#that was bothering me for the longest time tbh

[princekirijo]

I just realized I haven't updated y'all on some changes I've made to Riku specifically Noble (his thief self)

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[venusplan]

How jjk men treat you on your period

an: I really hate periods so here's a post about what the JJK men treat u during yours <3 challenging myself with the one because I've never wrote for Geto, Nanami, Choso, & Toji.

Somehow I made Gojo's the longest??

cw: blood (obviously) period sex, All characters are 18+,

Satoru Gojo

Would probably get you chocolate to share 💗

We're talking about Gojo, so you know it means wayyyy more than you eat. If you are it all you'd probably get sick honestly. Somehow he doesn't though??

Would definitely take a picture in front of the feminine products and send it to you asking "What size pussy do you have?"

Somehow I think he has warm hands, instead of a heating pad he'd probably cuddle with you warming your stomach honestly.

Definitely bought ice cream.

Period sex would probably be a thing tbh (it's kinda half and half for me idk, could see it but at the same time maybe not)

Doesn't wanna leave you when it's the time of month.

If you leave the house and like to go buy groceries and eat something he'll walk behind you. Looking out for you know, blood in case if it seeps through the back or something. (He'd mostly do this for if you use pads instead yk)

I low-key see him knowing what a period is 🎀 because I mean 💗 yeah thinking about it. So you wouldn't have to really inform him.

Suguru Geto

Gosh it's hard to think URGHHH. 💔

Sighhh, honestly if we're talking about adult Suguru I think it's more off he'd know because of Mimiko and Nanako to so.

It gets BAD when all three of his girls get synced up.

He'll make sure to buy like dark chocolate, keep stocked up on pad (&/or) tampons.

Also makes sure we you're comfortable 💗

He'll buy the two heating pads and stuff you know

Meanwhile he'll buy you one for when he's out and about.

Otherwise he also holds his hand on your stomach.

Nanami Kento

Makes sure you're always comfortable.

Also like makes you some warm coffee/tea whichever you prefer.

Wants to help you through the hellish week.

He'll make sure to wash the sheets if you ever get blood on them accidentally.

Tries to keep you warm.

Bought you your favorite chocolate and gets whatever you're craving🎀

Toji Fushiguro

Bro's broke.

He can't buy pads/tampons, etc.

Honestly though hear me out, he'll take on a really quick job from Shiu and buy you some stuff.

Maybe some chocolate and a pack of pads/tampons.

He'll come back to you with it and then hand the bag to you.

After that he'll either hold you from behind, or his head on your stomach maybe.

Honestly there could be period sex, but he's noticeably not as rough, or anything.

Stays with you the entire time 💕

Ryomen Sukuna

Asshole.

But a nice asshole.

Would make Uraume go out to get your stuff.

Laying in bed, or sitting on his throne he'll put his massive ass hand on your stomach.

Makes sure no one bothers you much.

If you catch an "attitude" with him trust he'll fuck it out of you.

PERIOD SEX. He literally kills people, he is not going to be afraid of blood on his penis(es).

You mostly just stay around him during it (like you do even when you're not) that or you're in your room (his)

Choso Kamo

Scared the first time it happens. Like, "why are you bleeding?!?"

You'd have to explain the whole thing to the poor baby :(

He'll ask questions which you answer.

Later he'll come back to you with everything you need 💗

Doesn't wanna leave you.

Makes sure you have like a whole damn grocery of your pads/tampons.

Would probably get you some sweets.

(he asked Gojo to help him buy it.)

Lays his head on your stomach 🎀

[alllgator-blood]

Wait, River, I must know

How do you pronounce Shamura? Their name?

For the longest time I had thought it was [Sham-mur-ah], but after hearing in "PESTILENCE" that their name was pronounced [Sha-mor-rah] instead I'm not sure

I know it wouldn't bother many people but to me, being accurate is absolute in my mind, as correct as possible, and as you too, are a devoted Shamura follower, I must inqcuire,

How do you pronounce the almighty God's name?

VERY GOOD QUESTION, THE BISHOP NAMES HAVE HAUNTED ME SINCE I FIRST PLAYED THE GAME. For shamura, I'm pretty sure I've been pronouncing it like how they say it in pestilence? "shuh-murr-uh" is the best spelling I'm able to come up with but there's a lot going on in the song so I'm not able to hear it that clearly. I remember when pestilence dropped, I was kinda bewildered by the fact I'd heard their name spoken out loud in an official piece of cotl media because I had NO IDEA if I was saying it right this whole time.

I've also heard "shammer-uh" and "shah-moo-ruh" so I have no idea. The other bishops have pretty straightforward names that can be traced to a source pretty easily so it's really weird that they made sham's name so cryptic, this is why I project my culture onto them cause I literally have no idea what they're supposed to be lmao. I've seen someone say it's a variation of an old akkadian or hebrew word I think?? Maybe the devs have clarified it somewhere but I just don't keep up with that kind of thing so idk

edit: the word I was thinking of was "shamar" and that's gotta be the right one because the definition of it is to protect, guard, watch over, that kinda thing which is VERY shamura tbh

[persphonesorchid]

Connotations Of Sin - JHS (m)

Summary: At your lowest, you’ve been living on the streets for the past couple of months. When you decide to leave your only safe haven and find yourself lost in a mysterious fog, an angel stretches out a hand of mercy. Little do you know, black taints his once alabaster wings.

Genre: Fallen Angel Au | Angst, fluff, smut (mdni), horror (V lowkey, I swear)

Word Count: 30k

Masterlist

Please read these warnings carefully!!

Warnings: Homelessness, Kidnapping (? is it though??), Suicidal ideation, referenced and described abuse and murder of a child. Hoseok is his own warning. Mc gets drugged and then she gets sick... A bit of religious babble, mc has nightmares (one of which is actually kinda bad...), she almost dies at one point. Hoseok likes playing mind games, but they aren't serious (Honestly debatable...). Implied gang activity and violence. Hoseok contradicts himself a lot, he's really confusing. Smut: oral ( m and f receiving) soft dom Hoseok, i think Hoseok has an oral fixation (or is it ME, the author?????) unprotected sex.

Notes: Phew, welcome!! SO, it's finally here!!! I'm so excited to share this project with you alll! It was such a big project for me, and so much time and effort went into it. Believe it or not, this started out as a smut piece and it had nothing going for it at all. If you've been following me for a while, you'd remember that back in 2021 i posted a teaser for something similar. Tbh back then probably wasn't the right time to post such a thing lmao, i for certain wasn't ready to write it and it wouldn't have been written in the way it was meant to with my writing style back then. It's been a long journey of understanding the characters portrayed here, and a lot of work to get them right. Very big shoutout to @hwaslayer who's - as always - been there with me from the very beginning and has been the biggest help and motivator, please look out for her Ateez's Seonghwa fic that shares this universe!! I won't keep you any longer, but please be sure to leave feedback, a lot of effort went into this project and i'd love to hear what you think and answer any questions! Happy reading!!!

“You sure you don’t wanna stay here with me dearie? I know it ain’t much, but it’s better than being out in the elements.” Abigail takes your hands in hers, hands that – much like yours – are dirt stained and ruddy, but bring you comfort that you wouldn’t find elsewhere. Abigail – or Toothy as everyone else calls her – is a frail woman with wispy auburn hair and a gap tooth smile. Her hair had gone white in some places, the crows’ feet at her eyes can barely help you guess her age. Her eyes are blue and dull but still regard you warmly like she did when she’d found you wandering along the fourth avenue weeks or so ago.

The space where she stays isn’t much; a nook in an alleyway between two rundown buildings that people don’t bother to go into. She’d tried her best to make it into a space that’s comfortable enough, the roof made of termite bitten sheets of ply that’s at least a square and a half wide. An old, mildew ridden tarp thrown over it and held down by a couple pieces of rubble from the building across makes up the walls that offer shelter from cold wind and rain and as much privacy you could get out here. The floor made of giant trash bags Abigail had swindled from some place or another, covered with old sheets that’s definitely seen better days. Even though the sheets had long lost their softness and leave you itching, they kept your butt off the cold concrete.

You’re going to miss the stories she’d tell. You’d lay on the floor, the longest part of the tarp folded over the top, and stare up at the strip of night sky between the buildings, twinkling with the bit of stars you can see and listen.

She’d tell you of her life before she fell to rock bottom, how grand everything was. How, many years ago, she’d won the lottery by a stroke of luck, only to have it turn sour when her fiancé gambled it all away and she lost everything. She never did tell you what happened to him.

You’d miss walking the couple of miles to the river, armed with pieces of run-down bar soaps and plastic bags with the little clothes you owned in them bundled in your arms. Or the nights when it’s cold, you’d go down to the square with her and look around for things to burn and dump them into the steel barrel to keep warm.

There are days when there’s nothing, and Abigail would distract you from your stomach trying to eat at itself with another one of her stories and old cans filled with steaming boiled rain water. There are days when you’d sit with a full tummy, there’s usually one kind soul out there that takes pity on you both to offer as much as they could.

You’ll be forever grateful for Abigail, with her motherly affection and her warm hands. She never once asked how you ended up here too, she simply offered a hand when you needed it most.

You felt as though you lingered too long... this is the longest you’ve stayed in a place. The company was good, but you feel like there’s just so much you’re robbing Abigail of by staying with her. You know she would strongly disagree; she’d probably whack you with her busted up sneaker and send you to sit in a corner until you’ve apologized. It’s simply how you feel, if you’re not here, Abigail wouldn’t have to share the little of what she gets, you feel terrible enough that she gives you more than she keeps for herself.

“Don’t worry Abigail.” You smile, pulling one hand away to pat hers. Her fingers are bony and long, and lacking the warmth they did earlier in the day. “I don’t stay one place for too long.”

It’s a lie, obviously. You’d rather chew your leg off than go out there alone. Away from the safety this little nook had been for the past month, away from Abigail, who’s cared more about you than anyone has in a while. But you care about her too, enough that you’d leave to make sure that she eats well enough to survive and not give it all to you. She’d be better off.

Abigail narrows her eyes at you, the wrinkles of her face deepening as she frowns. She looks sad, you note, the blue of her eyes dark and stormy, but she says nothing, just squeezes your hands for a while before letting go.

You smile softly, and continue stuffing your clothes into an old backpack Abigail had given you a while back. You fold the dirty ones tight, setting them at the bottom, and the few clean ones you had that still smelled like your last bar soap at the top. You don’t have much, and you’ve gotten used to it – as hard as it was.

When you shouldered your bag and stepped out from under the tarp, Abigail follows, worry on her brow, saying that she’d walk you to the mouth of the alleyway.

“Oh!” She says, turning back to duck under the tarp. You hear the rummaging of her old pot wares, the clanking of the metal before she comes back and holds out a can to you. The label looks worn, peeling off in some places, but you make out the bright red ‘canned peach’ on the side. “I was savin’ this for when we go down to the river, but you’d better have it.”

“Abigail...” You sigh, guilt gnawing at your edges, “I can’t take this.”

Abigail purses her lips, smacking the can into your hand, “Yes, you can. It’ll hold you out for a little while.”

“Then what would you eat?” You outstretch your hand, offering the peaches back to her and she narrows her eyes at you.

“I can manage.” She says testily, and then sighs, softening, “Are you sure you’ll be okay out there?” She takes the can and tucks it into the outside pocket of your bag, “It’ll be rough ya know.”

“I’ll be fine,” You say, and then, you hug her. Truly, you’ll miss her. She pats your back gently, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, we gotta look out for each other out here.” Abigail smiles, pulling away. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans, something she’d picked up at a donation shelter a couple of days ago. It’s got a few holes and it’s frayed at the ankles but she’d never complain. “If you fall into luck, don’t forget me.”

“Never.”

You both say your goodbyes and you try your best to not cry at the sadness that clings to Abigail’s form as she hobbles back to her little nook. You take a breath and pick a direction to walk in.

You think about going to the river first, to get a little cleaned up before you go looking for somewhere to sleep for the night. You’re already regretting leaving the comfort that Abigail provided. You know she wouldn’t blame you if you turned right around and dragged yourself back. You’ve already made your mind up, though – it’s better this way.

You don’t have a gauge on the time, but the sun’s getting quite low. It streaks the sky in orange and pink, hiding behind a fluffy white cloud as it makes its slow decent. You might be able to make it to the river and back before night falls completely if you hurry. So you walk, and walk, and it’s a long way past the street Abigail first found you, where the city meets a forest edge.

You once asked Abigail why she didn’t live closer to the river, you worry about her most days, taking her frail self through the streets for such a long walk just to get here. She’d told you that even though some of your street dwelling comrades are friendly, most aren’t, and would do the worst to get what they need. It’s too risky to be close to the river where all manner of folk pass to get to it.

You tuck your bag to your front and keep an ear out for anyone that may be in the area. You grimace as the twigs and stones of the forest floor poke at your feet. Your shoes were on their last, they kept your feet warm most days, but they’re biting holes into your last good pair of socks. The trees get sparse the further in you go, and over the tweeting and chittering of the forest critters, there’s the sound of rushing water.

You break out of the trees and stand on the little edge where the forest pauses and the soft wet dirt begins. The river is a bit wild today, rushing through the rocks as it makes its way from wherever it starts. You know there must be a spring somewhere deeper if you follow the river back, but you don’t have the time to as the setting sun makes the forest look darker already. You wouldn’t like to be out here at night.

You slip out of your shoes and socks, wanting to keep them dry and walk down to the bank. Abigail has a little spot between three large boulders where she hides things. The spot is covered with leaves and sticks, and you dig through it to find the old blue bucket. It’s missing it’s handle and turned over to keep things under it.

There’s a new pack of soap powder that’s already been opened, a little square plastic bowl that’s probably seen better days on a dish rack and half of a soap bar. You pull the bucket out of its hiding place, taking just a handful of the soap powder and tossing it into the bucket. You tuck the powder into a corner of the rock with the soap bar on top of it and carry the bucket over to the river.

You rummage through your bag to find the clothes that needed cleaning, and put them in the bucket with the soap. It takes a moment of scooping water from the river and pouring it into the bucket. All the while you’re wondering where Abigail scored the soap powder from. A lot of things are hard to come by, but some people make trades with the little they’ve got. You feel a little guilty as you watch the water and soap soak into your clothes, though you know she wouldn’t mind if its you – you’re the only two that know where she keeps her stuff hidden – but still.

The soap smells sweet, and fresh in a way you haven’t smelt in a while. With the sun long gone behind the trees but still lighting the sky a bit, you wash your clothes as quickly as you can. You throw the soapy water on the bank and not back in the river, and rinse your clothes out just as quick.

There’s no time to wait for them to dry, with the sun being as low as it is and the wind baring its teeth. So you wring them out and pull out the plastic handle bag you keep folded in one of your backpack pockets to stuff them into.

It’s completely dark out once you’ve put the bucket back and covered Abigail’s things again and made your way back out of the forest. You would’ve liked to take a quick wash, but it’s too dark and the water’s too cold now. You’ll come back tomorrow when the sun’s high and hot.

You walk in a different direction than the way you came, looking for the little park that Abigail mentioned once. Its completely dark by the time you get there, your feet aching from the long walk and your mind muddled with thoughts.

You would often remind yourself not to think too hard, as your thoughts would often lead you to a dark place you find difficult to crawl out of. You would often regret not having people close enough to call good friends, maybe then you wouldn’t be out here.

You didn’t have a difficult life; you grew up in a loving home with both parents making sure that you were happy and not too spoilt by the fruits of their labour. You know the value of things and you know well to act like your parents raised you with some sense. Your mother passed when you were ten, and your father remarried when you were sixteen. You couldn’t understand why, your father loved your mother so much and you thought it would just be you and him against the world. You understood that your mother wouldn’t want him to live the rest of his life overshadowed by her passing and forget to continue living. So when he introduced you to the woman he met on a business trip, looking happier than he had in six years, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that something was off.

Your mother had always taught you to see the good in people, to give them the benefit of a doubt. There was no mistaking the thinly veiled disgust in your step mother’s eyes when she would look at you. She was quite young, compared to your father, anyway, and as the years went by, he spoilt her. He gave her whatever she wanted when she wanted it as long as it made her happy and you could only watch from the sidelines.

Your father fell ill, and everything went downhill from there.

When he passed, your world shattered and crumbled, leaving you standing in the rubble grasping at the wisps of it slipping through your fingers. Things were okay, for a while, grieving the loss of your father and trying to move on and step without him. Then the news of his will came not long after he was buried.

Your father left everything for his wife, the house, his money, and as you’d found on the first night you were out here, the savings account your mother had set up for you.

You had nothing.

You’d always kept to yourself growing up, and never let anyone closer than you would allow. You were home-schooled – all the way up to your tertiary education – and had no friends to speak of. Your parents never spoke of their family, all you knew and had were your mother and father.

It’s been a while since then. A good long while. It was hard to adjust to having everything at the tip of your fingers to having it ripped away all at once.

The first week was hard. You’d worked odd jobs here and there to keep your head above the water. Sleeping in a motel every night wasn’t ideal, especially since you had to buy food and every thing else. The little money you had ran out quickly, even when you pawned the possessions you did own it wasn’t enough.

You’ve had time to adjust since then. You met Abigail and things were as okay as they could’ve been considering. You remember, she had been pestering you about why you were pacing around on that bridge when she found you.

The deep rushing water below it had looked inviting – an easy way out. No one would’ve missed you, anyway.

You take a breath in sharply, and it burns. Cold air fills your lungs with little pinpricks as night fully settles. You try not to think about anything more as you walk through the park.

It looks empty, large trees and neat grass fields and cobbled walkways. There are dark metal benches scattered about, a trickle of water you can’t pinpoint coming from somewhere.

You’d just stay here for tonight, and find somewhere you wouldn’t be in trouble to stay at in the morning. You’re pretty sure you’re breaking some law being who you are as you sit down on the bench. It’s uncomfortable, the metal cold and biting, but you’d just have to deal for the night.

You dig through your backpack, pulling out the plastic bag with your damp clothes, a jacket that’s still in good condition and the canned peach Abigail sent you off with.

You spread your clothes out on the back of the bench, and you’re hoping they dry properly even if the air feels a little damp.

With a soft sigh, you lift the circular pin on the lid of the can and pull. The peaches are cut into slices and swimming in a sweet juice, and with some guilt you pick a piece out. It’s sweeter than anything you’ve had in a while, and for a moment you feel like crying.

You feel tears burn your eyes and nose as you chew the fruit, washing it down with a sip of the juice that tastes slightly like the can. It wasn’t long before it was all gone, your fingers sticky with the juice and you stare into the empty can with a frown. You wonder about Abigail and if she’s okay right now.

Setting the can down near the foot of the bench that’s bolted into the cobblestone path, you lay back. The sky is fairly clear, with a little smattering of wispy clouds floating by and stars that twinkle in the distance.

Drifting off slowly, you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in – though there isn’t one with this metal bench. Your jacket thrown over you as a makeshift blanket.

You’re not certain how long you sleep for, but when you wake, its to a tapping on your shoulder. The air is thick with something as you breathe in, and a lot damper than it was when you’d settled.

“Ma’am.” A voice calls, prodding your shoulder again, “Hello, miss?”

You open your eyes and your blood runs cold at the sight of the man in uniform standing above you. You sit up, excuses dancing at the tip of your tongue before you realised you could barely see past your nose.

The officer is holding a flashlight, the beam directed somewhere off to your right. A thick fog had settled while you slept, swirling way past the officer’s head.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t sleep here. This is a private park.” His words aren’t unkind, they come out gentle and a little pitying, as though he regrets having to do his job of keeping the riffraff out. He lets you gather your things, stuffing your still damp clothes back into your bag.

He takes a step back when you stand, “If you need somewhere to stay, there’s a shelter not far from here. Couple blocks that way.” He waves his flashlight behind you, towards the park’s exit, “Can’t miss it.”

You could barely see the guy, much less which way exactly he’s directing you to. You turn, squinting at the way you think he pointed. “Thank you... I’m really sorry about –”

“Don’t worry about it...just keep walking straight and you’ll find it.”

He motions with his flashlight again and you take two steps away before stopping and turning back, “Sorry but...the fog...which way...”

The man is gone, no sign of him having been there in the first place. It’s quiet, not even insects are chirping, you don’t hear any retreating footsteps. You stare at the spot he was just in, but didn’t want to linger lest he comes back and he’s decidedly less kind.

You hike your bag up on your shoulder, squinting to see through the fog as you walk towards the exit. The roads are empty, there’s the soft clicking of the traffic lights and the glow of shop lights and street lamps that make it a little bit easier to see. You still look both ways before walking quickly across the street, keeping straight like the officer told you.

It’s quiet, and honestly, it freaks you out a bit. You don’t think it’s that late, and even so, there should be people out and about. You don’t even think you slept for that long, it couldn’t have been more than an hour. There’s no reason for no one to be around, then again, you don’t know this area very well.

You walk for some time, the sound of your footsteps and your steady breaths your only company. You’re keeping your eyes peeled for any sign of the shelter, staring up at the glowing signs and squinting to see through the fog. You passed a convenience store, a pharmacy and a pet shop, all closed and dark inside. You’ve crossed two roads so far; it shouldn’t be much more walking...unless a couple of blocks have two different meanings between you and the officer.

You stop for a moment, taking a breath that settles heavy and damp in your chest. You look back the way you came, look at the signs of the buildings across the street and the one you’re outside of. You can’t see much more than that unless you keep walking straight.

You’re beginning to wonder if he’d only said so to get you out of the park. You take a couple of steps forward and then stop, looking over your shoulder. Your brows furrow and the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end.

It’s said that the mind always knows when you’re being watched, a sixth sense to be aware when someone is staring at you.

You feel watched.

And it isn’t an ordinary feeling.

It feels off, like some primal switch just flicked up in your brain. Briefly, you think that this is how a bunny feels being cornered by a fox. Your heart suddenly kicks against your ribs and something in the back of your mind screams for you to move.

You press forward, the feeling lingers, and intensifies. You walk as quickly as you can, your once steady breaths loud and harsh in the quietness of the night. You try not to look behind you as your ears pick up on the sound of another pair of footsteps. They match yours, and you’re not too certain if it’s just really your own bouncing off the walls of the buildings. When you stop, they stop, and start back up again when you start.

There’s another sound below it. Something snarls like a dog somewhere in the distance behind you, but, like everything else about this moment in this fog, it sounds wrong. Like it’s coming from a creature that’s trying to mimic the sound of an animal.

You stop dead in your tracks, goosebumps rippling along your skin like a wave from the top of your head and downwards. You take a breath, and with one foot in front of the other – you sprint.

Your footfalls are loud in the quiet, and even through your panic you notice the change of the footsteps that mimicked yours. There’s two more with it that falls in rhythm, like a large beast running on all fours.

It’s running faster than you are, the pounding of its feet against the pavement is double the speed of your own. You feel like your lungs are about to burst, your legs burning, and the damp air becomes fire in your throat when you breathe.

Whatever it is snarls again, and it sounds way closer than it was before. You could almost feel the sound rumble through you, and something hot fans at the back of your neck. You nearly trip, stumbling over your own feet in an attempt to run faster. You round a corner blindly, hoping to throw whatever it is off your trail and smack right into someone.

With your momentum, you’d think that you would send yourself and the person sprawling to the hard concrete. The terrified scream you let out rings in your own ears, high pitched and shrill, as you bounce back, falling in a heap. There’s a sharp twinge in your wrist as you brace, and a stinging in your palm when you just barely managed to catch yourself.

“Shit!” the person exclaims – a man, if the deep timbre of his voice was anything to go by. “Are you okay?!”

The man crouches down and you scramble back, then remember that you crashed into him because you were running from something and the panic comes back.

“I—there’s ... Something’s following me! It chased me all the way here...It’s—”

“Hey, hey...it’s okay...you’re fine.” The man seems to look behind you. You could barely see his face, even with him being as close as he was; the fog just seems to get thicker. “It’s just us out here...”

His voice suddenly seems hesitant, and you wouldn’t blame him if he thought you were crazy.

You breathing is still erratic, heart still trying to pound its way out of your chest.

The man’s hands hover at your shoulders, and there’s worry in his tone when he speaks again. “It’s okay. You’re alright, nothing’s out here but us.”

He takes your hand – the one that’s not holding your weight – and presses it to his chest. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, but his own heart is steady, beating a slow rhythm against his sternum. “Breathe with me.”

He takes a deep breath in, and you feel his chest expand as his lungs fill, you try your best. Your throat is burning, and every breath feels like fine glass is swirling at the back of your mouth. It takes a moment, but eventually, your breaths match his and the adrenaline seeps out with your every exhale.

Your brain finally registers the throbbing of your wrist and palm, and the ache in your sides.

“There you go.” You can faintly make out the smile that spreads across the man’s face, heart shaped and pretty white teeth. “Good now?”

You nod, just barely, and he releases your hand. There’s a shuffling and the sound of a zipper and then he’s holding a bottle of water out to you. You eye it with some suspicion, and he picks up on it.

“It’s just water, promise.” He says, wiggling the bottle a little. “The seal isn’t cracked or anything.”

You take your weight off your palm, wincing at the hot flash of pain from the movement. You right yourself a little, taking the water from him with your uninjured hand and a soft thanks.

“Oh...here...” he keeps the bottle steady in your hand with a palm under the bottom of it, and the other cracking the seal with a twist. He lifts the bottle to your lips and you take a sip, and then a gulp, “Easy, not too fast.”

The water is cool, and a blessing, you didn’t realise how thirsty you were. When you’ve drank at least half of the bottle, the man puts the cap back on and leaves it in your hold.

“Were you looking for something?” he asks gently, and you nod.

“The homeless shelter...I think I’m lost now, though.”

The man tilts his head, “There aren’t any shelters in this area...you’re on the wrong side of the city if that’s what you were looking for.”

You stare at him for a moment, “...Oh.” The officer really did just say it, then. You’re not sure what to say to the man and you glance around at the street that’s still teeming with the thick fog.

You’re not sure what to say to him, and instead, look around the street for any sign of the shelter even though he’d said there isn’t one.

“I think the fog’s lifting...” The man mumbles. The fog is clearing; it’s easier to see further down the street and the man in front of you. He presses his palms against his knees and stands, looking around for a moment before looking down at you. “There aren’t any shelters around...but...I can help you. If you want, I live a bit that way, and I’ve got an extra room...”

This is a bad idea.

He’s quite tall, on the lean side with long limbs. He’s wearing a long black coat, and his black, suede shoes look just as expensive as the watch that peeks from the end of his sleeve at his wrist. The white tee shirt he wears looks a little billowy, like it would swallow his frame once he takes the coat off. He turns a little and you get to admire the sharp cut of his jaw and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I won’t hurt you or anything. I just want to help.” He says, turning back to you. His eyes are dark, but kind as he offers a hand to help you off the concrete. “I’m Hoseok.”

You take his hand, and there’s nothing in the back of your mind telling you to get away. Nothing in his body language that shows ill intent, and you have to remind yourself that some people are simply kind.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him softly, giving him your name. His smile is soft as he nods, lips turned up slightly at the corners, eyes squinted just a bit.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. It’s a bit late, though, and you’d have to walk a long way to find the shelter...” Hoseok says softly.

You’re still holding his hand, and the warmth of it grounds you. You honestly shouldn’t, really, you’re smart enough to know you shouldn’t follow random men promising kindness. He really looks like a good person, quietly waiting for your answer as he gives you chance to change your mind should you wish.

He doesn’t rush you, and briefly you wonder if he doesn’t have anything else to do. He was clearly going about his business before you tackled him, though that word should be used lightly considering you’re the one who ended up on the ground.

“Okay...thank you.” When you finally speak his smile broadens, showing pretty teeth and still holding your hand, he leads you in the direction he was coming from before. You feel a bit bad, turning his night on its head and probably inconveniencing him.

The fog is lighter now, the air not as thick with it as you follow along. Hoseok didn’t talk much, not once mentioning your pitiful state of dress, or asking any questions. You’re grateful, not many people would go out of their way to open their homes to someone without one.

The place he leads you to looks expensive and you feel out of place. The road winds and twists into a residential area with houses and three storey apartments. There are cars parked in driveways, neatly trimmed grass and hedges, a fence around every tree. Lampposts dot the sidewalk every thirty or so steps, casting their orange glows across every surface.

Across from there, the road veers off into a more commercial area, with fancier housing and shops and a tall, looming hotel. The streets are quiet, shops already closed for the night and you wonder what time it is. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, save for you and Hoseok making your way towards the hotel.

The doors slide open with a little mechanical whir, and you balk at the sheer size of the lobby alone. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, bouncing their glows off of shiny surfaces. There are red and black lounge seats along a far wall, coffee tables of black tempered glass between them and the single seated chairs across. On the other side of the lobby is a little open cafe area, closed of course, with comfortable looking chairs tucked under tables.

