#How dare the animators make the muscles so define...

[spiritualpuzzleshipper]

Oh snap! I was staring! How rude....

*goes back to staring*

Yusei, Judai, Paradox and all the viewers of this movie were too busy staring at his arms and chest.

[jordiemeow]

summary: when anakin gets denied the rank of master, he's overwrought with tension. no better way to deal with it than sneaking out to visit his favourite girl at his favourite brothel on the lower levels of coruscant.

warnings: smut 18+, face-sitting, mild sub!anakin, reader is a prostitute, brief comfort ending in f!receiving oral, anakin is a giver!! cathartic head-giving

notes: in honour of may the fourth! need to remake my taglist for specific fandoms so not tagging anyone here. not my usual audience so if this flops idc but anakin has been on my mind a lot recently (when is he not). anyways happy star wars day :)

"It's... it's a joke, is what it is. And he didn't stick up for me. Not once. What an excuse for a mentor if he's just going to—"

You're not listening at this point. Head tilted, lips slick with red paint, body on display. It's a shame the sheer two-piece is going to waste on a Jedi rambling on about how betrayed he feels by the Order. It's also terribly hard to listen to said 'betrayal' when his robes and tunic have been shrugged off to leave him in just his pants, defined muscles rippling under the dim light of your private room.

Something about feeling too restricted. You'd laughed and said the removal of clothes was pretty typical in this establishment, but your attempts at levity proved futile. Fast forward to now...

"—And don't even get me started on Master Windu." (You weren't going to.) "How can he look me in the eyes and tell me that? Like I don't deserve it for all the work I've done for them. Risked my lives countless times. Saved millions—no, dare I say billions—and this is the thanks I get!"

Billions? You aren't so sure about that. You keep the comment to yourself—maybe he's right. You don't ask him for information; it's always willingly passed on. He could be the most decorated Jedi in the Order after this war and you would be none the wiser.

He paces back and forth restlessly, hands tightened into fits and jaw taut with tension. You'd almost be a little frightened if most of your visits from him didn't start with some sort of temper tantrum. All this just for you to soothe him into bed and make him forget.

"Ridiculous," he spits as you watch on plaintively. It's like spectating a meltdown, you can't help but think. You're surprised he hasn't thrown something yet. Destruction is always a symptom of his annoyance. You wonder briefly if his room back at the Temple is in disarray. "And then Obi-Wan has the audacity to ask me to—"

You cross the room to reach him just in time to stop him from saying something he absolutely should not be telling a prostitute. You know half the Jedi Order's secrets by now from his visits. A hand rests upon his left arm, the one made of human flesh. Gentle, tentative, like you're trying not to scare off a frightened animal. He almost jerks it back, but his eyes soften when you speak.

"Ani," you croon gently. The nickname makes the tension in his shoulders ease. "Just come to bed. You're getting yourself all worked up."

He sighs. He knows you're right. But he's stubborn on a good day, and today is not one of those.

"You don't understand. They're treating me like I'm less than them just because the Chancellor recommended me. Like I haven't done everything to prove I'm more than just a Knight before he got involved."

"You aren't less than them just because they go around calling themselves Masters. A lot of men in here do that, you know. Makes them feel powerful. If it makes you feel better, I could call you that."

He rolls his eyes. Fond. Amused. "That doesn't really count."

"No, I suppose not," you smile. The kind with your eyes that crinkles softly. The kind that always makes him wonder whether you're actually being authentic. Sometimes he forgets you're human under all the sequins and smoke, when you strut around the room like you're one of the suns and everyone else is in orbit.

You seem like you genuinely want to put him at ease right now, even with all your playful little jabs. It makes him sigh, shoulders slumping as his hand finds your waist.

"You're good at this, you know," he murmurs.

"And you're good at being a Jedi hero," you counter, gently urging him back towards the bed. "But enough moping. I'm not wasting this outfit on you if you think your credits are going towards therapy."

He laughs as the back of his legs hit the bed, letting himself fall. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you trail a tantalising finger down your chest, through the valley of your breasts. It's enough to make any man's throat go dry. Especially a Jedi who's only form of action is the rare occasions he can sneak away to see you.

"No? What are they going towards, then?"

"Depends. Whaddya want tonight?" You ask playfully, tugging at the alarmingly thin strap between the two cups barely concealing your tits. His eyes are drawn to them, watching the way the fat spills out of the satin, the red material a stark contrast to your skin.

He swallows thickly.

"Eyes up here, big shot."

His blue eyes flick up to your own, a little sheepish. This is the part where he has you sprawl out beneath him for his perusal. But instead, he says:

"I just want to feel good at something. Make you feel good."

It surprises you a little, your hand faltering where it's been idly exploring your cleavage. You recover quickly enough that he doesn't comment on your blunder. "You always make me feel good."

"That's a practiced answer," he accuses.

"Practiced but true in your case."

"Fine. But I mean it. I could use the ego boost."

"But—"

"Who's the paying customer?" Anakin interjects.

"You aren't making me feel very good by smart-mouthing me, you know."

He ignores your faux-admonishment. "So you'll let me?"

It's not as if you're opposed to it. Not in the slightest. It's just surprising.

"I'd let you do anything. You know I would."

A shadow of a grin crosses his face, before his braced elbows fall and he lays down. Dark hair spread across your pillows, fanning out in messy curls against the satin.

"Ride my face."

He says it so earnestly you almost laugh. Sometimes you forget how young he is. Nothing like the old timers who come in here looking for a quick fuck with no regards for anything but their own dicks.

"Are you sure? We've never done that before."

"You're not the only girl I've been with," he counters. It's almost enough to make your chest twinge with jealousy—you know he's seen other girls here. When you're busy, or before you became his favourite. You're a professional, though. Don't let it show.

"Okay," you relent. You can't help but be spiteful, though. Panties dragging agonisingly down your thighs while he watches through half-lidded eyes as the fabric inches lower, lower, lower...

Eventually they pool around your ankles, and you step out of them. The bra (a generous term for such a skimpy piece of fabric) follows as you move to straddle him.

"Higher," he says, hands finding your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his body. The contrast between cool metal and a warm palm on each leg makes you shudder.

You whack a hand gently. "Patient. Thought you wanted to be good?"

He bites back a groan, his hands stilling. They still rest on the plush flesh of your thighs, but he isn't tugging insistently at your limbs to get you where he wants you. You continue with your torturous pace, moving up his body. The slick of your cunt drags across his bare abs, and a sharp breath escapes him.

The friction is enough to have you sigh softly as you ease upwards. You take your time teasing his nipples until he's tensing underneath you, back arched up off the mattress and fingers curling into your skin.

"I didn't think this would make you so much of a tease," he says breathlessly.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Your eyelashes bat innocently at him. "This is what gets me off. You're being useful."

He gives you an unimpressed look for your faux-naïf, but he keeps his mouth shut. You're so close that he doesn't want to goad you into holding back any longer. And he's rewarded for his patience when you give a little pat to his pecs, and finally move to hover over his face.

He looks like an undercity kid who's seen the surface for the first time. Eager blue eyes, mouth salivating at the sight of your dripping cunt above him. It's hard to find the restraint to not dive in and bury his nose in your folds. Just the smell almost has his eyes rolling back.

"Please," he murmurs. Breathy and whiny, like a young man begging for a drop of salvation, not the famed 'Hero with No Fear' breaking his Code to spend the night in a pleasure house. "C'mon. Just let me. Oh, please, I need it—"

You sink down onto his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He moans into your heat, tongue flicking out to drink up whatever has already spilled from you. There's nothing tentative about it—it's like he's devoting everything into worshipping you with his mouth. Gone are the thoughts of his Master and the rest of the Council denying him. All he can comprehend is your sweet mewls as you sit atop his face.

His chin is soaked with the fluids of your pleasure, nose nudging your clit each time you roll your hips against his face. It's instinctive and you hardly mean to do it, but he grips your hips and guides you to grind against his eager mouth.

"Oh, Ani," you moan softly. "Just like that. Mhm."

It's enough encouragement for him to keep working. Dutifully strokes of his tongue, switching between nuzzling between your slick folds and sucking at your clit. Cheeks hollowed out and applying suction as you brace a hand against the headboard, the other nestled into his soft curls.

Your thighs tremble on each side of his head, toes curling into the sheets every time he flicks eagerly at the bud. Hips rocking upwards against the air in search of friction he physically cannot receive right now, cock hard and leaking in the confines of his pants. His erection is almost painful, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be good for something.

"You'd do wonders in here, you know,” you manage through a groan. “If you're looking to become a— oh, fuckkkk—different kind of master. Very skilled mouth."

His laugh vibrates against your dripping cunt. "Tempting, if I get to work in such close quarters with you."

"Mhm, maybe. Perhaps we could become a bit of a duo. They pay extra for that, you know. And the tips are great. You should really— oh!"

His teeth graze against that sensitive spot that has your eyes rolling back. "I didn't come here for a new career. Just let me make you feel good, please?"

All you can manage is a hum of agreement with the way he's redoubled his efforts. Tongue flattened against the roll of your hips, obediently letting you use his wet mouth to chase your own pleasure. The feeling of your sopping cunt grinding against his face chases anything but you from his mind.

The pleasure grows almost blinding. "Fuck, close," you gasp out, tugging lightly on his hair.

It earns a pleased moan into your heat. "Please. Wanna feel it," he mumbles, a rumble into you in between licks of his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter.

A few more carefully placed laps and your thighs tense. One of your hands moves to cup your breast as you ride through your orgasm, release spilling over his awaiting mouth. He welcomes it all eagerly, working you through it as his name falls off your tongue again and again.

When you roll off of him, you're both short of breath. Neither of you bother to wipe the smear of your slick off his chin as you sink down next to him. One glance to the chronometer on the wall tells you he's spent most of his time worshipping your pussy rather than chasing his own pleasure. Another glance, this time to him, makes it very clear he isn't bothered by that in the slightest.

Oh, well. You still have a few more minutes for him to smother you in affection unbefitting of two people from your stations in life.

It’s quiet after that. Light, fleeting touches as you catch your breaths.

Aftercare with him is the best part, you think. When all the tension is released and he's all lazy, boyish smiles as he runs his hands absently up and down your bare arm. Soft kisses placed to your shoulders, an apologetic brush of his lips against any splotchy bruises left by the men and women before him. Most patrons are always right out the door, but Anakin...

Well, he likes to check in. Make sure you're okay. Have a bit of banter.

"Was I too much? Was that alright?"

You smile. A silly question, given you were calling most of the shots when you were actually on top of him. You answer anyways.

"No. No, you were perfect," you tell him softly, pushing a sweaty brown curl off of his forehead.

His brow pinches like he doesn't believe you. Not about the too much part. The perfect part. "But I—"

"Ani," you cut him off. The nickname makes him melt back into the sheets. More docile, relaxed. "You are perfect. Those Jedis all have sticks up their asses if they can't see you deserve to sit around their silly little table, or whatever it is they do up in their fancy pants Council Room."

He sighs. A beat of silence.

"... Lightsabers," he corrects.

You blink stupidly. "What?"

"They have lightsabers stuck up their asses."

There's the Anakin you know. You snort softly, bracing your forearm on top of his chest to peer down at him. "I'm pretty sure that'd burn them inside out."

"Maybe they deserve it," he fires back. Something about the way he says it makes you think he's not entirely joking. But you laugh anyways, head shaking softly.

"Maybe they do," you agree, ducking down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, you best get going. I have to clean up before the next one comes in."

"Do I have to?" He groans. "Just cancel. Tell them you're sick."

