door open peeking inside.

"Virge?"

His eyes fell onto his boyfriend, sitting on the floor curled up in a ball. Roman cocked his head to the side before kneeling down next to him, smiling gently.

"You know the term, "don't cry over spilled milk", right?"

That made Virgil chuckle ever so softly making Roman's heart smile. He took this as an invitation to sit next to him, wrapping his arms around his hunched over shoulders.

The TV was still on in the living room, loud enough for them to hear with the door open. The song beginning to play made Roman light up before petting Virgil's hair like before, singing in a soft soothing voice.

"'Til the moment I found you, I thought I knew what love was. Now I'm learning what is true, That love will do what it does. The world finds ways to sting you, And then one day, Decides to bring you, Something to believe in... For even a night... One night may be forever, But that's alright, That's alright. And if you're gone tomorrow, What was ours, Still will be. I have something to believe in, Now that I know you believed, In me... Come on Virge, be my Jack."

Virgil sniffled wiping his eyes so he can see Roman,

Oh boy, he's not kidding.

He had that stupid goofy grin that Virgil loved about him, making him sigh, clearing his throat and resting his head on Roman's shoulder.

"We was never meant to meet, And then we meet. Who knows why... One more stranger on the street, Just someone sweet passin' by. An angel come to save me, Who didn't even know he gave me, Somethin' to believe in... For even a day... One day may be forever, But that's okay, That's okay. And if I'm gone tomorrow, What was ours still will be. I have something to believe in, Now that I know you believed in me..."

Roman beamed, jumping up and taking Virgil's hand and helping him up as they sang together.

"Do you know what I believe in?... Look into my eyes and see..."

Roman couldn't tear his eyes away from Virgil's, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Before Virgil knew it his lips were met with Roman's, sending a spark throughout his body.

When they finally pulled away both of their faces were bright red, just staring at each other in awe. Suddenly Roman snapped out of his daze, taking a deep breath.

"Oh my- I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

He was cut off by Virgil bringing their lips together again, wrapping his arms around his neck and chuckling.

"Don't be... And if I'm gone tomorrow..."

"What was ours still will be..."

"I have something to believe in... Now that I know you believed, In me."

I have something to believe in... Now that I know you believed in me...

[readyplayerhobi]

Save A Drum, Bang A Drummer

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

; Word Count: 11k

; Warnings: Dom!Hobi, Sub!Reader, impregnation kink, bondage, forced orgasms, dirty talk, slight degradation, biting, edging, overstimulation,

; Behind The Mask Masterpost

; Synopsis: The arrival of your baby niece has stirred more than a few maternal instincts in you, but what happens when your husband figure out your newfound feelings?

; A/N: I love this Hobi okay? Major thanks to @gimmesumsuga and @yminie for reading over and helping/encouraging the filth!

-

“Oh, you’re being such a good girl! Yes you are! Aren’t you so cute?!” You coo, voice soft and gentle as you cradle your niece tightly in your arms. Her tiny body is covered in a soft white onesie, itsy-bitsy feet kicking out lazily as she yawns while teensy hands fist furiously.

“Such a big yawn for such a little girl!” Immediately you’re murmuring to her as you look over her small features in complete adoration. It’s not the first time you’ve met Seo-Yeon but you swear that you fall in love with her all over again whenever you see her. You have no idea how Jimin does it, getting to wake up to this adorable bundle of joy every day.

Looking up at your brother from where you’re sat on the floor, Seo-Yeon safely in your arms, you can’t help but give him the biggest smile. Jimin is deep in discussion with your husband, but his eyes remain firmly on the tiny body in your arms, his new paternal instincts refusing to allow him to let her out of his sight yet.

Seo-Yeon is only three weeks old, her features still screaming newborn and her cries still the pitiful wails that break your heart. It makes sense then that Jimin is still overprotective though, given your brothers natural instincts to protect what he loves.

The fact that she’s even here is a miracle to you, given your parents vehement opposition to Jimin getting his girlfriend pregnant. He’d only been with her for three months before they’d announced the pregnancy, and you knew that it just chapped your parents asses that he hadn’t married her. Hadn’t even proposed in fact.

But what were they going to do? Disown the only child they acknowledged? The child they had specifically raised to take over the company? No, Jimin had far too much influence in the company to be overlooked and given the company he had created himself, he was also far too wealthy for them to threaten with destitution.

When Jimin leant forward and made grabby hands for his daughter, you handed her over with minimal complaint. Though Hoseok’s little grin told you that he could tell you were internally pouting, but how could you not?! She was the cutest thing you’d ever seen!

“Hey there baby girl, daddy’s back. Yes,” He cooed, dark brown eyes focused firmly on the little girl he pressed to his chest, hand cradling her head where it rested on his shoulder. “No more of the big scary lady yeah?” Jimin looked at you as he said that, his obscenely plush lips that you’d always envied as they were always the perfect colour splitting in a cheeky smile.

“I am not big! Or scary!” The words leave your mouth before you can even think, the words chiding and filled with the childish retaliation Jimin and you had always done. At his bubbling laughter, body shaking to the point Seo-Yeon gurgles a complaint, your shoulders slump and you pout pathetically.

Hoseok let out his own quiet laughter, the sounds breathy as he tries not to attract your notice but you see it anyway. Looking over at him, your eyes narrow as you scowl at him and immediately he’s sucking a lip ring in while looking up at the ceiling in innocence.

You continue to watch him silence, eyes scanning along the Metallica shirt he’d ripped the sleeves off years ago before looking down his tattooed arms. Over the six years of being with him, you’d spent many times admiring the living work of art he’d become and had watched with fascination as he’d added more on.

Your eyes caught on his left wrist, where you could just see the sight of a gilded gold bird cage that was tattooed just below his wrist. Intricate and delicate, it sat next to a twisted and rusted metal cage, both doors broken open. Above this flew a pretty white dove surrounded by a phoenix.

When he’d first come home with this tattoo after your marriage, you’d been intensely confused as to why he’d done it. He’d always had that space free on his arm and had seemed to have no inclination to add something, so his sudden addition had been surprising and confusing despite his love of tattoos.

His chest was adorned with a rising phoenix, wings spread wide across his pectorals with fire exploding outwards behind it. Two tornadoes of fire danced their way down to his toned stomach, becoming a white and a red dragon that circled each other. He’d explained before that he’d chosen the phoenix because it was a symbol of rebirth, and when he’d joined his band he had experienced a rebirth and shed his old life.

It made sense, as you knew that he’d grown up in poverty with a deadbeat dad and an alcoholic mother. His school had a low success rate and Hoseok had been just another dropout statistic waiting, with a career of either crime or mediocrity awaiting him.

Instead, a music teacher had taken pity on Hoseok and encouraged him to take up drumming to get out his early teenage anger. It had worked, and Hoseok had discovered a passion for the drums that had remained even when he finally fulfilled his statistic and dropped out. But he hadn’t ended up in jail, in fact he’d never even had a parking ticket, and he certainly had not lived a mediocre life.

Instead, he’d created Enter The Vortex with his five close friends and had taken the metal world by storm. Their success had even spread into the mainstream audience, resulting in a few of their songs even reaching the top 10 charts and leading to a life of fame and money.

And so Hoseok likened himself to a phoenix, dying in his old life before being reborn stronger than ever. He’d pointed to the tarnished cage and explained that the cage was his life before he had broken free and the phoenix obviously represented himself.

But you’d choked up when he’d pointed at the ornate cage, explaining that this was your past life. A life that had been picture perfect and full of wealth and everything you could possibly want. Despite this, it had stifled you in your attempts to be the daughter your parents expected, the daughter you had realised you could never be.

Hoseok had been the reason you’d finally smashed that cage to pieces, choosing him over your parents. His finger had trailed up his wrist slightly to trace over the pretty white bird, small compared to the phoenix but still just as bright. He’d shyly said that the dove was you, because a dove represents love and peace, two things he hadn’t thought he’d experience in his life.

Needless to say, you’d bawled your eyes out when you’d found out that, which has resulted in Hoseok frantically trying to stop the tears and being terrified he’d upset you. But it had been the fact that he loved you so strongly, strongly enough to tattoo something so symbolic that represented you onto his skin.

Once you’d calmed down, he’d proceeded to explain that he’d left that spot free as nothing had felt right but once you’d got married he’d known what he wanted. It had felt right to him, as he’d tattooed over the veins that fed blood back from his ring finger to his heart.

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to do something so symbolic and important for him, but he’d just told you that your love was more than enough. Sometimes you didn’t think you deserved him, but you tried to make sure he knew how much you appreciated him either way.

Which was why you didn’t call him out on his laugh, instead feeling more than a little mushy after holding Seo-Yeon. Instead you shuffled over to Jimin and rested your arms on his knees, looking up at your sleeping niece with wide eyes of admiration.

“I can’t believe you made something so cute Jiminie.” You murmur, reaching out to rub her back gently. Jimin scoffs lightly before giving you a glare, slapping your hand away playfully.

“I’ll have you know I’m the cutest in the family. It only makes sense I make a cute baby.” He mutters, pouting lightly as his blonde hair falls into his eyes. His hand returns to slowly stroking his daughter’s back, a tiny whimper escaping her that immediately has him soothing her.

You sigh deeply before moving slightly to lean back against Hoseok’s legs, purring ever so quietly when he automatically starts to run his fingers through your hair. The man knows how to give great massages, you’ll give him that.

“Is Jisoo napping at home then?” You ask quietly, watching as Jimin looks back at you before nodding. He gestures for a drink and you grab his glass of water from the table, passing it to him.

“Yeah, she’s exhausted,” And so is he, if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by, you think to yourself. “So I said I’d bring little one over for a visit and let her get some sleep.” Laying your head on Hoseok’s thigh, you let out a tiny sigh as you watch the tiny girl doze on her dad.

“Does Uncle Hobi want to hold her? Auntie Y/N has been hogging her right?” Jimin grins, winking at you to soothe the sting before  shifting Seo-Yeon. She’s a good girl and doesn’t make much noise of complaint as she’s transferred to her uncle.

Immediately Hoseok’s face is lighting up with a pleased grin, mouth stretching wide and causing his cheeks to lift in happiness as his soft brown eyes sparkle. His blonde hair, black on his undercut, is pushed away from his forehead and you watch the complete dichotomy of this big, tattooed and pierced man - infamous on stage for pure sex appeal and contained violence - holding his teeny, pastel coloured niece.