There are two elevators, one of which you assume to be for staff. The reception area is a counter space of smooth looking white marble, though no one sits behind it.

Hoseok leads you to the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. You’ve let go of his hand now, as you take in the sight of the place. You wonder what anyone would think seeing someone like you in here. With your shabby clothes that’s seen better days, your dirty sneakers and backpack that looks like it’s moments away from just splitting apart.

There’s no one to see you, as the elevator comes down and opens with a ding. You catch sight of your reflection in the elevator walls, and grimace, regretting not bracing the cold river earlier. You definitely look homeless, your last bath was exactly two days ago, you look grubby standing just a little bit behind Hoseok. Anyone who would see you now would definitely turn their nose up at you and outright ask what you’re doing in their pristine hotel. Though, there isn’t much you can do to prevent that.

When the doors slide close you focus on the button panel, and next to it is a key card scanner and a button under it. The word penthouse is neatly labelled on the button in little black letters, and Hoseok fishes around his coat to pull out a key card. You blink, of course he lives in the penthouse.

The scanner beeps softly and Hoseok presses the button that glows a soft blue before the elevator lurches slight and ascends.

You fiddle nervously with your fingers in front of you, keeping your eyes on your shoes. There’s a shuffle and Hoseok turns to look at you, he’s smiling kindly again, something like pity woven into it and you feel a coil of shame twist in your chest.

“I’m sorry...” You say without much reason, glancing at him and then back down, “For the trouble.”

“No trouble.” Hoseok says softly, concern on his brow, his hand reaching out but stopping short, as though he’s not sure if he could touch you. You’re surprised he even want to. Heck, you’re surprised he’s doing any of this at all. “Really.”

“Do you usually take in random homeless people?” You ask, and his chuckle is light and teasing.

“Only the cute ones.” He says and then looks a little mortified, “Sorry. I’m kidding. It’s just...you looked like you really needed help...so I’m helping.”

“You’re very kind.” You murmur and offer a smile.

He smiles back, not as brightly as his other ones, it curls his mouth less, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He nods, “I try to be.”

The elevator slows to a stop, doors sliding open to a little well-lit hallway. On the other end of the hall is a wide pane of glass that overlooks the city lights, twinkling in a dance of their own making, and an emergency exit sign jutting out of the wall. You follow Hoseok out of the elevator towards the door which he unlocks with a password — the beeps loud in the quiet — the door opens with a soft thunk and a beep and he lets you walk in first.

The lights are on, as though he’d only planned to be out for a moment. You’re not too sure what to do with yourself now that you’re here, staring at Hoseok’s back unsurely as he takes his shoes off and tucks them neatly on a shoe rack.

He turns to face you, “I don’t mean anything by this, so please don’t misunderstand...”

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

He seems to weigh his words carefully, “Do you want to take a bath?”

You flush, yeah, you surely look grubby enough for him to ask that. It’s warranted, so, you’re not upset that he asked. You’d actually love to, when was the last time you took a bath that wasn’t in the freezing river?

Still though, it’s embarrassing. So you nod silently, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, looking genuinely relieved. “You can leave your stuff here and I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay...” You step out of your shoes, nudging them in a corner before you take your bag off and set it down. The clothes you have are still damp, stuffed in a plastic bag somewhere in the depths of your tattered backpack and Hoseok doesn’t give you a moment before he’s leading you through his home.

The chill of the grey tiled floor runs up your legs through your thin, threadbare socks. You don’t have much time to look around, but you’re aware you’ve passed an open space kitchen and living room, splashes of white, reds and black in the corner of your vision.

He lets you into the bathroom, “Use whatever you need. The towels and things are in the cabinet.”

You turn to face him, “I really can’t thank you enough.” You say earnestly, and he waves you off, turning to leave and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“I’ll bring you some clothes that you could use.” He says through the door, his voice muffled. You thank him again and his footsteps trail away.

You turn and glance around the bathroom, floor to ceiling glass panes makes up the furthest wall. Before it is a porcelain bathtub that could easily fit three people, on a raised platform of white stained marble, and that platform on another, creating a single step up in order to get into the tub. The colour of the platforms compliments the dark reflective marble floor. The undersides of the platforms are lined with what you assume must be LED lights, glowing a pale white along the bottom.

The same LEDs line the back of the large wall mounted mirror, giving it an ominous glow. Below the mirror is a dark granite sink with a faucet you’re not even sure how to turn on. The cabinet below the sink house only cleaning supplies, and you look around for the towel space.

The shower takes up nearly the whole wall it’s connected to, frosted glass and jets embedded into the wall.  

You walk over to the shower and realise that was wall beside it sorts of curve and you let out a surprised sound when you walk the short way towards the back of it. The ‘cabinet’ is more of a little walk-in closet, there’s a few fluffy looking bathrobes sorted by length and colour, and towels and washcloths stacked on shelves that match.

Under those are neat little space savers filled with bath oils and shower gels, sweet scented candles tucked into corners. Bar soaps and toilet paper on their own shelves at the bottom, unopened toothbrushes and what have you.

There’s enough room to turn full circle without bumping into anything if you step into it. But you look at your hands and decide to not touch anything until they're clean.

So you walk back out to the sink, frowning at the faucet with no visible way to turn it on; it’s just a sleek piece of metal that curves back into the basin. You look at it to and fro and wave your hand under it, startling slightly when water sprays from the faucet. You hold your hand away and it turns off after a moment. Now, your parents had money but it wasn’t anything like this.

You can’t imagine the cost of this place.

You find hand soap after peeking into the cabinet below the sink again, taking your time to thoroughly wash your hands clean. It’s hard to see the dirt go down the drain against the dark granite, but you’re grateful. You inspect your hands once your done, and finally allow yourself to touch Hoseok’s things. You take a towel down from the shelf, the one that’s at the top of the pile. It’s a nice pale yellow, and near the bottom right corner is a little blue butterfly embroidered into the fabric. After a little debate with yourself, you pull the washcloth that matches from its pile.

You set the towel on the closed lid of the toilet, and strip out of your clothes. You fold them neatly and set them on the floor along with your socks, stuffing your underwear into the pocket of your jacket. You step into the shower and pull the door shut behind you.

You turn the knobs and adjust the water so that’s it not too hot, and for a moment, you simply stand there. The water flows over your skin in rivulets, washing away the sweat and grime of the past two days. You try not to take too long, but made sure that you’re thoroughly scrubbed clean. You try not to use too much of Hoseok’s things, even though he’d told you to use whatever you needed.

You’re not sure how long you were in there, how long you stood letting the water wash away your tears as well.

When you step out, steam billowing put behind you, you wiggle your toes into the fluffy cotton mat under you, wrapping the towel around your form. It feels nice to be clean, skin feeling a little raw from the hot water. You tiptoe to the door and ease it open, and it pushes lightly against a bundle of folded clothes on the ground. Next to it, a pair of warm looking house slippers that you shuffle into immediately after drying your feet.

The clothes: a dark grey long sleeve crew neck tee that hangs just a little off one shoulder, a pair of boxer shorts still in it’s wrapping, and long fleece lined sweatpants that you have to fold at your ankles.

Near the door is a towel rack where you hang the towel you used to dry, and after taking a breath, you step out of the bathroom.

You walk back the way Hoseok led you, and the air is prickled with the scent of freshly made food and it makes you wonder just how long you took in the bathroom.

The kitchen is a wide space, between the area that makes up the entrance hallway is a kitchen island, and much like everything else you’ve seen, is a long, polished slab of dark marble. There’s a sink in the middle, sleek and silver and soft white light comes from the fixings above it. Across from that is a large refrigerator, an electric stove and more counter space. There are a few scattered appliances, a coffee maker and a small espresso machine tucked under a cupboard over them, and a blender with something or the other in it.

Hoseok stands with his back to you, he turns slightly, looking over his shoulder and startles.

“Oh – shit.” He laughs softly, “Hey, was your bath okay?”

“Sorry...” You apologize for scaring him and he waves you off, turning to face you fully. He scans your form but there’s nothing odd in the action, and he nods to himself at whatever he was looking for. “Oh, yeah. My bath was okay, thank you.”

“Dinner’s ready if you...oh...” he glances to the side, back to you and then to whatever he’s got going on the stovetop. “...This might be too heavy for you right now...” He murmurs to himself, a hand scratching at the back of his neck. He looks sheepish, a little guilty about something he didn’t consider.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll eat whatever it is.” You’re not about to make him waste his food, or be impolite.

“Okay, well.” He presses a button on the stove panel, turning to the island. There’s the sound of a drawer opening and he pulls out a kitchen towel, smiling at you. He nods his head to the right, where, tucked to the wall is a modest sized wooden table. There’re two plates of what he’s made already there, and tall glasses of water. “Go ahead.”

You walk over to the table, pulling out the chair to sit. Dinner is creamy mashed potatoes, a hearty portion of steamed mixed veggies and steak that’s somehow done to your liking and already cut into pieces. Your mouth waters at the sight and it smells so good you could cry. Hoseok isn’t finished at the island, so you busy yourself with folding the sleeves of your borrowed tee-shirt up and out of the way.

When he comes over he frowns a little, “You didn’t have to wait, dove.” He takes his seat opposite you, “Please, eat.”

The random pet name flies over your head, not that you would’ve been bothered by it had you been paying attention. Hoseok was kind enough to open his home to you, let you use his things and now he’s feeding you. He could call you whatever he likes.

You murmur a thank you and dig into your food. The sound you make when you take the first bite borders on erotic, but your gracious host doesn’t seem to mind very much. There’s a pleased glint in his eyes and a small curl to his mouth as he watches you eat for a moment.

You’re too hungry to be embarrassed by the intensity of his stare, but you’re mindful to not choke or look like you left your manners somewhere at your feet.

The food settles in your stomach, heavy but it’s a feeling you welcome. You could barely remember the last time you had a full meal. The bite you swallow brings the odd feeling of it slowing down behind your sternum, and you take a long drink of the cold water Hoseok had set out for you.

The man himself barely touched his own food, seemingly content to watch you scarf yours down. He has his chin propped in his hand, a small curl to the corner of his mouth and a glint of something in his eyes.

“Thank you...for the food.” You stare at your plate, drizzled with gravy and what’s left of your dinner. You can’t meet his gaze and you’re not certain why, and the intensity of it is starting to gnaw on your senses.

“No need for thanks, little dove.” Hoseok says, and there’s a soft clink when he finally picks his fork up and it knocks against the round rim of the plate. “Just doing my good deed for the day.”

The pet name strikes you this time, no longer distracted by the delicious food and your rumbling tummy. The way it rolls off his tongue sends a shiver racing down your spine, one that was decidedly unpleasant. There’s something in his tone, the way he stares when you raise your eyes to meet his, something in his beautiful heart shaped smile.

The fine hairs at the back of your neck raises, and you’re back to feeling like a bunny in a fox’s burrow. It was the same feeling you’d gotten earlier in the strange fog; the primal sense that you’re no longer the apex.

Something like a bell jingles in the back of your mind and grows louder until its a wailing alarm.

You should leave. Thank him for being so kind and get as far away from him as possible.

The look in his eyes unnerves you, but it’s something you can’t put a finger on. Just off the edge of his form something flutters, a shadow that shouldn’t be there, but it’s gone so quickly you didn’t have time to focus on it. The feeling intensifies; tugging, now.

You don’t think he’s blinked.

A shudder runs through you, rippling along your skin like a shockwave and Hoseok is calling your name.

“Are you okay?” there’s concern on his brow, his unoccupied hand raised in a wave as though he’s been trying to get your attention for a while. “Do you feel sick?”

“N... no. I’m fine, thank you.” You try to smile, but you’re pretty certain it looks as strained as it feels. He was almost done eating, though he’s paused to asses you with furrowed brows. You feel like you’ve missed something in the past minute.

“I asked if you wanted more food but you just blanked on me.” Hoseok sets his fork down and you feel like you’re losing your mind. The feeling from before is gone, and you’re not even certain if you felt it in the first place. Maybe you’re tired, or maybe the feeling of the comforts you’ve missed for so long is messing with your head.

Hoseok looks perfectly normal, there’s nothing flickering at his back or anything odd in his stare.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” You don’t feel certain, and if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment on it. You pick up the fork again, scraping up the little left of your food onto it quietly. You feel strange, as though the past two minutes moved by too quickly, or like they happened weeks ago and you’re struggling to cling to the details of them.

Hoseok is focused on his plate, and uncertainty at the hope that he keeps his eyes there blooms in your chest. You’re not sure why.

It’s awkwardly quiet for a couple moments, with Hoseok finishing his meal and you, playing with the folded ends of your borrowed tee-shirt. When he was done, he takes the plates and the empty glasses to the sink to clean them and you sit idly at the table.

He’s drying his hands with a dark kitchen towel when he’s done, settling at the edge of the island and facing you. The overhead lights glow against his form, casting shadows along his visage that makes him look sharper; menacing. It clings to his hair like a depiction of something holy, making his dark hair look russet in the gleam.

You go to thank him again, even though he’d probably wave you off like he’s been doing the whole time, but the lights are too bright. The glow of the lights swells and flood your eyes, you squeeze them shut, trying to dispel the ache that comes with it. You turn your head and it feels like you’re neck deep in mud, it takes too much effort to do something so simple.

Panic wells in your chest, sending your heart kicking against your ribs harshly. You take a breath, well, you try, but it gets stuck somewhere in your throat and you choke on it.

There’s two Hoseoks when you peel your eyes open, and they neatly fold the towel they were using and put it down. For a minute, your vision settles, and the man leans against the island nonchalantly, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches you spiral.

“You should try to calm down.” He says softly, and you hate the way you cling to the sound of his voice when it’s very clear what’s happening.

“Wh...” Your tongue feels heavy, and the words you try to say are slurred and unintelligible. You move to stand, trying to get away even when your limbs feel like there’s a ball and chains at the ends of them. The world tilts on an axis, doubling as you make to your feet, you’re not sure if it’s leaning or you are.

Hoseok reaches you in a single step and a strangled sound escapes you. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you back into the chair. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing your body can’t handle.”

You can barely hear him, your ears feel as though there’s cotton in them, reducing his words to a muddled murmur. You can’t feel the way his fingers curl into the hair at your nape, but you notice the shift as he tilts your heavy head back to look up at him.

He’s smiling, you think. Pretty and heart shaped, all white teeth and sinister. And there’s that feeling again, as he says something you can’t hear, can’t focus, your eyes are closing.

There’s something dark and broken that flickers against the light above his head and shadows that dance at his back.

When the morning came and you didn’t wake, Hoseok wasn’t too concerned. He watched over you as once was his duty to another, tucked you into the sheets and the blankets and let you sink into the warmth of them. He sits in a chair at your bedside, simply watching the rise and fall of your chest and the pinch of your brow as sweat beads upon it.

Your body is fighting hard to flush out what he put in, and he admits, he may have given you a bit too much of it. It wasn’t his intention, but nothing can be done now but wait for you to come to.

When the afternoon comes and the first sign of your conscious shows in a weak attempt to rouse yourself, and a jumble of words that Hoseok deciphers with a well-trained ear it; was clear you weren’t fully there yet. Your skin was too warm, eyes not nearly focused enough, barely looking at him, and then the contents of your stomach come in a rush of bile and acid.

Hoseok tends to you gently, patiently, taking you to the bath and settling you in a way so that you don’t slip under and drown in your unconscious state. He cleans your mess, changes the bedding, puts you in a fresh set of clothes and lays you back to rest.

You stay asleep throughout the day, and Hoseok isn’t too concerned.

Humans are such fragile, foolish things. To him, you’re a porcelain doll, pretty to stare at and admire if it sits on the top of a shelf behind a case. Take it out of that case and it’s so easily broken. Hoseok is like a child in a sandbox of his own creation with too much power in his fingers. If he isn’t careful, he could shatter your form and lose you to the dunes.

The fear you felt the night before played you directly into his hands – never mind he had nothing to do with it – and Hoseok knows, you don’t have to be inclined to feel the weight of his presence. Your mind knew that something wasn’t quite right -- unconsciously or not --, and yet, you willingly followed.

Foolish.

Though, it was purely coincidental that you ran into him, he had been on his way to somewhere and wondering about the strangeness of the fog that rolled in out of nowhere. He hadn’t missed the weird quiet and lack of people either, it hadn’t been that late.

He doesn’t know exactly what you were doing in it, running around the way you were like a mouse in a maze. It’s something that sits at the back of his mind.

The morning of the second day brought no change; you were in and out of your drug induced sleep, and now, Hoseok was a little concerned.

::

“How much did you give her?”

There’s a squeak of leather as Seungcheol crosses his arms, when it’s quiet for far too long he gives Hoseok a look.

“A little.”

Seungcheol leans over your sleeping form, raising a hand to rest against your forehead. Hoseok would think you were dead if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“If it was a little, you wouldn’t have called.” Seungcheol says, shaking his head, the dark waves of his hair brushing his eyelashes.

“Well, she’s not dead.”

“Dude.” Seungcheol looks a little disturbed, straightening to stare at Hoseok with a displeased furrow in his brow. “You can’t just – humans have limitations.”

“I’m aware, Cheol. Thank you.” Hoseok grumbles, and he ignores the raise of Seungcheol’s eyebrow and the clear disbelief in his eyes.

“‘Course you are.” He rolls his eyes and then sighs lowly, he turns back to you, placing his hand on your forehead again until the tension in your face fades. “Don’t give her any more of that shit. She should wake up sometime today, maybe.”

Hoseok knows better than anyone the limitations of humans. Not that he acknowledges them, he hadn’t the need to in a long time, but he should be careful at least.

Hoseok leads the way out of his guest bedroom with Seungcheol following and closing the door gently behind him. Walking to the kitchen he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his head.

Hoseok takes his time, fetching a glass from one of his cupboards and the whisky he keeps stashed away for his more stressful days. “Spit it out.”

Seungcheol braces his arms on the other side of the island, eyes dark. “Hoseok. I normally don’t care what you get up to; it’s not my business.” He says, looking somewhere to Hoseok’s right. “You don’t fuck around with humans. Who’s the girl?”

Hoseok hums, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass with a contemplative stare. “Street urchin. No one anyone would miss or bother to look for.”

“So you just took her off the street?” Seungcheol frowns, but Hoseok could tell from the look in his eyes that he knows it’s not that simple.

“She came willingly.” Hoseok corrects, taking a sip of the alcohol he could barely taste.

He sets the glass down on the island and pours the whisky to fill half. Seungcheol is quiet, and Hoseok hates it. It gives his mind a moment to wonder, to open a box he’s kept locked and chained.

On most days, Hoseok barely knows himself. He remembers what he’s supposed to be – what he was – and sometimes, that part of him rears its head to fight with what he’s become. Wings dipped in gold and divinity at the end of his fingertips battle endlessly with the shadows that encased him.

A memory of a time he held something as fragile as glass in his hands, broken before he could properly hold it by someone who was supposed to keep it safe. The ache of it burns like a rash that never goes away, always there, only hiding under his skin until it flares up again.

“Just... don’t do anything stupid.” Seungcheol says after a while, watching Hoseok carefully.

“You and your moral compass.” Hoseok shakes his head, and just like that, the golden light is bundled up tightly and pushed back into the corner where he long hid it.

Seungcheol heaves a sigh, shaking his head, picking up his bag he threw on the island counter when he got here.

“I need you to do something for me.” Hoseok says, watching the light shine through the glass in pretty crystal shapes. There’s a furrow of Seungcheol’s brows, but he tells Hoseok to continue with a raise of his chin. “Keep an eye out for a fog.”

“A fog? Why?”

“She was in one the night before.” Hoseok sucks air in through his teeth, “and she wasn’t alone.”

Seungcheol hums, “Alright.”

Hoseok drinks the last of the whisky in one go and waves a hand at Seungcheol, “You can go now.”

“Thank you, Cheol. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Seungcheol grumbles and then raps his knuckles against the countertop. “I’ll be over here for a few days, gotta sort some things out. Call if you need me.”

Hoseok watches him leave, stuffing his hands into his pocket as he walks back to the bedroom where you still lay asleep.

He sits on the chair, watching the rise and fall of your chest, every minute twitch of your facial features. Restlessness tugs at his limbs as the sun makes its descent western sky, spraying the dimming canvas in hues of lilac and peach.

Something in the back of his mind asks what exactly he’s doing. There was no reason – there wasn’t a reason for him to take you in. A sprout of boredom, maybe, or something involuntary.

Hoseok stares out the window at the slowly darkening sky and the soft glimmer of early evening stars, until the sky is navy and darkness clings to the room.

Your mouth feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in it, and your throat feels like sandpaper when you try to swallow.

You haven’t opened your eyes, laying on what you presume is a bed, if the softness beneath you was anything to go by.

There’s not much that you remember, even as the fog in your mind clears little by little. You remember eating, you remember feeling strange like someone had shrunk you and shook you around in a jar of water. You remember the fear that quickened your heart and your breaths and Hoseok, standing above you like a malevolent God.

You remember the strangeness of his form, and even now your mind can’t comprehend it. You’re not even certain if what you saw was actually real and not an effect of whatever Hoseok had drugged you with.

Drugged.

He drugged you.

Your eyes open and the room is dark. The blankets are thick and heavy and they make you feel warm. There’s a window to your far left, curtains drawn back to show the city in all it’s glory.

Slowly, you sit up, pushing yourself upwards on arms that feel a little weak, and find – to your horror – the clothes you were wearing before aren’t what you’re wearing now.

You take a breath before the panic could set in. You could feel it rolling under your skin like a rumble of thunder before rain, and you try your best to stay calm. You need to find a way out of here.

The apartment seems to be quiet as you slide your feet out of the bed and onto the floor. You barely register the chill of it when you stand, sock-less feet making it easier to sneak over to the door without making a sound. You don’t know where Hoseok put your things, and you don’t have time to go looking for them.

The door isn’t locked, and doesn’t make noise when you push it open slightly to peek out through the little gap you made. You recognise the hallway, the bathroom is two doors down on the other side, and opening the door a little more, you poke your head out tentatively. 

You don’t breathe as you listen, but it’s so quiet, so much so that your exhale seems too loud, and there’s a soft ringing in your ears that set you on edge. Stepping outside the room, you contemplate your next course of action: You can bolt right for the door and get out, but risk making too much noise if Hoseok is indeed here. Or, you can slowly and quietly make your way over and slip out without cluing your kidnapper in on your escape.

Can it be called kidnapping if you were living on the streets?

The door seems miles away as you inch slowly towards the open kitchen and living room area. There are a few lights on, the same LED lighting strips run along the edge of the large pane windows and glows an ominous blue and the lights over the marble island had been dimmed. Both rooms seem empty and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Like a mouse, you skitter across along the hallway space that divides the two, down the little platform at the entrance and take one more step towards the door.

The door that seems further back than it was a second ago.

The stretch of space that was just an arm’s length away was now more than a hallway’s length. You stand still and stare at it, reaching an arm out in case you’re suddenly tripping balls but your hand swipes through air and falls limply at your side.

You look behind you and the rooms and hallway are just as they were, and turning back, the door was right where it was before. You could’ve sworn there was a handle on it. You place your palm against the cool, smooth surface where the handle should be and in the face of your freedom thwarted, you pinch your thigh.

You must be dreaming. The pain flares and grounds you and you realise there’s no explanation for this. You’re wide awake. Still drugged then. But you feel fine. There’s no swirling vision or heavy limbs, your mouth doesn’t feel like someone squeezed glue into it; you’re fine. This doesn’t make sense.

You back away from the door and almost stumble against the raised ledge behind your heels. Steadying yourself with a hand against the wall, you turn, and immediately, notice the darkness of the hallway.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart slams so harshly against your sternum it hurt. There’s that feeling again, it sends a shiver racing down your spine and scattering goosebumps along your skin. You’re being watched. You are not the apex here.

You want to run, or curl up into a ball and hope the darkness hides you. Fear coils into your muscles and locks them tight, and you’re left standing still, eyes darting around trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark.

There’s a darkness that curls at the center of the space a few feet away from you, undulating and crashing in on itself in an uncoordinated dance of chaos. It’s somehow darker than the darkness – stands out against it like white on black paint. It doesn’t make sense to you, and it could simply be your mind turning against you and scaring you further.

It slowly floats towards you, wraps around you in a languid, bored way, like smoke, no longer as tangible as it seemed before. You don’t feel it’s caress, but it’s cold, like you’d submerged yourself into a tub full of ice and water. You feel as though you’ll pass out, like the black wisps of strange smoke is filling your lungs and carving its way through. There’s fear, which is yours, and something that isn’t.

Something dark and lonely, desperate and afraid. It’s sad, so sad that you feel like you’ll drown in it, that tears would well in your eyes and squeeze your throat tight. There’s anger. It feels as though you can burn the world and revel in it.

The smoke snaps back and away from you, crumples on itself violently and then the lights are on, blinding you.

Hoseok is standing in front of you. There’s a mix of conflicted emotions on his face like he can’t settle on one before the storm in his eyes calm.

There’s a tenseness to his brow, and he studies you quietly with a tilt of his head.

“You’re awake.”

He takes one step forward and you take two back in turn. His eyes dart down to your feet and quickly back to your face, and draws the foot he put forward back to himself.

“I won’t hurt you.”

You scoff before you could help it, fear pushed slightly to the side as your anger rushes forward. “Right. Like I’ll believe that after you fucking drugged me.”

“Like I said, it was nothing your body couldn’t handle.” Hoseok counters calmly, “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead.”

“Then why am I here? What do you want?” His threat didn’t go unheard, it settles into your mind and buries itself underneath everything else you’re trying to absorb for you to freak out about later.

Hoseok smiles, and its bright in its visage, every bit of sweet and caring as you thought him to be. Dimples you haven’t noticed before sinks into his laugh lines, and you think briefly, it makes him even more dangerous. He looks so harmless, as his smile blossoms and blooms into the heart shape you remember from the night before.

“Just you.” He says, eyes glinting with something you’ve decided is more than a little crazy.

You take another step back and he remains in his spot. If you’re quick enough – just enough – you can make it to the door. You might be able to outrun him.

“You can leave if you like.” He says, like he could tell what you’re thinking – or read your mind – and his smile fades, like a raincloud swelling and covering the warm rays of the sun. “Can’t guarantee you’d get very far, so I advise against it.”

You’re not sure if he’s being honest. Though, he looks pretty damn serious. He stares at you quietly, intensely, like he’s daring you to make that mistake. You hazard a look at the door behind you and the handle is still gone.

“What are you?” you ask, turning to face him and he’s directly in front of you. The startled squeak that leaves you makes him chuckle. Bending at his waist, Hoseok stares right into your eyes and you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest and take off running.

Bunny in a fox’s burrow.

“Hm.” He hums, “Now you’re asking questions.” He straightens with a smile and steps aside, gesturing to the kitchen with a slight nod of his head. “I’ll tell you eventually. For now though, you should eat.”

You stay rooted to your spot and decide that if he wants you to move, he’s going to have to move you himself. He’s insane if he thinks you’d be eating anything he gives you.

“Come now, dove. Don’t be that way.” He sighs, stares at you for a moment later before nodding. He turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen without you.

There’re the soft clangs of him moving things around, doing whatever he’s doing in there.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days, and you’ve been sick. You shouldn’t be standing.” You hear him say from the kitchen, and you think you could make another attempt at the door but the handle is still missing, so you have no choice but to go.

You eye him suspiciously when you enter, watching as he butters a piece of toast and puts it on a plate. He doesn’t look at you as you hover unsurely at the dining table, watching the lights catch on the dark marble island counter.

“I won’t give you anything to drink. Get it yourself if you’re worried I’d try something.” He says softly, and not unkind. There’s a shift in his tone and the way his body moves as he brings the plate over. You feel like the man who was standing in front of you a couple of minutes ago in the hallway had hidden himself away and the man you’d met on the street had crawled his way back to the surface.

He sets it down on the table and walks back around the island, opposite from where you’re standing, and out of the kitchen.

You’ve been here for two days – whatever he’d given you must have been strong as hell – trapped here with...him. You’re certain you can’t call him a man, he’s something more than that and you won’t know until he tells you. Most of the memory of the night you came here are blurry and frayed at the edges, making them impossible to cling to and analyse.

There was something strange in the moments before the drug kicked in and right before you passed out. Something strange about Hoseok, but you can’t seem to recall it. It’s like it happened years ago.

The inconsistencies of your memory leave you on edge, and you eye the two slices of perfectly buttered toast on the plate. He’s given you something light enough that your stomach won’t be upset. As the thought comes to mind you faintly remember being sick at some point, but that too is fuzzy and you aren’t sure if its real. At least now the change of clothes makes sense, though, it doesn’t make you feel any better. He could’ve done anything to you while you were drugged and unconscious.