"She's a regular. Unfortunately, you have to go face reality." You sit up, patting his chest. "Go be a big, brave Jedi for me, yeah?"

Anakin rolls his eyes, but he obliges reluctantly, even if he makes a big show of sighing loudly and dragging himself sluggishly out of the soiled sheets in search of his discarded robes.

If tonight has shown you one thing, it's that he probably shouldn't be a Jedi Master after all the rules he's broken in one evening alone. But you don't tell him that. You make your coin out of sleeping with sleazebags from all over the Galaxy in the Coruscant Underworld, after all.

Who are you to judge?

[kuroosweakness]

hot moments | atsumu, osamu, kuroo, sakusa, akaashi

just some hot haikyuu boy things. i’ll be thinking of these for the rest of the day. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it >:)

━ atsumu 

» when he wears a white shirt in the rain ... imagine rain seeping through his shirt, making see-through, not completely see-through, just enough to see his toned muscles. the way the cloth clings onto his biceps- 

he’s a whole meal. 

» when he stretches and his shirt lifts ever so slightly to reveal his tummy. he’s caught the way your eyes widened as you watched, but never said anything about it ;) 

» when he sits with one knee propped up, his elbow resting on that knee .... mhm. mhmmm~ 

» when he casually palms ur butt or wraps his hand around your waist in public. when he walks around with his arm hung loosely over your shoulders, it lets you play with his hand too 🥺

━ osamu 

» his weight on one foot, one hand rested on the countertop while the other casually flips pan 

» when he throws dough up in the air and makes it look so easy 

i can watch him cook in the kitchen for days <3 

» ‘samu in black aprons. YES. YES YES YES 

» ‘samu wiping his sweat off with his forearm, looking as focused and unbothered as ever 

» when he cups your chin when feeding you food to avoid spilling anything. we love a caring man <33 

━ kuroo 

» IT’S THE WAY HE WEARS SUITS/BUTTON-UPS TO WORK EVERYDAY FOR ME 

» when his tie hangs slightly loose djfksldkfj 🤧(it makes you want to pull him by his tie and smoosh your lips against his)

» when he smirks (which is like 24/7, but that’s the point 😼)

» WHEN HE ROLLS UP HIS SLEEVES 

» when he takes sips from the matching coffee mugs he bought for the two of you 

» WHEN HE WEARS A WATCH AROUND HIS WRIST

i bet he’s real good with technology related stuff too >:) he’ll be able to recover ur lost files <3 

━ sakusa 

» when he steps out the shower, towel hanging dangerously low around his waist (his low ab lines are clearly defined), he flips his wet curls back and ruffles his hair using another towel

» and then he looks up at you with a goofy smile, completely unaware of how mesmerized you are 

» when he walks around with his hands in his pocket, looking like the CEO OF EVERYWHERE 😤

» when he occasionally sticks his hand in YOUR POCKET, gets your stomach fluttery every time <33

» open eye kisses. his eye contact daring you to deepen the kiss 😻makes you weak at the knees 

━ akaashi 

» every time he has his glasses on <33 

» when he’s working on transcript and occasionally taps his pen against his lips

» when he softly blows on hot drinks before taking a sip 

» when he slides his arm through his jacket sleeves- 

» WHEN HE SMILES THAT GENUINE SMILE OF HIS 

» when he softly chuckles at you, hiding his face behind his palm but you can still see the crinkle in his eyes 🥺

» HE’S TOO KIND FOR HIS OWN GOOD. he’s good with kids, animals, elderly people, literally everyone love him, as they should. husband material 😻

[glowingbadger]

So many thanks to my lovely followers who helped me come up with this concept! Arranged marriage has been the vibe with some of y'all lately and I am here for it.

Dimitri x Reader arranged marriage

AFAB reader ('wife', but no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

You lie in bed beside your husband- your Lord Husband, you should say -and there seems to be no cure for the anxious restlessness that's made a home in your heart. It had been like that since the moment you'd learned you had been betrothed to the infamous Boar King. A man of legendary strength and rumored temper. A one-eyed titan who had struck down countless foes with untold brutality. Yes, he and his allies had unified the continent. But great deeds can certainly be done at the hands of monsters.

He'd hardly touched you. Hardly looked at you, at first. You believed he must be disgusted by you, by this whole arrangement. But the need for an heir would be of even greater importance in the wake of the recent war, and so the most suitable arrangement (which turned out to be you) had been hastily made the moment the treatise had been signed. And so you'd come to live with the Boar King, and even to share his bed- though not yet in the fullest sense. It had taken a week for him to meet your gaze directly. When that bright blue star leveled on you, you expected to feel aggression, the rage that common folk told tall tales of in taverns. Instead, you felt hesitation. Sadness. Remorse. And a whole host of other things you didn't have names for yet.

By week three, he had tentatively taken your hand to help you off of horseback. That was the first time he ever touched you. You remember that he held you like fine parchment a little too close to a flame. After that, things had come a little more easily. You shared meals, and even a few polite words and the occasional briefest physical contact. He asked about your comfort in the castle. He assured you that anything you should need could be called for. Now, lying next to him in your bed- the bed you would share for the rest of your life -there's a geometrically perfect space between you two. A gap, seemingly exactly calculated to ensure that your bodies were unlikely to meet in the night.

"Ngh..." He groans, his body twitches and tenses. You've learned that the King suffers from nightmares, though of course you haven't let on that you've noticed. Tonight seems to be worse than the others.

"No..." he growls through grinding teeth, "Stay away... go... no-!" his fists grip the sheets so tightly you worry for the fabric. Then, you're not sure what madness prompts it, but you move closer to him. Just a little at first. Inching towards him as though approaching a frightened animal.

"My Lord..." you whisper, and your fingers just briefly graze his arm. He's warm, his body is firm and strong. You'd never allowed yourself to really look at him in his nightclothes before, but the relaxed collar of his shirt reveals defined collarbones and fair skin, but also a cross-hatched web of old scars. Some part of you had known all along, but for the first time, you truly, fully realize that he's actually strikingly handsome.

You lean over him a bit further. His head turns toward you, but he's still in the throes of his nightmares. Panting breaths cause his chest to rapidly rise and fall beneath you, and you can't help but feel the ache of sympathy in your heart. Gently, carefully, you bring a hand to his face. You can feel how tightly his jaw is clenched.

"Your Highness," you speak louder this time. His eye bolts open. His hand seizes you by the wrist hard- too hard. It hurts, and you flinch, but keep your voice down. For a moment, you fear the inevitable retribution that will surely follow. But then, he exhales, and he releases your hand.

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't realize-" he stutters out, and in this moment, he looks softer and sweeter than you've ever seen.

"You were, uhm... having a nightmare, My Lord."

He nods at you, then sighs deeply. You're at a loss for what to do. Shouldn't the King's wife comfort him in such a situation? Would he even accept any comfort you might offer?

That shock blue eye meets you, and you can tell he wants to say something. All he manages is,

"Why do you call me that?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"'My Lord', 'Your Highness.'" it's too dark to tell for certain, but you almost think that you see a pink flush across his face.

"You're my King." you say meekly.

"I am your husband." he replies, and his eye narrows. It's not quite scolding, but there's definitely frustration there. Truly, it's impossible to tell exactly what he means by saying it, but you can't help the warmth building inside of you. He raises a hand to your cheek, and you're not afraid, though your heart races much the same. His hands are large and calloused, the hands of a man who has created miracles and atrocities, and now it's gingerly brushing your hair from your face. You move closer to him on instinct, and you notice with some relief that he doesn't shy away- not this time. Then, you open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out at first. You sigh, and try again,

"My- My Lord Husband, you should sleep. I didn't intend to bother you, only to make sure that you were-"

He sighs once more, and his eye closes.

"Sleep will not come, I already know. Not on a night like this."

You certainly don't know what to say to that. Anything you can think of would be meaningless platitudes and hollow assurances. You don't know the man well enough to know his demons, but you're certain there are plenty. The two of you are quiet for a time, and though his breathing has steadied, he shows no signs of regaining sleep any time soon.

And so you do the only thing you can think of to do for him.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He breathes in sharply, and you feel his frame tense beneath you- but he doesn't pull away. Your hands cradle his face as you place gentle and tentative kisses to his lips, which are far softer than you'd dared to imagine. And as you carefully move atop him to straddle his hips, you feel his hand tightly grip your thigh.

"What are you-?!"

"I thought that I would... perform my wifely duties to you, My Lord Husband. If you'll have me." you add, a slight tremor sneaking into your voice.

His pupil is wide and this time, you're certain that you can see a charming crimson flush across his cheeks. He speaks your name almost incredulously, though his hand hasn't left your body.

"You- you are under no obligation-" he stammers, and when you try to assure him, he presses on, "you're a prisoner to this marriage, don't you understand? I have no right to ask anything of you- much less that you give your body over to me!"

He seems to have completely forgotten that the entire point of this union was to produce an heir.

"I certainly wouldn't force myself on His Highness if I'm not pleasing to you..."

"That is absolutely not what I mean to imply," he says, almost laughing as he scoffs away the very idea, "I desire you as much as any sane person would, of course, but to think that you would be made to do such a thing merely to placate me-"

"I want this." you say, surprising even yourself with the strength of your words. You sound even more confident than you feel. But every word the King says to you peels away at the wall of anger and fear that you both had been content to keep between you until now, and you feel strongly about your decision. Still, he pauses a moment longer, as if waiting for you to back away from your claim. And when you don't, he draws you down to him and kisses you deeply. You can already feel his manhood rising between your thighs, but soon enough it's just one more piece of information amidst a whirlwind of sensations.

His strong arms wrap around you and his kiss travels down your neck to your chest. He fumbles awkwardly with the front of your nightshirt, so you remove it for him and he wordlessly returns to sucking gentle love-bites to your skin. Shy and curious moans and sighs surround you both in the dark of your bedchambers as you eagerly explore each other. His hands are rough, but he's trying so dearly to be delicate with you. You're more direct, your fingers tangled in golden hair and your body flush to his, creating an intoxicating friction between you.

Your lower body shifts more firmly against him, grinding his now quite stiff member between your thighs. He growls against your skin, and you feel his fingers drag down your back.

"I... ought to do more for you..."

Ostensibly, he means in terms of intimacy, but you have a strange feeling that he intends this to be a more general statement. You rest your forehead to his and murmur,

"I want you, My King."

"Dimitri." he says as his hands trail down to help remove your underclothes, "Just Dimitri, I beg of you."

And soon enough, he's pressed hot at your slick entrance, and you cling to him as he begins to push inside. He's thick- it hurts just a little, and you think for a moment that he was probably right that you both should have done more to prepare. But now he's filling you inch by inch, stretching you out around his cock, and your mind is numb to every thought except one- this is my husband, my lover.

"Dimitri..." You moan into the evening air around you as he bottoms out deep within you and the tinge of pain begins to fade into pleasure. He gives no reply other than the potent throbbing of his cock, rubbing against your inner walls as you both begin to move. You're surprised by how easy it is to fall into a natural rhythm with him. Your hips sink down onto him as he thrusts up towards you, and each pass sends a jolt up your spine. Dimitri buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly, holding onto your hips as you squeeze tightly around him.

Your nails dig along his muscled shoulders as you feel your climax winding tight at your core. He doesn't seem to mind- you're not sure if he even notices. His pace picks up. Briefly, his hands ease their hold on you, as though offering a means of escape. You have no need for such a thing. With a whimpering moan, you press yourself as far down onto his cock as you can until his tip hits your core, then sway forward, grinding his length into you until, with a gasp of his name, your body slacks into his arms.