You can’t stop the noises that escape your throat at the sight, and neither can you stop the ache you feel in your womb. Watching him with a baby was only igniting the desires you’d been feeling for the past year and you had no doubt that Jimin could see the broodiness in your eyes.

It was only to be expected, you’d been with Hoseok for six years now and married for two. He was 32 and you were 30, so it felt like the perfect time to completely settle down and start a family. You just hadn’t discussed it with Hoseok yet.

Pulling out your phone, you pull up the camera app and frame Hoseok perfectly in the light. He’s too focused on murmuring quiet words to Seo-Yeon, her wide eyes watching him carefully as he does so. Snapping a few photos, you sit back down and focus on editing one quickly.

The lighting is perfect and the filter dulls some of the colouring while making the colours of his tattoos and Seo-Yeon’s onesie pop even brighter. Biting your lip to try and stop the ‘awww’ you’re desperate to say, you quickly upload it to your Twitter and Instagram account along with a keyboard smash of a comment, asking everyone how cute your husband is with babies.

Putting your phone onto the table, you simply rest your elbows on your knees and watch as you husband plays with his niece, a large hand gently cradling her head so softly. A glance at Jimin lets you see the amused look on his face, lips turned up slightly as he scans over his brother-in-law silently.

“What are you smiling at?” You ask, reaching forward to poke at his thigh. He makes a whiney noise of protest and moves his leg away from you, pouting a little as he does so. Jimin shifts his body on the couch, resting his right foot on his left knee while he relaxes into the corner of it, arms spread over the back and arm.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing Hoseok with a baby you know?” He chuckles, causing Hoseok to look up with a confused face, brows creasing slightly. You watch him with fondness, lips pressing together as you look him over. He was back on a small break from touring and would be leaving again in a few days, but he’d spent the last two weeks in South America and had gained even more of a tan than usual.

“Why not?” Hoseok looked down at Seo-Yeon with a slightly crestfallen expression and your heart clenches immediately, hands reaching out to allay whatever worry he suddenly has. “Do I not look like I could be good with kids?” His lips are already pushing together into a pout, his lip rings becoming even more prominent.

“Oh baby no, that’s not what Jimin meant.” You pacify, scooting forward till you’re leaning against his leg again and slowly stroking his thigh. He looks down at you and it doesn’t take a genius to see that there’s something going on, something he doesn’t want to say in front of Jimin.

But Jimin seems to sense there’s an undercurrent here that he’d accidentally stirred up and is immediately placating, hands gesturing out to your husband. “No, that’s not what I meant! I just mean that you’re this big, tattooed and muscly guy holding a tiny baby, it’s just an odd sight. I trust you with her, completely.”

You heave a sigh of relief as your brother immediately deescalates the situation and wryly muse to yourself that this is probably why your parents had no choice but to accept his girlfriend. He always knew what to say and when to say it to defuse a potential situation.

Hoseok eyes him slightly before cradling Seo-Yeon closer, eyes flickering between the two of you to check that you’re being truthful. Deciding to believe you, he tongues his lip ring before leaning back and choosing instead to focus on the little girl in his arms.

Laying your head on his thigh, you look over at your brother as he watches with a tiny frown. “How are mom and dad? Have they seen her yet?” You ask quietly, the words being tugged from your throat against your will. As much as they’ve hurt you in your life, they’re still your parents and there is likely to always be a part of you that will care.

Your words cause Jimin to sigh heavily, looking down at his lap before glancing back to you. “They’re good, still being over dramatic as fu-hell.” You snigger at his censorship despite the fact his daughter has zero comprehension of words yet. “But yeah, they saw her last week. I think...I think it went well. They didn’t snipe at Jisoo for once and I actually kinda think that mom pretty much fell in love with Seo-Yeon.”

Before he realises what he’s doing, Jimin is pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery. Presenting the screen to you, you see your parents sat on his sofa with Seo-Yeon carefully cradled in your mom’s arms.

Taking the phone from him slowly, you look at the image and swallow thickly. You haven’t even seen your parents for over two years, since they had disowned you after you’d refused to leave Hoseok. It would be nice if you could say that it didn’t hurt anymore, but seeing your parents accept Jimin’s girlfriend and look at his daughter with such love, even though they’d been against it like they had with Hoseok, was like a dagger to your heart.

They hadn’t even given Hoseok a chance, and you knew that there would be no pictures of your mother smiling at your child. It was a hard pill to swallow, you thought, to know that your brother had succeeded where you had failed. It was harder still to know that the reason for that was because he was worth more to them than you were. To the extent that they were happier to accept Jimin’s girlfriend even though they had only just had their year anniversary.

Hoseok and you had been together for four years when he’d proposed, yet they’d refused to even consider changing their minds. Looking down, you blink rapidly to try and stop the tears that are banking in your eyes before handing the phone back.

Jimin coughs awkwardly as you feel Hoseok’s hand squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. Both men are intuitive to your emotions, your husband’s from years of relationship and your brother simply from growing up together.

There’s a moment of silence before Jimin is sliding off the couch, his ripped jeans flexing to reveal his knees as he moves next to you. Without a word he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you in tight, your vision obscured by the black and white striped shirt he’s wearing.

“I’m sorry sis, I am.” He mumbles, warm breath hitting your neck as he cuddles you so close. You bite your lip before resting your forehead against his toned shoulder, letting out the heaviest sigh you’ve done in a while. “They don’t know what they’re missing out on, with both of you.” Jimin says, shifting slightly and when you look you see that he’s reassuringly squeezing Hoseok’s arm.

“They know, they just don’t care.” You sigh, staying within your brothers arms for a bit longer. It’s been a long time since you’ve hugged Jimin like this, and it feels nice. You feel young again, like how he used to protect you from your parents harsh words as a child.

“They might not, but I do. Okay? I don’t want you to ever forget that, either of you. I care so much about you both, you know that. Anything you need, I’m here.” His words were comforting and you wrapped your own arms around his waist, squeezing hard until he was giggling and pushing at your arms.

“You’re the best brother ever? You know that?” You ask, pulling away just enough to look at him with a bright smile. Immediately, a responding smile brightens up his face before he lets go, patting your back and wriggling backwards.

The moment is broken when soft noises of complaint soon begin to gurgle out of Seo-Yeon’s throat, her miniscule face scrunching up in unhappiness. Hoseok makes noises to try and mollifying her, bouncing her ever so gently to see if he can get her to quieten down but she’s having none of it, little hands fisting furiously as her noises soon evolve into cries, getting louder each time.

Jimin watches her for a moment before standing and removing her from your husband’s arms, tenderly wrapping her in his own as pacifying noises escape his mouth, pacing and rocking her. You have no idea how she knows that it’s her dad, but she begins to quieten down as her heart breaking cries become little whimpers, but you can see that Jimin is probably ready to go now.

Sure enough, he reaches for the baby bag he’d brought with him, the pale yellow with an adorable blue dinosaur on the side contrasting sharply from his normal fashionable attire. Turning to you both, he gives an apologetic smile before shrugging his shoulders.

“I think I should probably get her home, she’s probably hungry and I want to check on Jisoo. It’s been nice though, you should come over when Hoseok’s gone Y/N and spend more time with her if you’d like?” He suggests, heading over towards your door and slipping his shoes on without letting Seo-Yeon down.

Wandering over to say goodbye, you give him a brief one sided hug before standing back, Hoseok approaching behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Waving bye to them, you watch until the door closes behind them both before letting out a deep sigh. Turning in Hoseok’s arms, you wrap your own around his waist and rest your chin on his chest.

“You looked adorable with Seo-Yeon.” You whisper, smiling tenderly at him while you let your hands slowly roam the hard planes of muscle along his back. He looks down at you and raises his right eyebrow, the piercing he’d added last year glinting in the light.

“Did I? I thought I looked funny apparently.” He mutters, looking away and you sigh deeply, nuzzling your face into his chest and squeezing him tightly. You can tell that he’s a little upset, and you pull away before taking his hand and tugging him back to the couch. He flops down and lets his head fall on the back before a long sigh leaves his body, causing him to physically deflate.

Curling up next to him, you slide your sock laden feet under his thigh before reaching forward and taking one of his hands into your own. Laying your own head against the couch, you watch him quietly for a few moments as your thumb strokes his skin.

“You didn’t look funny, in fact it was adorable and made me feel all funny. I guess it’s just not what people expect to see someone tattooed and pierced being so careful with someone so tiny. You’re so good with her though,” You say softly, making sure to keep your voice calm and soothing for him. There’s a moment of consideration before you decide to say the next thing. “I think you’re going to make a great daddy.”

Your words cause him to tense up slightly before he’s looking over at you. The two of you had obviously discussed children in your six-year relationship and you knew that Hoseok wanted them as much as you did. But there had always been an uncertain question mark over the topic, something neither of you had truly delved into as neither of you had been desperate for children at the time.

The arrival of Seo-Yeon had changed that though. You’d been a little ashamed to realise you were jealous of Jisoo and once your niece had arrived, you’d felt an aching need to feel your own baby in your arms. A tiny little one of your own, with Hoseok’s eyes and smile. Hoseok’s busy schedule at the moment had just meant you’d kept your craving to yourself.

His pink tongue flicks out momentarily, wetting his lips before he’s coughing, clearing his throat. You’ve been with him long enough to recognise that’s building himself up to say something, so you wait quietly for him.

Finally, he lets out a tiny breath before speaking. “Do you want a baby?” His volume is low, and you can’t quite identify how he’s feeling. His words cause you to squeeze his hand involuntarily though as you swallow, pressing your tongue into the softness of your cheek.

“Yes, I do. I got a bit resentful of Jisoo but now seeing Seo-Yeon, I want to hold our baby so badly. And I want to see you being a daddy too.” You state plainly, recognising that he would listen to you and think rationally. Both of you had been in a relationship for long enough that serious talks like this were treated with the respect they deserved.

He doesn’t answer, instead looks down at his hand which you’re playing with nervously. Turning it over, he slips it into place and grasps your fingers with his own while his other hand come over to gently play with your wedding ring.

“What if I’m not a good dad?” His words are so softly spoken, you almost don’t hear them but you definitely feel the pain and fear in them. Immediately you look at him with a distressed face, upset that he could ever think that.

“Are you kidding? You should see yourself with Seo-Yeon, you’re a natural with her! And you’re so kind and caring with me and your friends, why would you think you wouldn’t be a good dad?” He’s chewing on his lip ring almost desperately now, the metal clanking against his white teeth.

Looking away for a moment, when he turns back you see the tears in his eyes and immediately almost crawl into his lap, cooing to him as you cup his face in your hands. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why do you think this?”