You wonder what he could possibly want with you. Why you, of all people? You’re just a girl who had everything taken from her and thrown off the ladder, now at rock bottom fending for yourself. There’s nothing left of you that could be given.

You feel Hoseok’s presence before you see him, a sort of odd pressure in the back of your mind and your chest. He pokes his head into the room like he’s checking to see if you’d started eating or not and doesn’t look surprised to see you’d left the toast untouched and you’re still standing.

“The toast is fine, you know.” He says, and there’s an understanding in his eyes when he looks at you. He knows you don’t trust him, though, he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He sighs when you don’t make a move and comes into the kitchen. He takes the same route as before, walking around the opposite side of the island – away from you – until he’s standing at the other side of table.

“Okay.” He says, picking up one of the toast slices, he bites into it and stares at you while he chews. “Make something yourself then.”

You blink, “Huh?”

“The bread is in the fridge if you want. There’re oats if you prefer that instead. Stick to light things. I’d rather not be cleaning up after you.” You don’t understand him. In the short time you’ve known him, he’s like a square that’s trying to fit into a circle. The circle is too round to accommodate his sharp edges, but he somehow manages to get just half of the square through, even if the circle is struggling to contain it.

Not to mention the weird things that’s happened within the half hour you’ve been awake, things he’s yet to explain to you. Matter of fact, strange things has been happening since you left Abigail. The police officer, the fog, and whatever the hell was out there in it with you. You’re not even sure if that was real either.

You feel like if you focus on it, you’ll go crazy. So your mind does the only thing it can do to protect itself – pushes it away into a corner to mull over later along with everything else.

“I’d rather not.” You no longer feel the need to show him gratitude. You feel stupid, for one, why did you think trusting a random stranger would be a good thing?

Hoseok shrugs, dropping the half-eaten toast back onto the plate. He walks around you, close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end, that the warning bells are going crazy in your head again.

It’s uncomfortable being this close. The reaction is visceral, unable to ignore and you wonder why you hadn’t felt it the night before. Why you’d manage to follow him all the way here and not noticed. Maybe you had, briefly and in little moments that were small enough for you to brush them off.

You watch him watch you as he circles you like a vulture, “What are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was human?” He asks from behind you, and it feels like a terrible idea to have your back to him. He sounds amused, like this is nothing but a little game to him – just something to pass time while he’s bored.

As he rounds your right, your eyes meet the darkness of his. “You’re not.” It would be strange if you still thought he was after everything that’s happened already.

Hoseok hums, a twinkle lighting his eyes, “Perceptive, aren’t we?” There’s something like pride in his voice but you’re not sure what it’s for, “What do you think I am?”

“You expect me to guess correctly?” The difference in your height does nothing to stop you from glaring at him. He tilts his head at you, dark locks of his hair swaying against his forehead gently.

“No.” Hoseok smiles, “But it’ll make things interesting. I like games; play along.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his tone and the darkness in his eyes. He takes a step away from you and it feels like you can finally take a breath. His movements are fluid as he pulls the dining chair out from below the table. He sits gracefully, propping his chin in his palm as he watches you expectantly.

“Do you want a hint?” He asks, smiling sweetly.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You’re tired of whatever game he’s playing at, sick of the fear that keeps you standing still as he stares you down.

He stares at you like you’re a complex puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “I used to be an angel. Fallen from grace.”

You’d laugh at the absurdity of his words, but he has that look again. He has that look that makes you believe him, and everything seems to click into place and make sense, even if you barely understand it at all.

“Okay.” You nod, and then take a seat. You focus on the gentle waves of his dark hair and not his eyes, “Why am I here? Why can’t I leave?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. You can if you want to. I said that I can’t guarantee you’d get far; You weren’t alone out in that fog.”

You’d almost forgotten about that. Recent happenings had been enough to push it to the back of your mind. You knew you weren’t losing your mind that night, something had definitely chased you and you’re positive it wasn’t a regular animal.

“But that’s another topic.” Hoseok mumbles, more to himself than you, and it looks as though his thoughts strayed elsewhere for a moment before he focused. “You should be thanking me.” He says, tilting his head to meet your gaze with a smile.

He couldn’t be seriously wanting you to thank him. For what? Saving you? For all you know it could’ve been one of his tricks. Why would you thank him? He says that you could leave if you like – him messing with you since you woke up says otherwise. He’s not actually giving you a choice. You’re not going anywhere unless he lets you.

When you remain silent, he leans forward, pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “There’s nothing for you out there, though.”

You know he’s right. But that doesn’t justify what he’s doing. You assume he doesn’t care, if you were him, you wouldn’t feel the need to abide by law either.

You’d never been much for fantasy stories, growing up you were well aware that they were just that – stories. Your parents weren’t very religious, but you’d say grace before meals, pray before you go to sleep and when you woke up. Your parents would sometimes quote the bible when you were being naughty and every now and again you’d find yourself in a church for Sunday mas.

Your father used to say that the bible is a book of stories and lessons, and even if you aren’t to abide strictly by it, you should at least heed it. There’s someone up above, watching always.

The angels in the bible were described differently than the man before you, you think. Can angels really do things so bad that it gets them casted out?

Did he do something bad that got him sent here like some wayward child sent off to boot camp?

Even if a part of you is ever doubtful, his existence proves the existence of a higher being and you have some choice words for them.

In the days that go by, you remain wary of Hoseok. You don’t trust him, but you appreciate him letting you hover about him anytime he makes you something to eat. He makes everything from scratch and you wonder most of the time if it’s a skill he just has or was it something he had to hone on his own.

He barely bothers you, goes about his business, which really, entails him sitting in the living room and ignoring you.

Some days is another story entirely. You came to realise quickly that Hoseok is fond of games, usually at your expense. A shadow following you here, whispers that come from no where and bounces off the walls.

There are moments when you catch glimpses of something out of the corner of your eye – a figure lurking in the darkness, just beyond your line of sight. When you turn to look, there’s nothing there, leaving you to wonder if it was ever really there at all. You’ve seen shit at the corner of your vision way too many times for it to be a coincidence. You try to brush them off as tricks of the mind, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

Hoseok is always there when it happens, some sort of mirth in his eyes like your suffering is amusing.

The feeling of being watched becomes a constant presence, a weight on your shoulders that you can’t shake no matter how hard you try. Every time you turn around, you half expect to find Hoseok lurking in the shadows, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

For the first week it’s been this way, and when the second week started, he’d leave at one point during the day. Bored of you most likely, not that you’re complaining; at least he was no longer trying to send you crazy.

He’d give you the same instruction he did the night be brought you, use anything you need with additions of ‘Don’t cause trouble’ and ‘Stay put’. You always roll your eyes at that, the door remains the same; missing it’s handle. You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to.

You would stand in the living room, which looks much like the rest of Hoseok’s penthouse apartment; sleek and dark. There’s a few accents of white and red, black leather couches and clear glass tables. A flat screen TV you’ve never seen used mounted on the wall, a fluffy white rug covering the space between it and the couch. You’ve seen no other electronics besides that, nothing that you can use to contact anyone.

He’d left you things to occupy your time – like you’re a child – books and puzzles and what have you. And you found that the TV works if you become bored of the other things.

Weirdly enough, there’s people outside and below, unlike the night you came when it looked like a ghost town. You can see the glint of the sun bouncing off of shiny cars driving in and out of the hotel’s compound. Little people walking around as they go about their days, oblivious to your plight.

Sometimes you would hear someone out in the hallway beyond the door, like someone coming to clean and you would bang on the door and be as loud as you possibly could. It’s like you’re a ghost. You asked him about that once, and he told you that he can mimic spaces, make it seems as though something is or isn’t there.

Sometimes Hoseok would come back from his little excursions and be as normal as he could be. He’d talk to you like he isn’t holding you captive, ask you about what you did for the day as though there’s a million and one things you could do while there. You’d answer as to not be on the wrong side of him, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t quite mind you not saying anything back. He’d ask you what you’d like for dinner, and he’d eat with you.

On days like those it feels... normal. You feel comfortable and the nature of the situation escapes you. Like this had been your life for as long as you could remember. And sometimes you think, that maybe, if things were different. If perhaps he hadn’t kidnapped you, ‘helping’ you or otherwise. Maybe if your life had gone a little differently and you’d met him under different circumstances...then maybe.

Sometimes on those days he’d sit quietly as you give him little pieces of you; telling him about your childhood and not so important things. He’d clear the coffee table to put a puzzle together and ask you to help him with it.

Some days he’d come back and he wouldn’t be in a good mood. He’d stand and brood at the large windows looking out, lost in thought. On those days he’d look gone, vacant, as though whatever going on in his head was paramount to the reality around him. His eyes are sad then, and he’d be so quiet you’d forget he’s there. He’d make dinner, and he would not eat.

On days like those, if you wake at night and venture out of your room, you’d find Hoseok as you did the night you first woke up. A swirling ball of shadows and smoke somewhere about, and the lights are always off. It scares the hell out of you every time. It reminds you of what he is, despite the nature of his existence, there’s something very dark about him. He scares you mostly, even when he’s being nice, it’s unnerving. You’d try to stay clear of him then.

Something in your mind had been made aware that he is beyond your understanding. He’s stronger and faster than you, can do things that makes your brain grind to a halt trying to process. Sometimes it feels like he’s in your head, watching your every move and surveying your every thought. It scares you.

On days like those, the last thing you want to do is sleep.

Sleep evades you and when you do finally catch it, your dreams are wrought with nightmares of shadows and screams and blood. Sometimes Hoseok is there and he’s less kind than he’s ever been, and you’re lost in darkness and can’t find your way out.

Sometimes it’s a man with red hair lurking at the corners of them, smiling and taunting you. You feel like you could never escape them, like your dreams lasts the entire night and leave you exhausted when you wake up.

The room you woke up in so long ago was yours; Hoseok stays clear of it and never enters without knocking. One day Hoseok had brought you clothes you’re certain costs more than your life, they’re mostly comfort clothes as you have nowhere to be at no point in time. From sweaters to tee-shirts, lounge pants to bicycle shorts and an assortment of underwear that made you scowl at him.

That day you asked him just how long he was going to keep you captive – he didn’t much like the use of that word, prefers ‘keeping you safe’. He told you about the mysterious animal that chased you in the fog, that he and a friend are looking into it and reminds you that you wouldn’t get very far should you leave. You reminded him that he’s not letting you go anywhere.

You stare up at the ceiling, counting the swirling pattern from one corner to the next. You’ve lost count of them every time and you’ve lost count on just how long you’ve been here. Hoseok remains the same, fluctuating between rivalling the sun and being the moon that sometimes eclipse it.

It’s the morning of yet another day, and you can hear Hoseok moving about already. Sometimes you wonder if he ever sleeps...does he need sleep? He eats...that much is for certain, so by any rate he functions partially human.

You sigh softly, getting out of bed and shuffling your feet to the house slippers Hoseok gave to you. There’s the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, the sound of Hoseok moving about, and it sounds like he’s in a good mood if his humming is anything to go by.

You wash up for the morning and get changed before carrying yourself out to the kitchen.

Hoseok looks devastatingly domestic and the smile he directs at you is enough to send your mind haywire. These past few days has been confusing for you. Though the initial fear you felt for him was there, lately, it’s been less. You’ve found yourself missing him when he goes off to do whatever he does during the day and you’re excited when he comes back. You’re chalking up the reason for that being that he’s the only person you’ve been in contact with for possibly a month or two.

On some of the days where he would come back and be less than happy, and the lights go out like they’re scheduled to and Hoseok is no longer tangible. When he hovers in a little ball of controlled chaos that blends into the darkness, you sit and wait. You wait until he’s there again and the lights are back on and he looks at you like you’re something he’s lost.

It confuses you as much as his smile that sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage in a dance that isn’t out of fear. You actually can’t remember when you’d stopped being afraid of him.

“I’m going out today.”

Your brows furrow, he’s never told you that he’s leaving before. He brings over a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sliced fruit. A sealed carton of orange juice and a glass for you.

“Okay...?”

Hoseok smiles, “Okay.”

::

When lunch came around, you’re sitting at the island watching Hoseok prepare the ingredients for whatever he’s going to make.

You don’t really feel the need to watch him as closely as you did when you first got here, now you simply do it because there isn’t anything better to do.

He moves in the kitchen like it’s a dance, turning to and fro with a grace you could only hope to have.

He’s already got something on the stove, some sort of sauce you think. It smells amazing and you’re looking forward to whatever it could be.

He looks a bit in his head, brows furrowed as he concentrated a little too hard to just be cutting an onion into crescent slices. He mutters something under his breath, turning to stir the contents in the pot before going back at the onion.

“Hoseok?” You call softly as he sets the onion aside in a bowl and pulls something else onto the cutting board. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s heard you, with just the steady sound of the knife hitting the board, he hums, glancing at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” You can tell he’s in one of his moods, but he’s actively trying to be pleasant. He fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove and then turns the oven on to heat up. “What is it?”

His tone isn’t harsh, just a tad bit impatient.

“Is cooking just something that you can do? Or did you have to learn?”

He turns, pauses, stares at you for a moment and then chuckles, “It’s a skill I acquired through a lot of trial and error. I had a long time to perfect it, though.”

“How long are we talking?” You’re a little intrigued, besides him telling you that he’s a fallen angel, he hasn’t told you exactly how he became one or how long he’s been here.

He tilts his head and smiles gently in the way he does when he’s thinking if he should answer you honestly or not before shrugging, “Long enough.”

You sigh, “Fine. Don’t tell me. You’re probably older than dirt anyway.”

A surprised laugh leaves him, high pitched and a little untamed. The sound is infectious and now you’re laughing too.

Happiness looks good on him, you wish he wore it often.

When it was about four in the afternoon, you hear the closing of Hoseok’s door and the sound of his footsteps walking up the hall.

You’re curled up against the corner of the couch, tucked under a yellow blanket with a book in your hand. You smell him before you see him; the cologne he’s wearing reaching the room before he does.

He steps in and stands near the entrance, the end of his coat brushing against his shins while he secures a watch to his wrist. His hair’s grown longer since he brought you here, curling against his jaw and the bangs are long enough to almost hide his eyes if not for the middle part. The rings on his fingers catch the light of the sun, and he finally settles, a serious look on his face as he watches you for a moment.

He seems to be contemplating something, the muscle of his jaw tensing as he grinds his teeth. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at you.

Unwrapping yourself from the blanket, you walk over to him. He doesn’t say anything, but levels you with a look and guides you into the hallway with a hand at your back. “I’m leaving the door alone.”

The door is practically singing your freedom, the silver handle looks like a lighthouse at a stormy sea at night. Hoseok is looking down his nose at you when you finally tear your eyes away. His eyes narrow as though he can hear your thoughts and steps away from you.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

And you didn’t. You messed around with the TV, got bored, read another book, and decide to take a nap. Doing it all to ignore the door. You wouldn’t get very far. You really don’t want to know what Hoseok meant by that.

There isn’t anywhere you can go, you have nothing to your name. You get three square meals, clean clothes and a bed to sleep in when night comes – you think about Abigail, you wonder if she’s alright – you’d actually be quite dumb to go out there. Hoseok hasn’t done much but mentally exhaust you, you aren’t chained up in a dank room and being made to do things against your will. It’s actually quite pleasant.

You shuffle to your room and crawl under the covers, suddenly too sleepy to keep your eyes open. You would usually take naps when there’s nothing else for you to do, but you’re never this sleepy. It’s like your body is demanding you close your eyes and pass out right now.

You open your eyes a couple of minutes later and realise you didn’t know you fell asleep. It’s dark out already.

You throw the covers back, scoot to the edge of the bed, and put your feet right into water. You look down at it confused – did you leave a tap on? Hoseok would probably throw you out a window for flooding his place. Or maybe he’ll start up his silly mind games again and drive you nuts.

You’re not too concerned about it, strangely enough, as you get up, the water soaks into the legs of your pants. It’s high enough to lap against the middle of your shins and you curse softly, how could you forget to turn the tap off?

You swish through the water, reaching the door and pulling it open. The water is gone and you’re standing in the living room. Hoseok sits on the couch, one leg lapped over the other, bobbing idly as he turns the page of a thick book balanced on his thigh.

“Hoseok.” You sigh, “Stop it. I’m not in the mood for your stupid games.”

He turns his head slowly to look at you, crooks a finger like he did at you earlier. You stomp over to him, not caring that you probably look rather childish doing so. When you stop in front of him, he gently puts the book aside and then wraps his fingers around your wrist.

Your pulse flutters and you pray that he can’t feel it. A soft squeak leaving you as he tugs you to him, you fumble to catch yourself, trying not to trip over your feet and the carpet. Your hand lands beside his head, sinking into the leather, his eyes meet yours through his hair, and when he pulls you down, you follow without question.

He settles you in his lap, one hand gripping your waist and the other snaking upward to bury itself into your hair. He leans forward, nosing along the underside of your jaw and when the warmth of his tongue streaks against your pulse, a shiver races down your spine before you catch yourself. You push against his shoulder, “Hoseok.”

His chuckle sounds dark to your ears, his grip on your waist tightens enough that you fear you’d bruise. His teeth drag against your earlobe and yours sink into your bottom lip. “Don’t act like this isn’t what you want.”

His words wrap around your head, burying themselves under your skin and makes home there. The hand in your hair slowly slides out of it, moving down until it’s wrapped around your throat. His thumb presses against your racing pulse, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “You want me to break you.”

It’s a moment of bliss, warmth spreading through you before it instantly chills. It’s all fun and games until he’s actually trying to choke you out. Your breaths come in shallow gasps as Hoseok’s grip tightens around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. Panic surges through you, and for a moment, you’re certain you’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

He’s going to kill you.

Desperate, you claw at his hands, trying to pry them away, but his strength overwhelms you. Your struggles intensify as you realize the danger you’re in.

He stands swiftly and lets you go, and you crash unceremoniously into the glass coffee table, nearly breaking your wrist trying to catch your weight. You cough and gasp, clutching at your throat that burns with every breath you take. Your eyes sting with tears as you scramble to put distance between you and him.

He watches you, amused, taking slow steps towards you. He laughs, the sound echoing off the walls and you realise – there’s nowhere to run.

You look up at him, and you’re now facing the windows. The LEDs that line the perimeter of them are glowing a sinister red and they’re the only source of light. There’s something slick under your palms, something you slide in as you try to get up. Inspecting it in the lighting does nothing, as it simply looks dark against your skin, but, there’s no mistaking the scent of copper.

Gazing around, you’re sitting in a pool of blood. Hoseok is nowhere to be found. The pool stretches off like something was dragged through it, going out the living room and down the hall.

You follow it, against your better judgement. This is the worst trick he’s ever played.

Your pants stick to your skin uncomfortably, and you wipe your hands hurriedly against the front of them. It doesn’t do much but spread the mess of blood around. The trail leads into your bedroom, and you stand outside the slightly ajar door with your heart pounding against your ribs.

Raising a hand, you push the door open, but plan to go no further than the threshold. The lights are on, dimly, it doesn’t give you much vision, but you could see Hoseok standing over someone.

It’s you, well...it was you. You’re not sure if you could call that you anymore. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles, sharp ends of bone sticking out from your bruised skin.

You stumble backwards, slipping in the still wet trail of blood and falling against the door behind you. Tears blur your vision, you feel sick.

“You see?” a voice whispers, echoing and bouncing around in your head. “This is what will happen.”

There’s someone else here.

“He’ll kill you.” The voice snickers, crawling along your skin like poison ivy. “Run. Get out.”

You startle awake, gasping for air, searching your body for any sign of blood. The sun is almost setting, preparing to make its descent in the west and you dart out of bed. Your skin feels tight, like you’re too big for it and it makes you uncomfortable. Your breaths are harsh barely making it into your lungs before you’re forcing it out again.

You make for the door, yanking it open and running down the hall. You didn’t stop to think, you just want out. You push the entrance door and it opens and you stumble out into the hallway you haven’t seen in ages.

You run up to the elevator, the overhead floor indicator is blank. And the elevator doesn’t budge when you push the button frantically. Hands caught in your hair you spin around, there must be a way.

The green exit sign glows like a beacon of hope. You trip over your feet getting to it, almost face planting on the expensive rug that lines the hallway. The door opens with a click and your footsteps echo in the stairwell as you take them two at a time to get as far away from this place as possible.

You don’t stop until you’re three flights down, breath ragged and vision spotty. You lean against the wall to catch your breath, panting and wiping the sweat off your brow.

There’s a loud bang that echoes from somewhere below and you freeze. Taking careful steps you peek between the railings and see nothing.

It might be Hoseok.

Or, it could be someone else in the building and your only hope of getting out of here.

“Hello? Is someone ther—” There’s another loud bang, and you take a couple steps down the fourth flight and look over the railing again. A thick fog swirls just a floor below.

The hair on the back of your neck shoots up at the low growl that dances up the stairwell. You nearly go tumbling down it in your haste to turn around and go back up.

As you turn to go back up the third flight, the fog surrounds you and you stop as it becomes impossible to see. You grip tightly to the stair railing, tentatively stepping up – You’re trying not to breathe too loudly.

There’s something scraping against the ground on the stairs below and your heart kicks. You step faster, at the same time trying not to trip and break your neck. There’s a low snarl and you bolt, taking the stair two at a time back up the way you came.

The floor vibrates beneath you as whatever it is gives chase. You make it up to the first landing, pulling the exit door open with a grunt. You’re just about to step through when what feels like three hot butcher knives slices through your back. The force of it sends you pitching forward, smacking hard into the wall on the opposite side before you crumple against it.

You could barely feel it, you’re aware you’re hurt...you could feel the pulsing, open wounds at your back. Your mind is trying to process as you struggle to move, taking a breath aches as you push yourself upward and away from the wall just enough to turn. You don’t manage much more than that, sliding down the wall until your butt hits the pretty red carpet.

The metal door of the emergency exit swings open harshly, banging loudly against the wall before it leans forward; one of the hinges broken. The thing that stands in the doorway looks like it crawled out of some deep, dark part of hell. It’s standing on it’s hind legs before it drops forward, claws that look at least nine inches long scraping against the linoleum.

It looks like a giant dog, honestly. It’s hard to tell when all you could focus on was that you could feel your heartbeat at your back, and the slick warmth soaking into your ruined sweater and pants. Shock maybe...or adrenaline, was keeping most of the pain at bay, you’re pretty sure you’d be dead otherwise right now.

With a guttural growl, the creature emerges, its form contorted and twisted, as if it were forged from the very essence of nightmares.

Its body is a grotesque fusion of twisted flesh and sinew, its skin a sickly shade of mottled grey, stretched taut over bulging muscles that ripple with every movement. Sharp spikes protrude from its spine, glinting menacingly in the dim light, while its black eyes burn with a fiery intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul.

The creature's mouth curls into a snarl, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth stained with blood. Its breath is a noxious cloud of decay and sulphur, filling the air with a suffocating stench that makes your stomach churn.

As it lurches forward on all fours, its movements are unnaturally fluid, each step sending tremors through the ground beneath you. It’s trying to squeeze its way through the small space of the doorway, too big to pass through, and you could do nothing but watch.

Your vision goes hazy as you simply stare at the creature.

The adrenaline is fading and you’re starting to feel your wounds, but maybe if you could crawl towards the door...

At six pm on a Friday evening, Hoseok isn’t at all surprised to see the line of people waiting to get into the club. It’s still a long way to opening, but with the prestige of this place, again, he isn’t surprised.

He was with Yoongi when he bought the place, watched him build it from the ground up. Watched his taste for the interior bounce around erratically until he settled, as the clientele flickered from the common club goer to people – if they had enough money – buying their way in.

Haegeum is on the high-end of the city, the type of place where you’d wonder if folks had enough money to burn just because. Yoongi doesn’t discriminate and all are welcomed.

The queue is a mix of people: folks dressed to the nines just to step a foot in the place, those of which would most likely be sitting pretty in the VIP section. People just looking for a place to escape to for a while, teenagers holding tight to their fake Ids and clinging to their friends. They mingle in groups or alone, their chatter filling the air with a soft buzz of voices and hushed giggles.

Hoseok takes everything in with an air of nonchalance as he strolls by.

The bouncer at the heavy black door stands stoically, clipboard in hand for VIP clients. Hoseok breezes past him when he opens the door to let him in, stepping into the entrance foyer, illuminated by dim red lights. He walks down the hall, and down the dark metal staircase into the main floor of the club.

The above head white florescent lights do nothing to take away from the grandeur of the club, though, Hoseok likes it better when it’s late and the lights are off. The main floor is usually accented in lights of blue and red, casting shadows streaking along the sitting area. Embedded into the walls are velvet couches that flow with the design in a sort of snake like shape, a short-legged coffee table and single seated chairs dotted between every inward curve. There’s a wide enough walkway for two people walking side by side to pass, a partition of glass, and on the other side of it, black leather couches and even more glass coffee tables.

 The walls are interesting, and Hoseok thinks this because he doesn’t know why Yoongi likes it so much. In large arched alcoves sits head statues of Greek gods of mortal tales, staring lifelessly into the distance, bathed in dark blue light. Between every two are columns that resembles those of a temple, and smooth grey stone. Hoseok honestly doesn’t know which vibe Yoongi is going for, not that he’d say it to his face.

He walks down the little walkway, down another set of stairs and across the dance floor. The bar is tucked in a corner, glasses being wiped by one of Yoongi’s employees behind it. Hoseok offers the man a nod of his head, moving towards the staircase that curves with the wall and upwards.

Yoongi’s office veers just off the VIP lounge, set behind large mahogany doors. And Hoseok doesn’t bother knocking. The room looks pretty much the same as it’s always had: dark walls with darker patterns, a maroon carpet lining the floor, abstract paintings hanging on the walls that allude to a darker nature, and in the far corner on the wall between two paintings is a golden blade dagger behind a mounted glass case.

“...Pick your side, kid. It’s either you’re with me, or against me.” Yoongi’s voice is cold, not angry per se, but reeking in annoyance that chills rather than burns. “And trust me when I say that you don’t want me as your enemy. I don’t play nice.”

There’s a young man standing in front of Yoongi’s large desk, his hands behind his back where one hand squeezes the other in bouts of nervous jitter. There are bruises on his knuckles, and even from behind, Hoseok could tell that he’s trying to fit into a crowd that doesn’t suit him. Haegeum isn’t just a club but a base of operations so to speak, in the middle of this high-end city, its easy for Yoongi to wrack up a certain clientele. People who seek a different ease of mind and has a different lifestyle.

Hoseok leans against the door, watching the scene play out, as the young man bows slightly and Yoongi waves his hand at him.

“Keep shadowing Seonghwa and Hongjoong for the week, and I don’t want any trouble this time.” He says dismissively, and the boy turns to leave. As Hoseok catches his eye, something akin to a bolt of lightening shoots down his spine. It isn’t noticeable to the more ordinary folk, but Hoseok isn’t ordinary, and neither are Yoongi and the rest of his boys. 

The air crackles with static, raw, untrained power that itches Hoseok the wrong way. The boy stands there clearly a moment too long, and Yoongi’s knuckles raps against the table top. “Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun gives a soft apology, and quickly walks towards the door. Hoseok opens it for him, not out of kindness, but purely to give him a long unbroken stare. He smiles as the boy struggles to hold his gaze, even as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end at his proximity.

When he shuts the door behind him, Yoongi is already watching him with a raised brow. Hoseok wanders over to the leather armchair at the front of Yoongi’s desk and sits, shifting around until he’s comfortable in it. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Obviously they’re not.” Yoongi mutters, shaking his head as he sieves through a stack of papers scattered on his desk before he finds what he’s looking for. “Kid wanted in, so I let him. More trouble than it’s worth, honestly. But, the Nephilim are stronger than the order, so I gave it a shot.”

Hoseok hums, and Yoongi seems to catch himself, narrowing his eyes at him. The scar that runs through his right eye looks pink and irritated in the motion and the overhead lights. “What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t visit?”

If Yoongi narrows his eyes any more, he’d close them, “I think you know better than anyone that you’re never here.” He says, “You’re absent more often than not, so I have the right to ask. Did you do something? I’m not cleaning up any more of your messes.”

Yoongi pushes back his chair, walking across the room to the mini bar he has tucked in the corner. He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of whisky from a long necked crystalline bottle. He takes a sip and turns leaning against the bar’s edge. “Last time was enough trouble.”

“You’d clean it up anyways.” Hoseok says, leaning his head back against the chair, tilting his head to look at Yoongi. “I found something fun to do.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, quiet, contemplative, “Causing a different type of trouble, I see.” He chuckles, “Don’t break her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hoseok smirks, and then frowns a little. With all Yoongi’s prowess and danger, he’s gone a little soft around the edges, and he could see that softness in his eyes as he looks off into the distance. Surely thinking about the mortal girl that has him wrapped around her little fingers like bubble gum.