He whispers your name in turn with something like awe in his voice. With his cock now coated in your climax, Dimitri loosens his restraint, and begins fucking into you in earnest. While your thighs tremble and you can hardly keep yourself supported above him, you manage to meet his gaze and smile warmly, then press a tender kiss to his parted lips. He grits his teeth, and he holds you to him with such strength that you no longer even need to support yourself. Then, he swells, twitches, and his pleasure is spilling out deep inside of you, filling you and warming you through.

You moan happily as you feel his release, then relax your body to lay comfortably against his sturdy frame. He's panting harshly still, but neither of you rush to separate from one another. Once he's just barely composed himself, he lifts your chin and kisses you with a sweetness that you never thought you'd find in a man, let alone the Boar King himself.

Though, once you've eased his spent manhood from you and laid your head against his chest, you hear his heart beating, still just a bit too fast and fluttery. You think for a moment that, yes, your husband is the legendary, ruthless Boar King. Your husband is also Dimitri, a man who looks at you with sincerity that makes your heart ache. A man you don't know well- not yet -but who you find yourself opening to more and more each day.

"I... don't wish to keep you awake terribly long..." he says, with a stilted nervousness to his voice, "but, if you're not overly tired, I- I'd like to... talk for a little while."

You smile a warm, but private smile, then say,

"I'd like that very much, Dimitri."

[thedeathlysallows]

Roseanna

Summary: No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you, but fleeing to Volterra, Italy probably isn’t a good idea.

Pairing: Roseanna Swan x Felix Volturi; Roseanna Swan x Paul Lahote

Ch.2

           Roseanna wakes up with a pounding in her head and an ache that feels bone deep. She doesn’t remember much except feeling pure terror and then… nothing. It was all darkness until now and in total honesty the pain makes her want to pass out again. What happened? Did she crack her skull on marble?

           Marble…

           Marble.

           The fear comes crashing back over her and her heart feels like it’s about to pound out of her chest. She bolts straight up in bed, frantically taking in her surroundings. This isn’t her hotel room by a long shot. The walls are made of rough stone, similar to the outside of the castle, while the floors are smooth, dark wood. The bed she’s in is large. Almost comically so. Animal furs decorate the floor in place of rugs and a fire crackles happily in the fire place. Roseanna looks up, marveling briefly at the silk canopy of the bed.

           “You’re awake,” a deep voice speaks from the other side of the room.

           She gathers what little courage is left inside her and looks in his direction. He’s lounging gracefully on a dark leather couch, book in hand. He looks and sounds relieved to see her awake. Something stirs in her chest the longer she holds his gaze. It’s almost… indescribable, what she’s feeling. Like she’s only now seeing anything for the first time in her life. The setting sun behind him casts him in an orange glow and Roseanna swears she’s never seen such a handsome man in her life. He’s all muscle and defined features and-

           “Who are you?” Roseanna hates the awe in her voice. She meant to sound angry, not pathetically infatuated.

           “Felix.”

           His name sounds like coming home and Roseanna can’t be more confused by her feelings. Is this Stockholm syndrome? Has she lost her mind?

           “I’m Roseanna,” she eventually says.

           Felix smiles reassuringly. He knows who she is. He’s been waiting for her for a thousand years.

           Her phone goes off and she finds it sitting next to her on a wooden nightstand. It’s Paul. All of her notifications are from Paul except for a couple texts from Charlie. Roseanna sighs and brings her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. Felix doesn’t take his eyes off her.

           “It’s been going off nonstop for the past 24 hours,” he informs her. She groans unhappily and he chuckles. “Whoever this Paul is he’s persistent.”

           “He’s a bastard.” She doesn’t mean that, not really, but it’s so much easier to convince herself she hates him than admit it’s a complex situation.

           “I don’t like the way he speaks to you.”

           “Join the club.”

           “Would you like me to get rid of him?”

           Roseanna’s mouth falls open. “What?!”

           Felix repeats his question, no hint of humor in his face. “You’ll find I’m more than capable.” He stands, rising to his full height and Roseanna’s mouth goes dry. He’s… fucking huge and Roseanna isn’t comfortable with how much she likes that.

           She shakes her head quickly to push away her increasingly dirty thoughts. “No. Not that I don’t think you’re capable. You’re…” she gestures to his body. “Yeah. But no, I don’t want… it’s fine. He’s just a jerk.”

           A jerk she had been in love with, but a jerk nonetheless.

           “The offer stands.” Felix moves over to the bed and he’s eerily graceful for his size. He kneels down so they’re face to face and runs two fingers over the pulse point in her neck. “Strong. And fast.”

           She watches as his eyes darken to pitch black, not daring to breathe or move a centimeter. His previously easygoing aura shifted to something sinister in the blink of an eye. Felix doesn’t take his eyes off her neck as if he can see the blood flowing there.

           “Felix, are you-”

           His eyes flash up to her face when she says his name and a low growl reverberates around in his chest. “Just a taste,” he mutters.

           Before Roseanna can react, Felix sinks his teeth in her neck with a groan of relief. He pulls her body close so they’re pressed right against each other and she can feel each defined muscle beneath his dark suit. Felix pulls his mouth from her neck long enough to moan something that sounds like “mine” before moving back to her neck.

           The feeling isn’t exactly unpleasant for Roseanna. It certainly isn’t painful. It’s… it’s altogether far too intimate and reminds her too much of how only a couple of months ago it was Paul nipping at her neck, pulling her close, whispering terms of endearment…

           “Get off!” Roseanna screams out in a sudden panic. “Get off!”

           She feels his tongue lick against her neck before he pulls away reluctantly. “Roseanna, I-”

           “What the fuck?” She sobs. “What the fuck was that?” She presses a hand to her neck and only sobs harder when she pulls it away and sees blood.

           Felix doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t sorry for drinking her blood. That was pure ecstasy for him. He doesn’t like how she’s crying though, and he never meant to scare her like this. She just smells so good and she’s his, but she keeps talking about this Paul, and maybe he got carried away.

           “Roseanna. Stop. Listen to me.”

           “No.” Roseanna practically flings herself across the bed, away from him. “You just bit me and drank my blood and you want me to stop?! Me?! No! What the fuck is happening?”

           “Everything is about to be explained. I just need you to calm down.” He moves closer to her and she moves away.

           “Don’t come near me!”

           The bedroom door slams open and Heidi saunters in. “Why all the screaming? Rosie-”

           “All of you stop using my name! Stop acting like you know me and this is normal! This isn’t normal. You… creatures kidnapped me. Who knows what you did to me while I was unconscious.”

           Heidi shakes her head. “Nothing. Felix wouldn’t allow anyone near you. Please, Roseanna, we will explain everything to you, but you need to calm yourself before meeting with Master Aro.”

           Roseanna tries to regulate her sharp breathing, shutting her eyes and focusing, imagining she’s anywhere else. Once her breathing is under control her heartbeat falls in line. Felix can think a little clearer without the loud thrumming taking up the forefront of his mind.

           “Okay,” Roseanna eventually says. “Okay.”

           “Follow me.” Heidi waits for Roseanna to uneasily get out of bed and follow. Felix isn’t far behind, unwilling to let Roseanna out of his sight for even a second.

           They walk to an unfamiliar part of the castle and Heidi ushers them inside a random room that turns out to be an extensive library. Aro sits with Marcus at a large table, books all around them. Roseanna gets the distinct impression it’s not that they were actually reading but that they want to humanize themselves.

           Good luck, Roseanna thinks to herself.

           “Ah, Roseanna, excellent! I’m so happy to see you up and well.” Aro places his hands on her shoulders, clicking his tongue when he sees the dried blood on her neck. “Well… mostly well. Felix can get a bit excited at times, but I see the two of you are acquainted now, yes?”

           “Yes,” Roseanna whispers.

           “Wonderful!” As Aro looks into her eyes, Roseanna feels that same prodding sensation from yesterday. After what feels like an eternity he smiles tightly and guides her to a chair at the table. Heidi takes this as her cue to leave and shuts the door behind her.

           Marcus appraises Roseanna quietly. She seems the same as all other humans. He would think nothing of her had he not known about Alice Cullen’s vision and had he not seen the bond between her and Felix. She must be turned, there is no doubt.

           Roseanna meets his gaze evenly. She’s unhappy and it’s written all over her face.

           “There’s no gentle way to go about this I’m afraid, my dear.” Aro starts the conversation in a delighted tone. “We will have to simply rip off the bandaid as you humans enjoy saying. It does so pain me to be the one to inform you, but you will not be leaving Volterra.”

           Roseanna blinks back tears. “What do you mean?”

           “You were sent here with no protection by a coven that does not understand what they have when they have it. They’ve all been preoccupied with your sister, and for good reason as she was the first to find out about our secret, but you will unfortunately be… collateral damage.” Aro sighs dramatically. “Alice knew what you would become were you to take our gift and she showed me of her own volition.”

           “I still don’t understand…” Roseanna shakes her head. “Please just tell me what’s happening.”

           Aro fixes his expression in one of pity. “Oh dear. They really left you completely in the dark, didn’t they? A shame.”

           “We are vampires, child.” Marcus cuts into his brother’s theatrics out of annoyance. “As are the Cullens.”

           “Vampires aren’t real.”

           Aro’s shrill laugh echoes around the library. “Of course we are. We’ve just been forced to hide in the modern age. It’s a long history that we can get into at another time. For now, I will explain your predicament. When your sister came to rescue Edward I had the pleasure of seeing two of Alice’s visions of the future. One of your sister and one of you.”

           Roseanna feels like a child being told a bedtime story. “Okay?”

           “Your sister will be immortal soon, which I was delighted to see, but it was your future that really interested me.”

           “What did you see?”

           “At first? Nothing. A blurred figure here and there, but then, oh but then, I saw everything. You. An immortal. Part of our glorious guard. Standing beside your mate.” Aro takes a moment to look over at Felix. “I saw a glimpse of your gift in that vision and new I had to have you. It was quite difficult to make sure you selected Volterra as your trip destination after that boy broke your heart; however, we managed it.”

           The reality of Aro’s words and her situation sink in slowly. Part of her can’t believe any of this, but then what would the explanation possibly be? She’s been manipulated since day one.

           “Did you know about this?” Roseanna turns her head to look at Felix. His expression is unreadable, even when he answers yes. She isn’t sure what she feels in that moment. Betrayed? Angry? She turns back to Aro. “You said something about a mate? Explain.”

           Without further prompting, Aro answers her question. “A mate is a supernatural phenomenon. Think of it as soulmates but more. Not every immortal is blessed with finding their mate, but once they do the pull is irresistible. One cannot exist without the other.”

           “Like and imprint,” Roseanna says to herself. Addressing the three other men she says, “I get the gist, but no thank you. I want nothing to do with mates or soulmates or any of that. I’ve had enough of it ruining my life.”

           Marcus appraises her softly. Despite all her protesting he can see the mate bond already solidified between her and Felix. “You say that now but in time you will not be able to resist.”

           Roseanna scoffs. “Yeah. Okay.”

           Aro blows past her sarcasm with a wave of his hand. “Our last matter at hand is the date of your transformation. Bella has until graduation but you have no such ties, correct?”

           She hesitates but eventually says, “correct.”

           “Wonderful! You have until the end of this month. We would like you to be adjusted to the workings of the Volturi before we just throw you into the mix as a newborn. Now, explore the castle to your heart’s content but do stay away from the dungeon and the tower. Felix, ensure she does so.”