Hoseok stays quiet, his deep brown eyes focused firmly on you before he closes them slowly. “I don’t know how to be a dad. My only experiences with fathers haven’t been...great. I mean...my own spent more time in prison than with me and taught me that if you want your own way, you use your fists.”

Opening his eyes, he simply watches you sadly. “And your dad has taught me that there is no such thing as unconditional love. That there are things you can love more than your own child. Not to mention how I look. How is anyone going to accept me with a child? What if I scare our kid? Or what if I start repeating my own dad’s mistakes? What if they hate me? Like I do with my own?”

Tears soon start to fill your own eyes as you watch him struggle with his emotions, heart bursting for the concerns he’s obviously kept close to his chest for so long. You’ve always known that his upbringing wasn’t great, including the fact that his father had been abusive to both him and his mother. But to know that it had affected him so badly that he didn’t even think he’d make a great father?

You’re shaking your head before you realise it, tears falling down your cheeks as you watch the turmoil on his face. “I’m sorry that you’ve had a shitty representation of parents, but we are not our parents. If we were, then Jimin would have dumped Jisoo immediately when he found out. But he didn’t. And by your logic, I shouldn’t even be with you. But I am. I love you, and I wholeheartedly believe that you’ll be a fantastic father.”

Stroking his cheek gently, you simply admire his face for a moment as he takes in your words. His normally smiling lips are being bitten furiously by his teeth, the rings clanking and each movement reveals the dimples that adorn his cheeks. He looks down his sloped nose, the septum piercing still prominent after all these years before he swallows, angular jaw clenching slightly.

“You’ll be a great dad, because you’re Jung Hoseok. Not your dad, and not mine. I don’t know how to be a mom either and the idea of raising a child kind of scares me too. But I can’t think of anyone in the world that I’d rather do it with. If we’re bad, then we’ll learn. No one is perfect when it comes to children, and I’ll be here with you every step.” You whisper, leaning closer till the tip of your nose brushes his own.

“I want you to be comfortable though, so if you don’t want them then-” You’re cut off by his kiss though, soft lips pressing against yours firmly and the lip rings cool against your skin. He pulls away slowly, still close enough that his breath brushes against you in gentle puffs.

“No, no. I couldn’t do that to you. Not when I’ve said for years that I want them. That’s cruel to you.” A finger to his own lips stops his tirade, perfectly placed between the two rings and he falls silent for a moment, before pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertip.

“If you don’t want them, then you don’t want them. I’d rather not have kids than force you to have one and have you realise you never wanted them in the first place. That’s not fair to you, or the child.” The words are serious, tone level even though it hurts to say them. But it’s true, you’d forego kids if he didn’t think he could handle them.

You loved him far too much to force him into a situation he wasn’t comfortable or happy with, particularly one as permanent as children. “You only have to look at our parents to realise that sometimes, maybe people aren’t cut out to be parents. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I think you have to decide that now and not later.”

He’s quiet, gentle eyes focusing on the neckline of your grey button shirt as he thinks deeply. There’s more than a few minutes of silence between you, comfortable as you allow him the time to think. Finally, he takes a fortifying breath before looking back at you, love and tentative hope shining out.

“I want kids. I want to see you be a mommy so bad, and maybe I might be a bad dad but...I’ll try. I’ll try because neither of our dads tried, and I’ll be damned if they ruin something else in our lives.” He growled, voice vibrating with intensity. A tentative smile slowly begins to spread across your cheeks, happiness bubbling inside you like a fountain that began to overflow.

“Really? Are you sure?” You ask, letting your head fall forward till your gently resting it against his own forehead. He looks up at you and an equally excited grin appears, revealing straight white teeth and his beautiful dimples and causing his eyes to sparkle brightly.

“I think you should stop taking your birth control and we’ll see what happens.” Hoseok whispers, arms moving to rest around your waist as one hand strokes the flat expanse of your back. You shift your own hands from his face to rest them on his shoulders, nerves battling with anticipation in your stomach.

“I will, though it’ll probably take a while to get pregnant. I don’t think we should expect it immediately.” You warn him, pressing a tiny kiss to his nose and causing him to crease it cutely.

In retaliation, Hoseok begins to kiss across your cheeks as he makes an acknowledging noise. “I know, and I don’t think we should start trying properly until after I’ve finished the tour.” You nod in agreement, watching him before pressing a firm kiss to his mouth.

His reaction is to simply deepen it, arms tightening around your waist as he rolls you back onto the couch and proceeds to show you exactly how much he loves you, right there with the curtains open for the world to see.

-

The very next day, Hoseok had left again for the final part of his tour to promote Enter The Vortex’s newest album. It was a tour of Europe and took him away for a month and half, with him sending you daily selfies and photos of wherever he was. You’d smiled at your morning texts, which as usual were accompanied with either his smiling face or something he thought would amuse you.

His pictures of the cities they’d performed in had left you sighing with want. You’d gone with him on a few tours before, taking all your vacation at once to travel with him and had visited more than a few countries. But it was hard not to feel sad when he was sending photographs of the Danube in Budapest, the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin or the colourful building of Copenhagen.

Your job however, would not let you go with him very often, even if it was at the very label he was signed to. As much as the CEO of the label approved of your relationship, even supported it, your job unfortunately could not be done on the go and so you’d had to put up with more time without your husband.

It just made his return all the sweeter, particularly given the hormones that had been running rampant in your body once you’d stopped your birth control. Your first period had been ridiculous and you remembered how much you disliked them, not to mention how unbelievably horny you got.

During the time he was gone, you’d looked into ways to improve the chances of getting pregnant and had even downloaded an app that would track your ovulation. Even Hoseok had apparently been looking into it, sending you links occasionally of things you could be doing to increase your fertility.

Either way, he’d finally arrived back home and you let out a little squeal of joy when you heard the door slam shut, his luggage rolling noisily on the floor as he took his shoes off. Slamming your laptop closed on the table, you practically skidded out into the hallway and almost slid into the damn wall.

Hoseok looked up from his suitcase at the sound, lips splitting as a loud chuckle left him and his shoulders began to shake. You didn’t bother saying anything though, just ran at him with arms wide and leapt into his own waiting arms. He rocked backwards a few steps but squeezed you tight, face pressing into your neck.

“You’re home!” The words are muffled against his black leather jacket before you’re leaning back, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he holds your thighs to keep you up. His face is a picture of delight while you can see just a little tiredness in his eyes, blonde hair strewn messily on his forehead.

“I am. I missed you.” He whispered lovingly, causing you to lean forward and press your lips to his own. At the touch, a sigh leaves both of you, the sound of contentment after no physical contact for so long. “God I missed you.” His words can barely be heard but you hear them all the same.

Bringing a hand up to run through his messy blonde hair, you pull away and simply watch him for a moment. He licks his lips slowly, tongue running over his lip rings and you feel a tug in your stomach that quickly fires down to between your legs, thighs clenching around him without you even meaning to.

A slow smirk makes its way onto his face as he feels it, the muscles tightening around his waist and he responds by squeezing his hands. Taking a deep breath, you move forward to lean your forehead against his before whispering across his lips. “What does Master think about getting me pregnant?”

At your words, his eyes blow out immediately, black pupils expanding rapidly and taking over the beautiful brown of his irises. Hoseok inhales deeply before blowing it back out shakily and his hands are gripping you even tighter.

“He’d like that a lot.” Biting your lip playfully, you press the softest kiss to his mouth before slowly teasing him by tonguing his right lip ring.

“Good, because his little bitch is ovulating right now.” Probably not the sexiest words you’ve ever said to him, but his reaction is immediate as his jaw clenches, teeth baring in a primal reaction.

Bridging the gap between your mouths, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lips mashed together momentarily before he’s gliding his tongue along your lower lip. You knew he isn’t asking for entrance, but demanding it and you eagerly let your jaw drop, allowing him to invade.

He plunders your mouth without a moment’s hesitation, tongue dipping inside and fighting with your own for a moment before you give in. Moaning and shuddering in his arms as his piercing runs along the sensitive roof of your mouth, you tug him even closer and let out a pleased purr as he groans at the slight pull of his hair.

Pulling away from you, he gives you the slightest glare as he stares, lips shiny and swollen from the kiss. Glancing down from his face, you bite your lip at the sight of the black leather choker around his neck that he’s taken to wearing lately.

“What makes you think I’ll accept my little bitch pulling hair hmm? Hasn’t Master taught you better than that?” He growls the sound causing a shiver to run through you and combined with the imperious look he gives you, adds to the wetness that’s already begun between your thighs.

Before you get the chance to respond, he jerks you up like a child as he gets a better grip on you before walking to the bedroom, footsteps heavier than normal with your combined weight. Once inside, he kicks the door closed before slamming you against it, back likely to be bruised from the pressure as he rests his body against you.

The hard muscle of his toned body, defined from years of a combination of drumming, exercise and a long held passion for dance, pressed against your soft edges and your inner muscles convulse around nothing.

He murmurs something that you don’t hear before he’s pressing lazy kisses to your jaw, his mouth moving slowly and seductively before lazily trailing to his next spot. A breathless groan leaves you as he lowers down to your neck, mouthing at all the sensitive spots he knows like the back of his hand.

An open mouthed kiss on a certain spot sends your pulse thundering, and you’ve no doubt that he can feel it under the sensitive skin of his mouth. He takes his time with you, his control iron as usual as he leisurely explores the intricate expanse of your neck, taking his time to suck in bruises that you would no doubt complain at him for later.

Finally, he reaches your collar bone and oh so slowly licks a slow, wet trail along the defined bone before he slowly works his way back up to your jaw, the tip both tickling and seductive. Reaching his goal, he bites at it softly, teeth scraping the skin there before pulling away and looking at you sternly.

“Does my little bitch want Master to fill her up?” His words have you clenching, both your thighs and your pussy, as a whimper leaves you. He’s never really vocalised this kind of kink before, and while you enjoyed him cumming in you, you’d never realised you’d enjoy him talking like this.

A satisfied smirk pastes itself onto his mouth as he watches your reaction closely. Without a word, he grinds his groin into your hips and your head falls back against the wall with a gentle thud as you feel his semi press through his jeans and your sweats to your needy centre.

“Master, please.” You whisper, not entirely sure what you’re pleading with him for. He hums low, the sound almost a rumble with how deep it comes from within his chest and you claw at his shoulders slightly to stop yourself from reaching for his hair again.