“You’ll learn.” Yoongi says cryptically, and it reminds Hoseok that he’s never really sure what Yoongi is thinking. Sometimes he’s an open book and Hoseok could read him like one, easy to figure out in the way that he moves, and sometimes he’s sealed tight.

Yoongi drains his glass of whisky, setting it down with a clink on the bar top before walking back over to his desk. “Since you’re here...” He opens a drawer and pulls out a thick black file, “Give this to Seonghwa.”

Hoseok takes the file and opens it, reading over the contents. There’s a man on Yoongi’s black list that’s due a checking in. “You let him and Joong have all the fun.”

“You’re too messy.” Yoongi retorts, “I said I’m not cleaning up after you.”

Hoseok shrugs, and gets up, skirting around the back of the chair and walking towards the door.

“Hobi.” Yoongi calls, “I don’t have to remind you that there’s a meeting at the end of the month, right?”

“I’ll be here.” Hoseok says, as the look in Yoongi’s eyes gave no room to say anything else.

He leaves the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click and lets the tension roll off his shoulders. He goes back the way he came, black file in hand, towards the VIP section where he knows Seonghwa would be lurking. He walks down the little walkway, through the identical couches and tables on raised platforms that overlook the main floor of the club.

At the end, there’s a small section of booths, black velvet and low lit, and standing with his back to him is Hongjoong. He seems to be busy, twin pistols in pieces on the booth’s table, cleaning supplies set up neatly in a little row. Hoseok saunters over, and throws his arm over the man’s shoulders.

Hongjoong doesn’t spare him a glance but sighs softly through his nose. “I’m busy, Hoseok.”

“Where’s your shadow?” Hoseok asks, and waves the file at him, “Yoongi has work for you two.”

“When doesn’t Yoongi have work for us.” Hongjoong slides away from under Hoseok’s arm, sitting down in the booth to avoid him all together. There’s a dull glint of light as the fixtures catch on the gold diamond studded crucifix that swings against the white of Hongjoong’s tee-shirt.

Hoseok clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

The dark bangs of his hair, which are usually styled away from his forehead, falls into his eyes when he glances upward at Hoseok. He picks up the cleaning solvent and pours a bit of it into the cap before dropping a cotton patch in to let it soak, then, he wraps the patch around the bristles of a small bore brush.

“Seonghwa isn’t here, he’s out back.” Hongjoong picks up the dismantled gun barrel, sliding the bore brush through until the now dirty cotton patch pokes out from the other end. The scent of the solvent burns Hoseok’s nose, and he leaves Hongjoong be, going back down to the main floor and through the emergency exit. The exit sits in the middle of an alleyway that connects two streets, and Hoseok catches sight of Seonghwa’s faux fur coat on one end.

Smoke curls away from his form with a light wind and brings the scent of a cigarette as Hoseok walks with quiet steps towards him. He’s laughing at something, phone in hand, and Hoseok drops his hand heavily on his shoulder and feels the way he immediately tenses.

“I’ve told you one too many times, Seonghwa.” Hoseok says, stepping to the side and around him, “Always be on your guard.”

There’s a glint in the way that he sneers, pulling away from Hoseok’s grip. He takes a couple steps back, watching Hoseok as though he spat at his feet.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that. Makes me all tingly.” Hoseok teases mockingly with a smile, and then offers the file to him. “Here.”

Seonghwa shoves his phone into the pocket of his coat, taking the file and looking through it. He takes one last drag of the cigarette between his fingers before tossing it. He raises a perfect brow at Hoseok and tilts his head, something like amusement in his eyes. “You don’t show up for weeks, and now you’re just Yoongi’s errand boy.”

Hoseok chuckles and it’s dark, low in his throat. “Seonghwa.” He takes a step closer, “Don’t forget your place.”

It’s irritating how Seonghwa doesn’t back down, the way he looks at Hoseok as though he’s beneath him. He stands tall and proud with his chest puffed out like a peacock, and Hoseok knows he’s about to say something stupid without using that brain of his first.

“Don’t act like we’re not in the same boat.” Seonghwa scoffs, and even before he opens his mouth, Hoseok could see the thought in his eyes, glowing like an ember in the dark. He sees the minute curl at the corner of his mouth and the glow of the street light that catches on the pretty studded silver of his teeth. “You got your ward killed, and killed the man that killed her. There’s no hierarchy among murderers.”

Hoseok takes a breath, and he feels the heat rising from the tips of his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the images he’s locked away floods out of the steel box he’s put them in. The little girl he’d been guardian to, her short, miserable and painful life. Found end at the hands of someone she had the misfortune of being born to. It was too late – he was too late, when he’d found her. And just like then, Hoseok sees red.

Warm, gushing red that spill into the creases of his fingers when he swings his fist at Seonghwa’s face. The black file and the papers within scatter on the wind.

Hoseok doesn’t let the surprise and force send the younger man stumbling back too far, and grabs hold of the front of his coat, curling his fingers into the material tightly. He kicks at his knee, and when he’s forced to kneel, Hoseok leans down to his height.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who lost his wings for something so trivial; your sin and mine are two different things.” Hoseok sneers, and he’s so mad he could set Seonghwa on fire and watch him dance. “But I can remind you exactly why Yoongi doesn’t bother to have me involved.”

Someone pulls Seonghwa back, dragging him up to his feet. “The fuck are you two doing?”

There’s a tick in Seonghwa’s jaw that doesn’t go unnoticed and his eyes stay locked with Hoseok as he straightens. He should think twice, Hoseok knows he knows better.

Hongjoong shoves at Seonghwa’s shoulder, “Go pick that shit up.”

Yeonjun stands at the open doorway of the emergency exit, watching with wide eyes, looking like he’s halfway to backing out on his choice to get into Yoongi’s ranks. Hongjoong eyes Hoseok warily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Seonghwa was doing as told.

Hoseok’s gaze burns a hole into the back of Seonghwa’s head as he moves around to pick up the scattered papers while Hongjoong stands like a watchdog.

Hoseok shoves his hands into the pockets of his black coat, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “You boys be good, now.” He says in parting, turning on his heel and walking out of the alley.

“What the fuck did you say to him?...”

Hoseok walks up the street, through the throngs of people still waiting to get into Haegeum. His phone vibrates in his coat pocket, with a sigh he pulls it out and answers.

“Yes, Cheol?”

“Hey, remember when you asked me to tell you when I’ve seen that weird fog?” Seungcheol sounds distracted, there’s a sharp sound from his end that has Hoseok pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. He says something to someone else, voice too far away for Hoseok to catch, before he speaks again. “Couple of nights ago, it was in my area. Whatever’s in it is pretty good at hiding. It’s not the only thing in it either.”

Hoseok crosses the street, going in the opposite direction of which he came from. The people that line the sidewalk give him a wide berth as he weaves through them; unconsciously reacting to him being near.

“Didn’t see much of the guy, some twinky-looking redhead.” Cheol sighs, “I think the fog is like a domain. If you get lost in it, it’s like there’s no-one in there but you. Like a mirror realm.”

‘They who fight monsters should be careful, lest they become a monster themselves.  And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.’

What defines a monster? Something that goes beyond human comprehension, something that stands outside the bounds of what is morally accepted. Something that a person fails to understand and is therefore scared by. Something that make stories entertaining because they’re meant to be defeated in the end. They’re meant to be slain and mounted like trophies, pinned up for grotesque display of heroism.

What defines a creature that goes beyond human comprehension? White coloured morals and the freedom to help in the way it needed. He stopped being what he was created to be, and instead became something that someone needed the most. He did everything right. He had his head in the right place, he was determined to see it through to the end.

He was a little too late.

Over the years, Hoseok could no longer recall just how late he was. If it was by seconds or minutes, or an hour by a half. When he was finally strong enough to move, he traced the memory of a place he’d seen for years, all the way to a house where his charge waited inside.

She was always afraid. Alone, trapped with a monster of man’s making. A child he’s watched since the moment of her birth, watched her grow to be afraid and the light never reach her. By the laws of his nature he was forced to do nothing.

He was restricted to assisting in the only way he could. He couldn’t shield her physically, so he instead manipulated the monster in her closet. He made sure that his mind was changed, that he didn’t swing his claws as fiercely, that he slept deeply so that the child can have a night of rest.

He started to question, as he watched the monster that called himself a father, prey upon what he was meant to protect.

What’s the point? Is he not allowed to stop this? Why can’t he stop this? He could stop it because he has the power to do so.

The ideology was shared by another, and together, hubris.

Hoseok fell with pride; he fell with the intention to seek his ward out and help her. Even if he had no idea what was to come afterwards. Stripped of his grace and the feathers of his wings burned away, it didn’t matter to him.

He went as quickly as his wounds allowed, which in retrospect, wasn’t quickly enough. She was only six. An awfully short time to the likes of him, even shorter to mortals, not enough time to live and laugh – she wasn’t allowed to even do that. He’d stood there, in the broken doorway of a broken home and watched as the monster of his ward’s nightmare became a man before him. Hoseok’s vision had tunnelled and in the centre was the broken body of the child he’d sworn to protect.

When the shadows on the walls grew tall and Hoseok’s mind closed in on itself and allowed those shadows to encase him, the man cried. He pleaded on his knees at the sight of his reckoning, begged for mercy when he gave none.

Then, Hoseok shattered. Scattered like tiny specs of dust floating on the wind, and under the heat and pressure of his own realisations, he turned into glass. With his sharp edges he cut into the man and reveled in it. The sounds of his pleas like the gentle strum of a harp’s string, and the warmth of his blood was a bath Hoseok sunk into.

What he was, was something that was no longer needed, and with his hands covered in blood and gore and mess he held tight to his reasons for being and cried for her. He became something else that only protected himself. While he locked everything away and allowed the shadows to stay. The light he’s trapped struggles to glow, to breathe, and some days Hoseok wants to snuff it out for good, to become the shadows he plays in.

He wouldn’t allow himself to reach that point, though. He still has a sense of himself, however skewed.

He owes Yoongi a lot, his partner in crime that he would follow to the ends of the earth. He never turned his back on him even as Hoseok changed to suit his troubles.

Hoseok remembers Yoongi standing at the doorway, catching up much later than he had. He stayed there quietly while Hoseok mourned the death of his ward and his tears made tracks in the blood that coated him.

Hoseok buried her away from her cursed home, far away and as deep as the roots of an old oak runs and salt floats on the air. Wild flowers bloom there, giving her the beauty in death she wasn’t allowed in life.

His chest aches as he stands there now. Under the shade of the oak tree where little speckles of the setting orange sun spills through leaves and dances along the space that he occupies. There’s a crinkle of plastic and Hoseok stares at the small bouquet in his grip. He chose every flower that reminded him of her: daises and lavender, lilies and snapdragons.

He lays it gently on the patch of grass that’s long grown over between two large protruding roots, mutters the same apology he does every time he comes by, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat as he straightens.

He’s sorry he wasn’t there in time.

He wished she was given a chance, and wondered if her death was his punishment. He wonders what it would’ve been like to watch her grow, safe and happy. What her favourite flower would’ve been, if she would’ve valued the little things. He would’ve given her everything – pulled the moon from the sky if she so desired it. He would’ve taken the stars and put them in her little hands for her to watch them shine.

He wonders if it would’ve been better had he waited a little longer. That maybe the slightest change would’ve brought about a different outcome.

Hoseok sighs, turns his head to watch the sun set, dragged behind the ocean’s edge far off in the distance. Something at the back of his mind wiggles and tugs. He knows something’s wrong and he’s in no mood to deal with it.

You’re dying...you think. Your hand slides against the floor and it takes a moment to realise it’s your blood you’re slipping in. You can barely feel the rest of your body, adrenaline pumping your blood out of the wounds at your back. The doors of the elevator doubles and swarms in your vision.

You see them open but it’s so hard to focus. Hoseok steps out and walks slowly to you, you can’t see his expression, but you faintly hear the long, drawn-out sigh he releases. Your eyes focus on the darkness that surrounds him, the way it curls like smoke. The shadows at his back are clearer to you than they’ve ever been – wings. Dark plumage that glitters with something silver in the light, the feathers are long, long enough that they drag behind his steps. If he were to unfold them they would easily span to the ends of the hallway.

He hardly gives you a glance, stopping in front of you. You can’t see the creature now – blocked by Hoseok’s wings – but you hear it growl, and the scraping of it’s claws against the floor. Something glints in his hand against the flickering lights, a short sword that looks like it was dipped in gold from the hilt and it ran down the edges of the blade.

He’s a blur as he moves and your tired eyes can barely keep up with him, if it weren’t for the small space and shadows his wings casted you would’ve lost sight of him completely. 

The creature snarls and lashes out with its razor-sharp claws, but Hoseok is already one step ahead, dodging with effortless grace. He moves with a speed and agility that seems impossible in the space he occupies, closing in on the creature that growls and snarls at him. It’s forced to dislodge itself from the doorway, pulling back into the stairwell that gives it even less room to defend.

Hoseok’s wings fold tightly to his back as he follows, and you could only hear the sound of his weapon sliding through the air, the sound of the blade whistling and the increasingly irritated sounds from the creature. Hoseok ducks under a swiped claw, makes a spin on his knee, and switches the hands that holds his blade. It slices through the creature’s gigantic paw like it’s made of something soft, and through the other as it comes back down. The severed limb drops heavily on the ground before it dissolves into ashes and float upward.

The sound it makes grate on your ears, loud and sharp and you can’t bring your hands up to cover them, something warm trickles out of each.

Without it’s two front legs to support it’s weight, the creature drops forward, and Hoseok grabs hold of the first spike at the top of its head. With a flick of his wrist his weapon spins in his palm and he points the blade right between the creature’s eyes and pushes.

Golden light flashes, nearly blinding you on top of everything else, you can just barely hear the cry it makes this time as it writhes in agony. It’s monstrous form twists and contorts before finally collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Hoseok stands over the fallen beast, his weapon clenched tightly in his hand, watching intently as it’s body dissipates like ash from a fire.

With a satisfied nod, Hoseok sheaths his weapon and it vanishes, and then turns his attention back to you, his expression a mixture of something. You can’t tell, everything seems so dark and it’s hard to breathe. He approaches you slowly, his movements cautious as he assesses the extent of your injuries.

Hoseok crouches and you slowly look up at him, he tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“I told you not to go anywhere, little dove.” He says softly, calmly, as though he’s telling you about his day and you’re not bleeding out in his hallway. “You’re so troublesome.”

You try to respond, but the words stick in your throat, drowned out by the rush of blood and the overwhelming sense of impending darkness. Hoseok’s presence feels both comforting and ominous, his wings casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls. You try to focus on his face, to find some semblance of reassurance in his eyes, but all you see is a blur of shadows and flickering light.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own laboured breathing.

Hoseok’s expression softens slightly, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. He reaches out a hand to gently brush the hair from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the underlying tension in the air.

“Jesus...” Another voice says, the sound of footsteps hurrying close and the last thing you see is the shift of the hallway.

The night he found you out in the fog wasn’t the first time Hoseok had seen you.

By now, it would’ve been at least three months ago. You were alone, pacing around like a worried mother on a bridge over your perceived peace – had you decided to take it.

Human lives were no longer any concern to him; no consequence. He and his kind were here before and would be long after your kind has crumbled to dust and returned to the earth. He stopped then, and watched you contemplate the height of the bridge and the chill of the water below it; whether or not you’ll receive the mercy you seek. You’d cried for a long time on that bridge.

Hoseok is many things, but cruel is not one of them. He changed your mind and sent you away into the arms of someone that would care.

Hoseok has many contradictions. The darkness that he allowed entry fights the light, beating it into a corner where it cowers on most days. On those days he’s distant and struggling to contain it, he could taste malice on his tongue and the bitterness of it. The steel walls he painstakingly built with bloody and broken fingers are nothing more than barbwire fences; they do nothing to protect the glass figurines that make him whole.

Sometimes the glass are shards, sharp and unforgiving and willing to cut anything that gets too close. Sometimes they’re splintered panes and Hoseok is cutting his fingers to keep them in place. He curls in on himself, draws himself away, pushes everything outside his barbwire fence and tries to reinforce the walls. The darkness that swirls outside it seeps in and he can’t keep it out so he lets it fester and churn and he becomes intangible.

You weren’t there, and then, at some point, you were.

Sometimes...

Sometimes he’s standing in a grass field full of wild daises and the sun is warm and there’s salt in the air. The light peeks through the leaves of an old oak tree, and there’s a little girl who’s placed her life in his hands, who skitters about in the  grass like something wild and free. She glows in her happiness, and nature stains her hands and the bottom of her white dress. She makes faces at him behind the trunk of the tree, smiles and hold his hands and tell him that it’s okay. It wasn’t his fault and he’s forgiven, he could let it go and be.

On those days, Hoseok feels like a still pool of water. The ones with lily pads and life, and everything’s alright. You’re always there then.

Hoseok knows of the fragility of humans. How easily they could shatter and break and suddenly be no more. He was something once, and then he became something else, and sometimes it’s hard to not be what he is. His darker nature prevails, and he doesn’t do much to stop it. Sure, sometimes he’s done things simply because he’s feeling particularly malicious and thinks that everyone should suffer – it’s almost always harmless.

He has a sense of himself, he knows when to stop, when things are taken too far and you can’t take much more of it. You eventually learnt to take it in stride and Hoseok was proud of that, though, a part of him thought it wasn’t nearly as fun anymore.

He would walk your dreams some nights when he was bored and had nothing better to entertain himself, his presence would sometimes bring his darkness and your dreams would not be as pleasant. He tried to walk through them less often.

When you were jumping at every little sound, the silence that Hoseok moves with and the way you’re less of yourself some days – he realised something. Not every nightmare was his doing, and the whispers in the walls of your dreams spoke of something else entirely.

The far, fuzzy edges of your vivid dreams where he’s reminded of things he’s tried very hard to lock away, lurks something red and more sinister than he.

He’s every reason to believe that hellspawn didn’t find it’s way here on accident, and for it to go undetected until the very last moment. It bothers him like nothing else has.

Though you lay peaceful now and Seungcheol had left after doing what he does best, the unease lingers in bouts under Hoseok’s skin, skittering about like electricity on a wire. His feelings where you’re concerned contradicts each other. Like oil on water he’s stuck in between wanting you close and keeping you at arm’s length. He likes when you’re near, but he likes when you’re far. A consequence of his nature, he toes the line of something sinister and could get dangerous and down right evil if he doesn’t reign himself in.

At a point he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you. He was just as confused on why he stopped you from ending your own life that night on the bridge and why he took you in that night in the fog. At first, he was just as wary of you as you were of him, despite the way he acted. He can’t help what he is.

On the days where he feels like splintered glass and he’s choking on his despair, you’d waited. You were there until the smoke cleared and your quiet presence helped put the glass back up and straighten out the posts in his fence.

He told Yoongi, there’s no fun in not breaking you. Yoongi said that he’d learn.

He can’t help what he is.

He could try, though.

He doesn’t want to break you, it’s a matter of cause and effect. You’re here with him, evidently, you’d be broken regardless. The most he could do is try. He could try to not be the straw, and try to not let outside forces become it.

He cares. He cares so much that sometimes he could taste it on his tongue. He cares that you smile when he’s earned it, that you eat well, that you greet him like a friend and then somewhere along get shy when you do. He cares if you live or die.

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut, opening them to blink away the image of you, helplessly laying in a pool of your own blood.

Fear. He’s has only felt it once, the fear that you would die and he would’ve failed again to protect someone.

He sips slowly at his glass of whisky, drinking in the sight of you. He thought you were smart enough to listen to him at least, trusted that you would stay out until he got back. Perhaps it was his mistake, but he wonders, and he ponders as you give a minute twitch in your sleep. Your eyebrows draw together and you murmur something unintelligible.

Hoseok sets his tumbler on your bedside drawer and pulls his chair closer. This is something he could easily do from another room, though, for what he’s about to do he would need to be touching you in some capacity.

Your dream had started off vividly, as most of your dreams have since you came here. Hoseok stands just in the corner of it, watching you wake within your dream and put your feet down into water.

He walks along the edge of it, watching it play out like a simulation, following behind you as you make your way down the hall towards the living room. He’s there and Hoseok isn’t surprised – it’s not the first time you’ve dreamt him.

He watches as your dreamscape version of him pull you into his lap and he feels a little offended and rolls his eyes – he didn’t even try to make it look sexy. Is this what you think of him? He isn’t half as tactless. Seduction takes finesse, and you clearly have no idea what that is.

Hoseok turns, gazing at the darkened edges of your dream.

There’s a shift and he feels it. It’s heavy like a wet blanket and seeps in like mist, and your dream changes accordingly.

He knows this feeling too well – the intrusion of an external force manipulating the dream, it’s faint enough that he knows it wasn’t in his apartment or anywhere nearby, but strong enough to reach so far.

Hoseok hovers hesitantly between the doorway of the living room and the hallway, and closes his eyes against the image of him hurting you.

He follows you as you follow blood, and he wishes you weren’t so frightened. He stays close to you, stepping where you’ve stepped as though he could protect you from something that’s already occurred. You push the door to your bedroom open and he wants to stop you, turn you around and shake you awake, but he can only watch.

You’re there and he is too, whispers skittering along the walls like mice, and Hoseok yanks himself out of your subconscious mind.

He feels like glass.

When you wake it’s dark and your back is sore like you fell from a high place and splatted against a body of water. The moment feels like déjà vu regardless as you swing your legs over the side of the bed with a wince.

The broken projector of your sleep-addled mind flickers in black and white cut scene imagines of the evening. Hoseok, the fog, the dog that crawled out of hell specifically for you – as you can only assume – things considered, you’re pretty certain you died at some point.

The dark unnerves you, it makes you feel like a kid as you pull your feet back up onto the bed, and pull the blanket up over your head and pulled tight between your fingers at your chest.

You scoot back, wiggling a bit until your back is pressed flush against the headboard. There’s no light seeping in from under your door, and you sink lower, curling into yourself and hold the blanket tighter.

There’s a prickling at the back of your neck that sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your head turns slowly to the left and notice the unnatural darkness of the space between the edge of the wall and the window pane. Relief blooms in your chest at the sight of it.

“...Hoseok.” You call softly, waving a hand into the dark. You wait for a moment, but the lights don’t come on and he doesn’t appear as he usually would.

Carefully, you unwrap the covers from around you and place your foot on the ground. Taking a moment, you count your fingers – it’s always hard to count them in your dreams. All ten are there, and you take a breath before standing.

The floor is cold, and you notice the carpet that’s usually under your feet is missing, and the silhouettes of the things you’ve made yours are different; this isn’t your room.

You approach the ball of chaos carefully, and stand five steps away from the space it occupies. This is the second time you’ve been close to it, the first time had been much closer and you hadn’t understood it then. You reach a hand out, and gently: “Hoseok...”

It slows, the shadows and wisps shifting gently like a leaf on a soft wind. It elongates into a vague outline and then, Hoseok stares through you before he sees you. He’s still wearing the clothes he left in earlier, coat and all, looking a little more than rattled even in the dark.

He raises a hand and it hovers by your cheek, thumb ghosting the skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The lights didn’t come back on and it’s hard to decipher his emotions in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, barely a whisper in the darkness. Somewhere behind you, a lamp flickers on dimly and Hoseok looks like he’d shatter if you touched him.

“I’m okay.”

Hoseok’s hand drops slowly from your face as he blinks, as though waking from a dream. His gaze focuses on you, but there’s a vacancy in his eyes. For a moment, he seems almost confused, as if he’s not sure how he ended up here or what to make of your presence.

His touch is light, gentle, like he’s handling something fragile when his fingers brushes yours. You feel his fear, a palpable thing, thick and heavy. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

He exhales softly through his nose, nods once and then his eyes are somewhere above your head. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Your back sings a low hymn, achy and sore, but it’s nothing to fuss over. “I’m okay.”

There’s a lot of things you want to ask, but you can’t seem to pick one. You want to ask him about the fog and the creature, about his wings or how you’re even alive to mull over said questions.

Instead, you ask: “Are you okay?”

Hoseok looks unprepared for that, his eyes snapping back to yours and he flounders. His mouth opens and closes before he stares at you in that unnerving way he had your first couple of days here, like he’s trying to understand you. Like he could strip you down to atoms and see what makes you act the way you do and therefore comprehend the bases of your human nature.

“I’m...” He blinks, looks away, and a muscle beneath his right eye twitches, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t sound convinced and you aren’t either, and where his hand brushes yours you reach out first. His fingers are cold and he looks down, staring at your hand like it’s something foreign, but his grip tightens. It’s quiet for a moment, he takes a breath that doesn’t seem to ease the weight he carries.

“You almost died.” He says quietly, brows furrowed as though he can’t understand his own concern. “When I brought you here...I did so with the intention to keep you safe.”

It’s quiet again and you wait, and wait.

Hoseok’s eyes mist, his breath shudders on the exhale. “I wasn’t here in time. Again. I—”

His hand in yours tremble, he’s looking through you again, not entirely here and he looks like a man haunted by ghosts he alone could see. You stumble a step back when he falls to his knees before you, but didn’t get far as his arms wound tight around your waist. There’s something strange about a creature such as him with all his prowess and tainted grace kneeling at your feet, and his words tumble from his mouth like his tears that soak into your borrowed shirt and he lets you hold the chain that drags behind him.

The weight is heavy, heavy enough that it grounds you and you listen to it rattle as Hoseok tells you everything. In a broken tone about a broken home and a child he couldn’t reach in time to save, about the shadows that he let hide the light and now he struggles to find it. The things he’s done since that would make the most wicked men cower.

You make the connection, as he lays himself bare before you. He peeled back the layers of his being himself and let you look inside; the bases of his nature, the connotations of his own sins. It makes sense to you now. The way he would change like the tide and his near obsessive, compulsive need to wrap you in bubble wrap and put you in a glass case. He’d long stopped scaring you and somehow became a comfort despite himself.

Maybe it’s circumstantial, or something else entirely, but you’ve grown to care for him and he’s been caring for you from the start. However skewed that was.

When he’s stopped his babbling, and he’s no longer crying, he still holds you tight, whispering apologies against the dampness of your shirt. You meet his height, gently pulling his arms away from you and you kneel, too. He blinks away the last of his tears and you catch them with your thumbs just under his red-rimmed eyes.

He’s no longer looking through you, one of his hands covers yours, his lips brushing delicately against your wrist when he turns his head; your heart flutters. He whispers something you didn’t catch, he closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, he repeats: “You can leave if you want.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Will you stay, then?” He looks away when he asks, pressing his fingers against your palm in a way that tickles and distracts, and studies the lines of them quietly. “Stay here with me.”

There’s something like hope in his eyes that glints against the shadows that linger, shining like flecks gold in cracked rock. You nod slowly and he smiles easily, all teeth and heart shaped and his hand is warm when he cups your cheek with the one that isn’t holding yours.

“Your dream...” He says softly, and later you’d find that it troubled him the most; he would never do something like that – not to you. “I’m sorry.”

You store the fact that he knows about it at the back of your mind for later – later when he’s not pressing the pad of his thumb against the fullness of your bottom lip, tracing the shape of it. You’ve learnt to ebb and flow with him, a boat on his tide, taking the shift of his mood in stride.

There’s something in his eyes now that has nothing to do with how you found him earlier, something that makes you follow his lead, leaning in when he pulls you towards him. Deja vu accompanies the way he shifts, easing back and turning you as he does, leaning against a dresser you hadn’t noticed. He keeps his eyes locked with yours, directing your leg over his with a hand, and he settles you on his lap.

“This feels familiar.” He giggles, lifting his head to nose along your jaw and you’re reminded that he knows. Heat flares at the back of your neck and races up your ears, and when you push against his shoulders, he steadies and keeps you still with his hands on the top of your thighs and a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“I’m teasing.” He gives a crooked smile, tilting his head, “It’s cute that you think it’ll play out that way.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You blurt out, embarrassment forgotten. Honestly, the only thing that’s changed is the room, and when Hoseok pauses you smirk.

He smirks right back, something dangerous, and he chuckles, “Keep talking back. I like that.”

His hand slides up your back, and you don’t suppress the shiver that follows after it. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You’re vaguely aware of your heart pounding, the rhythm matching the erratic thrum of your blood. He leaves a kiss where your jaw meets your neck, sucking lightly on the spot.

“Hoseok...” You start to say his name, but it comes out as a breathless whisper. You’re not sure what you intended to say, but the words get caught in your throat.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “What is it?” he asks, his voice rough with desire and darker still. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to form words.

With a low growl, he takes your silence as an invitation, his fingers tangle in your hair, and he tilts your head down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss you gasp into. It quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, as if he’s trying to devour your very soul. His other hand finds your hip, squeezing possessively.

You’re lost in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours. The world has narrowed to the two of you, to this moment.

A soft moan escapes your lips, and he takes that as a cue, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that sets your entire being ablaze.