           With that they’re dismissed from the library.

           Roseanna follows Felix out, still reeling from what was technically her death sentence. She had no options, no choices, nothing. Was Bella treated the same way? Was she just as devastated? After a brief moment of deliberation Roseanna decides that can’t be quite right. Bella’s never been happier than she is with the Cullens. In their world. The thought stings Roseanna just a bit.

           “What do I do now?” Roseanna doesn’t look up at Felix as she asks her question. She can feel his eyes burning a hole in her. She knows he’s looking.

           Felix shrugs, the movement oddly graceful for such a large man. Vampire. Whatever. “My suggestion?”

           Roseanna hesitates slightly, side eyeing him nervously. “Sure.”

           “Me.” He winks at her, laughing loudly as her cheeks flame red.

           “You fucking wish.”

           “Of course I do.” Felix is deathly serious suddenly. “You heard that you’re my mate. Since you’re human you don’t feel the pull the way I do, but the best way to describe it is an ache.”

           As he speaks he steps closer to Roseanna, following her as she tries to move away and accidentally backs herself into a stone wall. He towers above her and blocks out the rest of the world with ease. His eyes, once bright red, are darkening as they drink in her figure. She shivers slightly, feeling something tugging her closer to him.

           “I need you,” Felix says, “and I’ll have you. However, I don’t do love triangles despite what others in the Guard will try to tell you.”

           He pulls her phone out of his pants pocket and dangles it in front of her playfully. “Now tell me about this Paul, tesoro.”

           Roseanna snatches her phone. “One, I don’t do pet names. Two, Paul is… he’s nothing.”

           Felix traces a finger over her jaw, stopping just under her chin, and tilts her head up so she has to look in his eyes. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe you. Also unfortunately, I don’t share. Tell me who he is.”

           Roseanna’s phone decides now is the perfect time to let a text through. Both of them glance down at the offending object in time to see Paul’s name flash across the screen. Felix’s large hand wraps around Roseanna’s wrist and he all but drags her back to the room she woke up in. He sits her down on the bed before dragging over a chair to sit in front of her.

           “Explain, cara.”

[sunnyoldbear]

Luca Headcanons Part 2

DoesLast one blew up and I was gonna wait to make another before making this one but then my Italian fish obsessed brain couldn’t stop thinking and I literally couldn’t stop myself so let’s go, part 2!

Luca:

Has nightmares of what would happen if things went differently: If he was sent to The Deep, if he and Alberto were outed as sea-monsters before the race, if Ercole, Cicco, and Guido didn’t miss Alberto when throwing the harpoons at the beach, if Alberto didn’t come with the umbrella during the race and he was outed in front of the town and hit with Ercole’s harpoon, etc. He always wakes up terrified. 

Apologizes to inanimate objects if he bumps into them or drops them.

Names everything he comes in contact with. Random animals such as birds, insects (even though he’s terrified), erasers he uses often, etc. They’re always random, silly names, but he loves them. 

Is a slow reader because of how he fantasizes himself in the books and daydreams, then is snapped back to reality.

Keeps a dream journal!

Loves making stories about the stars and constellations. He loves the original stories, but he loves to make up his own.

Honestly I just get the vibe that he’s scared of birds after the encounter with the seagull.

His favorite color is purple followed by green!

Giulia’s mom buys him his own bike and he loses his mind, loving it so much

He’s a bit awkward with making friends at school, sticking to Giulia’s side most of the time

He doesn’t really care for music

He can fall asleep anywhere, honestly. He once fell asleep leaning against the doorway and then crashed onto the floor

Alberto loves to doodle on his arms and hands and Luca doesn’t really care to wash them off so they just kinda chill there. 

He’s very easy to prank and scare

Oh you should see him around the holidays! He’s so excited! His eyes sparkle and shine, he absolutely loves the decorations!

He’s not competitive, actually. He just wanted the prize money to get the Vespa, but he doesn’t really care about winning. He just... Isn’t competitive

He is very protective over his friends. Do what you want to him, but lay a hand on someone he loves and he will tear you a new one. We see him in the movie just frown when Ercole makes fun of him, but when Ercole shoved Alberto, all bets were off.

Charts the stars

He doesn’t have one love language, he has all of them, but probably Physical Touch and Quality Time more than anything, or Acts of Service.

Drinks expresso more often than he probably should, but just to get through his schoolwork

Misses his goatfish more than he wants to admit, especially little Giuseppe

Allergies beat him up during the spring

Slowly gets used to cats with Machiavelli’s kittens, but he’s still scared of the chunky boy

A teacher at school made the mistake of introducing him to Shakespeare. He spent hours sobbing over a good chunk of the plays.

Because he liked Shakespeare, Giulia’s mom got him some poetry books. He was not a fan of Edgar Allan Poe or Agatha Christie or Mary Shelley, all the horror/murder type stuff. He loved Emily Dickinson though!

Is as terrified of losing Alberto as Alberto is terrified of losing him

While he isn’t as touchy with Giulia as he is with Alberto, he does get more touchy with her

Reads tons of books about cats, dogs, and turtles to give Machiavelli, Nerone, and Caligola the care they need

Hears about human farms and loses his mind, rapidly asking questions about how they work and if they’re similar to his own

Giulia tries to convince him that fairytales are real. He has nightmares about them for a few nights until Massimo has to tell him that fairytales are made up and her mom changes them slightly to be more... Non-scary. She starts telling them to him to bed just because she misses doing so, and then he can’t fall asleep without someone telling him a story.

Doesn’t do the handshake with anyone that isn’t Alberto or Giulia.

Giulia’s mom calls him “fishy” or “guppy” and he wants to hate it but he can’t

Hates it when people call him cute or baby him, but his family + Alberto + Marcovaldos still do it

Once heard some French Tourists and stared at Giulia and went “why is their Italian so weird sounding” and she lost her shit laughing

Doesn’t swear, refuses to swear

Tries to use Vespa stamps if they’re available

Once he learns what “Piacere, gioralamo trombetta” means, he sends a letter to Alberto which is just him freaking out and laughing while making fun of it. They don’t stop saying it. In fact, they probably say it more.

He has a map in his room with pushpins of where he’s been. Beside it are a bunch of sticky notes of where he wants to go with Alberto with reasons on why he wants to go.

Has a little bit more courage, but not too much

He’s often teased for calling others “sir” or “ma’am” and so he feels really shy about it but doesn’t stop

Refuses to call Massimo and Giulia’s mom by their names, it just feels too awkward for him

Makes friendship bracelets for the trio as well as separate ones for him and Alberto, then him and Giulia.

While he loves gelato, he doesn’t like it as much as Alberto

I feel like he’d dot the i’s in Giulia’s name with hearts but no one else’s

People at school think he has a crush on her but he doesn’t

He and Alberto still say they sleep under the anchovies. No matter how often he researches stars, he’ll always call them anchovies around him.

Sticks out his tongue when focused

Doesn’t like aquariums, he stares at those fish and he just feels trapped

Loves to dance in the rain

Does that little feet tappy dance thing when he’s excited or shakes his hands

Honestly half of his vocabulary is stern shouts of “Alberto!” “Giulia!” or “silenzio Bruno, silenzio Bruno! Silenzio Bruno!”

Speaking of, he can’t just say “Silenzio Bruno” once, it’s always him saying it more than once, especially when he’s really scared

He doesn’t have loud, aggressive sneezes, but he does have sneeze fits. Once he sneezed so many times that with every one his face got closer to his desk until it just went BAM and he has a massive bruise on his forehead for days. 

Sometimes just goes into the water and swims to relax. If he’s feeling homesick, he’ll do some daring trick and then instinctively turn to smile at Alberto only to realize he isn’t there

His dad still keeps crabs but lets Luca name them. Luca chooses to name them all after space things. Mainly moons, but sometimes planets or galaxies

Secretly feels really guilty about Alberto selling their Vespa

After almost being sent to The Deep, he is terrified of the dark and can’t sleep without a light on, no matter how dim it is

Alberto:

Matching pajamas with both Massimo and Giulia! (Refuses to match with her, Massimo yelled at them)

Tries to see what triggers his transformation. Does watermelon? Does juice? Is it any liquid? He’ll find out!

Calls Giulia “Spewlia” just to piss her off

Those two are always arguing. Yes, he often starts it

Lots of tattoos and ear piercings!

Will into Giulia’s room, stare her dead in the eyes, call her a bitch, and run out while leaving the door open. She’ll scream at him and probably throw something. 

Tends to shorten people’s names. He calls Luca “Lu,” “Lulu,” and even “Luke.” Luca does not like any of these names.

Still builds his Vespas! They’re not as fun without Luca, though

Takes Giulia with him sometimes too and purposely crashes into the sea or something just to see what she does. 

Gains quite a bit of muscle 

Is the one who takes down all the sea monster things with Massimo. He and Lorenzo carry Smuca to the fountain

Idk I feel like he has loud sneezes

I also feel like he makes that weird cough face like that one cat idk I just know I’m right

He doesn’t just sing... He scream sings

Doesn’t know how to dance but if there is music he will dance

Loves dancing in the rain too!

Sometimes he’ll just walk into Giulia’s room and gossip with her. They’ll make a blanket fort and grab some snacks and cats and just... Spend the night talking and catching up

She teaches him how to braid hair and now he just loves doing her hair

Bites his lip quite a bit. That’s canon but like, still worth mentioning

Learns how to ride a bike so he doesn’t get killed or something

Keeps a journal on things Luca and Giulia are interested in so he can learn about them. He writes down bullet points on what he remembers from conversations, but it’s honestly not much

He doesn’t have big dreams other than traveling the world with Luca. He knows Giulia wants to be a marine biologist and Luca wants to travel the world + is still figuring things out. He has short term goals other than that and changes the topic about it.

A popular headcanon is that Alberto takes care of the goatfish when Luca’s at school and I think that would happen!

He’s shockingly good with kids! When not working, he loves playing soccer with them by the fountain

He almost named Machiavelli’s mate “Frog” because he can’t name things

Half the time when Giulia and/or Luca talk about school, he goes “I don’t what that means, but I’m choosing to define it as ____” and won’t let them prove him wrong

Technically canon but he will bite. Chomp chomp.

When he meets Giulia’s mom, they love to paint together

He does make some friends in Portorosso, but none are as close to him as his sister and best friend!

This man is the most dramatic person good lord

Love language is definitely physical touch!

Still screams “Take me, gravity!” pretty often

Can’t do work alone without music. He doesn’t really like opera but he can’t stand silence, he just can’t

Sometimes he thinks of Luca’s betrayal and is really angry, but knows he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. It was about self preservation and the risk of living. He still gets upset about it sometimes, but completely forgives him and understands

Is always torn between giving Giulia genuine facts about sea creatures and giving her such absurd but lowkey believable lies. He wants her to succeed so badly but also wants to screw her over

If you give him anything, he will play with it. String? A toy. A pen? A toy. A literal rock you found on the side of the road? A gorgeous toy, thank you!

Never just goes into the water, he will always be dramatic and dive in or jump

Sometimes when not on duty, he just blows his lifeguard whistle because he thinks it’s cool

He loves yoyos!

Will noogie Giulia.

Sometimes gets scared that Massimo will abandon him, but it seems like Massimo always knows

Città Vuota is his favorite song!

Doodles all over everything, especially Giulia and Luca’s arms and legs. They range from little stars to tic tac toe games to fish to anything that comes to mind

Giulia:

Is very much into photography! Luca always does hearts with his hands/fingers while Alberto does stupid poses or flips her off... or both.