“Please what? Use your words. Tell Master what you want, and if he’s feeling in a good mood then maybe he’ll give it to you.” He chides softly, the hands that are holding your ass squeezing in almost rhythmic manner and pressing you even harder into his hips.

Looking into his eyes, you see the want and lust in them that tells you he’ll probably do whatever you want, but you also see the cocky smirk that more importantly tells you that he knows damn well you’ll do anything and everything he wants.

“I want you to cum in me. Fill me with your cum.” An eyebrow raises, the ring there shining in the afternoon sunlight that dances its way through the window.

“And?” His tone is almost dangerous, a purring note to the single word that wraps around your senses and tugs the words from you without even trying.

“I want Master to get me pregnant, I want you to cum in me so much that there’s no possible way I’m not pregnant.” You gasp out, words trembling in excitement and need as you say something you’ve never told anyone. Something that would have been taboo before, but causes a shiver of anticipation to run down both your spines.

“Oh I will. I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk properly. Which is good, because you’re going to be full of my cum and you’re going to lay there and take it all as I fill you up.” A hand moves up from your ass to your stomach, pushing up the plain white vest top to stroke your flat stomach that jerks with his movement.

He presses hard for a moment, causing you to go breathless. “That cum is gonna put a baby right here, as I think you’ll look so...so sexy all swollen with my baby. And if it doesn’t work today, then Master will keep fucking you full of cum until you are.” He’s whispering against your ear now, tongue lightly trailing the delicate arch of your ear as you moan wantonly, pussy already slick enough for him.

You feel the muscles of his body shifting under your thighs, tensing slightly before he’s lowering you down and taking a few steps back. Looking you up and down, the corner of his mouth twitches up before he gestures to the bed.

“Strip for Master. And make it slow, I’ve only had my hand to keep me company for a month and a half so my little bitch better make it good.” Chewing your lip at his words and the heady look in his eyes, you ever so slowly saunter over to the four poster bed, making sure to put a little extra sway in your hips just for him.

Turning around slowly, you sink your toes into the grey shag rug laid on the floor, providing a little warmth from the coolness of the wooden flooring. It’s with more than a little gratification that you notice the dark gaze he has firmly attached to your ass and you chew your lip slowly, biting away the final remnants of your strawberry lip balm.

Grasping the hem of your top, you slowly tug it upwards to reveal long expanses of smooth, toned skin. Unlike your husband, you remain an unmarked canvas, something which seems to turn him on even more.

Throwing the top to the floor, your thumbs hook into the waistband of your grey sweatpants, pulling them wide slightly before letting them drop to the floor in a heap. His follows the movement with his eyes before taking a moment to visually caress every inch of you as he slowly looks back up, eyes catching your finally.

Turning around to face the bed, you can’t help the mischievous smile that takes over once he can’t see what he really wants as your hands reach behind to unhook your bra before ever so slowly letting that drop to the floor too. A low rumble erupts from behind you, causing your skin to goosebump immediately at his obvious annoyance that you’re hiding from him.

Instead of acquiescing, you unhurriedly begin to push your underwear down your hips. They’re nothing special, just boyshorts with the Batman logo in pink and blue dotted around but the knowledge that he’s watching causes each touch to send shudders through you, mind already racing to imagine the way he’s going to use you so thoroughly.

And god, you hadn’t been penetrated since he’d left so the sheer thought had you almost gasping with desperate need.

As you pushed the soft fabric down your hips, revealing a lush ass that always got his engine going, you wiggle it ever so slightly while being fully in the knowledge that he can probably already see your pussy peeking past the clothing.

Suddenly, you’re being bent over forcefully as his hand presses down on your neck, an annoyed hiss escaping his mouth. A gasping laugh leaves your own as you shift your face slightly to avoid being suffocated and immediately his nose is brushing against your cheek, breath warm against you while his body cradles your own.

“Does my little bitch think she’s being funny? I said make it good, not be a teasing slut.” He presses his groin firmly against your ass, the material of his ripped, black skinny jeans pressing against your asshole instead of your pussy due to the height difference.

“I’m sorry Master.” You pant out, pushing back against him despite your words in a frantic attempt to get some stimulation from him. Immediately though he pushes you hard to the bed before letting go, a hard spank to your ass causing you to gasp out before he moves away. Sinking to your knees, you keep your head on the soft covers as you watch him head over to the chest of drawers taking up space underneath the window.

He crouches down, letting you see a perfect glimpse of his lean yet muscled thighs and a tiny whine leaves your throat at the sight, your own thighs clenching with the need to have him between them. But it’s when he stands back up and turns around that you look at him with wide eyes.

Putting all his weight on one leg, he takes a moment to look you over with an almost detached gaze before the corner of his mouth lifts. In his hands are some bondage ropes that you’ve both invested in over the years, not only to improve your sex life but also to be safer during playtime.

Letting one of the ropes unwind to the floor, your breath hitches as he points at the bed. “Get on it and lay down in the centre. Spread your arms to point at the posts.” Is all he says, the silence that follows filled with expectation.

Given you’ve already annoyed him once, you have no intention of being naughty again today and quickly scramble to your feet, letting out a soft hiss as your knee scrapes against the carpet to leave a burning sensation. You ignore it though, crawling onto the bed and laying exactly as he demanded, reaching each arm out as if you were going to grab the dark wooden posts.

Smirking, he walks over and runs a hand through your hair softly. “What a good little bitch you can be when you listen and don’t act smart.” Despite his gentle touch, his words are firm and he’s soon tying a rope around the bedpost before tying it around your wrist. It’s secure enough that you won’t be moving, but not enough to hurt unless you really tug hard against it.

He repeats the actions on your other wrist before moving to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at you with a satisfied expression. “What’s your safe word?” He asks as he slowly licks along his bottom lip, eyes trailing a heated gaze down your body. His look is so strong you swear you can feel him touching you and your nipples pebble in response.

“Pineapple.” You gasp, eyes blown with need.

A breathy laugh leaves those pretty pink lips, a teasing smile slowly spreading as he presses a  knee onto the bed, rips spreading to reveal the golden skin beneath. Crawling forward, he stops between your spread legs and kneels there quietly, a hand grasping each ankle before lazily dancing up your calves.

By the time he reaches your thighs, the muscles there are quivering with want and he grins briefly before leaning down to press tiny butterfly kisses along your inner thigh. The miniscule touches set your skin ablaze though and you can’t help but try and clench your legs, trapping him in the middle till he forcefully pushes them apart.

He kisses all the way to your centre and your inner muscles clamp down greedily on nothing, desperate for some of his loving attention. The flash of white teeth lets you know he’s seen the needy movements, yet he simply moves straight over to your other thigh and begins to kiss a slow trail back up.

Whining quietly at his teasing, you can’t help but wriggle as you tug at the restraints around your wrists. He hums in response, pressing his hot tongue against the sensitive skin near your knee and licking a long, wet trail all the way back.

“Does my little bitch want me to eat her out? Do you want my tongue in your pussy?” He queries, nudging a delicate kiss to your inner thigh before biting down hard enough to have you whining. You can’t stop the frantic way your head nods.

Hoseok knows you too well though and simply pulls back, sitting up and letting his head fall to one side as he watches you. The movement causes his choker to strain against his neck and his hair falls into his eyes, causing him to run a hand through the blonde locks to push them out of the way.

Your husband has always been attractive, but he’s at his peak when he has you at his mercy and is fully aware of it, like right now. His black leather jacket is still wrapped around him, covering a vintage Motorhead shirt. Thigh muscles bunch under his tight jeans as he kneels there, you can’t help the soft groan that leaves you at the sight of him.

The devil has a name and his name is Jung Hoseok. One day, he’ll kill you just from his sheer sex appeal. And what a way that will be to go.

It’s only when you look back up after admiring his physique that you realise he’s been watching you with a bemused look, eyebrow raised. “Are you finished?” He asks bluntly, causing you to flush slightly before nodding meekly.

“Good” He states, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders before throwing it across the room. The sound of his belt unbuckling has you whimpering quietly, body writhing slowly as yet more liquid leaks from your centre.

Hoseok doesn’t move to take any more clothes off however, simply shuffles forward slightly before laying between your thighs and grinning up at you. “Master needs to get you nice and prepared right? Need to make sure this pussy is wet enough for me, get you ready to be filled up.” As he says this, he suddenly presses an open mouthed kiss to your clit that has your body jerking off the bed.

Your husband doesn’t bother wasting time, sucking the engorged bundle of nerves into his mouth and applying just enough pressure to have your core aching before his hot tongue is playing with you lazily. Each flick of his tongue has you gasping softly and struggling at your restraints but he makes no movement to ease the pressure, instead sucking hard before letting go of the pliant flesh with a barely audible pop.

He immediately begins to attack your most sensitive area, stiffening his tongue to run it along your clit in short, quick strokes that has your breath increasing just as fast before he changes the pace by sliding a long, flat swipe along you, the metal ball of his tongue piercing pressing on all the right spots.

“Oh god Master, please Master.” You whine, the precipice of your orgasm approaching faster than you’d anticipated due to the lack of contact over the time he’d been gone. Six years of relationship should have told you better than to beg him though as he immediately abandons your clit, instead letting his tongue slip down between your folds to your entrance.

For a few seconds he simply circles the wet hole idly before he’s pushing inside. The sensation of the thick muscle intruding has you gasping before your hips wiggle desperately as he curls his tongue as deep inside you as he can get. Each slow thrust of the wet muscle causes your hands to fist desperately, wishing that you could sink your fingers into that soft hair and pull. Your husband has a long tongue that you’ve been grateful for many times, but his piercing makes you wish he could reach the incredibly sensitive grouping of nerves inside you with it.

Hoseok continues on for a few minutes like this, dragging you ever so close to the edge of unbelievable pleasure before spreading your wetness along your inner thighs, letting your body calm down from the craving for a release before playfully bringing you all the way back.

Once he gets bored of amusing himself with his tongue, he brings his hand up to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing along the hood before pressing firmly down on the bundle of nerves. A long groan leaves you as he continues to stimulate your clit before letting his hand track down your pussy to your soaked entrance.

Pushing two fingers in with minimal resistance, he can’t help but let out the softest moan as he encounters practically zero resistance from your body. His long fingers, so used to handling drum sticks, play your body like his beloved instrument as he moves them, crooking them upwards so every stroke has the pads of his fingertips pressing against your g-spot.

The pressure intensifies immediately in your lower stomach and you can’t stop your muscles from tightening around him as your hips work, hoping and pleading softly for him to have mercy on you and let you orgasm.