His touch ignites a fire within you, consuming your senses and leaving you breathless, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

He pulls away slowly and you chase, he smirks against your kiss, and when he lifts his hips you feel the press of his arousal. His kisses trail, ghosting along your jaw, his tongue warm where your pulse thrums. He directs the shifts of your hips, grinding you down against clothed erection with a curse growled against your skin.

You follow the light tug of his hand in your hair, tilting your head back and to the side to give him more room to work. He hums appreciatively around your skin between his teeth and you hiss softly at the sting of the pull.

“So good for me.” He whispers when he pulls away. His fingers tap at your hip before he wraps his arm around, bracing the other against the dresser behind and stands easily.

A startled squeak leaves you, wrapping your arms around his neck even though he’s holding you steady. He reaches the bed in two strides, and drops you there, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

You bounce a bit amongst the soft sheets with a soft giggle before you settle. His index finger curls beneath your chin and tilts, thumb brushing along your bottom lip again, “Ah.”

You comply easily, and then his thumb is pressing against your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth and he hums when you wrap your lips around the digit. There’s a tick of his brow and the dull glint of his teeth when he smiles in the dim light of the singular lamp, and a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t scare you.

He tests the boundaries of what you’d allow, sliding his thumb along your tongue. His palm lays flat against your cheek, thumb reaching far until you feel the lurch of your stomach and pull back with a gasp.

He coos softly, leaning down just as he slips his finger out of your mouth to capture your lips in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. He nudges you back softly, large hands sneaking their way under your tee to reach your skin, desperate in a way that makes you think he’d die if he doesn’t.

He stops just shy of the undersides of your breasts, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breaths are shallow, he whispers your name, “I can get intense.”

“I know.”

“I could hurt you.”

“I know.”

He studies you for a moment, then, tugs gently on the hem of your tee-shirt, “Up.”

As you shift to sit, you’re not surprised to find you aren’t wearing anything underneath the tee-shirt and cotton shorts he’s put you in; dressing you properly must’ve been the last thing on his mind.

Hoseok stands back to shed his coat, dropping it carelessly on the floor. There’s a metallic clink as the buckle of his belt jingles, and the sound of it racing through the loops of his pants.

You – oddly – don’t feel ashamed under his gaze that sets a heat wherever it settles as he roams over your exposed upper half. Putting your weight on your hands, you lean back, watching Hoseok roll the long sleeves of his tee-shirt up his forearms.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he closes the distance again, climbing into the bed on his knees and coming up until they’re on either side of your thighs. Silently he trails a finger down the slope of your neck, it tickles across your collarbone and his fingers spread and palms your left breast.

Your breath hitches and he chuckles, and you know very well he could feel the shifting of your thighs as you rub them together seeking friction. It’s been ages since anyone’s touched you like this, all of Hoseok’s teasing isn’t doing you much good.

His lips meet yours, licking into your mouth, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. His fingers lightly pinch at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand roams, goosebumps following it’s path down your side and stops where his fingers tease the band of your shorts.

Your hips buck as you whine and Hoseok pulls away, eyelids heavy, pupils all but gone, panting softly; looking drunk on you.

He smiles and makes a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. “Patience little dove.” He tuts, tilting his head at you, “I’ll give you what you need.”

He trails his fingers along the edges of your shorts before pulling them down and off, leaving you exposed to his touch. His hair tickles where it drags against your sensitive skin as he moves downward. He avoids where you need him most entirely and you squirm, a soft whine building in your chest.

He kisses and licks his way up your thighs, teasing you until you’re begging. Gently, he spreads your legs, kissing the inner thigh of your right before he rests it over his shoulder, pushing your other up and holding it there with a palm.

His dark gaze meets yours and you can’t hold it when he licks a hot stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. Your hand shoots down to grip his hair, back arching when his responding growl vibrates against your core.

With each stroke of his tongue, Hoseok explores every inch of your most sensitive areas. He laps at your clit, drawing out a series of gasps and moans that fill the room. You’re shaking and swearing as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit in figure eights and then dipping into you. He moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Your hands curl into the sheets, fingers digging in as if to anchor yourself. You’re lost in the sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure that leaves you breathless. And you wonder, briefly, if this was just something he was good at or something he had to hone.

His arm draping over your hips was the only warning you got before his lips wraps around your clit and sucks. Your back arches with a pitched moan and he slips a finger into your heat, and groans when you clench and gasp his name.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your vulnerability. Yet, paradoxically, it’s this vulnerability that fuels your desire, pushing you to new heights. You’re a wild thing now, driven by pure, primal need.

From between your legs, Hoseok watches your reactions, a dark-haired god feasting on your pleasure. His gaze is intense, a silent promise that he’ll take you to the edge. He adds another finger and they curl against your g-spot and it brings about your undoing.

If your arousal was a fire, Hoseok just threw gasoline on it just to watch it explode. He keeps hips lips around your clit as it throbs, fingers dragging along your fluttering walls and your eyes squeeze shut. You could barely breathe, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you gasp his name.

“Good girl.” Hoseok praises, lips brushing your clit and your thighs tremble. He rubs his hand gently over your stomach while you come down, and evilly, bites your thigh with a dark chuckle.

“Hoseok...” you whine as he laves his tongue over the stinging spot.

“Hm?” He smiles, “Want more, little dove?”

You almost cry as he changes course, pulling away entirely, and makes it clear he revel in your suffering when he coos mockingly, standing now.

He slowly unbuttons his pants, slowly pulls his legs out of them one after the other, smirking at you all the while. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the strain his cock against his black boxer briefs and you don’t miss the near inaudible sigh of relief from Hoseok at the change in pressure.

He crooks a finger at you, and shuffles closer as you do. He stands at the edge of the bed, and he sinks his fingers into your hair, brushing it back as you look up at him. He looks down his nose at  you, and raises a brow, “Be a good girl now, dove. Or do I have to teach you?”

“I know how to suck cock you ass.”

Hoseok shrugs, a playful smile shifting his expression as he gently squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips, “Is all that little mouth good for talking back to me?”

“You said you like that.” You say defiantly.

Hoseok hums, “Have your fun then,” He says, smiling, “Won’t be able to say much in a bit, anyway.” He tugs on your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to signal his impatience.

Funny, he was preaching patience is a virtue a while ago.

You scoff softly, holding your weight with a hand and tugging his boxers down with the other. His cock springs out, long and thick enough that you wonder if it would fit anywhere. It’s flushed red at the tip and leaking pre that beads and dribbles down the underside, and maybe if you focus enough you could just about see the throb of the vein that runs along side. A breath hisses through Hoseok’s teeth when you wrap your fingers around him, his eyes shut and his head tilts back.

Your eyes meet his when you slowly drag your hand down the length of his shaft, teasing him like he did you; turnabout is fair play. His hold in your hair tightens just a bit, eyes narrowing.

“Dangerous game you’re trying to start.” He murmurs, “I don’t take well t – fuck.” He hisses, the word tapering off into a low groan as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

The slightly salty taste of him bursts against your tongue and you hum, twisting your wrist as you bring your hand back up to meet your mouth and follow it down again. The saliva that escapes from the corners of your mouth helps with the glide.

You take a breath through your nose and relax your jaw, taking him in until he hits the back of your throat and you gag. Hoseok’s thighs tense and a stuttered breath leaves him.

“Easy there.” He soothingly runs his fingers through your hair, though it does nothing for the involuntary tears springing at your waterline. You decide to play it safe, not taking more than you can handle. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, letting you set your own pace, whispering swears and your praises.

Heat pools in your gut as your head bobs back and forth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, swirling around the head every time you pull back.

Slick with spit, your hand strokes the rest of him, and his groans vibrate in your ears. His fingers tighten in your hair, and it’s the only time he directs; holding you still.

“Take a deep breath for me, dove.” You do as told, and as you inhale, Hoseok slowly pushes forward, his cock reaching the back of your throat in no time at all. He groans above you, cock throbbing against your tongue, “There you go.”

He holds you there for a moment, only easing you back when your throat tightens with the need for air. He lets you breathe for a bit before he’s going again, thrusting slowly, once, twice and then holding you still. He keeps you there, cock throbbing at the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base.

When you gag he pulls you back, barely letting you breathe before he’s leaning down to kiss you, catching the string of drool that hangs from your bottom lip with his tongue. He lets you catch your breath, stepping back to pull his tee-shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the full expanse of his lithe frame.

Sitting back on your heels, breath a little ragged, you admire the sculpted lines of his body. Every movement is fluid and graceful, his muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin.

His chest is defined, the faintest sheen of sweat highlighting each ripple of muscle. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders, the way they flex as he moves. There’s a raw, primal energy about him, but it’s tempered by a quiet confidence.

Hoseok comes back to you quickly, cupping your cheek and kissing you fervently, moving with you as you shift back, cock smearing pre-cum along your inner thighs as he slots his narrow hips between them. He nibbles at your bottom lip, fingers sliding through your slick folds before the head of his cock nudges against your entrance.

For a quiet moment he stares then, kisses you tenderly as he breeches. It’s an easy glide, but it stings none the less, and you give an appreciative squeeze to his wrist when he goes slow. The stretch is bearable and soon the slight discomfort dissipates when he bottoms out and gives you a moment.

“Good?” he breathes out, hips pressed flush against yours. The same breath sucked back through his teeth when your walls tightens around him, his cock throbs in response and you keen. He grinds his hips down, pelvis pressing against your swollen clit and the sensation is almost too much and not nearly enough.

He’s close enough that you can run your tongue along his collarbone  and feel him shiver. Leave your own marks there with your teeth and revel in the growl that rumbles in his chest.

He hooks an arm at the back of your knee, pressing it against your chest as he raises and balances his weight. You’re spread open for him, his cock sinks deeper, rubbing against a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He gives shallow thrusts at first, pressing kisses and bruises wherever he could reach.

“Fuck.” Hoseok hisses between his teeth, hips still, palm against your cheek, and he watches you with something other than lust in his eyes. Something gentle as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, such a good girl. Taking everything I give you.”

His hips snap forward and you cry out, hands gripping the sheets between them at his sinful groan. He keeps a relentless pace, and you could feel him everywhere. His fingers on your skin, leaving you cold and hot at the same time, gripping your hips so tightly you fear they’ll bruise. It would simply add to the ones he’s already placed, scattered on your neck and chest like mismatched constellations in a dark sky.

He brings your hands up above your head, holding them there, together with his free one.

“You’re so good to me, Dove. And all mine, hm? Say it.” He grunts, “Say you belong to me, promise me that you’ll stay here with me.” He says this softly, tenderly, grinding his hips against yours in slow movements, tightening the coil in your stomach.

“I’m yours, I’m yours. I promise.” You babble, hips moving against his on their own accord. “I’ll stay. I promise. Please.”

Hoseok groans at your words, leaning down to capture your lips with his, tongue finding yours with ease. “That’s right. You’re mine. Fuck. All mine. Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Hoseok.”

He curses under his breath, straightening his form and brings his hands down to grip your hips tight, and sets a brutal pace. Head tilting back to reveal the marks you left on him, groaning before he looks back down at you, “Close? Hm? You’re squeezing so tight.” His words taunt, as did the smirk on his pretty pink lips, “Make a mess for me, Dove. Cum all over my cock. That’s it, good girl.”

White lights dance behind your tightly shut eyelids, a ringing in your ears. And Hoseok was fucking you through it, fast and hard, his praises a rumble in his chest. You lay there boneless, taking what he gave with a haze over your mind, a weak moan leaving your parted lips when his hand met your throat. Your heart spikes for another reason entirely, but he doesn’t squeeze. Fingers just there, barely any pressure, as he chased his own end, cock kissing your cervix with each trust, his other hand pressed against your lower stomach.

His thumb finds your clit and you jolt, catching his sinister smirk that curled his lips. “There’s no going back after this, baby. Fuck – you’re mine, understand?” You can feel him throbbing, feel the way his hips stutter on the draw back, he was close and you wanted nothing more than him marking you, claiming you in this way. When your eyes meet his, a shiver goes through you.

He comes undone with a low groan, hips flushed with your own, still thrusting through it, and you can see them with your own eyes, as he shudders and stills. His wings uncurl, dark feathers, darker than anything you’ve ever seen, dipped in silver, spreads out behind him and flutters. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, gentle, barely there and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Your eyelids were heavy, and sleepily, you reach out to brush your fingers through the feathers that encased your forms. Hoseok stiffens before your fingers reach them, and chuckles, nipping softly at the flesh of your neck, “Go ahead, Dove.”

He relaxes, when your fingers touch, and you feel him shudder, groaning softly against your neck. They’re soft, your fingers disappearing in the inky blackness of them. With a final brush of his lips against your neck, Hoseok pulls back, his wings shimmering away like a mirage and your hand passes through air before lands limply at your side.

He squeezes your hip gently, mindful, and then he’s gone, walking out his room and into the hallway. The light that spills in helps you see a lot better than the dim lamp, and you notice that Hoseok’s bedroom looks much like the rest of his apartment; sleek and dark. There isn’t much to it either, the basics, more utilirian than a comfort space. You wonder if he uses it at all.

Hoseok comes back and gathers your boneless self into his arms. You rest your cheek against his collarbone, the sound of running water reaching your ears when he steps out into the hallway.

The tub is filling, steam rising from the bubbles that form at the top of the disturbed water. It smells like mint and some sort of fruit, and the temperature is just right when he steps into it and lowers you down. He positions you so that your back is against his chest and turns off the water when it’s high enough. You sense that he’s in his head again, not quite here even as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Feeling okay?” he asks suddenly, tracing a mindless pattern along your arm.

You hum softly, “Yeah. Sore, though.”

“I expected that.” Another kiss, apologetic, against your shoulder. “Also...” Hoseok pauses, “I finished inside you. I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”

The realisation dawns on you too and you shift a little to look at him, “I don’t mind, but....is that a bad thing?”

There’s a strange half smile on his lips and he lifts a hand to tug softly on one tangled end of your hair, gently sifting his fingers through until he’s satisfied. “It can be, if it takes. But, I’ll get something for it tomorrow.”

You notice that the marks you left along his skin have begun to fade already, and you poke at them with a finger. He heals quickly, you figured. He chuckles softly, taking your hand to press kisses along your finger tips and then to your palm. Your finger brushes over the mole on his upper lip gently and watch him melt.

He studies you for a moment, the same way he did before he left earlier, though, it’s softer now. “Would you like to come with me?”

You brighten, perking up with a nod, “Is that okay?”

Hoseok hums, mischief in his eyes, “If you promise not to run off as soon as you step foot outside.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, and Hoseok pulls you back to him with an arm around your middle. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know, I was only teasing.” He chuckles.

You’re both quiet for a while, and you simply relax, almost falling asleep against him as the warm water soothes your aching muscles. You aren’t aware that you did, and only wake when Hoseok was just done tucking fresh clean sheets up to your chin. You’re back in his room but you don’t mind, the thought of going back to your own unsettles you right now. You haven’t forgotten your nightmare, and it’s something you’d definitely have to unpack another day.

You wait until he’s crawled in behind you, the warmth of him encasing you gently. His form melds against your back like he belongs there, an arm slipping under your head and the other over your hip. “Hoseok?”

“Yes Dove?”

You worry at your bottom lip, fingers finding his under the covers and they squeeze your own encouragingly. “There’s a friend of mine...I was with her before I met you.”

“I can help her.” He murmurs, and he sounds...sleepy. Today was a lot for him as well, you suppose. “I can get her a job here.”

You shift, turning to face him, he tucks you to him when you settle, chin resting on top of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

You hear the smirk when he answers, “Do you think everything I have magically appeared? I own the hotel.”

“Wha—”

“Shh.” Hoseok squeezes your hip, “Go to sleep.”

Sometime later you’ll realise that Hoseok needed you more than he would admit. When you learn his tells he would help put himself back together with you instead of trying to do it alone.

Sometime later he’d take you to see her. When the wind is cold and the old oak tree reaches it’s bare, spindly arms to the frosted sky. When the day marks yet another year and he lets you put the flowers between the roots. He looks like a shadow against the glittering white, and he tells you he’s okay.

He’d take you to meet his friends at a club on the high-end and you’d would realise that he’s soft only with you and the guy who reminds you of a cat. With the others he’s closed off and friendly in a way that seems a little odd.

You’d see Abigail often and would skirt around how you actually met Hoseok when she’d ask. Anyone would think you’re crazy if you told them.

You spend most of your time at home while Hoseok goes off doing god knows what when he’s not there. It’s something to do with his friends and you never ask.

Then he’s there and everything beyond him and you and the space you both occupy doesn’t matter. And it’s kind of easy to forget where it all started – it’d been so long since you’d wondered where you were going to get anything to help you get by.

He’s made of cracks and splintered glass but he let you sink into the spaces, filled the pieces with you and settled. There would always be cracks in the glass that he’s made of, and there would always be a post in his fence that he needs to hammered in to fix. Despite the unconventional way you’d both started, the abnormality of his existence, you’d be there.

[bold, can't tag]

Tagging: @iammeandmeisiam , @imanhaitani @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @eoieopda @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeyna​ @euphoricfilter @luaspersona

[dollfaceksj]

AHHH i can’t wait for #20!! will we get to see the date?

read and find out! <3

sooo since it’s my bday today (jk bday twin 🤭😋) this is a little rushed and very short! but i still wanted to update so i hope u guys like it <3

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #20

masterlist

<- previous ; next ->

you didn’t exactly speak to jungkook again for the rest of the train ride

and you kinda also didn’t remove him as a follower

🫨🫨🫨

so now you’re just. alone

in a booth

listening to music

doesn’t matter tbh

when you’ve arrived, you hop out the carriage

you separate from the others

and go home without another word

upon arriving home, you take the longest bath you’ve ever had

exfoliate

wax

take care of your skin

just everything

you put on your cute pajamas and crawl into your bed

and waste your entire day lying in bed

you get a text

from: tae tae

‘What you up to?’

from: you

‘nothing. watching tv alone’

from: tae tae

‘I’m bored. Can I come over’

from: you

‘sure’

you sit up straight in your bed and rub your eyes

hmm

tae doesn’t live that far so

he’ll be here soon

you make your couch a bit cozier with blankets and place some snacks on your table

after some time passes

your doorbell rings

you make your way to the front door and swing it open

“you need some more friends, taehyung,” you say as you put some of your shoes away to leave space for his

“i agree, he should.”

?

you look up

from your kneeling position

to make eye contact

with the devil himself

he stares you down from up there with hooded eyes

“where’s taehyung?”

he shrugs his shoulders. “i took his phone to text you. i know you would ignore me if i tried to dm you.”

he’s unbelievable

“why are you here?” you ask as you rise to your feet

he tilts his head to the side. “i still owe you.”

you frown

what does this damn junior want?

he needs!! to leave!! you alone!!

“and what exactly do you owe me?”

“an orgasm.”

the air knocks right out of your lungs

you shake your head. “i already told you. it was the last time.”

“i know but technically, you didn’t finish.”

UGH

you hate him.

you hate him.

you sigh quietly. “that’s okay. i don’t mind.”

“i do.”

for fucks sakeeeee

“you gonna let me make you cum? one last time?”

he closes the distance between you two, staring down at you with a neutral expression on his face

he’s not trying to convince you

it just seems like he actually takes this ‘favor’ seriously

“jungkook,” you sigh

“i swear i won’t bother you anymore.”

ugh

and now you’re reminded of everything tae told you

you wrap your fingers around his forearm and gently tug him further into your apartment

you quietly close the door. “you’re not bothering me, jungkook.”

he just stares at you, letting you speak

“but weren’t you supposed to hang with isabella today?”

a smirk creeps on his lips. “keeping tabs on my life?”

you scoff, “you wish. i just overheard you two talking.”

he hums as he kicks his shoes off and walks further into your apartment

DAMN JUNIOR

“so. you prepared this for me?” he nods towards the cozy couch and snacks on the table, picking one can of pringles up

“i prepared it for taehyung.” you snatch the pringles can out of his hands

he chuckles. “well, you put in all this effort. it’d be a shame if it went to waste.” he turns to face you fully

you look up at him and cross your arms

his eyes drop down your pajamas, taking note of your cute pajama set and fuzzy socks.

he quietly mumbles, “cute,” with a small smile.

your cheeks heat up and you turn away from him, heading towards the couch

“well, i guess you’re right but only because i don’t want my efforts to go to waste.” you plop down and sit down with your legs criss cross apple sauce

he takes his sweater off, revealing his plain black shirt as he goes to sit down next to you

you reach for the remote and start going through the available movies

he sinks comfortably into your couch, draping one arm behind your head on the backrest of the couch

you ask him if he’s seen some of these and he tells you that he’s actually not a big movie fan and prefers shows

preferably mystery and/or thriller

you nod your head, agreeing with what he’s saying

so you both agree on watching sherlock

and you have a lot of fun

watching it with him

:(

2 hours into the marathon

you glance over at jungkook

and

:(

he’s dozing off :(

you don’t know why

but it makes you feel some type of way

like

did he use the excuse of having sex to come here? just to hang out with you?

:(

ah

you just

start feeling guilty

you move closer to him and shake his arm

he quickly blinks and awakes, looking around. “oh, i’m sorry. didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

you shake your head. “it’s okay.”

he slowly sits up and stretches his arms. “so have you thought about it?”

you frown as you glance at him, pausing the show with one hand on the remote. “what?”

“letting me make you cum.”

….

you ask, “you’re serious about that?”

he nods his head like you just asked him about the weather and he knows the answers

“you don’t have to do that. if you wanted to get your dick wet, you should’ve let isabella come over. why come to me?”

at this, he frowns. like he’s genuinely confused

“because we didn’t get to finish last time. why are you bringing up isabella?” his frown almost stings you

you try to appear nonchalant and casual. “because it seems like she’s down for whatever. or not?”

he chuckles but there’s no humor behind it. “are you jealous?”

“now, why the fuck would i be jealous, jungkook?” you rise to your feet and gather the empty cartons and cans of snacks and drinks

“i don’t know, pretty. you just sound kinda jealous.”

you hear the smugness in his voice even when you’re all the way in the kitchen, throwing out the plastic and cartons

“don’t call me that,” you mumble as you start folding one of the blankets

he gets up and closes the gap between you, pressing his chest into your back

“what? you don’t like being called pretty?” he jokes, pestering you as he stays glued to your body with each move you make

he adds, “you definitely loved it when you were getting fucked, though.”

UGHHHH

can he just

GET LOST!!!!

the longer he’s here

the more your resolve crumbles

the longer you’re in his proximity

the more you want to take him up on his offer

you want to help him

you do

like tae said

but

is it worth it when it makes everything worse for you?

you can’t fucking stop thinking about him

and your body heats up whenever he’s near

you turn to face him. “you,” you start, “you’re not good for me.”

his expression falters. “what do you mean?”

you shrug your shoulders. “you’re like poison, jungkook. i don’t know what’s going on.”

he stares at you dumbfounded. “i’m so confused.”

“ugh!” you throw the blanket on your couch. “i spend one– ONE night with you in a tent, next thing i know, i’m having sex with you in the back of someone else’s car and letting you fuck me in a dirty tent while our friends are asleep.”

you swallow thickly before you mumble under your breath, “a guy like you should wear a warning.”

he silently stares at you for a moment before he crosses his arms over his chest. “well, i do. you’re the one that started coming onto me after tae warned you.”

you almost choke on air cause he’s right. “that has nothing to do with this.”

your body is starting to heat up

his serious expression…

hes so fucking hot wow

he steps even closer to you. “it has everything to do with it. just admit that you wanted me and stop acting like i did something underhanded so that i could fuck you. you know damn well you wanted me to fuck you as bad as i wanted to fuck you.”

a lump starts forming in your throat

he has you all figured out

but he’s not finished. “so quit acting like the bigger person.”

fuck

fuck fuckfuck

fuck you want him

you want him so bad

he adds, “you keep pouting at me like that and i’ll have no choice but to kiss you.”

fuck

the words leave your mouth without you even realizing. “then kiss me already.”

fuck

why did YOU

SAY THAT

he wastes no time lunging at you, cupping your face as he kisses you with so much fervor it sets your body ablaze

you let him walk you back to the couch before he sits down and pulls you onto his lap

you don’t hesitate for a second when you climb onto his lap

kissing him with equal amounts of fervor

tongues forcing their way into each others mouths

the not-so-innocent grinding

soft moaning

heavy breathing

fuck, you want him

you need him

his hands grip your hips, fingers draping over the swell of your ass

the more you grind your hips into him, the harsher his grip on your hips

until he starts spanking you

making you moan into his mouth

fuck he’s making it so hard for you to be the better person

is one last time really that bad?

but.. will it really be the last time if you don’t put a stop to it now?

you know if you accept, you’ll always just fall straight into his trap

and ‘a last time’ will never really be a last time

declining right now would help him in the long run, you could build that bond with jungkook that tae was talking about

so what will it be

toxic frenemies with benefits (ACCEPT)

or

healthy friendship and no more lying to tae (DECLINE)

to be continued

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[everythingdenied]

showers-matty healy

a/n: this could be the longest authors note ever because my moral compass is still fighting for its life regarding whether i should be posting this or not. but imma spare you all of that because my writing is supposed to be escapism so pls ignore that me & the boyf are fighting irl rn and enjoy me being a whore mwah. i feel like im rly holding back on how slutty things can get cause im too scared to be too specific in my smut but...we shall see xxx

warnings: overall filthy smut warning tbh, fem!reader, me not proofreading oops wc: 1,727

A satisfied sigh fell from my lips as I stepped into the shower, sliding the glass door shut. The water was scalding but, after the day I'd had, it's heat felt somewhat cathartic and I didn't bothered adjusting the temperature, instead standing content beneath the warm stream.

The dull ache in my muscles slowly ebbed away and I let my eyes fall shut, listening to the perfectly monotonous trickle of water against the cool tile floor. I hummed gladly, my hand almost instinctively falling to cup my breasts, kneading them in a somewhat fruitless attempt at alleviating the stress of a long day at work.

I knew my own touch could never compare to his and, oftentimes, pursuing my undo without him there was futile. However, he was at the studio for the foreseeable and I needed some sort of release now; my fingers and the shower head were going to have to suffice for the time being.

Inhaling sharply, I rolled my nipples between the pads of my fingers, head falling back against the tile wall behind me. The water cascaded down my naked body like morning sunlight and I traced the droplets, right hand dipping lower to the centre of my arousal with a shaky moan. I felt my body loosen as I slowly circled my clit, the familiar sensation only reminding me of him. How he'd touched me exactly like this on the studio couch last night, barely waiting for George to leave before his eager hands were pulling at the waistband of my joggers.

Unfulfilled, I hastened my pace, fingers working desperately to bring me to some sort of climax. His name slipped through my parted lips in a slew of low whimpers, echoing around the small room, and I twitched with needy anticipation, a familiar warmth settling in my abdomen. I was completely caught up in the feeling, so focused on my own pleasure that I hadn't heard Matty return home early, nor had I noticed him enter the bathroom.

“You called?”

Snapping my eyes open, I gasped, hands jerking away from my pussy as if they'd just touched a hot stove. Empty, unsatisfied and wracked with adrenaline, I looked in the direction of the voice, finding my boyfriend leaning in the doorway of the bathroom, amused.

"Shit, Matty" I breathed out through a nervous chuckle, hands clasped against my thumping chest. "You scared the life out of me."

He smirked, eyes dragging over my naked, glistening body as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, hands deep in the pockets of his dress pants.

"I did knock, but..." Matty gestured in my general direction and I blushed, averting my gaze elsewhere. A silence settled over the room, save for the flow of water, and I stood, nude and vulnerable as my boyfriend watched me wriggle in discomfort, the embarrassment of being caught only heightening my burning arousal. Detecting the yearning thick in the air, Matty strode closer, sliding the shower door open. Hot steam spilled into the room. "Need help?"

I pursed my lips, somewhat abashed, and nodded, watching as Matty wasted no time in undoing his shirt. Soon free of his clothes, my boyfriend joined me beneath the water, toned abs flexing as he hissed at its searing temperature. He snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his body so that the two of us stood pressed up chest to chest, warm water beading off our bare backs and eyes boring into each others. 

"Greedy girl" Matty tittered lowly, carefully lifting my jaw with two fingers. I only blinked up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. "Couldn't even wait till I got home, ay?"

He drew me closer, his hard on throbbing against my core, a stark reminder of how painfully empty I was. I whimpered, wordless under his touch, and he watched, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. Jutting my hips forward, I slowly rolled them against his bare crotch, feeling him harden.

"Mph, please, Matt..." I practically begged for his touch; for him to do something, anything. But, too stubborn to give in easy, he only shook his head, hands carding through my dampened locks.

"Not so fast, love" he hummed, his tone laced with an almost sadistic amusement as his hand, which was previously gripping my jaw, travelled slowly to my breasts. "Wanna take my time with you..."