Hums and sings a lot! 

Also loves to dance and is the best of the trio! Loves to twirl and vibe even if there’s no music! It’s just her personality

She doesn’t just hug, she jumps into their arms and holds them close

Sometimes just to annoy Alberto she’ll hug him and press kisses to his head and cheeks. Siblings gonna be annoying.

Always has so much energy but really struggles with sitting still for homework after such long hours in school that her grades aren’t all that good except for Astronomy!

The most competitive of the trio

Bites her lip when she’s nervous

Started wearing her hat to match her dad when she was little and now she doesn’t like being without it

Has probably fallen asleep in class

Loves watermelon and gelato

While Ciccio and Guido apologize for their actions, she doesn’t forgive them and doesn’t want to. She has every right to

Gets really into singing when she’s singing along to songs

Doesn’t like makeup for herself but will hold the boys captive to do their makeup

Loves puns! Will make sea puns to piss off Alberto and Luca, but Luca loves them so it half-works

Loves copying Alberto’s lipbite

Machiavelli her beloved <3 

Loves her fam so much! She’s got pictures of them everywhere and is constantly buying them gifts

Speaking of! Her love language is giving gifts! 

She’s actually pretty good at making friends since she can read people so well. It’s just that Portorosso doesn’t have any.... Great kids to befriend and Genova just has too many that she sticks to a small group which eventually fades, as groups do

She isn’t the most emotional but she also isn’t the least emotional. She doesn’t cry often but she does get sad and shows it

I don’t know why I feel this way but I definitely think she’s scared of the doctor

She used to be scared of thunderstorms until meeting her boys and the race happened. Now she associates rain and storms with that win

Summer is her favorite season

She knows everyone in Portorosso by name and knows most of their birthdays by heart

Speaking of, she always celebrates Alberto’s birthday like her like her life depends on it

Now loves racing on her bike even more cause of the race

Calls Alberto “Berto” and is the only one allowed to do say

A very light sleeper

---

More on the way probably they’re all I think about

[levi-ish]

Little Talks | 2

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

A/N: if you find any mistakes, its because most of the times i’m writing i’m wine drunk or high and watching some weird anime.

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Fuck no, I’d rather eat shit and die” you slapped your hand on the counter and Jean let out a high-pitched laugh, bringing up another shot glass and the good tequila they held only for employees, earning a ‘woo’ from you.

“I’m just suggesting” he gave you your own glass and you both downed it at the same time, letting out the weirdest faces from the burning sensation going through your throat. “If he was a good fuck, why not go and have some hate sex?”

“What the fuck, Jean?!” You gave him a frown, pushing the shot glass forward and leaning on top of your arm, looking up to see your bartender getting hammered like you.

You liked those nights when you were one of the last ones remaining in the bar and Jean would drink with you till you both couldn’t remember your own names, and then flirt aimlessly while drinking some shitty margaritas. Sometimes he would let you mix the alcohol, and you would throw ice at each other.

“I’m just saying—” he grabbed the beer bottle beside him and gave it a sip, passing to you next. “—you told me he was an asshole, and hate sex is the best sex. So why not?!”

“He literally cheated on me!” You spat, shoving Jean’s shoulder while gulping down the remaining of the beer. “Fuck, open another one.”

“It’s all going on your tab, Kirstein” said the hoarse voice from the other side of the counter, attracting both of your eyes there.

Levi was cleaning the remaining dishes, drying the glasses as he adjusted his black apron and gave you another one of his expressionless stares. You had noticed he started to linger around since last week when you two shared a drink. He wasn’t that bad, he was actually kinda nice, you had to admit. Even though he had this dark aura, he was good company for your late evenings.

“Yea, yea, Captain Grumpy-Pants” Jean fanned his hand and grabbed another beer from the minifridge, opening it with his teeth.

“Jean!” You drunkenly leaned your upper body on the countertop, cheeks reddening from the newcomer heat you got from the alcohol.

The raven-haired man just rolled his eyes and disappeared into the back, leaving you two alone with your childish giggles and murmurs.

“I swear, the man is like my grandpa” the bartender said, gulping down the beer and passing it to you. “Why he has been taking late night shifts, I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” You downed your fair share, coughing a bit from the bitter cold taste.

“He would always leave before 10PM, the latest I’ve seen him around was midnight.” Jean burped and you pushed him jokingly. “I’d say he has a crush on you.”

“W-What?”

You felt your heart thump from the inside of your ears, blushing right away — but you would blame it on the alcohol.

“Nah, just fucking with you. The old man wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re nasty” you shoved him again, harder this time and he let out another laugh. “—besides, he has a stick too far up his own ass to get involved with other people.”

Levi came out from the back, now in his casual clothes, wearing a long-sleeved green shirt and black jeans, his apron folded on his arm as he walked to the counter to put away the now clean glasses. You saw him a few times before coming to work, but it would be just for a split second, so you never noticed how his clothes would hug the well-defined muscles. He didn’t seem like the type to be ripped, so you guessed he did a good job in hiding it.

“Hold up” the other bartender held a hand to his stomach, his eyes widening as his expression changed into a pained one. “Yup. Definitely going to puke.”

He rushed to the back, leaving only you and Levi on the counter. The soft country song played in the old jukebox as you laid on the counter once more, watching the shorter man as his hands worked on the clean glasses. You could see the veins that traced back to his arms as his fingers moved quickly, the image now stuck in your mind as you wondered how those palms would feel against your throat, how warm would his breath feel fanning on your face, how…

“You look like shit” he said, startling you to the point you almost fell off the stool. What the fuck?

“You don’t look so good either” you bit back now frowning at him.

Levi grabbed one of the glasses and filled it with tap water, putting it right in front of you. You stared at him, confused as he just let out a ‘tch’ and grabbed a handkerchief to dry his hands.

“Sober up.” He commanded, his tone now lower, making something stir inside your belly.

“I don’t feel like sobering up” you retorted, grabbing the glass anyways. “The night is young.”

“It’s 4AM” he rose a brow, staring at you once more. “The bar closed two hours ago.”

You rolled your eyes, gulping down to the last drop and laid your head between your crossed arms above the counter. “Jean and I are celebrating.”

“What exactly?”

“Another Friday!” You gave him a sloppy smile and let out a yawn, earning a concerned look.

The creaky door from the back room opened suddenly, and a stumbly Jean came into the bar, grogginess all over his face while Levi crossed his arms over his — dare you say, very muscly — chest.

“Well, that went bad” the taller man burped and leaned onto the counter like you were, letting out a defeated groan as he did.

“You’re such a lightweight” you joked, and the man groaned once more.

“Fuck off. I’ve been through a lot.”

Levi turned around suddenly, another disappointed ‘tch’ coming out of his mouth as he signaled the backdoor.

“C’mon. I’m taking you two home.”

You and Jean exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, leaving the poor man confused but not short of apathy on his face.

“Sorry shorty” Jean stood straight and put a finger under his chin, “you’re not my type.”

At that point, Levi was pretty much done with both of you as you laughed thoroughly. He slapped Jean’s shoulder and grabbed his wrist, walking to the other side of the counter and grabbing yours also and dragging your drunken bodies to the back entrance. You and the blonde boy were giggling under your breath, thinking the older man wouldn’t notice at all, and he just pretended not to, too tired to deal with that shit.

“Are we having a threesome?!” Jean tripped on his feet, following the other man as he coughed a bit. “Threesome! Threesome! Threesome!”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Jean!” You threw him a disgusted gaze as you tried to keep your distance.

“You just wanna fuck shorty. He’s boooring.”

You pushed Jean and laughed as he stumbled again, almost falling this time.

Levi rolled his eyes as he dragged you two out of the bar, turning off the lights and locking the door behind you, now letting go of your wrists. You looked around to find the streets empty and the starry sky above you. Everything was quiet, the way you enjoyed your nights, and only two cars were parked, a black BMW and a white sedan you recognized as Jean’s from the times he took you home when you were too drunk. So the other one must’ve belonged to Levi.

“Yo, Y/N, I think it’s not a threesome anymore” Jean leaned in and tried to whisper, but his voice was high enough for Levi to hear “, I’m pretty sure we are getting kidnapped.”

“Shut up, Jean” you rolled eyes at him as you watched the raven-haired man unlock the car and shoved the other one in.

You were standing on his side when he gave you a slight gaze, signaling the inside of the car as you nodded, putting your hand on the top of the door to steady yourself, but as you put one foot inside, your hand slipped, and you were going for a face-in fall.

It was going to be your most disgraceful moment. You had awful times when you fell while drunk — like that one time when you fell from a bridge, diving into the dirty lake near Mikasa’s house and everyone took pictures, making it the icon of your groupchat for months before changing into a picture of Sasha sleeping while hugging a bag of potatoes — but this time, you were going to fall in front of someone you actually fancied, the first person you showed any kind of interest since the fiasco with your ex. It had been almost two months.

A pair of strong hands held your shoulders as your own grabbed the collar of his shirt for stability, holding onto his chest for dear life. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold fingertips, now daring to look up to find his eyes staring right into your soul. His mouth was slightly parted, just enough for you to fawn over and have a thousand scenarios going through your mind.

Oh, how you wanted him to just cup your face and close the gap…

Wait, what are you thinking?

A loud snore came from the car, bringing your attention to a sleeping Jean who was splayed all over the backseat, a trail of drool falling off his lips as his feet twitched.

Levi straightened you in place, clearing his throat as he offered you one hand.

“Careful” he whispered as you kept on staring, only to shake your head, dropping out of the state of trance you found yourself in.

You looked down as the man helped you inside, not even daring to meet his gaze after that moment, still feeling your cheeks hotter than your pounding heart. Levi’s hands adjusted the seatbelt around your body, and you tried not to think too much about it as you kept looking forward.

“Don’t throw up” he ordered and you groaned, rolling your eyes as he closed the door.

Watching as the man turned around, you waited until he sat inside and started the car, now feeling dizzier than before to just lean your head on the window, watching as the sky slowly turned into orange, signaling the morning was just around the corner. Suddenly, your lids felt heavier than stone and you started to doze off, the sky now turning black as you closed your eyes. Just for a second.

You weren’t aware, but Levi kept his gaze on you from the corner of his eye, feeling too intrusive to stare any longer, but too weak to look away. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but the sides of his lips curled upwards in a small — almost inexistent — smile.

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 5 | hot water

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

You laid low over the next few weeks, avoiding Captain Bakugou to the best of your ability.

You didn’t make eye contact during your drills, shifting behind Kaminari and Sero’s shoulders when you could. You kept to your bunkroom when you weren’t on duty, and ate quickly in the mess halls, leaving as soon as you were finished lest he come dine with his battalion. You left the palace grounds only to post your wages to your family, and hurried back quickly in case Bakugou came looking and found you gone.

You also steered clear of Nishimura and his idiot friend Hasumi, taking alternate routes when you saw them on the training grounds and saying nothing about the animals and bugs you continued to find in your sheets.

Your only relief was your continued patrols, especially when you were assigned to Sero or Kaminari. Kaminari in particular was good at getting you out of your funk, tripping over himself to make you laugh and forcing you to socialize with all his palace favorites like Hagakure the laundress or on one notable occasion, Ochako Uraraka, companion to the princess-to-be and wife of the prince’s trusted valet, Izuku Midoriya.

His favorite stop, however, continued to be Mina’s workrooms and you found yourself getting quite comfortable with her, relaxing into her bright and cheery presence. She kept you well entertained with easy humor and palace gossip.