“You’re gonna look real pretty filled with my cum little bitch, just look how wet you are now.” He smirks, pulling his fingers out before lifting them up for you. His fingers are soaked with your juices and you watch as the stickiness strings together as he separates them before he’s sucking them into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as a pleased rumble leaves his chest.

“Ahh, you pussy is the best tasting thing in the world.” Hoseok whispers, pushing three fingers inside you now and starting a frenzied pace. “I’d love to watch my cum leak out of you, but we need it all to stay inside you don’t we? Need to fill you up till you’re fit to burst.” A wet kiss to your inner knee causes it to shiver slightly as he pulls pleasure from your core.

Moving forward slightly, he continues to finger fuck you furiously while he presses hot kisses to your flat stomach, currently heaving for breathes under his assault. “Yeah, you’re gonna look real good filled with my baby. Watch you get all round and know that it was because of me, because you let Master fill your pussy.” He glances up at you and grins, piercings glinting in the sunlight.

“Tell me what a dirty little bitch you are. Tell me.” His eyes are daring, gloating as an shudder wracks your body. “Tell me how much you want me to fill you up until you’re leaking my cum for days afterwards.”

At his rasping words, combined with the intense pressure he’s placing on your abused pussy and the sudden bruise he sucks into the skin of your stomach, your body clenches around his hand furiously as your orgasm slams through your body like a tidal wave. A choked cry leaves your throat as he keeps your orgasm going, fingers roughly pressing on your pleasure points until your hips are trying to pull away from him from the overstimulation.

“Ah ah ah, tell me what I want to hear.” He snarls, biting down on your hip and speeding up his arm until you have tears of pleasure and pain falling down your cheeks.

“I’m Master’s dirty little bitch, I’m such a filthy little slut. I want you to fill me till I can’t even walk without you sliding down my thighs.” You pant out, hoping vaguely that he’ll relent on his offensive on your pussy.

Instead, he lets out a dark laugh that vibrates across your stomach and causing you to involuntarily squeeze his fingers. “Of course you do, because you’re Master’s little bitch.” Hoseok noses his way back to your pussy and hovers for a moment over your clit, eyes glancing back up to you and you whine loudly at the animalistic desire you see there.

“Master, please. I’m too...it’s too sensitive.” You pant out, trying to pull your hips away as his fingers keep going. He just chuckles, scalding breathe hitting your clit and causing you to moan quietly.

“You can come for me again, can’t you? I need you to be ready to accept my seed after all. Need to make sure you get pregnant from it right?” He murmurs before his lips are enveloping your pleasure centre once more. Immediately, you’re crying out as the pleasure and pain racks up in your body exponentially, each combined movement of his limbs causing your body to almost short circuit.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you orgasming again, liquid gushing out of you with each thrust of his hand and causing his tattoos to shine with your excitement. “Good little bitch.” He whispers, pulling away from your clit for only a moment before he continues on, pressing the ball of his piercing firmly against you until you’re writhing desperately.

“Master, please...please Master. Please.” You’re not even entirely sure what you’re babbling anymore or whether you want him to continue or stop. He ignores your pleading however and simply keeps going, somehow managing to pull a third orgasm from your tired and abused body that leaves you tingling with a slight numbness and your lungs fighting for breath.

Finally allowing you mercy, he pulls away and looks down at your messy pussy with a satisfied expression, licking his lips that are glossy with your orgasm. Though so are his cheeks and chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess you’ve caused as he practically purrs his praise to you.

“Good girl, we need you to be ready for my cock.” Crawling over you, he slowly lowers himself until he’s practically laid on you before capturing your lips between his own. His kiss is lazy, with his tongue playing with yours instead of dominating and the taste of yourself causes a ragged moan to escape into his mouth.

Pulling away from you, he grins briefly before kneeling back and pulling his top off quickly. “I think it’s time I fulfilled my promise to you right? Stuff your pretty pussy full of cum until it spills out of you, though I’d prefer it if we kept it all inside.”

Hoseok stands briefly to relieve himself of his jeans and the rest of his clothing, discarding them without a second thought before he’s crawling back. He pauses briefly, looking down at you with a hungry expression as his body practically glows in the soft sunlight, colourful tattoos vibrant and vivid.

The beautiful image is broken, or perhaps enhanced, slightly by the way he slowly strokes himself. A slow tug of his erection that has his hand squeezing the shaft firmly, causing a bead of translucent pre-cum to leak from his thick tip.

Watching him fist himself quietly has your hips wiggling on the bed, even more liquid leaking from you despite the three orgasms that has wrecked your body already. His fingers were good, but your pussy aches and clenches emptily at the thought of his length inside you.

Lifting your hips up slightly, you try to entice him into moving which gets an immediate amused smirk. Free hand coming forward to trace meaningless shapes onto your thigh, he grins at you. “Looks like someone is greedy for my cock today. Would you like it?” As he speaks, he inches forward until the head of his penis is resting against your soaked clit, rubbing it in your wetness slowly as you mewl in need.

“Yes Master,” You pant. “Please Master.” After your third orgasm you didn’t think you would have been begging him for his dick, but here you are. He’s silent for a moment before he drags his erection down your pussy slowly, pressing against your entrance just enough so that the very tip of him is wedged inside you.

“Can’t wait to fill you full.” He murmurs, stopping suddenly as he eyes something by your head. Before you can say anything, he’s reaching for one of the fluffy pillows resting next to you before tapping your thighs. “Lift up.”

You do as he says and watch as he positions the pillow under your hips, changing your position slightly and causing excitement to electrify your veins. Without a word he suddenly slams home, cock sliding into your well lubricated pussy with zero effort and the effect has you both moaning out. Your walls clamp down on him immediately, the combination of no sex for weeks with the over sensitivity of your previous orgasms.

But on top of that, you discover that the pillow changes the angle of your missionary position and has him rubbing against your g-spot with minimal effort, letting him go deep and rub against it with every thrust. As he begins to move lazily at first, your soft breathes quickly turn into needy whines and mewls as your body shudders under the pleasure.

“Oh you look so pretty like this little bitch, so greedy for me and so, so wet.” His words are a little incoherent as he closes his eyes, grasping onto your thighs and holding your legs up slightly to make it even tighter for him. An incredibly masculine groan leaves his chest, deep and low and almost immediately you respond by squeezing around him as he moves his thick length inside you.

“Cum in me Master, please. Fill me up like you promised.” You whisper, fully recognising that the lack of sex and the intense foreplay has left him with a particularly short fuse. Dark eyes look down at you again and you whine quietly at the intense sight of his abdominal muscles working as he fucks into you.

Each thrust leaves the quiet room echoing with the sound of your slick wetness combined with the primal sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy pants and moans the only music to be found. “Christ you feel so fucking good.” He murmurs, letting his head fall back as his eyes close tightly, jaw dropping while sweat causes his skin to glow even more.

You keep murmuring encouragements to him and begin to rhythmically tighten around his cock, trying to get him to reach his tipping point even though it sends sharp bolts of pleasure through you. Soon enough, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and any rhythm he has soon stutters to a close as he chases after his orgasm eagerly, grunts escaping him with every sharp pound of his hips.

His hands around your thighs tighten as he orgasms, slamming into you one final time before grinding himself against your pussy slowly. A long, low groan vibrates through him and an answering moan leaves you at the ridiculously hot sight.

His body shudders as he cums, cock twitching inside you as he empties himself deep inside you just like he said he would. As he reaches the tail end of his pleasure, he looks down at you through hooded eyes, fucked out yet still demanding and very much in control.

Glancing down at where you’re both joined, his cock stuffing you full, he gives a slow and lazy grin. “Master filled you up, just like I said I would.” Without warning, he thumb is suddenly rubbing slow circles into your ruined clit, the touch insistent and unforgiving.

“Oh god, Master, I can’t. I can’t.” You whine, head shaking from side to side as he begins to keep up a relentless pressure. Pleasure tinged with the sharp points of pain flood through your body as he continues, cooing to you softly in an encouraging tone.

“Cum for me one more time baby, cum on my cock and let all that cum go further. I know you’ve read the pages that say an orgasm helps with impregnation so cum for Master. Once more, be a good girl like I know you are.” He reassures you, running his free hand along your hip before resting his hand on your stomach.

“Cum for Master so I can see you swell with my baby yeah?” His words, combined with the relentless touch of his thumb and the ever so shallow thrusts of his softening erection send you tumbling down into your fourth orgasm. This one is almost equal pain with pleasure and seems to go on forever, positively clamping down on Hoseok’s dick as you let out an unintelligible shriek until he’s whining in overstimulation himself.

Once finished though, you both stare at each other tiredly before he gives you a slow smile that brightens his face as usual. “Good girl.” He pants out, patting your thigh before slowly pulling out of you. The loss of him has you clenching without even meaning to and immediately he’s tutting at you, hand coming down to push the slow trickle of cum that had leaked out of you back in.

“You need to keep every drop of that inside you.” Hoseok states sternly, pressing his fingers in until he’s confident it’ll stay. For now at least.

Reaching up to untie your hands, he flops down next to you and lets out a deep sigh before grinning broadly and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You need to stay like this for at least like...half an hour.” His tone is excitable and you look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“And what are you going to do for half an hour then if I’m just going to lay here?” You ask wryly, causing him to laugh lightly. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nuzzles his head into your neck and kisses the damp skin there.

“Have a nap of course, I’m a tired man.” You roll your eyes at that as reach one exhausted hand up to run through his sweat streaked hair.

“And after half an hour?” Querying his specific time lowly, though you’re pretty sure you know what he’s talking about.

He looks back up at you with a dangerous glint in his eye, Master reappearing for a moment while the ghost of a smirk plays on his lips. “I fill you up again. It’s gonna take more than one round…” Hoseok licks at your collarbone before pressing an open mouthed kiss there that lingers for a moment. “And I plan on fucking you until it works, so get ready.”

[girlwsoftsound]

Mind Games || Matty Healy Oneshot

Word Count: 2,046 Summary: “Can you do an imagine where matty helps the reader face her fear?? she's scared of water (like lakes and oceans) and he tries to bring her in and shes crying the whole time but she eventually gets over it and isnt scared anymore?” “Could you please write a matty x reader one shot where the reader and the boys go to the beach and they get in to a water fight? Author’s Note: I LOVED writing this. I think it turned out really, really cute. I hope you feel the same! Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

Fears are simply your mind playing tricks on you.