I frowned, feeling as if I was soon going to implode if I didn't come in the next few minutes. Had it been any other day, I would have basked in the prospect of Matty's endless teasing, enjoying the rare occasions when he'd take his sweet time with me instead of bringing me to orgasm in a flurry of fervent movements. However, today had been long and stressful and my body yearned for release, not twenty minutes of merciless edging.

"Baby..." I groaned as Matty moved at a snails pace, head dipped as he softly kissed stray droplets from my collarbone, one hand cupping my right breast. He hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing, rough tongue now brushing past my puckered nipples. "W-want you."

"And you'll have me." He breathed, fingers dancing across my neck as the both of us stood beneath the warm spray. "S'called patience, beautiful."

"Don't wanna be patient" I whined and my boyfriend chuckled lowly, his ego likely inflating tenfold with each desperate plea I made.

Focusing his attention on my tits for a little while, I found myself becoming more and more worked up, barely able to contain myself when he moved a hand down to cup my pussy. It ached to be touched and, taking pity on me, Matty did just that, slipping two fingers inside, coating them in my arousal. I let out a strangled gasp, feeling him pump his fingers in and out of me, his pace leisurely.

"Shit, Love" Matty smirked, slowly adding a third finger, stretching out my desperate pussy. "You're dripping. You been wanting me all day?"

I nodded, rocking my hips along in time with his movements, feeling my body prickle with goosebumps despite the burning hot water trickling down my back. Fearing I'd only sound pathetic if I tried to speak, I said nothing, instead focusing on the way his fingers curled deep inside me, noting the familiar callouses.

"Needy little thing." He rasped and, even with my head in the crook of his neck and my eyes shut tight, I could hear the egoic sneer in his voice as he brought me closer to release. His movements became more hasty and, despite his vow to 'take his time' with me, I soon found myself empty, being pressed up against the steamy glass door, my hand wrapped around the base of his cock as I pumped him sloppily. He groaned, throaty and visceral, and grabbed the back of my thighs, thumbs digging into my soft flesh. "Jump f'me."

Not one to argue, I did what was asked of me, allowing Matty to lift me, back against the glass and legs wrapped around his torso. The position was somewhat awkward and I couldn't help but giggle at the impracticality of it all, arms draping around my partner's neck in a feeble attempt at keeping myself steady.

"I'm definitely gonna fall on my arse like this, Matty."

Matty only laughed and shook his head, swallowing my laughter with a kiss, his damp curls sticking to his forehead. "Nah, i've got you, gorgeous" He hummed against my lips, keeping a surprisingly firm grip on my ass. "You're alright."

Giving me a moment to adjust to the position, Matty teased my entrance, his cock throbbing against my needy cunt as he let me take an inch or two. He watched with lusty intent, mouth slightly agape as he slowly but surely filled me, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. He was closer than ever, radiating sex and warmth, his breath fanning my cheek as he inhaled the scent of my peach shampoo.

It was intimate sex. Desperate, but intimate. Matty's thrusts were somewhat careful, making sure to hit every single one of my sweet spots as if he had something to prove. His lips roamed my every inch of skin, sucking bright purple hickies onto my neck as his length slid in and out of me, the room echoing with the filthy sound of skin against skin. I moaned softly, head falling into the crook of his neck

"I know, baby. I know. Better than your fuckin' hand, yeah?" Matty cooed, his tone syrupy as he rutted into me with great depravity. "Bet your hand can't even reach half the places I do."

Of course it couldn't and he knew it. Nor could my hands have me on the very cusp of white hot pleasure in a matter of minutes, backed up against the shower wall, begging for them to let me cum.

"Sound so pretty when you beg, love" He mumbled, words slurring together in pleasure. He was getting close too, I could tell. His thrusts were growing messy and lacked rhythm and he practically choked on his words. "Such a good girl. Who makes you cum like this, huh?" "Y-you do. Only you."

His name fell from my lips, each syllable feeding his ego as he brought me closer and closer to the edge, only allowing me to let go when he neared his own undo, mumbling every curse word under the sun. I clenched around him, growing full with his release as it coated my insides, warm and plenty, dribbling down my thighs.

He was right. My hand's couldn't do that. Nor could they lovingly pull me close in a post-sex haze, siting down with me beneath the warm spray of the shower head, skin to skin, recovering. They couldn't love me or draw me to their chest and, with lidded eyes and a droopy smile, press a kiss to my forehead.

“Better than having a wank?” Matty teased, breathing laboured. I said nothing, rolling my eyes as my head fell to his shoulder. “Could have called me. Y'know I'll always drop everything f'your pussy."

"Didn't wanna bother you in the studio." I mumbled and Matty chuckled lowly, pulling me closer beneath the now somewhat tepid water.

"Oh yeah, cause getting to fuck my missus in the shower is such a bother." 

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

I'm aroacespec (and honestly confused about where I fall on that spectrum, but I do know I'm sex/romance favorable) and tbh my relationship with shipping is weird.

There are some ships I look at and I'm like "how can you see this as anything but romantic" and there are other ships where I'm like "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" and it's almost always the total opposite of what the fandom majority's view is. For example, my Sonic "how can you see this as anything but romantic" ship is Espilver, and my "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" ship is Silvaze.

I will say that something I've noticed is there tends to be a double-standard with allo people (specifically cishet people) when it comes to ships. You get a ton of "why can't they just be friends" with slash and femslash ships, but then those same people will ship a het pairing that look at each other in a single frame. I don't know if it's something that's more obvious to me because I'm gay myself (or even if it's more obvious because I'm aroacespec specifically), but it's weird to me. I choose to look at it this way: if this was a het ship with the same character dynamic, would people still say "why can't they just be friends?"

That's not to say aroace people are in the wrong for looking at a pairing and saying "can't they just be friends? Why do we have to ship them?" but with a lot of cishet people specifically, it feels like there's a lot of people perpetuating a borderline homophobic double-standard. I get it when it's something like Scott and Jay from Ninjago, but so many masc characters' dynamics are canonically given homoerotic or even just romantic undertones (a good example of this being, in my opinion, Sonadow; there's not an almost 3 and a half hour long Sonadow iceberg video on YouTube for no reason. As far as I'm aware it's the longest Sonic-related iceberg video on YouTube that covers exclusively official content) which is why people tend to gravitate towards those ships. I could do an entire analysis on why gay ships tend to have bigger followings than het ships but if I did this would get too long lmao. I will once again point to the Sonadow iceberg video though.

I generally use shipping to explore my own relationship with my aroace-ness, and usually I do that using characters I either headcanon as aroace in some way or who are canonically aroace, because I can relate to those experiences. It's kinda weird to me to see other aroace people acting like doing that is bad or wrong, because usually that's what people are doing, and even if that's not what's going on, fanfiction doesn't affect canon.

There is no right or wrong way to participate in fandom (unless you're harassing people and/or actively putting people in danger), no matter what you identify as.

Basically: People should be allowed to do what they want, if something bothers you that bad there's nothing wrong with blocking a person or tag.

(I might've gotten off subject a few times, sorry lol)

Okay, that thing about blocking tags inspired me to look through my blocked tags to see what ships I've blocked and here's my petty aroace thoughts on all of them without naming names lmao

Fanon het ship. They've never given any indication that they know of each other's existence. Her girlfriend is right there.

Canon het ship. Had the chemistry of two wet paper bags. Literally just shoehorned in there because god forbid any story exist without a romance subplot.

Semi-canon het ship. I'm mostly neutral about them. Just unnecessary.

Fanon mlm ship. Literally brothers?? I don't care that one of them is adopted, they grew up together?? As brothers??

Fanon het ship. I don't care what you call their relationship. You can call it professional, platonic, familial, just please don't call it romantic.

Semi-canon het ship. Again, completely unnecessary. God forbid a man convince a woman to become a villain without there being ~attraction~

Fanon het ship. She is 14?? And he is like 30??

Semi-semi-canon het ship. He did have a crush on her when he was, like, 14 but he's a grown adult now and she's the most lesbian-looking woman to ever exist and they're the most found family siblings to ever find a family

Fanon het ship. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE FRIENDS. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE PLATONICALLY MARRIED.

Fanon mlm ship. I personally see them more as brothers. But whatever floats your boat.

Semi-canon het ship. Just really shoehorned. I don't like the woman very much. I liked her more when she was allowed to be a badass without being a ~flirty badass~

Fanon mlm ship. Again. Adopted brothers. Gross.

Canon het ship. I've seen many things from this director. He's a creative man. He couldn't think of a way to move the plot forward without a smooch?? He couldn't create a series that didn't have an unnecessary love triangle??

Semi-canon het ship. The man isn't coming back for S2 and boy golly gee am I glad

Fanon het ship. Not my cup of tea. Just let them be friends

good lord I have a lot more ship tags blocked than I thought

anyway, this is your daily reminder to just block stuff you don't want to see and move on

[swiftsaltsweet]

Two Knives Chapter 6: Kyoshi- We Didn't Start the Fire

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (RoK characters tbh)

Pairing: Rangshi

Rating: M

Summary:

Things have been stressful for Kyoshi. First, she sang a poem and now the whole kitchen staff thinks it’s about Rangi, and is sure that there will be gossip. Then, Yun asks her to join him for the Fifth Nation treaty signing. Now Rangi’s acting strange. It’s becoming a bit much for Kyoshi’s small corner of the world.

(Canon Divergent AU- Kelsang wasn’t the one who heard the poem?….aka What if it took longer for them to realize Kyoshi was the Avatar?)

Other Sites: AO3 

A/N: I really like the song “We Didn’t Start the Fire”~! :3c

Slight spoilers for Legacy of Yangchen. The spoiler is a reference to a play in the novel. It’s very minor and not….really plot relevant. But I wanted to warn in case someone wants to go into Yangchen 100% spoiler free.

Hey, weird question. Y'all ever had an idea and thought 'lol this is fun/funny' then you got to it and like....now you're unsure but hey you're here now and it's everyone's problem? No reason, just asking for a friend hahah >x> *sprints away to the end notes*

And slight trigger warning for possible slight/mild homophobia. I left it up to interpretation tbh. 

_____

“Your mother’s gotten really fixated on hot squats recently,” Kyoshi mused as she held the firebender close. Her head rested on top of Rangi’s, carefully avoiding the pins on her head. The only sharp object on the girl at the moment. 

The spiked armor laying on the floor of the carriage. Thanks to the carriage, the two girls could be as close as they wanted without anyone bothering them.

Not like they had much of a choice to spread out in the carriage with all the cargo they had packed in there. But they would use whatever excuse they could use.

Kyoshi and Rangi were well on their way back from Hongcun Village, a village north of Qinchao Village. Iit was known for being a hot spot trading post as well specializing in weaponry dealing and repairs. They had to ride with another passenger to Hongcun, but on the way back they had the whole ride to themselves and they were making the most of it.

Rangi hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She never cared that much about hot squats before, she was more of a horse stance fanatic.”

Kyoshi had seen Yun have to do horse stance a few times, but today it seemed like it was hot squat hell for him. Yun hadn’t had a chance to see them off, all thanks to Hei-Ran wanting to begin his training before the sun even came up. 

Kyoshi shuddered, thankful she never had to do either training exercise in her entire life, and was hopeful she never would.

Rangi suddenly laughed. “What’s got you all shaken up?”

“Just thinking about the nightmare of horse stance,” Kyoshi mumbled. It was a popular form for earthbenders, she used to see the villagers perform competitions for who could hold it the longest. It looked like hell.

Rangi detangled herself from Kyoshi, and readjusted in the seat so her head was laying on Kyoshi’s lap. “It’s not the worst thing ever.” Then she thought about it for a moment. “Ok, it’s up there.”

Kyoshi started to run her fingers through Rangi’s hair. “If it’s only ‘up there,’ then what’s the worst thing ever?” she chuckled.

Rangi looked at Kyoshi then turned her head and looked away, deeply troubled. She seemed to have taken Kyoshi’s question a little too seriously.

“Sorry, that's…..not something I want to think about.”

Kyoshi bit her lip, she had a distinct feeling of what might’ve been the source of Rangi’s uneasiness. The words came out before she could stop them. “Is this about Yun asking me to join as a companion?”

She cursed herself in her mind, she wanted to enjoy the day with Rangi, not upset her!

But instead of making her more upset, Rangi's tense face softened a bit, to Kyoshi's surprise. “In a way.”

“I won't do it if you don't want me to!” It had been what she wanted to say to Yun back when he first made the proposition. 

Rangi blinked, and then finally looked back at Kyoshi. Her eyes glistened with a far away look in her eye. Rangi wrapped her arms around Kyoshi’s waist, and buried her face into Kyoshi’s belly. 

Kyoshi did her best to hug Rangi back, considering the awkward angle. “I just want you-no, us to be happy. So, if you don’t want me to become a companion, I won’t do it.”

Kyoshi didn’t really need the glory of Avatar companionship. She was just happy in the section of the world she carved out for herself. If she had to wait for Rangi and Yun to come back every so often so that Rangi felt at ease, then it would be an easy trade.

They stayed like that, Rangi grabbing Kyoshi like her life depended on it. Kyoshi rubbing soothing circles into Rangi’s back.

Rangi let out a sound of air, it almost sounded like a laugh. “I’m not sure.”

Kyoshi blinked. “Huh?”

Rangi let go of Kyoshi and sat back up, she took one of Kyoshi’s hands and started tracing the lines of her palm. “I’m not sure….. if you should take him up on his offer.”

Kyoshi felt her eyes start to spin, the contradiction coming from Rangi overloading her brain. “I-I thought you were livid at the idea….” She distinctly remembered the firebender shaking with anger when it was first brought up.

“I was, but then he raised a good point.” Rangi took a breath. “It might be good for you to learn how to defend yourself. I’d rather you didn’t have to learn because you were becoming a companion, but….” She sighed.

Kyoshi’s eyes stopped spinning, the contradiction was unraveled and solved.

She turned to Rangi and gave her a lopsided smile and jokingly said, “But I have you to protect me.”

She expected Rangi to roll her eyes and push her, maybe even make a disgusted noise like she did when Kyoshi said something similar after the jar incident. But instead Rangi shook her head with a saddened expression as she looked at the ground. “But what if I’m not there to protect you?”

Kyoshi moved her hand so Rangi wasn’t playing with it anymore, but to hold it instead. “What do you mean?”

Rangi sighed. “Well, what if I go on the mission with Yun, and someone attacks his home? What if you got hurt because of that?”

Kyoshi squeezed Rangi’s hand and laughed. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“But how can you know that?” Rangi looked at her with a worried expression.

Kyoshi didn’t. “So you want me to join you on your adventures so that won’t happen?”

Rangi shook her head. “No, that's……more terrifying. The Avatar has to confront some of the worst people and situations imaginable, I don’t want you near that.”

Kyoshi sighed. “So you just want me to learn how to defend myself?” She could do that, within reason. But she wondered how it would fit into her schedule. Kyoshi had a feeling more sleep would be sacrificed.

“If that isn’t too much trouble……”

“Are you going to train me?”

Rangi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not an earthbender, Kyoshi.”

Kyoshi shook her head. “No I-.... I don’t think earthbending is in the cards for me. But maybe some hand to hand? To start off? Then I’ll look into what I can do about my earthbending.”

Rangi tilted her head and closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them. “I suppose that could work. But what is it with you and earthbending? You always avoid it.”

Kyoshi sighed. She avoided the topic for the past two years, it was about time she explained herself. At least of all her secrets and issues, this one wasn’t that hard to talk about.

“I can’t really……bend….well.”

Rangi snorted. “I figured as much when you refused to stop the jar from falling!” She gave Kyoshi a playful shove. “I’ll have you know, your little stunt almost gave me a heart attack. You really know how to make a girl fall for you.”

Kyoshi stared at Rangi surprised, Rangi’s joke sailing right over her head. “Wait, you’ve liked me since back then?!”

Rangi's face fell in horror. “Kyoshi!”

A grin grew across Kyoshi’s face. “Just kidding!” She pulled Rangi into a hug before the firebender could get back at her. Kyoshi had pieced together that Rangi had liked her as far back as that. She just wasn’t sure exactly when the firebender had fallen for her. 

The jar…. Come to think of it, that was the same day I sang that poem. 

“I can’t bend small objects,” Kyoshi continued as Rangi struggled against the snuggle. “I can only, uh, ‘go big’?”

Rangi stopped struggling and looked at Kyoshi. “Isn’t that a little backwards?”

Kyoshi nodded.

Rangi thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s the best way to describe it. You just need to learn control. Sure, that level of control needed might not be common, but everyone needs to learn control regardless. You just…. need it more than others!”

Kyoshi never thought about it like that, she just thought she was a lost cause. Leave it to her super talented bender girlfriend to make it easier to digest.

Kyoshi hugged Rangi harder as the firebender cuddled in closer. “That being said,” Rangi started, “I feel like you exercise a bit too much control in some aspects of your life.”

Rangi pressed her hand to Kyoshi’s chest, and proceeded to trail it down the length of Kyoshi’s body, searching for the opening in Kyoshi’s robes. When she did find it, she planted a warm kiss on Kyoshi's jaw as her fingers raked soft skin. Rangi’s fingers were warm on Kyoshi’s bare skin.

Kyoshi groaned at the sensation. She lowered her body down the length of the seat so Rangi could climb on top of her. She needed more of the firebender's contact on her. “Trust me, I don’t want to exercise any control when it comes to this.”

“And yet you do,” Rangi hummed, her lips making her way to Kyoshi’s neck.

Kyoshi responded by grabbing Rangi by the hips and grinded hard against the firebender. Rangi let out a moan into the crook of Kyoshi’s neck, causing them both to press in harder against each other for more friction. 

“It’s not me, it’s the people who keep interrupting us,” Kyoshi forced out in low gasps.

Rangi snaked her free hand to Kyoshi’s hair and gave it a tug, making Kyoshi expose more of her neck’s pulse point. “Well it’s a good thing we’re alone now, with a lot of time until we arrive back at Yokoya.”

Kyoshi squirmed delightfully when Rangi’s lips made contact, warmth radiated through Kyoshi’s body with each pulsing beat. She was going to enjoy every moment of this bumpy carriage ride. She was just thankful that the road had smoothed out for the last few minutes. It was so smooth, it was like they weren’t even moving at all!

Wait…..

“Rangi, stop,” Kyoshi forced out the words she would never want to say. She had a bad feeling.

Rangi did as she commanded, but she gave her a disapproving look.

“Are we still moving?” Kyoshi asked.

Before Rangi could answer or question, there was a knock at the door and the driver’s voice could be heard. “Misses? I’m sorry but we need to st-”

The look of fury that Kyoshi saw flash across Rangi’s face could’ve melted a volcano. Like a flash of lightning, Rangi quickly straightened her clothes, grabbed her armor, donned it, and ripped the door open before the driver could finish his sentence.

“WHY?!” 

The driver flinched, not expecting such a reaction. Kyoshi would’ve felt bad for him if he didn’t just interrupt a possibly life changing moment for Kyoshi…. And if she wasn’t so preoccupied with staying out of his line of sight and readjusting her clothes to look presentable again. 

“T-the, uh, the spokes-I mean the wheel? It’s busted we need to replace it-”

“Again?! This is the second time! Just replace it and don’t bother us!”

“Second? Oh, that was a different carriage! I-I mean! It will be! It’ll just take a few hours to get the part. In the meantime, we’ll be in Qinchao Village while we wait-”

Rangi slammed the door shut. Took a few breaths. Then turned to Kyoshi with the saddest deer puppy eyes Kyoshi had ever seen.

“I think the universe hates us.”

Kyoshi laughed, in a sense relieved to see Rangi was just as frustrated as she was. She finished straightening up and took Rangi’s hand. She gently rubbed the top of it with her thumb. “Let’s try to not make the driver hate us too.”

_____________________________

Qinchao Village was a strange place. Most residents belonged to the Chin Clan, which made most people feel like outsiders as they walked through the same-faced streets. They had strange holidays not celebrated anywhere else in the Earth Kingdom, and made it known their loyalties lied with the village over the Earth Kingdom as a whole. Only their wealth allowed most to overlook its strangeness.

Kyoshi had only been there once before, with the other maids on a day off. While Master Jianzhu had told them to be careful, nothing bad had happened and they got home safely. However, Kyoshi couldn’t help but shake a strange feeling of dread she had the entire time she was there.

And the same feeling started to overcome her as she and Rangi crossed the threshold into the village. She looped her arm around Rangi’s, and pulled her close as she did.

“Everything alright?” Rangi asked. 

Kyoshi sighed and whispered. “Master Jianzhu warned us this place can be a bit…..interesting. I just can’t shake the feeling that these guys are just waiting for an opportunity to burn me alive.”

Rangi snorted. “I’d like to see them try.” Right, Rangi would probably redirect the flames back at the village if they tried to burn either of them. Still didn’t mean they shouldn’t be careful.

The dread subsided a bit upon seeing how relaxed Rangi was, but it still hung deep within her being. It most likely wouldn’t leave until the girls left the village. 

The two decided to wander the village. Enjoying various wares at the bazaar. Enjoying tea at a nice teahouse. They even watched a small puppet show of an old story called ‘The Lost Slipper’ that was in the central square. The group of children let out an uproarious cheer when the hero was revived at the end and the evil minister had to dedicate his life and fortune to repent.

Rangi took Kyoshi’s hand as they left the crowd, heading back to the carriage to see if it was ready yet. “You know, legends say that Yangchen herself changed the ending to that play.”

“Really?” 

“Yup, apparently she hated the original ending, so she boo’d it.”

Kyoshi giggled. “Hard to imagine an Avatar such as herself doing such a thing.” Kyoshi tried to imagine the perfect, holy Avatar booing a puppet play and throwing a tomato at the stage.

Rangi laughed back. “I know, right?”

“So what was the original ending?”

Rangi pursed her lips. “I think the hero dies? So the hero’s life is traded so the evil minister can be taught a lesson? I don’t remember, the original ending is only survived by word of mouth nowadays, but it’s not very popular anymore.”

Kyoshi grimaced. “I can see why, doesn’t seem like a pleasant ending. Not a fair trade.”

Rangi nodded in agreement. 

They kept walking hand in hand, ignoring the stares they got. Kyoshi wondered if it was because she was holding hands with Rangi, an act that didn’t seem out of the ordinary for two girls to do. Or if it was because they were obvious outsiders in the village. 

As they rounded a nearby corner, something collided with Kyoshi's side. Kyoshi’s stumbed a bit as someone was knocked to the ground. “Gah!”

“Hey! Watch where you're going!” Rangi yelled at the person who ran into Kyoshi.

Kyoshi looked down and saw a square-faced boy with a sullen expression.

“Rangi, it's ok,” Kyoshi pulled Rangi behind her, still not letting go of her hand. Kyoshi then held out her other hand to the boy. “I'm sorry about that. Please be careful, you could hurt yourself.”

Kyoshi tried giving him the kindest, softest expression she could muster. Regardless of how kind her face may look, people tended to assume she was overly aggressive just based on her height alone. She tried to overcompensate to not scare the boy.

The boy looked at Kyoshi's hand that was extended, then at the one that was still being held by Rangi. From where he sat, the boy took his wooden sword and slammed it into Kyoshi’s shin. Kyoshi let out a high pitch noise. She released Rangi's hand as she clutched at her shin and bounced on one leg.

“Quick, Chin! Let’s get out of here!” one of the other boys called after the one with the sword.

The boy named Chin scrambled to his feet as he ran off, yelling about how he’d conquered a giant. She had a feeling her stature wasn’t the cause of his outburst, but that he was just spoiled brat.

As he ran away, a part of Kyoshi couldn’t help but think his name was stupid. Did those kids just call him Chin, when they’re also part of the Chin clan? Or was Chin his first name? So his name was Chin Chin? The strangeness of it all was about to give Kyoshi a headache. 

“Hey! Get back here!” Rangi yelled at the boy, but Kyoshi grabbed her by the shoulder. Partially to keep Rangi from making a scene, but mostly for Kyoshi to keep her balance.

“Rangi, it’s fine. Don’t leave me here alone,” Kyoshi said pitifully. 

Rangi sighed, annoyed, and helped hobble Kyoshi over to a nearby bench. “You know this is just reinforcing why I’m afraid to leave you alone. First Earth Kingdom peasants can out bend you. Now random eleven year olds with wooden swords are ready to take you out!”

Kyoshi grinned. “Oh no! Looks like I’m just going to need to be glued to you at the hip at this rate.”

“I bet you’d enjoy that,” Rangi smirked at her. “Wait here, I’m going to get some ice.” Kyoshi gave her a pitiful look in response. “Really, it’ll only be a second, I’m going right through this door.”

Kyoshi sat on the bench, trying to block out the pain of the welt forming on her leg. She looked around, and had a distinct feeling villagers of the village were staring at her. Among groups, from their stalls, and even through their windows. So many eyes, hidden in various crevices. And they felt like they were multiplying.

We should get out of here…..soon. Kyoshi thought. She didn’t have scopophobia, but most people started to develop some anxiety similar to that the longer they stayed in the village. 

When Rangi came back into view, Kyoshi’s worries didn’t ease as much as she thought they would upon seeing the firebender. If anything, she got more anxious. Afraid of what they could do to Rangi.

Rangi held some ice wrapped in cloth. Without being prompted, Kyoshi began to roll up her pant leg, a nasty bruise started to form, it hurt as badly as it looked. Rangi knelt down and gently pressed the ice to Kyoshi’s leg.

“Tch, that brat, why I-”

“Rangi, it’s fine,” Kyoshi tried to soothe. It really wasn’t but…. she really didn’t want either of them to get into a fight with a child. Especially if it got back to Jianzhu and Hei-Ran.

Rangi moved the ice around, trying to find the best angle that would cover most of the wound. “I have half a mind to drop him into the ocean……”

“Rangi…..” Kyoshi bemoaned. “Dropping people into the ocean is bad.”

Rangi gave Kyoshi a deadpanned look. “Not for me.”

Kyoshi needed to come up with something to distract Rangi. Lest her girlfriend spent the nights delivering sweet justice to annoying children as the local boogeyman. 

Kyoshi looked down at the injury on her leg and started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Rangi asked.

Kyoshi took her injured leg and tapped Rangi lightly with it. “Hey look, we match,” Kyoshi laughed.

“This isn't something I want to match,” Rangi pouted. 

Kyoshi ignored her. “It’s the same leg and even the same spot. The only difference is that you’re the one on your knees this time.” Kyoshi couldn’t help but smirk a bit at her little innuendo at the end, waiting for Rangi’s reaction.

Rangi bit her lip, as if biting back a smile. “Ok, I’ll admit, I do like seeing you on your knees.”

“Is it because it makes you feel taller?” Kyoshi couldn’t help but joke. Rangi lost her fight and smiled, then she smacked Kyoshi’s good knee.

“Though, I do wish we were in your room doing this. I kind of like this new angle of you.” Rangi tilted her head to accentuate her point. Kyoshi watched as the angle moved the dark tressels of her hair to the side, and revealed her smooth, pale neck. Almost like she was offering it to Kyoshi.

“Oh?” Kyoshi inquired. Pleased to see where this conversation was going.

“It makes me want to try something,” Rangi batted her eyelashes at Kyoshi. She placed one hand on Kyoshi’s knee, to onlookers it looked like it was an act to steady herself as she remained squatted down. But she let her thumb wander farther in to graz Kyoshi’s inner thigh.l

Kyoshi’s face blazed a glowing red as she stood up suddenly, ignoring the pain in her leg. She was excited to find out what it was. “Will the carriage do?”

Rangi’s smile grew. “It’s a little cramped but maybe we can make do? I’m sure we can find something else to do if it’s not possible.” 

Kyoshi grabbed Rangi’s hand, and the two hurried back to the carriage. The pain in Kyoshi’s leg quickly became an afterthought.

_____________________

“Kyoshi, your hands are…. so…. warm!” Rangi moaned into the crown of Kyoshi’s head as she gripped Kyoshi’s hair tightly, pushing the maid’s head harder into her chest. Kyoshi was thankful the firebender removed her armor again, it was a lot more pleasant for her to have face shoved into Rangi’s soft chest rather than a metal plate.

Unfortunately for the two of them, the carriage was too packed to try what Rangi wanted to do. But Kyoshi had found she was able to continue where she left off from the night prior. Which was a good trade all things considered.

And that’s how they got into this new position. Rangi straddling Kyoshi’s lap, and Kyoshi’s hand down Rangi’s waistband. Trying to keep the firebender anchored was about as much of a struggle as keeping her quiet.

The carriage hit a bump, which caused fingers and other body parts to slam into new spots, and shift a little harder than the rhythm was previously established. Rangi let out another moan, this one much too loud.

Kyoshi made a mental note of where her fingers were, so she could try to recreate that again at a later time.

“Rangi,” Kyoshi pulled her face away just enough so words could be heard and formed. “You…. need to be…more…quiet…. Or the driver might stop us…..again!”