“I heard Captain Bakugou told the prince he’ll have the thief in chains before the wedding,” Mina said one evening as you and Kaminari finished up your rounds. “But it’s hard to know where he’ll strike next. There’s no discernable pattern in the rooms he targets or the things he seems to take.”

“Wow, never thought anyone would be able to stump that guy,” Kaminari said, kicking his feet up on Mina's worktable. Mina growled, shoving his muddy boots off the bright fabrics. Kaminari overbalanced and only just managed to stop himself from face planting, grabbing her chair tightly.

He shot Mina a dirty look but continued. “Bakugou’s basically like a bloodhound. I thought for sure he would have sniffed the thief out by now.”

Mina sighed. “I know! And it’s giving the servants ideas now, too. One of them stole Lady Yaoyorozu’s best gown right out of the laundry rooms last Sunday. The housekeeper’s had a right time of it trying to track down the culprit.”

You thought back to your own patrol on Sunday, but it hadn’t taken you anywhere down near the laundry rooms. Nishimura and Hasumi’d been on that route and you wondered if the theft had occurred right under their noses, the pair of fucking idiots.

“If I were the thief,” Kaminari said, “I would steal an entire tray of those little cinnamon buns cook Rikido makes.”

You laughed. You had yet to try one, but from the way the other soldiers waxed poetic about them, you didn’t doubt they were worth stealing.

“Ooh, I would pilfer those sweet cakes he does,” Mina said longingly. She looked as though she was thinking wistfully of a long lost lover.

You thought to yourself. If you were any kind of thief, you’d steal money, most likely, to send back to your family. Or maybe something of the captain’s to burn. You wondered if he cared enough for anything that you could get him to beg you for it back. You quite liked the image of him on his knees before you...

A chuckle from Kaminari brought you out of your fantasy.

“Maybe we should take up a life of crime,” he said.

Mina eyed him. “Think of how fast Bakugou would figure you out and say that again. He’s the smartest person in this entire castle.”

Kaminari winced. “On second thought, protecting and serving is my passion. I’ve never so much as looked at a stolen pastry. If someone approached me with one I’d report them straight to the captain.”

You’d heard from Mina exactly how the prince’s future bride had bribed her way into the mid winter ball, so you weren’t buying it.

“In other news,” Mina said, “The new servants' baths are finished. You lot might get to try them! I heard they’re only waiting on an inspection from the steward to open. Hagakure said she already snuck in for a dip in the ladies’ baths and just about melted.”

Your interest piqued. You hadn’t had more than a rushed scrub down in weeks, and if the baths weren’t open yet, your chances of being disturbed were few.

“Where are they?” you asked, trying not to look as interested as you felt.

Mina described their location and dropped the tantalizing fact that they’d been built over a natural hot spring just south of the castle. Mentally, you could feel yourself rubbing your hands together with glee. Maybe tonight you could soak away all the stress from the past few weeks.

Kaminari yawned in disinterest. “No wonder you’ve got such a girly face, L/N. You’re basically as bad as Mina.”

You scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with being clean.”

He raised a golden eyebrow. “You even sound like Mina.”

Mina patted your arm sympathetically. “Denki was born to repel women, L/N, don’t hold it against him. A woman likes a well groomed man. Keep it up and you’ll have your share of ladies hanging off you when you grow up.”

You stifled a laugh. You certainly hoped not.

Kaminari, however, looked absolutely incensed and he bit out a retort at Mina, storming out of her office and bodily dragging you with him. You suppressed a smile and followed him through the rest of your rounds, trying to look appropriately chastened when he told you off for not defending him.

You felt lighter than you had in ages, though, and you looked forward to an evening spent in the baths.

Late that evening, hours after everyone went to bed, you crept out of the barracks and followed a worn path to the south of the castle. The baths proved tricky to find in the dark, but soon enough you stumbled upon the entrance. In case Hagakure was around for another illicit dip, you stuck to the men’s side, not wanting to explain to the laundress why her friend the soldier suddenly had sprouted a pair of breasts.

You lit a match and followed its light into the steamy heat of a dark room. You pressed it to a set of sconces set into the wall which, when lit, revealed an open pool sunk into the floor of the room. The light wasn’t enough to see the bottom of the spring by, but you could see steam curling off the surface of the water and you shivered in delight.

You quickly undressed, leaving your clothes and your breast bindings in a neat pile by the side of the pool, and climbed into the dark water. The heat instantly loosened your shoulders, and you could feel what must have been months of tight knots unraveling within your muscles.

You let out a sigh and sank in up to the top of your head, letting the water sluice over your shoulders and hair. You grabbed for your soap and washed down thoroughly, luxuriating in a feeling of total cleanliness that you hadn’t felt in months.

Then you let yourself float, feeling near ecstasy in every single nerve where the warm water touched your skin. The gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool and the steam curling up around your face lulled you into a stupor.

Until the scrape of a boot at the entrance reached your ears. Cussing, you ducked back down in the water, swimming over to press your chest up against the side of the pool, your heart beating frantically like a frightened rabbit.

Your stomach dropped when light caught on a lock of unruly blonde hair, and Captain Bakugou slipped into view.

“Interesting place for me to find a soldier who’s supposed to be in their bunk,” he said, smirking. His eyes were bright in the torch light.

You wanted to rush out of the baths and leap into your clothes, but you could only hold still in fear as he stepped closer. He looked like he’d come from his own bed, only wearing a loose linen shirt over a pair of soft breeches, his usual uniform conspicuously absent. You tried to ignore the peek of a well defined pectoral through the low collar of his nightshirt.

“Captain,” you said quickly, “I, um...I couldn’t sleep.”

He moved to the edge of the pool, staring down at you. “And you think that means you can just defy my orders, pretty boy?”

You flushed. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked you over, scarlet eyes running over your wet hair and shoulders. “You look awfully comfortable in there. Not gonna get out?”

Your heart shot into your throat. You couldn’t get out, not in front of him. Not if you didn’t want this whole charade to be ruined right here, right now. You didn’t know if Bakugou would knife a woman, but you didn’t want to take your chances and find out.

“I’m, um, embarrassed to, Captain,” you said by way of explanation. You stared at his boots, not daring to look up into his handsome face.

“Well aren’t you delicate, princess,” he quipped. His boots shifted and all of a sudden his face was in front of yours. You startled, shooting back from the rim of the pool, water sloshing loudly around you. You covered your chest protectively -- you didn’t know how well he could see in the low light of the torches but you didn’t want to test it.

A gleam of interest came into his eye and his gaze picked over you again. He looked disconcertingly curious, his head cocked to the side, like a wolf considering which part of the prey to tear into first.

To your horror, his hand moved to his shirt. Before you knew what he was doing, Bakugou grinned and pulled his nightshirt over his head. You had a glimpse of strong arms and a defined chest with a mouth watering set of abs before you panicked and whipped around, staring hard at the opposite wall.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out high and squeaky.

“The fuck you think I’m doing, shrimp?” he asked. You heard the mortifying sound of his belt being undone and the scuff of his boots as he stepped out of them. “I’m testing something.”

“C-captain,” you said. “You’re not coming in here.”

You heard a low chuckle. “Don’t wanna share, princess?”

“Th-that’s not it!” you gasped, spine locking up as you heard his pants hit the ground. There was a slosh and water rushed over your back in a small wave. “Captain, this isn’t right.”

His rough voice was coming too near. “It’s a communal bath. We’re communally bathing. You some kind of pervert or something?”

You certainly felt like one if the way your eyes had tried to stay stuck to his chest was any indication. “And if I am?” you asked.

There was another low chuckle, this time right by your ear. “Awful shy for a pervert.”

You stood still, hardly daring to breathe. Your thoughts raced wildly from one topic to the next. What did he think he was doing? How were you going to get out of here without him figuring you out? If you pushed him, could you make it out of the baths before he caught you? If he caught you, what would he do?

A broad, hard chest pressed right against your back and your brain froze completely. You stopped breathing.

What was this? This was beyond teasing. What was the captain trying to accomplish?

“Still embarrassed?” he rumbled in your ear. A shiver went through you and your arms tightened around your chest, praying he couldn't see anything over your shoulder.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” you blurted. You tried to will your mind to disconnect from the nerve endings in your back. He was so, so warm.

He snorted, and there was a moment of hesitation before he sloshed away from you again. You sighed in relief as the heat of his body left your back. “Not counting you getting your ass kicked in the mess hall.”

Irritation flashed through and you would have rounded on him if you could have turned around. “I wasn’t getting my ass kicked.”

There was a splashing sound from behind you. “Oh, were you only pretending to be losing spectacularly?”

You clenched a fist under the water. “Look, why are you here?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You ain’t the only one who can’t sleep,” Bakugou admitted roughly, surprising you. You chanced a look at him over your shoulder, only to whip back around, shame-faced. Yep, his abs were still there.

“W-why can’t you sleep?” you asked for something to say, voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat.

“Why can’t you?” he asked.

You frowned. “I asked you first.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

You could feel your cheeks heat, and you tamped down on an indignant so are you. A soldier didn’t talk to their commander that way, nor a peasant to a marquis.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me, princess,” Bakugou said. His voice sounded smug, like he knew what retort you were clamping down on.

You thought for a moment on what you could tell him. You couldn’t exactly admit to waking in the middle of the night to bathe without having your gender revealed. You could be vague, though, and still tell the truth.

“My family,” you said. “There were some things that, uh, led me to the kingsguard, and I was thinking about that.”

Bakugou seemed to accept that. “I was thinking about how I'll kill that thief nice and slow when I get my hands on him.”

You shivered despite the warm air of the bath house. The thought was unsurprising, but Bakugou being kept awake by it was. “You’re more bothered about this than I would have guessed.”

A loud, gusty sigh echoed from the other end of the spring. “They’re fucking with my territory. And they’re bothering the shit out of Shouto and his dumbfuck valet.”

“The prince?” you asked, surprised.

“He’s a...friend,” Bakugou admitted. You were somewhat shocked by the admission that Bakugou had anything like friends. You wondered what the prince was like, to be so unbothered by Bakugou’s rough manner. Or maybe Bakugou didn’t try his usual tack with a member of the royal family.

“I’ll kill anyone who fucks with him,” Bakugou growled quietly, “Or that green-headed little snot rag.”

You guessed he meant Midoriya, the valet. He sounded oddly protective for someone he called a name like snot rag. You wondered wildly if, despite the disturbing terms in which he spoke of them, he considered the prince and his valet something like family. It would explain why he was so bothered by the thief when he was normally so unflappable.

“I hope you find them,” you said, the sincerity in your voice surprising even you.

“Oh, I will,” he promised darkly. You shivered again.

A loud splashing from his end of the spring distracted you and you looked back over your shoulder, only get an eyeful of a very chiseled butt leaving the pool. You yelped, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Another low chuckle reached your ears, along with the rustle of fabric. “Leaving. Didn’t you want that, princess?”

You took a breath. “Well--yes.”

There was more rustling. “I’ve had my fun with you,” he said, and you heard the scuff of his boots as he pulled them on again. “Don’t let me catch you out of your bunk again or I’m fucking discharging you.”

You nodded, heart beating wildly. Had you really gotten away with this? “Yes, sir,” you answered dutifully.

Bakugou let out another derisive snort. “Get to bed,” he said imperiously, and then he was gone.

You turned to stare after him, listening to the tread of his boots grow further away. Finally, as the sounded faded, your knees gave out and you sank back under the water, feeling horribly relieved, and yet more confused than you had ever been before.

You'd escaped, but...what the hell had just happened?