That is what you have always been told, be it from family or friends. It’s all in your head. Beat your mind, and you’ll be fine. Sure, it sounds easy when put like that, but life is not as easy as words claim it to be. One can say the words ‘I will own a billion dollars’, but a stack of cash is not exactly going to appear down in front of you at your wish. You have to work for it, and work does not come easy. You have learned this from a very early age, and still struggle with it, all thanks to the big wide space called the ocean.

It should be simple. Little children, babies even, swim in the ocean. Sure, they are usually accompanied by parents and floaties, but that was because they aren’t good swimmers yet. They still have a drive to be in the water and feel the sand beneath their toes. You do not. You get scared by the mere thought of stepping foot in the ocean.

For starters, it’s so big. Why will humans willingly go into a mass body of water that we know less about than space? It seems impractical. Not to mention, incredibly dangerous. Speaking of dangerous, there are thousands of ways the sea can kill you. Sharks, a stingray to the heart, riptide, bacteria, jellyfish - the list can go on and on, which is the point. The ocean is full of some fucked up things. Why on Earth would you want to put yourself at that risk? Willingly, so!

For these reasons, and countless others you could spend a year talking about, you avoid the ocean. Living in England helps you avoid the ocean in social encounters. Not many people want to go to a dreary beach without sun, and if they do, it’s usually to hang out on the sand, which you are fine with! Sand is soft and relaxing and nice to play beach volleyball on. It only has the occasional crab or ant on it, which you hardly have a bother with. Sand is fine. You thought you would be in the clear and restricted only to sand, until you met the group of four boys by the name The 1975, befriended them, and got involved with their lead singer, Matty Healy.

You did not see it coming! Cute boy and his equally cute friends wish to spend time with you. Fun! You like spending time with cute boys, and kissing the leader of them. His lips are soft and sweet and taste like mixtures of alcohol and fruit, and it’s always delicious fun. There should not be anything troubling about that! Except there is. These boys, with their cuteness and delicious kisses, love the beach. And not in a ‘oh I’ll take a dip and then stay on the sand for the rest of the day’ way. In a ‘we might as well exist as mermen given how much we love the water’ way.

The first time they went? You aced your excuse. Traveling along with them on tour, you faked not feeling too great because of fatigue and jetlag, which was understandable. The boys were used to the feeling, so they let it slide. All you had to do was look a little tired when they were around, which was not that hard of a task, and they bought it. The second time was even more clever. One claim of being on your period, and the boys all let you be.

Now, at your third time, you have no excuse. You have been well all week. Touring America has its perks, and you love going in and out of shops and seeing all of the interesting sights in the bigger touristy towns the boys play in. You have been excited all day and all night, proving you are healthy and happy. Also, your period came the week before, so that option was out. The boys are not that blind to how the female body works.

So here you sit, feet in the sand, nerves pooling in your stomach, as your favorite boys are setting up camp and preparing to enter the sea off the California coast. It’s beautiful, from afar. Up close, the waves seem almost too rough, too loud as they crash into the shore. Sure, kids are playing in it well and fine, but they aren’t you. They don’t know the mysterious and devilish beings that lurk inside. Arms wrapped around your bare stomach, you feel like screaming to release the fear. It’s too much. You are not excited to go through with it.

“{Y/N}?”

Matty’s voice scares you out of your thoughts, and immediately your eyes fly up to him. Positively glowing in the sunlight, with his eyes covered by dark shades and his blue swimming trunks standing stark compared to the paleness of his skin, he looks something like a dream. He sits down beside you, meeting your eyes, analyzing you in that way you know makes him a genius at conveying emotions in his songs.

“You alright?”

No, I’m fearing for my life and absolutely petrified of getting eaten by a shark, how are you? “I’m fine.”

He reads your bluff without struggle. His eyebrows furrow, almost chiding you for lying. “You can tell me anything, you know. Today’s about fun, and I want you to have fun.”

I can’t have fun when the ocean screams death to me. “Seriously Matty, it’s alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” You say it a bit too quickly, a bit too cheerful, and Matty catches it instantly. He looks at you scolding, confused as to why you would lie to him so blatantly. Shame on you for thinking you could pull wool over your boyfriend’s eyes! You should know better. He knows you know better. By hiding, it has made it all the more obvious that you have something to hide. A frown crosses his face as he stands up. His hand offers itself to you, beckoning you to stand with him. You take it.

“C’mon, I think a dip will do you well.”

No it won’t!

The others are already in the water, splashing and playing like children in a pool. Pools are much safer though, and you would join them if you were in one. But you are not, and you are being brought closer and closer to essentially a pool on crack, and it feels like your heart can leap out of your stomach at any time. That, or the contents of your stomach. Or both. You wonder if your grip on Matty’s hand is uncomfortable. It’s growing quite tight. You can feel it, subconsciously at least. Your mind is a bit preoccupied at the moment. You bite your lip, your feet growing closer to the wet sand covered in sea foam. Closer, closer, closer. Feet nearly touching the foam now. Water approaching your toes…

“STOP!”

You are loud enough to startle not only Matty, but the boys at play as well. They turn back to their fun, thinking Matty is simply playing with you, but Matty knows better. He stops right in his tracks and looks to you, as if to wonder if you ready to finally explain what is bothering you. Though, now you suppose he has somewhat of a clue. Arms wrapping again around your waist, you let out a deep breath, embarrassment already tinging the color of your cheeks a bright red.

“I...I hate the ocean.”

Alright, not a complete confession.

“Like...really hate it. I’m afraid of it.”

Like a bandaid.

It looks like it takes Matty a second to process, which you fully understand with him being a lover of the ocean. It would be like you with strawberries. Why would someone hate strawberries? The thought baffles you, and you are sure it’s not unlike the way Matty feels about this revelation. However, you find his eyes to soften, his expression changing to a more understanding form. He takes your hand, and you can tell by the way he laces his fingers in yours that he’s not going to chastise you the way you think he is.

“It’s alright.” Did he really just say that? “It’s alright to be afraid. The ocean’s big, and who knows what on Earth is in it.” You really are not sure what you did to deserve someone like Matty. “I want to show you though that there is nothing to worry about.”

There it is.

“Matty, I don’t know-”

“Give me one chance,” he begs, those beautiful chocolate eyes staring back at you. “If in my one chance, you still think the ocean is fucking mental and scary as fuck, then alright. No ocean for you, no more questions asked. I want you to try, though. Please?”

He asked nicely, after all. Sighing, you throw caution to the wind and squeeze his hand. “Okay.”

You’ll probably end up regretting this, you tell yourself as Matty inches you closer to the water. Nothing quite like letting Matty see you panic, letting the entire band see you panic. Closer and closer you go. Your feet touch the water again, and that panic releases, a squeal leaving your lips. Matty’s grip on you only becomes tighter, his arm now moving to wrap around you to guide you in.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, soothing, assuring, too good for you. “You’re doing great. Baby steps.”

You felt like a baby alright. But, you are moving. Ever so slowly, water is rising, coming up first past your knees and now past your waist. He brings you out to where the boys are, the water just hitting at your chest, and then smiles a wickedly bright smile. You did it. You are in the water, successfully. His arm does not leave you after this, to your delight. His lips meet your cheek, congratulatory. He’s proud.

“Look at you! You made it,” he whispers, that grin on his face. You cannot help but grin back.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“I knew you would be alright.”

“Hey, {Y/N}!”

Turning at the sound of George’s voice, you are met with a giant splash of water in your face. The salt stings a bit, and you scream, but Matty overreacts. He shouts at George, protective and cursing, believing the action probably just sent you off course with your fears. However, you do not find yourself all that bothered with the action. Now out here, water surrounding you, it feels a bit like a pool again, a wavy but safe pool. The water stings, but it’s still water. It’s still your boys. Hearing Matty still droning on about watching out for you, you move to splash him. It immediately lights George’s face back up, and Matty looks back at you incredulous, unbelieving the sight and the water now dripping down his body. You giggle.

“Shut up, you wanker.”

Revenge comes fast. Before long, the entire group is splashing about in the water. Ross and George tag team Matty, and you quickly get into your own little fight with Adam, who is more gentle in his attacks to keep you at ease but still is much fun to play with. You feel like a child, splashing around and laughing. Not a care in the world crosses your mind, not even the fact that animals of the ocean probably are watching this commotion curiously, wondering if it’s a signal to come up and get a snack. You are simply playing with your friends. Happy. Confident. Fears conquered.

Finding Matty as the fight starts to wind down, you give him a big, thankful kiss in the water. It’s not because he’s cute, though that has something to do with it. It’s for how he pushed you to face your fears and enjoy life more, to live and let go. No one your entire life got you to do that. They let you sit in fear. He brought you out of it. Kissing him deep, you thank him for being him. You thank him for letting you be you.

You thank him for no longer allowing yourself to play into the trick your mind had been playing on you.

[jaeminlore]

Enough // Park Minhyuk

-

the prompt: Hi!! Would you be able to write a fic of Rocky x chubby!reader? Something fluffy with a tiny bit of angst? Thank you!! I love your writing by the way!!

words: 1725

category: angst + fluff

author note: you asked for a tiny bit of angst and ya girl disobeyed and wrote half of the scenario in angst. hopefully the nice fluff at the end will make up for it?? please enjoy anyway!!

- destinee

-

Insecurity was something you had been dealing with your entire life. Whether it was your below-average grades, adolescent acne, or the number on the scale, you had your fair share of insecure moments.

It was normal. Everyone had insecurities. Everyone felt inferior from time to time. You had learned to accept and deal with it.

Only it had gotten harder now that you had a boyfriend. Not only was he one of the most-known kids at your school, he was also one of the handsomest. He was the leader of the dance team, and that just made him more likable.

You had never been one of the popular kids. Although Rocky didn’t act like it, even he had to admit that the entire school knew him as their star dancer. Then his girlfriend, you, were just the girl who spent most of her time in the library.

That didn’t bother you. In fact, nothing about having a popular boyfriend bothered you in particular.

That is, until he had to do a couple dance for an assignment. Now your boyfriend had to dance with a pretty girl who loved dancing just as much as he did.

What if he fell for her? What if he saw her thinner, dancer body and decided to leave you? What if he thought her more exciting than you?

I mean, all you did was read and study. Your hobbies consisted of watching movies and reading books.

Rocky was more adventurous than you. He always had been. His favorite dates were walking around the park, or going out to the zoo or aquarium. Your favorite dates were lounging around the house cuddling or something else just as lazy.

And then there was your body. You were always on the chubbier side. Normally you didn’t care. So what if your thighs rub together and your arms were a bit chubby? Even your plushy tummy didn’t bother you much.