She felt Rangi’s chin bob up and down, but Kyoshi had a feeling she wasn’t really listening. Kyoshi should probably change tactics before they had another close call. 

If the small sane part of Kyoshi was keeping track of time correctly, and she probably wasn’t, they were about an hour away from Yokoya. Which meant…..they had an hour to look presentable again. Which meant….they should stop. 

With a forlorn sigh and great difficulty, Kyoshi removed her hand from Rangi’s pants.

“Don’t stop!” Rangi whined, and Kyoshi almost complied. She felt Rangi pull away and lift Kyoshi’s face up to look at her. “Please, don’t stop.” As she spoke, a small puff of steam escaped her lips.

Kyoshi gazed at Rangi revantly. Rangi’s eyes were soft and melting like liquid honey, her hair was loose and coming undone, and her face had a light sheen from sweat and steam that she had been creating. She looked like a mess, and Kyoshi loved it. 

“You’re a mess,” she smiled, breathless. 

“Only because you made me like this,” Rangi whispered back. 

Kyoshi forgot what she was supposed to not do, and leaned up to kiss Rangi. Rangi met her halfway with a steamy, open mouth kiss. It felt like they were exchanging the steam between them. Exchanging their heat. If Kyoshi had the ability to think at that moment, she would’ve wondered how she could be matching a firebender’s warmth like that. 

The kiss broke when the carriage hit another rough bump, sending Rangi almost flying. Kyoshi snagged her around the waist and kept her anchored with one hand, and used her other hand to stop one of the stacked packages from falling on them with the other. And then had to repeat the process when the carriage hit another bump.

“He could make the ride a little smoother,” Rangi grumbled as she shifted off of Kyoshi.

Kyoshi laughed as they began fixing themselves up. She leaned over and drew the window curtain back and opened the window to let the heat escape. 

“Maybe we should open the door too? Just a crack?” Rangi proposed as she tied one of the knots on her armor in place. Then she started fanning herself.

Kyoshi did as she asked. “What? Can’t take the heat? Then why do you generate so much?” Kyoshi laughed.

Rangi blushed. “I-I don’t know, I’ve never emitted this much before. Not even when I was angry.” 

So Rangi was like this because Kyoshi had that effect on her? Well that was some of the best news Kyoshi had heard in the past month.

Kyoshi finished propping the door open. Just as she opened her mouth to tease Rangi some more, she felt her body fly back from the sudden jolt in the carriage as it started barreling down the road. 

Kyoshi threw herself over Rangi as packages started to fall, the door to the carriage flinging open and closed until it finally stayed closed from a stray package falling in front of it. 

The vehicle felt like it was out of control, or maybe something worse.

“What’s going on?!” Rangi bellowed to the driver. Kyoshi hoped the man was still at the helm

“D-daofe!” He screeched.

Kyoshi felt Rangi throw them to the ground, or really on top of the sprawled out packages. There was a twump on the seat they were just sitting on, and Kyoshi looked up to see an arrow poking through the seat. 

“Kyoshi, whatever you do, do not leave this cart!” Rangi whispered in Kyoshi’s ear. Then she twisted around, threw her leg forward, and kicked the carriage door back open before jumping out before Kyoshi processed what was going on.

Before Kyoshi could decide if she wanted to follow Rangi’s order or not, the carriage took a hard turn and flew her to the other side away from the door. She caught a long box that landed on her stomach. The carriage kept moving side to side, flinging Kyoshi all around, until the feeling of weightlessness hit her. 

She and the packages started to float and then gravity kicked in. The cart and everything inside slammed to the ground, Kyoshi becoming sandwiched between the cart and multiple packages and crates. 

Kyoshi felt the carriage wobble left and right. It wasn’t going to remain upturned for long. When the carriage started to tip towards the door, she threw herself out of it, taking some of the packages with her. 

Kyoshi hit the ground with a hard thump, the long package that she caught earlier falling out of her arms next to her. Not long after she hit the ground she heard a crash. Kyoshi looked up and saw the carriage a splintered mess against a boulder and a tree. 

Kyoshi tried to sit up and found herself extremely dizzy. She felt something warm running down her neck and put a hand to her head. It was wet. 

Not good. She thought as she pulled her hand away and saw the red on her hand.

The sound of a tree branch snapping caught Kyoshi’s attention. Her head whipped around to a treeline, hoping to see Rangi. Instead, a tall tattooed man brandishing a bagua dao sword stepped out from between the bushes. 

The daofei grinned wildly when his eyes fell on Kyoshi. Dread shot through Kyoshi, not because a daofei was approaching her, but because she saw him wipe blood off of his sword. 

Where’s Rangi?! She screamed in her head, trying to strain her ears for the familiar blast of fire being combusted through the air. But all she could really hear was the ringing in her head. 

“Well look what we have here,” the daofei snickered as he approached Kyoshi. Kyoshi was able to get into a sitting position, but she was in no shape to stand just yet. 

The man raised his sword above his head. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Kyoshi quickly grabbed the long box that was near her, and held it above her head with both hands. The sword came down and the box stopped it with a metal clang!

“What?!” the daofei yelled. And then he proceeded to let off a series of swings at Kyoshi. Kyoshi tried her best to block each one, fairly easy since the barrage came down at similar angles. As if he was just playing with her, wanting to tire her out. But each hit was met with another metal clang, and the blade never slashed through whatever was blocking the sword. 

The man stopped, breathing heavily but with a smile still on his face. Kyoshi felt her grip on the package slipping and realized he’d decimated the box completely. She tried to regain her grip on the box, but cut her hand on the object inside, causing the box to drop on her lap.

She looked down, and saw Tagaka’s iconic green jian sword. Kyoshi’s eyes widened as she realized this must’ve been what Jianzhu made Rangi drop off the day prior. He wanted it to be looked over by the expert smithies from Hongcun. 

Kyoshi began to pick the sword up by its hilt as she crawled away. She was going to need more space if she was going to have a chance of standing up to fight back.

The man let her crawl away while laughing, it was obvious he didn’t see Kyoshi as a threat. She stood up and held the sword out in front of her.

The daofei’s laughter grew more boisterous as he saw her ready the sword, and slowly started walking towards her. “Aw, that’s cute. You think you can fight back?”

He quickly rushed her and swung his sword at hers. She barely had to move to block the oncoming attacks, he was hitting her sword on purpose. After a few hits, Kyoshi understood why. The vibrations of the metal hitting each other were too foreign and numbing for her as it radiated through her arms. She wasn’t going to be able to hold the sword for much longer.

“You’re holding out longer than that firebender!” the daofei jeered gleefully at Kyoshi.

Kyoshi felt a surge of fury rise through her at the mention of Rangi. She slammed her foot down to anchor herself, and pushed with the sword. “What did you do to Rangi?!”

To the man’s surprise, he started to be pushed back, but only a little. While Kyoshi had height on him, he had more muscle than her.

The daofei’s smirk became strained. “Oh the firegirl? Don’t worry, you’ll see her soon. We’re all going to have a lot of fun-argh!”

Kyoshi’s eyes felt like the sun glared right into her eyes, and a surge of strength hit her as at that instant. She threw her whole weight and strength against the man and flung him back.

She went to pursue the man, to follow up her attack, but when she put her other foot forward, her leg buckled. It was the leg she’d injured earlier. 

She caught herself by stabbing the ground with Tagaka’s sword. Her legs bent into a deep stance as her arms gripped the sword for support.

The daofei picked himself back up, but instead of readying his sword, he dropped into a stance himself. “I like a girl with a little fight in her!” He thrusted his arm forward and a large boulder soared through the air at Kyoshi.

Kyoshi felt the sun’s blinding light hit her eyes again, and the surge of strength hit her once more. She took one hand off the sword’s hilt, and thrusted a palm outward. She felt a push as she made contact with her natural element, stopping the boulder midair. 

“Geh?! What?!” the daofei yelled, unable to budge the earth she now controlled.

Kyoshi clenched her hand into a fist, and with the last of her strength, twisted her torso and the rest of her body downward, her fist colliding with the ground below her.

The boulder slammed into the ground with ease, and soon sank into the pit that was created by a fissure that appeared in the ground. A fissure that started at Kyoshi’s fist, and branched outward as the earth shook. 

The daofei screamed in terror, and scrambled to get out of the way of the growing hole. She watched through blurred vision as the man ran off into the forest. Kyoshi wanted to find Rangi or go after the man, but she felt her body slowly sinking to the side. Exhausted. 

As her vision started to waver further, she saw fur Water Tribe boots walk into the corner of her vision.

“Don’t worry, kid,” a gentle, deep voice with a thick accent spoke to her. “Everything’s going to be just fine. Rest.”

Kyoshi lost consciousness just as she was hit with intense déjà vu.

_________

A familiar brown ceiling came into view as Kyoshi opened her eyes. Déjà vu.

She felt warm, warmer than usual. Déjà vu. 

But it wasn’t the air, this time it felt like it came from the weight of something on top of her. Multiple blankets. Not déjà vu. 

She turned her head to find someone familiar sitting there. Déjà vu. 

But it wasn’t Rangi this time. Not déjà vu. 

“Kyoshi!” Kelsang cried as she turned to him. He looked like he’d aged since she last saw him. Strange….. He looked better this morning.

“W-he-” Kyoshi’s voice cracked. Dried out. Déjà vu. But she pushed through. “Where’s Rangi?”

Kelsang took a glass from nearby and helped Kyoshi drink it. Déjà vu. “She’s fine, she’s resting in her room. I’ve ordered her and Yun to stay out of here until you’ve recovered.”

Kyoshi felt her being lightened a bit, knowing Rangi was alright. Then her morale sank when she realized she couldn’t see the girl just yet. 

“I’m awake now, so can I see-”

Kelsang shook his head. “No, Kyoshi. We need the healer to look you over first.”

“Why? I feel fine!” That was a lie, she felt tired. Very tired. She was fighting a war against sleep and was losing. Stupid body, stay awake. You just woke up!

“Kyoshi, you’ve been asleep for three days!” Déjà vu.

Hasn’t this happened before? What’s going on?

“Kyoshi, what happened?” Kelsang asked. He placed his hand over hers in a soothing fashion. 

Kyoshi’s mouth started to speak before her murky mind caught up to her. “Our carriage was attacked by daofei? Rangi and I got separated. I was in a crash…. Then a daofei caught up to me, and we fought. I think I used a sword to defend myself at some point? And then we fought with earthbending. And I….I guess I used up too much energy?” 

Kelsang pursed his lips and nodded. “Do you know who made that fissure?”

Fissure? Kyoshi wracked her brain, but nothing came up. “The two of us? I’m not sure. A lot was happening really fast.” 

Kelsang nodded and smiled, then he stroked the top of her head. The sensation made her relax, but that relaxation made her slip more into sleepiness.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Safe. Right, she couldn’t sleep until she saw Rangi. She needed to see with her own eyes that she was safe too. “Kelsang, please, I need to see Rangi.”

Kelsang’s smile grew a little sadder. “Kyoshi, I think even if I ran to get her right now, you’d fall back asleep before she’d arrive.”

Kyoshi shook her head, the energy it took made her eyes feel heavier. “No, I’ll stay awake. Please, go get her….”

“She’s busy at the moment, Kyoshi.”

Busy? But I thought you said she was in her room resting. Kyoshi could feel the world dizzying around her. “Bus-but….you said she was-” she slurred

“Shhhh,” Kelsang hushed. He pulled one of the blankets back over Kyoshi’s shoulders. “She’ll still be here when you wake up. Just rest for now, dear.”

The panic in Kyoshi’s being was taken alongside her consciousness, as sleep hooked its claws into both of them, and sunk them down to the dark abyss.

_______________

The people who were there when Kyoshi woke up were Auntie Mui, a Water Tribe woman, and, once again, Kelsang.

According to Kelsang, Kyoshi and Rangi were lucky that one of their visitors to the mansion had happened to be a healer. That was the reason Kyoshi didn’t have any major wounds when she woke up. He consoled her that Rangi had also gotten her own treatment as well.

The Water Tribe woman stated she couldn’t find anything wrong with Kyoshi, only that her chi had been diminished to a dangerous state the other day. Which is why she was unconscious for almost four days straight. 

So Kyoshi really had just exhausted herself. Considering she wasn’t a fighter, that alone explained itself.

Kyoshi spent the rest of the day in the infirmary, attempting to grill Kelsang and Auntie Mui about what had been going on while she was asleep.

The two remained tightlipped regarding most things. And they still wouldn’t let Rangi nor Yun come in and visit her. 

The only thing she got out of them was that because of the attack, they’d found out there were daofei skulking about the area much closer to home than Jianzhu was comfortable with. So he was out leading a charge to find their hideout.

Yun was training with Hei-Ran, or he was talking to the Water Tribe ambassadors that had come to visit for tips on waterbending. Kyoshi could only assume Rangi was either with Yun, or still in her room.

But now, Kyoshi had to sit in the infirmary, while she watched Kelsang and Auntie Mui play pai sho. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Kyoshi asked the two elders in front of her. She couldn’t help but feel like she was on house arrest. This entire thing felt like a punishment.

“Goodness! No! Why would you think that?” Auntie Mui comforted her.

Kyoshi’s brow furrowed. If Kyoshi wasn’t the one being punished then….. “Then, did Rangi do something wrong?”

The two went silent and looked at each other. Kyoshi could feel each individual hair on her skin prickle. A foreboding sneaking up on her. One that had been in the room with her for a good while, but she was only now fully realizing its presence. 

“No,” Kelsang said, resolved in his declaration. “No she didn’t, Kyoshi.”

 Kyoshi’s heart began to speed out of control. Something didn’t feel right in that statement. Something had been off in the estate for a while, and she just didn’t understand it yet. She still didn’t understand it. “Then, do other people think Rangi did something wrong?” 

Kelsang’s face faltered. “Well-”

“Why? What happened?!” Kyoshi made a move to jump out of the bed, but Kelsang put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back in.

“She let the daofei go,” he sighed.

Kyoshi blinked, confused. “Why?” Rangi hated daofei about as much as Kyoshi did, it didn’t make sense she would let any of them slip by her. 

“To save you. She went to get help because she wanted to save you,” he said warmly, but there was some sadness in his eyes. “She chose to save a companion rather than exact revenge, or to save some meaningless cargo.”

“Not meaningless to some, unfortunately,” Auntie Mui grumbled. Auntie Mui slammed a tile down onto the pai sho board. “She saved two lives, but-” She didn’t finish her sentence, just let out a stream of grumbles as she massaged her temple. 

Kyoshi’s eyes widened. Two? “The driver’s ok?” 

Kelsang nodded with a warm smile. Kyoshi breathed a sigh of relief, then a wave of remorse flooded her. She had forgotten all about the man. 

Kyoshi’s hands curled into fists over her blanket. “I don’t understand, why is she in trouble?” Saving a comrade, or just anyone’s life in general, shouldn’t that be rewarded? Not punished?

Kelsang sighed. “She was assigned to protect the cargo first, and hunt down enemies second. Anything else was supposed to be ranked last in her duty.”

Kyoshi’s jaw flexed. She was angry. Angry at what Rangi’s duty entailed for that mission. And angry at herself, because she had caused issues for Rangi……

If only Kyoshi knew how to fight, then today might’ve gone differently. It most certainly was a wake up call for her. 

Kelsang put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. Just a little reprimand. If it makes you feel better, I’ll throw all this weight around just to make sure she gets off easy!” Kelsang stood up and swung his body side to side, making a show to grab at his stomach. 

Kyoshi and Auntie Mui laughed at his antics. And Kyoshi let the gnawing sensation subside. At least, until later.

_______________________________

That night, once everyone was asleep, Auntie Mui and Kelsang helped Kyoshi back to her room. Auntie Mui made a show to tuck her into bed, and told her if she needed anything to just knock on her door. 

Kyoshi went along with it, and pretended to fall asleep. She waited until they left, and she heard their footsteps disappear down the hall.

When she knew the coast was clear, her eyes flew open, and she hurried to get ready. If Rangi couldn’t come to her, then she was going to Rangi! She was going to try her own hand at sneaking to Rangi’s room.

Kyoshi flung her door open, and almost screamed as she almost barreled into someone in front of her.

Rangi took a step back in shock, her hand was raised to knock on the door. The same hand flew to Rangi’s heart as she gasped, “You scared me-”

Before Rangi could finish her sentence, Kyoshi grabbed the firebender by the tunic, and comically yanked her into the bedroom; right into a crushing hug. 

Kyoshi felt Rangi’s arms flail about for a moment as she buried her face into Rangi’s soft hair. Then once Rangi regained some of her footing, she returned the hug just as fiercely. She wrapped her arms around Kyoshi and clutched at her back.

“I’ve missed you…..” Kyoshi whispered.

Rangi’s response was just one sharp intake of breath, then her body shook. Kyoshi hugged her tighter until the tremors subsided.

“Kyoshi….” Rangi began, breathless. “I keep messing things up…..”

Kyoshi shook her head. “No, you haven't.” Maybe there was more than what Kyoshi knew what was going on, but she would fight anyone who made Rangi feel like she did anything wrong.

Rangi hiccuped out a sob. “No, I mean it, I-”

Before Rangi could finish her sentence, Kyoshi dipped her head down and silenced Rangi with her lips. It was wet, and definitely the coldest kiss the two had shared yet. But it didn’t diminish any of the comfort that it gave. 

Rangi returned the kiss as delicately as Kyoshi had given it, but then gently pushed Kyoshi away when she started sobbing into her lips. 

“You haven’t messed anything up,” Kyoshi reassured her. 

Rangi brought her forearm to her face, and tried rubbing the tears away. Her sobs were broken up with bubbles of laughter in between breaths, “I’m such a mess.”

“I don’t mind. I kind of like it,” she chuckled.

Another hiccup. “You deserve better.”

Kyoshi frowned, not that Rangi could see it. Kyoshi wasn’t sure if she even deserved Rangi. A ray of sunshine that did nothing but provide warmth and light for her. Better? How could anything be better than Rangi herself? 

“I don’t think there’s anything better, cause you’re the best!” Kyoshi said enthusiastically, trying to cheer Rangi up. 

Rangi let out a scoff so poignant, Kyoshi could visualize an eyeroll. “‘The best,’ what kind of best can’t even protect her own girlfriend?”

Kyoshi took one of Rangi’s hands and held it. “You can say the same about me,” Kyoshi laughed. “I was trying to make my way to you and I ended up snoozing on the forest floor.”

“You wouldn't have had to try to get to me if I wasn’t such a-” Rangi stopped herself. Kyoshi had a feeling Rangi was going to call herself a ‘failure,’ and that alone twisted Kyoshi’s heart into a knot. “Mess. If I wasn’t such a mess.”

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “You keep calling yourself that, why?”

“You don’t like messes,” Rangi mumbled. “You’re such a clean freak….”

“A clean freak?” Kyoshi asked with amusement.

“I like that about you. Your tidiness. It’s nice. Very orderly.” Kyoshi could hear a pout in her voice.

“Well, this clean freak still wants this mess,” Kyoshi giggled and kissed the palm of Rangi’s hand. “I still want you.”

Rangi finally pulled her face away from her arm and looked at Kyoshi. Kyoshi’s breath hitched. The tears had stopped but it left behind a sheen that made her face glow. The flush from crying painted her face with a pretty shade of pink, and it accentuated the darkness of her eyelashes. It was so unfair, having a girlfriend who was such a pretty crier. 

But behind the tear stained pretty face, laid eyes that were still unsure and full of fear. Kyoshi wanted to incinerate that fear off the face of the planet.

She placed Rangi’s hand over her chest so she could feel her steady heartbeat. To let Rangi know what she was about to say was the complete and whole truth. “I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re a mess. I wouldn’t care if you went and messed up the entire world. I love you, Rangi.”

Maybe she was jumping the gun on what this new feeling was. But Kyoshi knew deep in her being, what she felt for Rangi was love. It was new. It was reckless. It was foolish. It was raw. But it was true.

Kyoshi watched as the fear and anxiety left Rangi’s eyes like dust in the wind. Then she watched as her face melted into unbridled joy. And then watched as that same face disappeared into Kyoshi’s chest as Rangi wrapped her arms around Kyoshi in a tight embrace.

“Oh, Kyoshi!”

Kyoshi laughed as she hugged Rangi back, she felt almost like air itself. “Hey, I just poured my heart out, don’t leave me hang-”

Rangi pulled away and leaned her face upwards as she caressed Kyoshi’s cheek. Then she pulled Kyoshi’s face down into a deliberate, slow kiss. A smoldering warmth slowly but surely spread out from where their lips met to the rest of their being.

“I love you, Kyoshi,” Rangi whispered into Kyoshi’s lips when she pulled away for some air.

The smolder turned into a spark and quickly became a wildfire. Kyoshi quickly used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, spurred on even more with the way Rangi tangled her fingers into Kyoshi’s hair. The temperature in the room started to rise rapidly, and with it, each kiss felt like a hot brand. 

Kyoshi pushed Rangi up against the door, letting their bodies mold into one another. Kyoshi felt Rangi’s hands fumbling with the front of Kyoshi’s nemaki. Kyoshi took a step back, with one hand she helped Rangi with the obi, and the other found its way to the door’s lock. She didn’t want anyone interrupting them tonight.

______________________________

Kyoshi laid in her bed a changed person. She was certain of it. She remembered how the other maids talked and gossiped about how sex, love and intimacy could do such a thing. And now Kyoshi was certain……….

Kyoshi was certain this isn’t what they had in mind.

“Kyoshi…..” Rangi’s voice whispered, a bit frantic. 

Kyoshi couldn’t move. She forgot how to move. She was feeling too many things at the moment, good and bad, euphoria and dread. So she just continued to stare at the ceiling, horrified. She could feel something gnawing at the corners of her mind, a realization she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Kyoshi!” Rangi harshly whispered, a bit louder, as she shook Kyoshi. Kyoshi laid there, limply, still afraid to move.

“Kyoshi, look at me,” Rangi pleaded, gently placing a hand on Kyoshi’s cheek and forcing Kyoshi to look away from the scandal that laid above them on her ceiling. “What-”

“Rangi, please tell me that was you,” Kyoshi whispered. 

Rangi’s face relaxed, relieved to see Kyoshi wasn’t broken and could talk. Then she closed her eyes and sighed, a little exasperated. “Kyoshi, my face was down there.”

Kyoshi groaned. “Well….could it be some kind of…..special firebending technique?”

Rangi scoffed. “Like what?”

“I-I don’t know! Maybe you did something and firebended through me?”

“From down there?”

“Y-yes?”

“I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure whatever you’re thinking would’ve resulted in burnt innards.”

“But it doesn’t make sense! Y-you’re the only firebender here! Why is my ceiling scorched?!” Kyoshi cried, a little too loudly. Eyes flitted to her ceiling where a new black circle resided directly above Kyoshi’s head.

Rangi cupped Kyoshi’s cheek with her hand, and rubbed soothing circles with her thumb. “Shh, I know it doesn’t make sense…..” she trailed off. Possibly trying to figure out how to make sense of what happened herself. Apparently, she couldn’t come up with anything.

They laid there like that for a while. Kyoshi, too scared to move. Rangi, rubbing soothing motions along Kyoshi’s cheek. Finally, after gathering her thoughts, Rangi found the courage to speak again. “Kyoshi…..you…. You firebent!”

Kyoshi didn’t say anything. Kyoshi thought the thing she had to worry about coming out of her mouth most were moans, not fire! This wasn’t in any of ‘The Talks’ she had with Auntie Mui or the other maids!

“But….how?” 

Rangi inhaled. “Do you…. Do you know if one of your parents were firebenders?”

Kyoshi shook her head. “No, my father was an Earthbender, and my mother was an Airbender. I’m pretty sure there’s no firebending lineage in my family.”

Rangi looked at Kyoshi, shocked. “Wait, airbender?”

Shoot. Kyoshi had slipped up. This was a wound Kyoshi didn't like to acknowledge, nor was she in the mindset to open up about it yet. Especially not right now.

“Why haven’t you ever mentioned this before?”

Kyoshi looked away, ashamed. A secret Kyoshi didn't want to share. One she was comfortable taking to the grave.

Something in Kyoshi’s expression must’ve discouraged Rangi from pressing further. “Nevermind, we can discuss that later. First we need to figure out this whole firebending fiasco.”

Rangi rolled onto her back, her arm snaked its way under Kyoshi’s neck, and urged Kyoshi to cuddle into her. Kyoshi complied, nuzzling into Rangi’s neck. 

Rangi stared up at the ceiling, as if the scorch mark that she coaxed out of Kyoshi moments earlier would be able to tell her the answers. After a few moments, Rangi gasped. “Spirits above! Forget firebending. How is it you can both earth and firebend?!”

Kyoshi grew stiff. The nagging feeling that had been gnawing at her, had finally clamped its jaws down fully. 

“I….I don’t know!” Kyoshi forced out. 

No one in history had been able to bend more than one element…..except for one person. 

“Kyoshi I think you’re-”

“Don’t say it,” Kyosh nuzzled harder into Rangi. She could feel herself leaving the ground, and needed her girlfriend to be her rock.

“But then that means…..” Rangi didn’t finish the sentence, but there was a seriousness in her voice. Kyoshi could feel Rangi’s body tense as she gripped Kyoshi tighter. More secure. Then she rubbed small soothing circles into her back, as if she could feel Kyoshi’s anxiety rippling out of her. 

A lot of time passed before Rangi spoke up again.

“Come on, let’s get dressed,” Rangi said as she rolled out from under Kyoshi, and off of her bed.

Kyoshi stared at her bug eyed. “W-what? Where are we going?”

Rangi placed a hand on her chin, thoughtfully. “We’re going to…..do a little experiment.”

End Arc 1: The Poem 

Interlude: Rangi’s Side 

_____

A/N: Me, writing the phrase "firebending fiasco”: hey that kinda sounds like “fire sage fiasco”.......this was unintentional but I'm not gonna change it.

Y’know, it HAS been bothering me with the whole Chin thing…..esp after reading RoK. I always thought Chin was his first name, but then there’s the whole “Chin Clan”....so is it a Mario Mario type deal? Or do we not know his first name? I have so many questions u_u

………….. Oh that’s NOT what everyone wants to talk about? “Salty, was that a …fire orgasm? WHy?????” Eyyyyyyy gotta keep you on your toes! >:3c Bet you weren’t expecting this plot development/twist! jaksdfj Fiiiiiine. I thought it’d be funny. (ﾉ≧ڡ≦) (no come back I have a lot of legit serious reasons TT0TT/ but first…..)

Listen, everyone always uses “fire coming out of the mouth” for orgasms in the spicy Rangshi fics, so I decided to play it for a little dramady…… cause I have the humor of a high schooler I guess. TT0TT (in my defense, whenever I see it I tend to cackle cause I can’t really take it seriously dsiljfaklj *sobs* not to discourage from people from doing it, I get the intent and roll with it….but I also think it’s kiiiiiiinda funny)

“So why was this T before M?” Cause alluding to sex is “T” I believe, but then I needed to like…….build up to that moment….. And building up can easily cross it over into M territory (even if I didn’t feel like I was getting that graphic….at first…. u_u). Amazing how I could forget I should do such a thing! :’D Tbh the build up moments weren’t fully conceptualized until I was in the middle of writing so ummmmm yeah. 8U Oops. orz

I mean, I guess I could’ve just jumped to that scene after a “after a few weeks passed” but….that didn’t seem like it was good narrative build up….but I already committed to the twist, which mean slowly building up to that part TT0TT Which meant....~spice~ (I'm not used to writing spice TT0TT)

OK OK BUT FOR REAL FOR REAL! Other than it being kind of a humorous/unique/surprising way of finding out your the Avatar, and integrating it deeply with the Rangshi love story (which is the main focus of this fic, even more so than the other ones I’ve written imo). It was also one of the few ways I could see a reveal happening between the two without other witnesses around. So while I did all that, it was in service to the plot/characters for a reason.

*inhales*.......Ok time to see how much of a mess Rangi’s side is! ─=≡Σ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[donutdrawsthings]

Hi, I’m really enjoying your old school Dr Who fan art! The original series has so many great ideas and iconic moments - I might have to make some of my own!

thank you!! :oD I would love to see it tbh!

And IKR?? I vividly remember my first impression of Classic Who. I didn't bother to look into it because for the longest time I assumed the acting, especially in the black n white era, would be very stilted and unrelatable to me bc of how long ago it was filmed. I only considered watching it for the novelty of it and to get a bit of doctor who history... Never in my years did I expect to love it as much as I did!!!

Even more hilariously, I thought the 2nd doctor would be very formal and a bit grumpy. And like, overall a character I wouldn't enjoy. Can you imagine that HAHA! He's my favourite Doctor EVER now!