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hii i'm just wondering if you're taking regular requests? Like, not the nsfw ABC one? If you are, then can i maybe request a hc of how the boys would react when they're getting turned on from something MC does but she doesn't realize it? (If everyone is too much then just Arthur, Vincent, Isaac, Dazai and Mozart hehe) anyways, thanks in advance!

Yes I am still taking requests. (I really enjoyed this one) Thank you for requesting and if you would like me to do the rest of the residents just say so and I shall do as you ask. Enjoy.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Le Comte, Sebastian, Arthur, Vincent, Dazai, Mozart, Isaac

Pairing: x Female MC

Word count: 2183

Warnings: mentions of blood, character unwillingly being watched while naked, nsfw (barely though)

Le Comte 

His body rocked gently with the carriage; the movement already lulling her to into a deep sleep. Moonlight trickled in from the window, caressing her skin like ghosts dancing across a marble floor. Her breathing is interrupted, speeding and slowing at times as is she was being pleasured. Her lips parted slightly to release a breathy moan, “…comte.”

The scent of arousal stained the air in the carriage as Comte’s face pinches in pain. “Ma Cherie,” he whispers; the wisps of his voice inaudible to any soul other than himself. “Such a wicked temptress you are.”

He reaches out; her skin warm against the cold pads of his hands. His fingers trace the curve of her reddened cheek, ghosting over the sharp cut of her jaw, dipping lower to kiss the rushing vein of her neck. His fangs pulsed, chest heaved, eyes stalking the female like a wolf would its prey. The pureblood hastily jerked back, hissing as if her skin had scalded him. A quick movement and fangs penetrated the tendon of his thumb, his eyes rolling closed as he reigned in some semblance of control. Releasing his hand, Comte panted, a thin trail of saliva connecting his abused flesh and lips as his nails raked tears in the plush seat below causing white feathers to float down like snow on a cold winter’s morn.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so vulnerable to me, Ma Cherie… after all, I am a still beast,” he paused his smooth words to watch a ribbon of red seep from the healing marks on his flesh, “and you, a lamb ripe for the taking.”

Dazai

Her skin was flushed from the heat of the thermae, her features relaxed in a soft smile. The candle light illuminated her curves causing her to appear to be what Dazai could only define as a fertility goddess basking in the warmth of light, unbashful to any who might stumble upon the ethereal sight. Her soft breast surrounded by ringlets of wet hair raised as she placed a towel along the top of her head, shifting her hand along the white threads. Water droplets slid down her flesh forcing pale yellowed irises to stalk the clear liquid.

The mysterious turn of his lips seemingly permanently chiseled into the planes of his face dropped into a frown; the want to overtake and claim her body was demanding and too fresh.

Like a wounded animal lapping at its bloodied paw, the beast inside his heart curled, growling, daring anyone to approach him and his possessions. Blood dropped down his chin as his fangs chewed wildly at his lip. His cock raised, sliding against his thigh, swelling with lust and need for the vulnerable female before his trembling form.

Her eyes shot towards the widow mimicking the shiver sliding down her spine; her mind reeling with images of feral yellow eyes watching her, memorizing every dip of her body, but was greeted by a lone tree branch swaying gently in the breeze.

Dazai heaved against the trunk, nails clawing at the harsh bark, moans muffled by the tight palm of his hand as a wet stain slowly spread over the fabric of his clothing, concurring the cloth like the pleasure tumbling through his mind. 

“How far I have fallen,” Dazai whispered, pleasure still rolling through his body, “she who was oblivious to the monster peering through the glass barrier will surely gaze at my dilapidated form with astonishment when the sun kisses the horizon. Innocence dripped from her womanly body like the water warmed by her flesh.”

Dazai smiled a broken smile only men who had been starved of all hope would recognize, “my, how these sinful fingers would corrupt that innocence she holds so close to her breast.”  

Vincent

The stroke of his brush against the canvas was wild, vigorously hurried. The thought of losing the memory chiseled into his mind’s eye fastening his pace. His heart beat with a fury the painter didn’t know was possible as his breath stopped; the air only releasing from his lungs when the pounding in his head became too unbearable.

All she had done was smile, her lashing fluttering, colored orbs bashfully glancing away, a blush staining her cheeks as she tucked a stray piece of silken hair behind her ear. Behind the same ear that glinted with a sliver cuff matching both Theo’s and himself. Vincent’s eyes had widened in absolute disbelief in what he was witnessing. Beauty beyond humanly possible had stood before him; enchanting him, leaving him a slave for her touch.

Every emotion he possessed was being laid bare on the canvas with each brush of color against the skin of the canvas. He worked until red stained the sky, rising over the horizons like the god of war riding a flying chariot. His fingers throbbing with pain from the constant movement, never being allowed a break. He gazed at the painting like a lover would their other half. The oils still vibrant was moisture. Vincent craved for the color of her skin to be beneath his fingers, warming the rough flesh of his palms, not stuck, forever frozen in time, trapped in the same position for all eternity.

His cock strained against the confines of his trouser, lips being tugged into a pained whimper. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine refused to drown out the overwhelming scent of her very being still coating the insides of his lungs. His tongue traced over his fangs; the wonder of the taste of her blood running through his mind. His eyes rolled back as he imagined the softness of her body against his own. His soul was on the canvas- the act a declaration of his love and lust for the woman he had yet to call his. 

“Will you ever look my way, I wonder,” Vincent murmured into the night. His words never being heard by another soul.

Arthur

The door creaked as Arthur pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit room, the candle on his desk burned down to a nub from the hours of being aflame. It was well past midnight when he had returned from the tavern with Theo, he had told her not to wait for him, but she had tried to stay awake; that much was obvious with the scent of chilled coffee mixing with the sweet smell of her flesh and old paper staining the air. A dark mug placed beside her sleeping form on the nightstand as well as a book, forgotten, tucked between the pads of her fingers. Lips parted slightly to release soft, comforting snores, her hair flowing around her form like wings, the curve of her hips being insinuated by the wrinkled, white fabric of his shirt that clung to her slowly breathing body. The sheets of his bed bunched around her knees; the sweat lightly dampening her forehead a sign of overheating.

Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of her heart shaped bottom peeking out from under the shirt. How he would love to see the flesh of her bare bottom rippling from his thrusts as he pounded into her, making her squeal with pleasure.

“Did you do this on purpose? You naughty little minx,” rumbled Arthur. His jaw clicking with movement as he advanced towards his desk, shaking his head to clear his lust filled mind. His stomach grumbled, mouth watering when he noticed the small, mesh pouch of packaged fudge resting on the wooden surface of his desk. Arthur threw his head back, groaning with pleasure, eyes drifting closed as he whispered, a content smile tugging at his soft lips “ass and fudge… damn I love this bird.”

Isaac       

 Isaac shifted his shoulders, forcing a crack to resonate down his back- a regular occurrence the entirety of the day. His form was hunched over his desk, his cheeks flushed, and brows furrowed in concentration; gentle metal clicking reaching her ears. The sheets were soft against her bare legs as she shifted, placing her book down against a nightstand; stretching her arms above her head.

“Isaac,” she hummed.

It took the physicist a few second before he recognized her voice slipping through the air. “Yes, my love?” He responded.

“Does your back hurt?” He didn’t realize she had left her place on his bed to tip toe behind him until her breathy whispers tickled his ear, causing him to jolt slightly.

“A little. The damned thing refuses to stay connected,” the chair creaked under him as he leaned back into his lovers hold, gesturing to the trinket pieces resting on the wooden desk. The warmth from her arms seeped into the skin around his neck while he continued, “I might have to ask Leonardo about it, unless I find-.”

Isaac was irrupted by the strong caress of female fingers shifting over his shirt clad shoulders. Her lips pecking once at the top of his head, thumbs tracing the curve of his tense shoulder blades, digging into his muscles in a pleasant motion.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Stuttered the pale haired man, his hands raising slightly off his lap in shock.

Her slow, relaxed sigh sent a pang of electricity straight to his slowly hardening member, “taking care of you. What else would I be doing?” The flirtatious tone of her voice paired with the warming friction of her fingers against his skin forced Isaac to tug at his tightening trousers; a low whimper being muffled by his teeth, an embarrassed blush warming his ears.

“…the gods help me,” he whispered.

Mozart

The piano was chilled as Mozart leaned against the whitened wood, her giggle forcing a small trimmer to befall his lips. The sweet taste of the chocolate paired with the strong hints of coffee filling slid over his palate like the words falling from hers, “do you like it?”

Her eyes were bright, humorous with a small, barely-there tint of insecurity as he swallowed, smacking his lips to further live in the taste. “It is alright, I suppose,” he mumbled.

She smiled softly, returning to nibble at the half-bitten piece of chocolate resting between her thumb and forefinger. “Ah, its melting!”

Mozart rolled his eyes at her disbelieving tone of voice, answering with his own, “yes. It does that. I thought you weren’t idiotic enough to not acknowledge that-.” His words were caught in his throat as he saw her finger disappearing into the cavern of her mouth; her cheeks hallowing slightly as she sucked at the digit. Her eyes stared at the floor in concentration, her brows being pulled together from the thoughts running through her mind. Slowly her finger reemerged, her lips releasing the flesh with a soft pop.

Mozart swallowed thickly. Denial ran rampant through him at the feeling of his trousers becoming tighter to a point it was somewhat uncomfortable. He could still see the melted brown on her tongue as it darted out, licking at her thumb like a snake scenting the air.

“Wolf? Are you feeling okay? You’re a little red,” her words were close, her breath smelling of cocoa as she placed her lips to his forehead, checking for fever. He sputtered, falling back to place his hands roughly against the ivory keys forcing a deranged concoction of notes to shift through the air, “do not- do not do that…,” he huffed. Wishing nothing more than for the earth to split and swallow him whole at the high-pitched crack of his voice.

Sebastian

His hair was a mess, water still dripped from his chin, his tie loosely dangling around his neck, his breath coming out in hurried pants as Sebastian launched himself into the kitchen, throwing himself into motion only freezing when his lover’s laughs penetrate his ears.

“I’ve never seen you this frazzled Sebastian,” she giggled walking over to him, taking the tie between her fingers and knotting the fabric. She had yet to notice the panicked scowl on his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I don’t see how being late to wake is a laughable matter when it concerns the wellbeing of the residents.”

She glanced up, a brow raising slowly at his accusing tone of voice, “I woke up early and did your portion as well as mine,” she paused, placing a gentle kiss to his wet cheek, smiling gently, “you have been more tired than usual so I figured I let you sleep in.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his head fall back, his eye lids closing as a low groan left his lips, “I love you.”

Her love-drunk giggle made him smile brightly; his stone façade non-existent as his lips locked and parted with her velvet hills quickly. Hands slid down his back to rest against his hips making a shiver run up his spine; heat pooling into his eyes at her affections. He growled lowly, nipping at the shell of her ear, “good girls get rewards, and you’ve been a very good girl.”

Breakfast was a little late that morning.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

[johobi]

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Banana and peanut butter become pulp in your mouth as you glare out the kitchen window. It's so grey out there. Greyer than it has any right to be. As if your dour mood has polluted the very atmosphere. Rain lashes the exterior in leaden pellets, each one compounding your headache like a rap on the head. Don't be so serious, your bluetooth speaker croons as you chew and chew, unblinking. The bridge of your glasses slip further down your nose but you don’t correct them. Don't be so serious.

Oh, but it's all so serious. 