Rocky was the complete opposite, of course. He had the body of a dancer: lithe and fit. You knew for a fact, thanks to Rocky’s friends, that he had abs.

Normally the body difference didn’t matter. The only reason it mattered now was because he had met his match. Jihyo was a pretty dancer with tall, thin legs and an hourglass figure. She looked perfect beside Rocky. They looked like a cute matching couple, whereas you felt that Rocky always looked too good for you.

You tried to ignore it. You tried to pretend it didn’t bother you. Only, it did.

And the insecurity grew.

-

“I’m here with lunch!” You announced, walking into the practice room.

Rocky and Jihyo stopped dancing and turned to you, cheering for a break. Sweat dripped down both of their faces as they each grabbed individual water bottles.

Jihyo turned the stereo off as Rocky turned to you smiling.

“Hey, Y/n!” He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you into a tight hug.

“Ew, Rocky,” Jihyo crinkled her nose. “Don’t hug her when you’re all sweaty.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, gently pushing your boyfriend off of you.

Rocky frowned for a moment before settling for holding your hand. “Are you going to stay and eat lunch with us?”

You shrugged, “I’ve already eaten, so I’ll probably just head to the library to study.”

“Are you sure?” Rocky squeezed your hand gently.

You knew he wanted you to stay, but you feared that the more you and Jihyo were in the same room, the faster Rocky would realize that you were the lesser choice.

Jihyo walked over to you, smiling happily. “At least stay to watch our dance? It’s almost finished and Rocky has been begging for you to come and watch it.”

You averted your eyes to Rocky. His hopeful smile caused you to say yes, although the thought of watching them dance together seemed like more than you could take.

You set the food down while Jihyo went to turn the music back on.

Rocky exposed his cheek to you, “Kiss for good luck?”

Rolling your eyes, you got on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“You guys are so cute!” Jihyo squealed as the music started.

“Thanks,” Rocky said, not noticing your blush.

The beat started and the entire mood in the room changed. You sat against the wall as the two dancers got in position. Rocky placed his hands on Jihyo’s waist and they began their couple dance to Seventeen’s song, Fast Pace. Rocky had choreographed it for the couple project, and you couldn’t help but feel like it was too intimate.

It was practically a tango, with moves taken from the real choreography. Rocky told you often how much he worked on the revised choreography. It was to represent lovers in which the girlfriend was tired of the relationship and the boyfriend was still fighting.

There was a lot of close dancing and intense gazes and it all made you feel horrible.

Not to mention you could see yourself in the practice mirror, looking out of place and completely mediocre compared to the two dancers.

As soon as the song was over, you could almost feel tears stinging behind your eyes. Rocky and Jihyo were smiling at each other, breathing hard with their foreheads pressed together.

“That was great!” You managed to say.

Rocky turned and smiled, “Did you really think so?”

You put on the best smile you could. Dancing was Rocky’s passion, and there was no way you were going to make him feel bad about it because of your own insecurities. “Of course! Anything you choreograph is wonderful.”

Rocky let go of Jihyo and walked towards you. “Can’t you stay for lunch? I don’t get to see you very often.”

Your eyes trailed the ground. “I’m sorry. I need to go. Eat well.”

You walked away without turning back. The library was only a few doors down, and you were thankful no one was inside to see you feeling bad about yourself.

The study tables were empty of books as well as people, so you sat down and opened up your own textbooks, ready to bury yourself in chemistry equations.

It was easy to forget insecurities when you’re too busy worrying about the periodic table. So easy to forget everything, in fact, that you didn’t even hear someone walk in behind you.

“Hey, Y/n?” Rocky’s soft voice appeared, along with the dragging of a chair away for him to sit on.

“Hmm?” You hummed in question, not looking up.

“Are you okay? You left abruptly.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like staying.”

Rocky scooted his chair right beside yours and hugged your arm, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You sighed. Your shoulders visibly drooped. “D-Do you—” you couldn’t finish.

Taking a deep breath, you tried again, “Do you wish I was different?”

“What?” Rocky sounded genuinely surprised at your question. “Different?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Do you wish I was a dancer like Jihyo? Or do you wish I had a better figure? Like, I’m chubby and I’m boring and I feel like you could do better.”

Rocky scoffed, “How long have you been thinking like this?”

“Since you announced the couple dance,” you answered honestly.

“Y/n…” Rocky nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, “You know there is no one I want more than you. We have different interests, but that’s okay. You don’t have to be a dancer like me just like I don’t have to be a big studier like you.”

“But she is so pretty,” you argued.

“I think you’re prettier. I like your prettiness. You’re cute and small and soft. I like that because I like you. I mean, do you know how many times I’ve thought you would leave me?”

“Why would I leave you?” You looked at him, aghast.

His russet eyes glanced at you. “Because I’m loud and I can be really annoying. And sometimes I cancel our dates because I want to complete a dance move. That’s really selfish of me. Also, my best friends are really handsome and sometimes I wonder why you would choose me when there is someone like Eunwoo in my friend group.”

You stared at Rocky. “You really think that?”

“Of course I do,” he replied. “Everyone is insecure. I want you to know that I dance with Jihyo because I have to for my grade. It has nothing to do with her attractiveness. If I could choose my partner, I would choose you: one hundred percent.”

“You know I can’t dance,” you whispered, quirking a small smile.

“I know that’s not true. In fact, we should dance right now, Y/n!” Rocky said excitedly.

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed your hand and pulled you up into standing position.

“There’s no music, Rocky.” Your protests were unsuccessful as Rocky gave you a playful grin.

“So? I want to show you my dance.” He pulled you closer to him and rested his hand against the small of you back. “Okay, put your hand on my shoulder and we’ll dance.”

You obeyed and rested your small palm on his lean shoulder. His large hand encased your smaller ones. “I like holding your hand,” he confessed. “I think they’re small and cute. They fit well in mine.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” you told him. Although, you still felt butterflies in your stomach when he said things like that around you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Okay, follow my lead.” He began to walk forwards, and you looked into his eyes as you were lead backwards.

Soon the two of you were dancing a slow dance, practically just swaying at this point.

You were getting lost in his eyes, and vice versa. Everything was forgotten as Rocky held you closer to him.

“Y/n?” He mumbled.

“What?” You asked, unconsciously messing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He closed his eyes and carefully leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please don’t ever feel like you aren’t enough. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“Thank you Rocky,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him quickly.

“Hey, do you want to go get ice cream?”

You giggled, “Cookies and cream?”

“You read my mind, Babe.”

~the end~

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

He looks at you and says "You're the one I've been waiting for! and yells "Get the hell away from me! You're not my boyfriend! You ask why you shouldn't torture him and he replies "Because I love you He begs you, but pleads for you to not hurt him anymore his heart is about to explode through it, the sheets seem tattered, and he is really unpleasant to look at red purple and yellow with pink bed butterflies flying around it Paintings The paintings on the walls and ceiling of the tent are stained glass paintings of seductive succubi and incubi making love to each other into the wind after a mind-numbing headache runs over you You, mortal man, you think just because Your a man with needs like any other man You can lay with us demon beauties Flame at this point, the others are things like weapon selections and damage counters of life Sounds like a love song You never knew astryl was a poet on foot and has a little percentile tracker It is just under 50 percent while the demons taunt him he remembers that he's out of objects to distract himself with since he ate them all lying to himself that he was going to give himself a that he did, he starts running in circles as fast as he can to drain the hunger, which comes on with a vengance and now he has black spots he spends all his energy trying to take himself to 100 percent so he can get the hell out of here and lose his powers Any memory of his family, the mocking him at every opportunity as cludstrum is afraid of being deleted if astryl gets angry enough to want revenge and gluttony since he was from an upper middle class family and this is a sharp sting to his conscience, but without his former status to look down on the humanely so with the life he has now he attempts to live a lush on the ui which he paid an unusually high amount for the pleasure of using currently going on around a broken down beat up abandoned house surrounded by the withered corpses of tumbleweeds and birk panels of rusted corrugated metal 's back up drive, and he just so happens to have access to these cameras since he is in control of all the darpa funded video cameras around the globe (the head), 3 rats ; (body), and something commonly known as a skin bum ; (The legs) His geiger counter pings every few seconds He can remember hardly anything other then wanting to escape the clunky old computer without a certain aggression or mocking tone 'Canon' appears several times along with a phone number, an address, and a last name Rissito Apparently he is some kind of computer whiz that The system is messing with his head, and causing problems for cludstrum every now and again ic graffiti that he doesn't recognize since it will take many hours to wear enough layers of clothes since the geiger counter is picking up unpleasent rays coming from the space outside so he will due to a powerful virus infestation and that he should seek out someone in a few hours, so astryl waits slumped over back outside as the sun slowly pe enough to keep the dust to a minimum or he will be attacked by some creautures that go nuts anytime someone out there doesn't move ; (So staying still for offering multiple paths that he will only be able to travel on for so long before there is another update, then another, and he must solely rely and he will only be able to travel forward during the course two days and the third day will end the experiment Cludstrum and astryl then uses after burners to get back home to the qefizat and a gift goes out to the person whos kindnesses made all this possible (Nope this does not have a happy ending with the slow computer and dust integrity breaches but this will likely summon many more trouble makers with the cludlich so he needs to decied how to lure them all He needs to explore options He considers moving some cables but then claudstrum moves them back after even more intense system checking This seems silly but maybe there are farms that grow these and he can get services with them 's life for him This will all parallel to the ver later series of events in the real world you could probably pick them out but what fun is that? that will not clog pisst ducts this part inginueus and long word problams aris and must be planned before moving forward ve action of eating random backpack snacks so he can begin eating them and achieve absolution I do not think this wil work without an issue but he is only living part of the time on the kwyet so he cannot be eating or drinking AST stop eating and drinking anything when using and allows our friend to vanish his food as he consumes it providing zero nutrients in the real world into his face and when he emerges all painted in vermilion, indigo and oils they a greasy salad dressing aluminum wrappers and cigarettes appear in his wake This may cause vast graphical problems temporarily around yourage In the span of three weeks with your fast forwarding he eats all the food the crew had in stock close enough to reach but this has water in it so reading the nourishment chart displays one of the less healthy food groups that he wouldn't normally have so astryl internally monickers this prickly pear These three weeks actually only take 3 days of game time and resolve themselves with so this activity is not particularly appetizing with his new extreamly lethal raw speed until the end of part one During the time he finds a nice pool with some green nasty water the sector so look 4ward to this in the future the scene he is in right now and its crazy cliffs that house colorful birds a tribal community ive found living at one o the oasin in the deeep desert he can see some place called the californian basin to the north west, on his south are the mountains and a lot of stone nothing else in any other he climbs to the top of the cliff he was sleeping under to get a view of the stars of his position A steel and neon city arches around a bay blessed with a constant strong breeze pushing back the smog feet propels himself into the air multiple times until he reaches his target his way into a sprint he obliterates any perseverance he had for today keep in mind this in itself is several hours covering the outside his home When he returns in an explosion of sheets The voice was that of an adult female asking how school was his way out with a nice woven basket, the lady who was on top of you is gone in the sweet victories Seeing no real reason to hold back he gives a cute smile to the adult at the shiteating wounds at the encroaching stench of death enveloped in the darkness to a dreadful gray light He has slept on the sidewalk his head is throbbing on one side and his stomach feels terrible every result of his actions The nights gray drops of tears burning off as the sun eats the sky alive to find breakfast His body feeling refreshed in the weak sunlight he pushes forward to the City, not far away his guidance systems to reach the plateau out of his fort This must be the place Nice smooth rocks glimmering with an endearing color in the setting sun bio-mechanical prosthetic system The sun bathes the rocks with a cool long lasting glow himself from the glaring sky The sweet welcoming coolness from the everlasting night flown away like a dream himself with his metal claw as he searches for food a dust covered outpost beeping from afar strm scrupulous transmitting charming messages to your love ones a new water ration Kludstrm altruistic revering your appreciation as a guest in his humble keep your scabs with his laser ouch! Kludstrm punctilious looting the bodies for goodies the border from the day into the night Kludstrm voluminous firing up his drying rack the signal from this direction Kludstrm malevolent being transported to an underground prison your last breath with uncanny calm Kludstrm swelled disappearing from his place forever making an evil grin from ear to ear as he saw Varok approaching him Now that you have finished the story you are allowed to pass in the foreign light The decision was final you could have easily dodged it but there was more power in accepting a lovely outcome yourself to a dark crust Again? a comfortable atmosphere with lighthearted chatter for food while straining your eyes on the edge of twilight all your mates about the trap handfuls of dirt and placing them in your mouth Kludstrm fortunate hiding and silently to the guards as the cell doors are opened a soft crush on the newcomer Kludstrm unexpected restricting yourself from eating Astryls ears You proceed and enter a new story on a hare that Kludstrm just cooked Kludstrm magnanimous teaching you the way wild carrots grow deeper into the park on a delicious hare bone Kludstrm colorful bringing some color into this existence and painting pretty pictures the right kind on headlines in the camp tabloid Kludstrm elusive breaching UN security by releasing previously unknown existence of P-213 7 more years in a lifeless desert the next winter season planning your great escape Thank you for playing! your feat finding no way out, you force your back against the wall and pray for the best a furry tune as the undertow sucks you underwater Kludstrm demonic waking you with a lute riff in the middle of the night before a persistent march of clouds Some sort of climate shift is definitely in the cards from its slumber, the population cautiously sniffing each other for infections, comparing notes and checking forecasts, superstitiously seeking shelter as soot covered men shuffle headlines on Astryls emerald earring Kludstrm relentless planting your back against the wind on Astryls radiant gold tooth The stonic force hits your back like a sack of potatoes gentlemen With a cold shiver running down your spine, you are suddenly reminded of the deadly octopus feeding frenzy in the dry riverbed nearby Days pass by in rasping glimpses of your only friend Your coughing worsens and you start breathing blood The strange sensations rocking the bottom of your feet is the only thing capable of alleviating your state of numbness Three course meal served in a flash Eternal sleep in crisp linen