[justajsworkshop]

Hey, I wanted to share something with you to see if you can help me figure out what’s going on with me. You know how I can manifest “small” things, right? Well, I want to figure out how to do the same with the “big” ones.

So, every manifestation I’ve had so far at least since I learned about the Law of Attraction or Assumption has been for small things. Things I honestly don’t care that much about whether they show up or not.

For example, like six days ago, I saw this super cute shirt at Bershka. It was $30, and I thought, “Oh, that’s so nice, I’d love to have it.” But literally, I forgot about it. I didn’t think about it again, didn’t affirm, didn’t visualize, didn’t listen to subliminals, didn’t do any technique. Nothing. I just forgot about it because I didn’t see it as a big deal.

Then, 3 or 4 days later, my dad came home and handed me the exact same shirt I wanted. And I was like, “Wait, WHAT? How?” It was such a weird moment, and it made me think about all the other times this has happened—when I’ve manifested these “small” things, stuff that honestly doesn’t matter to me that much, like food, clothes, money, or even the phone I have right now.

I call them “small” because, compared to the big things I actually want in life, they’re nothing. They feel so insignificant to me that I don’t even bother to focus on them.

But here’s the frustrating part: why don’t my “big” desires manifest the same way? With the big ones, I put in time, energy, and effort. I do routines, techniques, listen to subliminals, affirm, visualize… and still, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a single sign.

It’s like, why? It feels unfair. Like when you study so much for an exam while your classmate is out partying and posting pictures on Instagram. Then exam day comes, and you fail, and they pass. And when you ask how they did it, they’re like, “Oh, I didn’t study.” That’s exactly how it feels.

When I do nothing, I get what I want but only with things I don’t really care about. But the things I truly want, the ones that actually matter to me, they never show up.

So, I’m starting to think that maybe this whole “letting go” thing is my way of manifesting at least for small stuff. But why can’t I apply that same approach to the big desires? What am I doing wrong? How can I take that same “whatever” attitude and use it for the big things I care about?

Oh, and another thing that happens to me is that sometimes I dream about super random stuff that I don’t even want, and then it manifests in real life a day or two later. And I’m like, “Seriously? THIS shows up, but the thing I’ve been wanting for MONTHS doesn’t?

I don’t know, what do you think? Does any of this make sense? Sorry if I’m rambling or if something sounds weird I’m still trying to explain myself properly.

Thank you ✨💋

congratulations on sending what i'm pretty sure is the longest ask i've ever received lol. no one feel compelled to beat this record, please.

ok, so, i'm going to answer this ONCE, mostly so i never have to do it again. but tbh, you've really answered your own question here, and in this obnoxiously long response, i am going to detail why.

why do i manifest the small things but not the big things? the things i really care about?

let me bring us back to the foundations of what people call "manifestation." effort does not manifest. I AM doesn't operate under compulsion. a certain number of affirmations does not manifest. manifestation is instant to I AM awareness. time does not manifest. everything is only ever in the now to I AM.

so... if it's not 10k affirmations, if it's not a 7 day challenge, if it's not trying hard to be the best and study big for your "test" (i'll get more on this analogy you've used here because it's an interesting one), what the fuck does manifest? what is the mode of operation by which manifestation occurs?

YOU, as awareness.

you do not manifest what you tried the hardest for. you have proven that to yourself now. you manifest who and what you are conscious of being. and this is why i am ALWAYS asking on this blog: who do you say you are? whatsoever you add to the holy name of I AM is what you manifest. because YOU are reality. how you experience yourself and how you perceive yourself IS the reality you give yourself.

THERE IS NO SEPARATION. your experience of self is reality; therefore, you are reality.

take a step back and re-read your ask and tell me: who does this person say they are? because you're literally affirming that:

every manifestation I’ve had so far has been for small things -> i only manifest what i deem as "small" is what i get. i do not get "big" things.

I’ve manifested these “small” things, stuff that honestly doesn’t matter to me that much -> i don't get the stuff i care about, and this is how i define "small" vs. "big." small stuff = stuff i don't care about. big stuff = stuff i do care about.

When I do nothing, I get what I want but only with things I don’t really care about. But the things I truly want, the ones that actually matter to me, they never show up. -> doing nothing manifests for me BUT it's conditional upon the fact that i don't get what i truly want/deem important. i do not get what i really want. i don't have what i really want. all this "small stuff" that i do manifest is not evidence that i can manifest; it's further evidence that i cannot manifest what i really want.

With the big ones, I put in time, energy, and effort. -> i perceive separation between me and the stuff i really want. my fulfillment of "important/big" desires is conditional upon my good behavior/obedience to methods and techniques. there is a rift of time, space, energy, effort, and suffering that exists between me and my desire.

Not even a single sign. -> i rely on my physical senses to validate me; therefore, i am bound to them. they are my master.

It’s like, why? It feels unfair. Like when you study so much for an exam while your classmate is out partying and posting pictures on Instagram. Then exam day comes, and you fail, and they pass. And when you ask how they did it, they’re like, “Oh, I didn’t study.” That’s exactly how it feels. -> i am a victim to my lack of fulfillment. i don't get what i want. i try, and i try, and i try. no matter how much i try, i am unfulfilled. everyone else gets everything they want, but i don't. i see other people and their success as evidence of my nonfulfillment and separation from my desire.

another thing that happens to me is that sometimes I dream about super random stuff that I don’t even want, and then it manifests in real life a day or two later. And I’m like, “Seriously? THIS shows up, but the thing I’ve been wanting for MONTHS doesn’t? -> i am seeing how my awareness manifests. if i am aware of something—whether in the waking dream or the sleeping dream—it is reflected back to me. just not the shit i really care about. every time i notice myself "manifesting," i am given evidence of how i don't have what i really want. i am waiting. all i do is wait. i am the wait. i wait. i am waiting (verb) but also I AM waiting (waiting is who i am).

let be clear in that you are not unfulfilled. this statement might offend your human sense of self, which is fine. but you are not unfulfilled because the true you behind all this mess is absolute, perfect, and total fulfillment. you, as pure I AM awareness, are simply aware of a self who identifies with ^this hot mess express^ of an unfulfilling narrative.

your narrative of being is what you give to yourself. therefore, this experience is a perfect manifestation of your narrative: i don't get what i really want. you are perceiving EVERYTHING through that lens.

on the other hand, if you were perceiving these "small" manifestations through the lens of fulfillment, they could just as easily BE SIGNS that you already have your shit. it's your perspective and attitude that's deeming them as meaningless, unfulfilling, and even mocking instead of further evidence of your power: mostly because you don't identify as powerful. you're identifying as a victim.

to god, there is no such thing as big or small. all things simply are. god is infinite. to the infinite, there is only infinite or finite. it's either god (the totality of all things) or a part of god (which is still ALL of god), but what i'm trying to get at here is that manifesting $1 vs $10 billion dollars is the same in the eyes of god because $1 is just as limiting as $10 billion dollars. limiting is just limiting to an infinite being. they're equally "limited"; you just get to choose which one you want to experience by directing your awareness to one versus the other.

if you're not familiar with the parable of the prodigal son from scripture, i recommend checking it out. the short version is that there's a younger son who demands that he get his inheritance from his father early. he takes that inheritance, runs off, then squanders it on shitty living. he comes back, miserable and not fulfilled, and his father is THRILLED up on his return. the father immediately asks for there to be a giant party and a feast, for his son was dead and is alive again.

the older son, however, is displeased, and he says, "i have been by your side this whole time. i've done everything you asked you of me. i've worked hard! i've been obedient! i've been doing all the things! and you've never given ME a party to celebrate with my friend. i didn't even demand my inheritance early and blow all that money on drugs and hookers like my stupid little brother. this is so unfair!"

(i mean... to paraphrase the bible lmaooo. but also, does this sound familiar?)

and you know what the father says to the older son? "son, you are always with me, and everything i have is yours."

the metaphysical translation of this is that you can go off and squander the inheritance of your I AM awareness (the god power in you through which all things are possible) on narratives that make you absolutely fucking miserable, but the moment you return to the knowing that you are god and one with god, the kingdom is YOURS.

in short: obedience means nothing to the law. this is the difference between being a pharisee who pursues following god's perfect law to the letter in hopes that he will be rewarded vs. being christ who is the law (law = lord), and therefore, he is all things.

you're seeking obedience as your lord and waiting for a treat. when god already gave you your reward by making you his only begotten child: pure awareness. for god so loved you that he made YOU aware of being (I AM), and as long as you believe in your awareness of being, you shall have eternal life. through your I AM awareness, you can have ANYTHING, DO ANYTHING, EXPERIENCE ANYTHING, BE ANYTHING. and it's your freewill to choose who you want to be aware of.

right now, you're aware of and identifying with a self who doesn't get what they want, especially if those desires are important to them. do you want to continue persisting in being aware of that version of self? or would you like to be aware of something new? because the moment you decide to be something/someone different, you are. it's in the very name: I AM.

the change that needs to happen is you. you are the change. you are the shift. you are the door to all that you desire, and what you need to change is this:

you need to start having faith in yourself as much as you have faith (rn) that you won't get what you want.

if you want to know more on how to understand your I AM awareness in plain terms, i have a bunch of options linked in my pinned post, and i have one in there on faith too that i think might help you (assuming you read this far).

tl;dr: the reason you manifest the small things and not the big ones is because you said that's what would happen. you said it via your conviction of being. and you can just as easily choose a new story if you're ready to begin experiencing something new.

[kayentokk]

MHA Boys X s/o with a fear of bugs

Pairing; Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijiro, Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shōto x GN! Reader. (Separate)

contains; fluff, bug killing

wc;1720

A/N; sorry! I haven’t posted in a while, Lowkey had writers block. I’m back though! :)

❀Katsuki Bakugo ❀

Tbh dudes a grump lyt but a grump

Prolly so done with you

Like he just woke up can’t even process wtf is goin on

He’s got sleep itis bad

He has to be in bed by 9:30 and wake up at 5 to train

Sleep is super important 

And you tell him it’s a bug

Like you woke me up and ruined my sleep schedule for a bug

He thinks ur kidding 

So done with you ngl

Eventually kills it

Not happy

:/ 5.5/10

❀”….ski…Kats…..ki!” Bakugo rolled over and tried to get comfortable again, tuning out the noises. Then the groggy feeling of being shook out of his sleep, his oh so wonderful sleep, hit him. “Hm,” he grunts almost questioningly. 

He wasn’t fully awake yet, he could save his sleep. If only you would stop fucking shaking him! 

“What woman?!” He said shaking you off of him and hurrying his face into his pillow.

“‘Tsuki! There’s a bug! In the bathroom, and I really gotta go!”

He does a full 360. He sits up, drags his hands over his face, and just looks at you. He’s just staring, almost into space, the worlds blankest stare. It’s in between morning confusion, anger, oblivion, and more confusion.

“…what?”

“It’s urgent! How many times do I have to say it! There’s a bug in the bathroom, and I needa go!”

“…you woke me up….for a bug?”

“Yes! A really big bug!”

He’s fuming mad, he seriously can’t believe you right now. A bug? Really?! He can’t even be bothered by this right now, so he simply lays back down and pulls the covers over his head. 

You immediately pull the covers back and shake him awake once again, “wake up you big lump! It’s almost time for you to get up anyways!”

“I still have,” he tilts his head towards the digital clock on his nightstand, “7 minutes.”

“Come on! The bug is gonna get away by then, please?!”

He drawls out the worlds longest sigh, and tussles out of the bed with an attitude. He grumbles all the way to the bathroom, ‘can’t believe y’woke me up for some dumb bug, he grumbles while he kills the bug, ‘all y’hafta do is smash it’, and while he walks back getting into bed with 5 minutes to spare, ‘wasn’t that fuckin hard’ 

“Thanks Kats!” You say enthusiastically.

“Yeah yeah, just go pee now, don’t wake me up again either.” 

He was not happy when his alarm clock rang five minutes later, and his sleep schedule was now two minutes off. ❀

❀ Todoroki Shōto ❀

He’s super chill about it ngl

You’re just over his house hanging out

It’s getting near night time tho so you tell him you’re finna shower

He hears this high pitched scream

Immediately thinks smth is wrong

Rushes to the rescue

Gets to the bathroom and is utterly confused

Till you step out the way and he sees the bug

You don’t even have to say anything

He quickly grabs a paper towel and disposes of it

:) 9/10 -1pt for killing it ig(for the bug lovers out there sorry)

❀ “Shō, I’m gonna go shower real quick. Then we can maybe watch a movie after?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll start looking for one.” 

You smile softly and begin to walk up the stairs where a lovely hot shower awaits you. Well not so lovely because the moment you pulled back the curtain, you screamed in horror. 

It was like a dark purple worm looking thing, and it was in the tub. Not even a minute later Todoroki makes his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. He didn’t even ask what was wrong, he quickly grabbed a paper towel and disposed of the bug. 

“It’s raining and cold out, all the bugs are finding their way in,” he said nonchalantly.

Afterward, you were too paranoid to take your shower though, so you had him do a full inspection of the bathroom, and you made him sit in the bathroom with you until you were done in the shower. ❀

❀ Izuku Midoriya ❀

He’s such a softie :(

He just can’t bring himself to kill it

Even though you’re standing on the couch 

Hiding behind a pillow 

Screaming ‘kill it! Kill it Zu please!’

He just can’t

Gently traps the bug in a cup

And releases it outside far away.

10/10

❀ “AHHHH!” 

“What?! What’s wrong y/n?!” Izuku rushed out of his room into the living room in a panic.

You’re shaking and pointing to the wall opposite from you, the one with the TV amounted onto it with various pictures of you and Izuku. 

“It’s a spider! Kill it! It’s so big, Izu!”

You’re standing on the couch at this point grasping the cute brown throw pillow for dear life. For a moment, Izuku finds this situation a little funny and kinda adorable. 

“Ok ok, calm down I’ll get it.”

He went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel but then he thought about that poor spider, and its-his- poor life. He switched out the paper towel for a cup, and came back to living room. He trapped the spider and waited for it to climb into the cup, and then he ran outside far away from the house, and set it free. ❀

❀ Eijiro Kirishima ❀

Now listen

He’s a super manly man and all

He’d do anything for you beautycool

But when you screamed ‘Eiji it’s a bug help!’

He bout lost his shit

He said

🏃‍♀️ 

Fuck a bug

Hell no

And he’s not doing it

This man-

Calls his best bakubro 

And asks him to come over

Just to kill a bug

You were so stuck on that the whole day

Even after Bakugo left right after killing the bug and almost killing Kirishima

That’s the day you learned that’s the only time he can’t help you

6/10 cuz at least the bug was gone

❀ “Eiji! Eiji help!”

He immediately rushes into the room, “what’s wrong?!” 

“There’s a bug! Eiji! Kill it!”

My boy does a full 180 and runs out the room.

“Eiji! What are you doing?!” You shouted from the bedroom.

“I’m gonna save you don’t worry!” He says as if you’ve been captured.

He quickly dials his best man, Bakubro, who picks up the phone irritated but gets concerned due to the urgency in Kirishimas voice. He tells Kirishima that he’ll be right over.

“Don’t worry pebble, reinforcements will be here soon!”

“What?!”

Just then harsh knocks were heard from the door, and you knew he had called Bakugo. 

He storms in asking Kirishima what’s wrong because he’s actually worried, and he’s confused as to why Kirishima looks so calm. 

“Listen Bakubro-“

“Don’t call me that! Just spit it out!”

“There’s a bug.”

“A bug-“

“Yes! But a really big one and it’s in the top corner of my bedroom, how will I be able to sleep at night if you don’t-“

“You sounded so distraught over the phone, for a bug,” uh-oh that’s his ‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me voice’ 

“Well I mean it’s not just a bug it’s-“

“Don’t finish that sentence, I’ve had enough of your stupidity for one day.”

He walks into the room, to see you just awkwardly standing on the bed the farthest away from the spider. 

“H-hey I just wanted to make sure it didn’t move…Eijiro was supposed to kill it-“

“Yeah, I know. Shitty hair does not do bugs. I come over here like twice a week for this exact reas-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Kirishima came into the room blazing. He had paper towels, Lysol spray, and for some reason a bowl on his head.

“Here! I grabbed all the stuff!”

“That’s too much shitty- never mind, hand me a paper towel.”

He quickly hands the paper towels over, bakugo goes to the corner, jumps up, and kills the bug.

“My hero!” Kirishima said jokingly.

“Yeah yeah, see ya shitty hair,” he said heading towards the door. ❀

❀ Denki Kaminari ❀

We’ve got another one folks

He’d do anything for you

But bugs-

9 times out of 10 you’re saving him

You know he doesn’t like bugs

So when he walked in the house while you were in the midst of looking for the bug you accidentally let in

That was not a good mix

Your little ‘Denki there’s a bug if you see it tell me so I can get it’

Had him panicking 

He stayed millimeters away from you

Aka he was all up in your bubble

Then all of a sudden 

This man

The one who’s training to become a hero

Hides behind you

Screaming about how he sees the bug

4/10 cuz you had to take care of the bug but he was cute tho

❀ It’s around here somewhere, you just know it. While bringing the groceries into the apartment, you accidentally let a moth in. You had looked around but figured it would come out sooner or later, and started preparing some ramen.

Minutes later, Kaminari walked in, and even though you knew he was gonna freak out you figured if you told him about it upfront he’d be okay. Boy, were you wrong.

“Why are you being so nonchalant about this?! A MOTH THATS PROLLY THE SIZE OF MY HAND IS FLYING AROUND!”

“Babe, calm down. Moths aren’t that big-“

“YEAH RIGHT!”

“Just stay in the kitchen with me then, it’s fine.”

And of course as soon as you said that it came flying out from behind the couch cushion and into the kitchen. 

“Ahhhh! ITS RIGHT THERE!” He says cowering behind your leg. 

“Ok ok scaredy cat I’m gonna let it out.”

The moth was just flying around the light, so you went to the door opened it and turned off the light in hopes of the moth not swarming it anymore. Slowly, but surely it flew out of the door. 

You closed it shut going back into the kitchen to check on your fearless boyfriend. 

“It’s gone.”

“You lied to me! It was huge!”

“I think you’re exaggerating a little denks.”

“No you’re under exaggerating.”

You guys debated about the size of the moth throughout dinner, and he was paranoid the rest of the week. ❀

@/firefly-graphics for the divider

[brawlina]

hi, it's me again TwT

Would it be a bother to write something about the pirrate trio? (Darryl specifically)

I just think they are underrated tbh-

I hope I'm not bothering youuuuu :((

Last Hurrah on this sideblog before moving permanently to the new one! (Dont worry you can keep asking me questions there I don't mind)

I am working on something silly with the Pirate Trio for Odd Trios and Things, but for now have some

Darryl (and Pirate Trio) HCs!

Genuinely, no one knows where Darryl came from. In Starr Park's early days when they were setting up, they were insistent on the Wild West theme, so the Pirate Robot was a bit of a mystery to most.

Really he was meant to play some other role in the park, but found a Pirate Hat and refused to let it go since.

And then Penny joined and there was no going back on the theme.

Darryl didn't have a voice for the longest time because nobody realized he didn't have one. He broke it early on and just never mentioned it since he thought it was kind of cool and mysterious that he didnt talk. The others just thought that him not speaking was intentional.

Darryl chose his new voice to be high pitched since he thought it would be funny for people who thought he had a deep and gruff voice to hear it. The joke has worn off and hes tried to get it changed, but alas his voice became too iconic to change.

Darryl is prone to making decisions because he thinks theyre funny and regreting the consequences later.

Darryl is shorter than the other one-eyes robots in the park (not counting Nani since her build is a lot different than his). Hes also a bit stocky even without his barrel.

Stu is actually the same height as him, but just appears shorter because of Darryl's massive pirate hat.

Actually if Stu gained a normal pair of legs proportioned to his other body measures hed be taller. But dont tell them that.

Darryl has the bad habit of just curling up in his barrel wherever the heck he wants and just powering down for a nap. This puts him in all kinds of crazy situations where hes accidentally included in the chaos cause no body realized hes in there.

Honestly the only brawler who sleeps as much as he does is Sandy.

He can remove the barrel but has admitted he feels 'naked' without it. The Barrel (and any other Barrel-esque things he wears for his skins) are proportioned only for him, so none of the other robots can wear it.

Darryl sees the other members of his crew as little siblings. Alas, he is not a very responsible older brother figure to them.

Who holds the braincell between his crew? No one. They exchanged it for a pot of chocolate coins one time and never tried to get it back.

Darryl always adds a little something to the back of his barrel costumes because it 'adds character' to them. This actually severely affects his rolling ability but he refuses to listen to reason and remove them.

They have a 'performance ship' where they host their park activities on, but they also have a 'house ship' where they actually stay in. Only special people are invited to the house ship and its a bit of a pigsty.

Darryl is genuinely very lazy. Thats part of why he naps everywhere. So if he goes out of his way to do something for you, you should treasure it cause its such a rare thing.

Darryl maaaayy have been accidentally responsible for Penny's eye scar. They all think it looks cool though so happy endings.

[trashogram]

More scattered weasel things:

• I can’t decide if I like the idea that the weasels knew Doom was a cartoon or if they thought he was an actual human. The novelization apparently has Smartass aware of Doom being a toon, but I’m also partial to the idea that the gang took up orders from a human bc they thought it gave them a higher status among their fellow species. • Also wondering if the Toon Patrol, or any of them singular, has also killed a human — or even if they were able to participate in murdering other toons with Dip. In the Disneyland ride, they deploy dip without the help of Judge Doom, so it’s possible. • I debate over if I should start on the theory of toons having free will or not. That requires a lot of time and its own post. And then just general Reader/Toon Patrol stuff:

• Tbh I feel like Reader learning that laughing too much/nonstop can kill the weasels breaks her heart. Her poor little guys :(

• I feel like it would actually take Reader the longest to get used to Greasy bc he’s an overwhelming skirt chaser/sex pest

• Trying to figure out how Wheezy would get attached — I imagine him as a silent guard dog type. You’re not even sure if he likes you, but then he takes on 10 men to protect you one night and you’re stunned with that answer.

• Psycho steals your shit. He’s a hoarder when it comes to obsessions. Don’t @ me.

• Smartass fantasizes about being the mayor of Toontown and Reader is always his secretary/wife. He and Greasy have to have a ✨Complex✨ concerning being toons, I just feel it in my bones.

• Reader cannot point that out or she risks angering them, but treating them as equal to human men or stroking their egos about how they’re “even better” than human men gets them going.

• Considering Snow White-inspired reader becoming corrupted when she’s around the gang too much and helps them out with their schemes. And maybe they actually accomplish stuff with her around lol.

• I have an odd line with the explicit/nsfw stuff in that I feel comfortable with coming up for ideas with it if Reader becomes a toon herself. Like with Roger/Jessica — I’ve made shitposts about their sex life out of spite, but it really doesn’t bother me to imagine that between them. Idk why. It would be the same with the Toon Patrol. • Also on that note, including Stupid in any of it makes me go “eughhhh maybe not”. I think the most risqué thing I could ever include him in is literal pattycake. • Why I would be fine w/ including Psycho — I think he’s a stealth/hidden genius personally. It’s just a funny idea to me, but because he was made to be, well… psycho, he’s still incompetent/not the leader. • If you want NSFW toon patrol, lemme know lol

[penelopecolinbridgerton]

Pretty sure Saphne had more than 6 minutes of sex scenes though, with all their scenes combined… I know it was a part of the plot in their case, but yeah… calling it the spiciest set expectations high. Even if they probably didn’t mean to

Though tbh for me what bothers me is not exactly not having more sex scenes (even if I’d welcome them) but that Polin didn’t feel like the main focus in their own season, especially in the second part. Saphne and Kanthony had their own issues to work through in their seasons but they never felt like they weren’t the main focus in their seasons. It felt like this season was trying to handle too many plotlines at once and like the writers forgot who this season was supposed to be about. I get we’ve known Polin since S1 and maybe the writers thought they didn’t need that amount of focus in S3, but I think precisely because of them being friends for so long and because of how hard it can often be to go from friends to lovers (because of the whole what if they don’t feel the same and I lose them, which is why Pen never said anything, she was convinced Colin would never love her) it was important to have that extra time with them in this season, to see that transition and to see them as a couple. I just feel we didn’t get enough time with them as a couple since they spent most of part 2 sad and angry and not really together. Like we didn’t really get to see them happy, you know? Idk, that’s how I feel about it

As for Cressida hopefully it isn’t true. I don’t think she deserves a redemption, even if I can understand her sometimes. She hasn’t really earned a redemption and I wouldn’t like to see her as part of the Bridgerton family (and based on what I’ve heard about Sophie, she seems nothing like her except for the blonde hair colour)

Articles kept on saying it was the longest sex scene the show has done but I wasn't counting so who knows. Sophie's story is meant to be like a Cinderella story, and Cressida ain't like Cinderella. I hope it's not true and fans of the books and most of the show fans (who haven't read the book) would not be happy with Cressida being with Benedict. I don't want to see her married to any Bridgerton.

Colin accusing her of entraping him made me angry. I know he was upset but that comment was unnecessary. He didn't even apologize for it. The show tried to ruin his character and they can make it up next season with happy Polin scenes.

Polin didn't feel like the main couple and it was meant to be their season. But we were told Colin and Pen's story is not over yet, that there is still a lot more and it seems like they are going to be one of the side stories of next season.

[empress-lillith]

I feel like I should jjust give up on all my "good" qualities and stop trying to be a "good person" and fighting sgainst all my bad qualities. I. I start to feel like there's nothing good coming of it for me, and not enough good for anyone else to actually keep bothering with me.

I feel like the positive things I get told the most is that I'm nice, and that I'm beautiful.

But. Apparently I'm not enough of either for people to... stick around.

I don't know. Even now I don't know what to write. Cuz it might might people unhappy. But.

Maybe I'll try to let what I feel out, for just this once;

I do my fucking hardest, successfully too most of the time, to make people happy, to help them, to make them feel comfortable around me. Cuz all my life no ones ever done that for me. In school people gave no two shits about me, unless it was to make fun of me or get their homework done easier. FOR 9 DAMNED YEARS. Then I switched schools. I guess I had friends. Friends that, as soon as they were not forced to be in the same classroom as me either cut contact or essentially bullied me online. Since then I haven't made friends in person. My own mom has been there for me. As in. Provided for food, entertainment and ignoring my existence otherwise. I got hugged by her for the first time I can remember when I tried offing myself and telling her that I thought I wasn't worth anything and she didn't love me. She graced herself to hug me long enough so I stopped crying and then pushed me away and went back to watching TV alone telling me to go cuz SHE NEEDS A MOMENT. My dad is just inept. Nice. Trying his best. I guess. I used to see him once every 2 weeks, and we talked like 2 hours maybe, where he left me completely to myself otherwise. The person I had contact and an actual "friendship" with the longest eventually started using that friendship and manipulating and breaking apart my entire friend group to just fucking use me as his damned sex toy whenever he felt like it. And I didn't realize for what? 8 or more damned years. That friend group is now so splintered and fucked that I don't even know what the fuck to do about it. Do I still want them? Do they still want me? Pretty sure they don't enjoy me around anymore tbh. Newest friends I made are from therapy or from tumblr, and it's like 5 people in total, 1 if which I haven't talked to in 2 months as I assume she doesn't give a shit about me anymore, at least not that I could tell. And I still really really damned like her but I wish I fucking didn't cuz it's fucking tearing me apart. I suppose I got used to her being there for me and when she wasn't when I was at 2 of my absolute lowest points my mind just broke or something idk. 2 of them I met in therapy and one of them is nice but doesn't have time, which is okay but also annoying to be honest, but it's not her fault I suppose, and the other ignores me whenever she can. The newest 2 ppls I met are nice but I feel like they either are scared of me, I guess at this point rightfully so or don't actually care.

I keep saying that I'm not super likeable when you stick around me for too long and everyone always tells me they don't think so but somehow the only people that seem to have sticked around for years either did cuz they had no choice or in one case because they didn't actually like me and just enjoyed my body.

So. My honest feelings, no one actually cares about making me happy. I want to be treated the way I try my hardest to treat everyone else. I. I'm tired of having and making friends. I can't bear it. I can't bear being alone either. I have been for too long. I. I want this to end, not my life, just this this this dambed conflict of everything. I feel such conflicting things. I'm trying my hardest to make things right for everyone. And I feel like I am not getting enough back to even keep me going until 30.

Love is conditional. And I don't think I am capable of meeting these conditions. Besides all my hatred for how I'm being treated. I still only blame one person. Myself. For just not being good enough.

I wasn't wanted in this world. I was conceived on accident. And I feel that in the way my mother treats me.

But I hoped that maybe someone else doesn't.

Maybe I'll be able to hold on long enough until I can find someone that does want me. Maybe.

I hold so much hope. For such a hopeless person. Such a hopeless world. I wish I could give up.