[magdathemadam-blog]

What a day

Today was, well, something of a mixed bag. It began as it usually does, I woke just before my alarm and pop out of bed. I keep it on the other side of the room so I have to get up to turn it off.  I stumbled around for a few minutes, awake but unwilling. Since I didn’t have class until 1, I decided to go back to sleep until 9. This is always a mistake. I wake up ready to meet the world (usually) and should stay up until nap time. (I only sleep for a few hours at night and few more hours in the afternoon) I slept until 12:40, make up with a raging migraine, the kind that wraps around your head, telling you that sleep is your only option, but the more you sleep the worse it gets. My eyes feel cloudy, my throat and mouth are dry. Part of me wants to skip my 30- minute singing lesson, but the word Dicipline is printed across my white board in all caps. Its the one thing I lack and what I wish to gain. I throw myself together and make it to class, 5 minutes late but there. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but it isn’t hot. A soft breeze carries the scents of new life, melted snow and pine. Every inhale is a pleasant bath that washes away all impurities. My headache is gone within a minute of being outside. I have an urge to stay outside, to cling to the free air. Still, Discipline. I go inside.  I love my professor. A wide hipped, small chested woman with curly amber hair, cut into an asymmetrical a line. She has a pure, sweet voice that I could listen to all day. We spend the first ten minutes chatting, laughing about our lives.Then, we practice. The first time is always the roughest. I struggle to stay on. It’s the change in note, from deep to high or high to deep. If the change is gradual, I can do it. If its sudden, I struggle. This is the reason we’ve chosen scarborough fair. The key is higher than I’ve ever done, but my professor insisted that I could do it. After three weeks of practice, I can hit all the notes and my lungs no longer struggle to hold them.  I love the way she encourages me. Tells me that she’s impressed, admits whens she does things wrong. She tells me when I’m wrong and gently moves me back to center. I can’t help but think back to every other music instructors I've had, to the man who made me hate my voice.I don't do so with the bitter scorn I used to. I smile. Shes never told me I sound like a rodent or compared me to a dying animal. Instead, she there to adjust my voice, tells me that its like an instrument, with fine tuning anyone can sing well. With fine tuning, my voice can be great. She points out the things she likes, what others will like,. We end with a reminder that next week I’ll perform. I’m looking forward to it, but I do feel a bit of nerves stir in my stomach. I’ve sang in front of people a few times, I love to be in front of an audience.  I wander down to trio, the best place to get lunch and feed myself. Chili cheese dog on a slice of wheat bread. I spend some time down there, shooting the breeze with the instructors and some of my fellow students. We talk about graduation, what we want to do afterwards. I give one of them my 60-second sell on AmeriCorps. Once socialization draws to a close, a find a coloring page and doodle. At 3pm, my dicipline alarm goes off. Its time to do my homework. I feel inspired, I’m ready to do it, so I head back to my dorm. Again, the air makes me want to mess off, spend my time outside. Spring fever has begun to set in. I can hardly wait to finish my work so that I might frolic in the fresh grass. When I get into my dorm, my calico Luci Fur, greets me with a trill and rolls onto her back. She loves to flaunt her belly and I’m the only one aloud to pet her there. My laptop rests on the bed, open and playing her favorite playlist. A Dethklok song, Murmaider, thrums its heart beat sound. I spend a fw minutes rubbing her belly and bumping my head along with the beat before I slip the computer onto my lap. I get some work done, not as much as I should, before I take a small cuddle break. Luci is being too cute not to snuggle. I put the laptop next to me and lay down across the bed. I wiggle, trying to find a comfortable possition. Luci purrs and extrends her claws into my face. She pulls me closer. One of my legs is still folded underneath me, the weigth of my body cutting off blood. I pull it out, trying to do so without having to move anything else. My foot pops free and strikes into something hard with the full force of my strength. I feel my laptop fly off of the bed and hear it land. I cant look. I know its broken. I dont need to get up to look. I shielf my face in lucis chest.  I dont want to look.  I force myself and find that, infact, the screen is destroyed. The upper right corner is a mess of sprider webs, fracturing out across the screen. The rest of it is a chalk white, struggling to blink back on.  It’s ruined. I’m such an idiot.  Immediately, I look at the time, its not past 5, which means that the IT guys will probably still be in there office. WIthout wasting another second, I shove the technology into its case and rush it to the hospital, like it was my loved one. My voice is tight while I explain whats happened. He doesn’t laugh, he looks quite sympathetic. He explains that theres little he can do, but hooks it up to a spare monitor anyway. He gives me a flash drive and helps me move my files. He tells me I’ll need a new screen but he’ll put it in for free.  The screens range from 50-200$ and I have all of 4$ in my account. Once I get what I can onto a flash drive, I wander back towards my dorm. Texting my bestie, I find comfort in her sympathy, though we both know theres nothing to do. My family is not well off but I reach out to my mom anyway. Without my computer, I’ll fail.  I tell her what happened and she tells me, regrettably, she has no money. Her voice is sullen and a little defensive. My other siblings would be quick to rage about this. Im sad, but I tell her its ok. It’s my own damn fault, anyway. We spend some time trying to brain storm. I consider taking another loan from the school, but on top of being that much more owed, it’ll take over a week to process. My brother has a computer that he connects to his tv and uses for nothing else. I consider asking if we could switch until the semester is over when my mom intturupts. She’s been struck by genuis. She can bring me her old television and an HDMI cord. The tv was destined for donation; what better way to rehome it then giving it to her child? She excitedly tells me she’ll come over as soon as she’s had her evening coffee and hangs up. Despite the over reaching cloud to depression, I find my sunshine. This will be like a desktop, in some ways better than what I had before.  I spend the next hour or so chatting on the phone with my bestie. She reads me her story, teasing me with the unfinished chapter. She finishes just in time, my mother has arrived. She brings me dinner and we spend some time enjoying each others company. Its been several weeks since the last time we got to hang out. She doesn’t feel great and heads home.  I set up the television and connect my computer. Ready to finish my homework, I push the televisions on button. It shifts awkwardly under my finger. Nothing else happens.

I meddle with it.

Its broken.

For the first time I feel the cascading wave of defete crash into me. It hurts. My eyes begin to sting, filling with tears. Who the fuck did I piss off? I want to scream, jump up and down and cry.

Of course, I dont want to bother any of the little snow flakes, so I just stare at the two screen. One blank and emotionless, the other a twitching, shattered mess. With a deep breath a turn the tv towards me and examine the button. I fiddle with it for several minutes. I will not let this happen. 

Mark me, if I have to tear this apart and rebuild the entire thing from bolts, I will.

The tv lights up, a dim blue-grey glow. 

It works!

I take a picture, send it to my mom and bestie before I sit down and finish my homework.

It’s after midnight. My day is finally over. My head has begun to hurt again, but I’m not ready for bed. Instead, I get on tumblr and blog about the day I’ve had.