Your final portfolio lacks in ways your mentor is incapable of articulating, and you only have so much time to fix it. Your college life is coming to a close. There are frighteningly few opportunities out there and they’re sure to spurn a sham like you. What do you do now? Where do you go from here—

"God, you listen to such depressing music," a husky voice sounds. It’s thick with sleep and horribly attractive. You hear his feet next; big and bare as they slap the tile floor and disrupt the ambience. 

Yes, dismal is an ambience. 

Before you glimpse the interloper himself, his fingers pilfer your next mouthful of toast. His other hand has your phone and is skipping through your carefully curated playlist of moody tunes. With all the scant energy you can muster, you glower at him. 

“Taehyung.” 

Soccer captain. Campus celebrity. Doofus.

Unlikely friend and unlikelier crush. But life is strange, and he is both these things. Indeed, he proclaims himself your best friend to all who will listen. As for the matter of your tender feelings, however, he is oblivious. And will remain so.

Taehyung is long-legged and limber-bodied, but round of face and feature. A kitten in a tiger’s pelt. Will mew for affection and roar when angry. Has quite literally nudged your hand for pets and raged at referees in the same afternoon. There is usually no in-between. 

Your scowl goes unseen. He sidles past like the oblivious buffoon he is and continues to tamper with Spotify.  Smears his peanut-buttered thumb around your phone display. Ugh. You brush back your hood and fix him again with extra scorn.

"Actually, douchebag, it’s good music for thinking. And I have a headache. I hardly wanna listen to something like—no, don't you dare put fucking Party Rock on right now. Tae!"

It’s too late. The lanky idiot is already gesticulating to the beginning beats. Your phone is an unreachable hostage in his flapping hands. You’re about to lunge for it but he preempts the attack by smothering you with your own hood. “Tae.” Your whining sounds all the more pitiful muffled. “Everyfing hurfs. ‘m hungover. Pleathe.” 

Taehyung relents after further, strangled pleas. Unwraps you with a grin that grows like the sunrise. For a moment, you’re dazzled. “Sorry. No more torture,” he chuckles all low, hair in his eyes. His locks are long and always untamed. An aureate crown befitting of his celebrity status. 

One swipe and he’s muted the racket and returned your phone. You turn the sticky thing over in your hands, rueing the day you met the overgrown imp. “How did you get it this dirty…?”

You go ignored and Taehyung gets closer. He scrutinises your hunched and hoodied appearance with a thoughtful hum. “Headache?” A rounded nose and two brown eyes come into focus. "Hungover? How? I didn't see you go out last night."

Averse to such study, you shy away. "Well, I did." You did not. You stayed home and guzzled $4 Prosecco while lamenting your trash portfolio. But you aren’t about to regale him with that pitiful tale. The sheerness of shame prevents you. Taehyung would be so sweet about it, too! So buoying, with his sunny smiles and fervent encouragement: "Why were you crying over that?!" He'd ask. "Your work is amazing. Seriously amazing. I love everything you do!" He'd gush. "People will be stumbling over themselves to hire you!" He'd continue, naively. And that hurts the most, because he just doesn't get it. Taehyung is a sponsored, collegiate athlete that's graduating into a guaranteed draft. He is—and always has been—praised widely as up-and-coming. The kid has had scouts scrapping for him mid-way through high school!

You, however, are small fry, swimming in a shoal of other unknowns, leaping for the hook of internship. Your dreams of animating for Disney died long back. They dwelled with Walt now.

But you don’t resent Taehyung for any of it. Ever. He’s a paragon. Born for the limelight. Has sweat and bled oceans for it. And for some reason he insists that you, too, are deserving of that same renown. Why? He’s ridiculous. Far too kind. And—Christ, he has a big dick.

"Taehyung, can you please not shove your tiny fucking penis in my face while I'm trying to eat? I'm nauseous enough as it is."

The soccer captain rests a foot on the seat next to you, giving you ungainly insight into his crotch. Taehyung, as he often, inexplicably is, is clad only in his boxer-briefs. This would be alarming were it not so goddamn commonplace. He is allergic to clothes.

According to him, he’s a naturist. 

According to you, he’s an attention whore.

Taehyung points to his elevated foot, but it's a little difficult to ignore the bulge he's brandishing. "Do you understand the concept of inappropriate proximity and your current state of undress?" You rattle on, words slurred half by OJ, half by fluster. He simply points again, and with more insistence. Relenting, you follow the line of his finger to his pretty, if gigantic, foot. Then notice the ink around his ankle, black and fresh. "Oh, wow, you got a tattoo? Cool!"

"Yep! I didn't ever really think about getting one 'til I saw yours. They were so cool I became kinda obsessed with getting one. So I finally did it last night."

‘Til he saw yours? Your stomach flutters. It's not the nausea. You smother it with more orange juice. "Well, that's awesome, Tae. You'll probably want more eventually. I would've gone with you if I'd known you were gonna go alone."

Finally, he lowers his leg. It’s a small mercy. But then, for no discernible, earthly reason, Taehyung begins flexing his many defined muscles. His calves in particular catch your attention. They’re so goddamned thick. They ripple. Fucking soccer players. "Hm? Oh, I wasn't alone. I went with some guys from the team." He ogles his reflection in the microwave door.

How can you avert your eyes when his pecs dance so compellingly? It all becomes a bit too much. "Okay, what are you doing? Seriously, what? I know you're into yourself, but this is ridiculous.” He stops. Snorts. Thank God. “If you were with the guys, why did you come back here last night? I thought you’d go back to your dorm."

Finally Taehyung sits, but he’s spread-legged and that’s perhaps worse than what he was doing just now. He’s 6ft of pure, hewn sex and just so fucking casual about it. He reclines. "Some of them took girls home last night so I needed somewhere to go and you're always an open door." Finger guns follow a cheesy wink.

You scoff, but he's right. You’d do anything for the big-hearted clown. Open door? You'd be the doormat under his soccer cleats, licking them free of dirt— "You're lucky Areum isn’t here right now. Don't think she’d take kindly to having some almost-naked oaf clambering into her bed."

"You say that, but she’s tried to hit this several times.” Taehyung is smug, brows high on his forehead. Yours lower harshly. “Tell her I slept in her bed last night. She’ll cream herself thinking about it later, I guarantee you."

“You’re gross. And can you stop—why do you keep flexing? There’s just me here.” You peer about for emphasis. Taehyung is again admiring his form in some burnished surface. “No-one is looking. Or cares.” Contrarily, you’re doing both those things. But he needn’t be privy to that. 

"This is serious. I need to work on my angles.” He contorts himself into something of a pretzel to peek at his back muscles. “We're holding a hook-up auction at our dorm to raise money for a graduation blow-out. And I'm on sale. Do you think I need to work on my back?"

You ease into a squint. "When you said serious, I thought serious words were about to follow."

"I am being serious!" Again Taehyung flexes, biceps bulging by his ears like an overfed turkey’s thighs. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

The world.

"I dunno. I'd take you for free, I guess, if you were the last one left."

Taehyung is unperturbed by your acerbic wit. It ricochets off him like rubber bullets would a muscle-bound ox. He is your greatest adversary. The bastard lacquers his lips until they’re plump and glossy and boasting a smirk. 

He’s always doing this. 

Always moistening himself. 

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you'll be disappointed." A boxy smile emerges. "I got girls and guys already approaching me about it. Some of the guys literally just wanna buy me for mentoring. I mean, that’s more effort than kissing, but—" He shrugs. The thought goes unfinished.

"That makes sense. You are a God among these mere mortals, Taetae." It's not sarcasm this time. Taehyung senses it. The grin he returns is life-affirming. You're so close to reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Telling him you're proud. Telling him you most likely, maybe, love him. But you notice you've dragged your sleeve through peanut butter—”Ah, shit,”—and you can tell him how you feel some other day.

Some other day.

"Some of them just wanna make out too, of course, and, like, I'm happy to comply. It's all for charity." His altruism knows no limits.

"Charity, huh?" You snort. Taehyung's mouth grows more square at your incredulity. "Who else is up for bidding, then?"

"Mostly guys from the team and dorm. There are some mutuals who just wanna get in on the action, too. Uh, you know Kim Namjoon?" He measures your reaction. When you give none: "Jeon Jungkook?"

Disinterest mellows your features. "Oh, right. Cool."

"So you don't like Jeon Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes are eager, his body poised. Anticipating.

"What? No. What gave you that idea? I've talked to him, like, twice." Your face crumples as you towel your soiled sleeve. The peanut butter smears into a tragic, shit-brown stain. "Damn, that's never coming out."

"He's gonna be so disappointed. He might even cry." Taehyung heaves a hammy sigh and clutches at his breast. There’s nothing the captain enjoys more than clowning his subordinates.  "Kook likes you so much. He's really into your whole androgynous fuckboi thing you got going on. He literally said, 'She's like a mystery, man. I'm not sure if she's a girl or a guy and—like, I'm not like that, but that's hot.'"

If your eyes could roll past the bounds of their sockets, they would. "Wow, what a poet. He sounds like a douchebag and I'm even less interested now. Fuckboi? Is that really the vibe I give off?" You don't fuck full stop. Nor were you aware you could dress like you do. 

"I dunno. You just seem kinda like a gremlin to me. Or like that weird guy from Death Note," Taehyung is quick to reassure you. Cool. You’re fucking overjoyed that he perceives you that way. Not as a goddess, or his beautiful, sexy soulmate, or the princess that wanders the spires of his captive heart. No. A gremlin. Or L.

"Well, you got me there, son."

"What about Kim Namjoon?" Taehyung presses, urgent again. He picks at your bread crusts with one hand, head cradled delicately in the other. The boy could be a world-class model, too. His loose, dark curls hang like a Van Gogh nightscape, framing the planes of his unmarred face. It hurts to look at him. It hurts to be looked at.

A self-conscious shuffle. "What about him? I don't know who that is." You flick away his foraging fingers but he draws you into an impromptu game of thumb-war in retaliation. It's the only thing to extract a smile from you today.

Taehyung looks sceptical. "He's the physio student with our team! You literally talked to him all day during this season's semi-final." His lengthy digits best yours easily. But though the match is won, he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead he encroaches further. Thumbs your wrist. Encompasses your knuckles in a soft, warm palm. He’s clasping you like an enamoured suitor might their bashful sweetheart, and it’s very strange. What is he doing? His mind looks to be elsewhere, now.

"Uh...—oh. Oh." Yours ambles back to you. "Yeah, he was really nice, but you know my rule. No—"

"—dating in final year. Yeah, I know. I'll tell him that if he asks about you again." Taehyung has returned, too. His hand is gone. Your gooseflesh ebbs with it.

With a cough, you sober. "I think the auction's a bit stupid, really, Tae. You sure you wanna do it?"

"Stupid? Why?" He shimmies in close, smug on his face and intolerably naked the rest of the way down. His skin is hot and golden and just far too close. "You're only saying that because you're jealous, right?" He tickles your chin to keep you honest and your eyes on him. You seize and squeeze the offending hand because he might be right and now you’re embarrassed. "The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you," he goes on to say, brazen as the smirk defiling his cherubic cheeks.

"Some rather large conclusion-jumping going on there," you smile, sweet as sugared cyanide. Your vice-grip tightens until he’s pouting in repentance. "I meant it's stupid to put yourself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if you don't want to kiss that person." 

"I'm just joking!" he whimpers like the overlarge puppy he is and you free him of his snare. Because you would die for this big, soppy boy and his big, soppy eyes. “You’re so grouchy today.”

‘The joke won’t land if it collides with the truth, Taehyung,’ you muse. You expect him to know this despite never having apprised him of your situation. You’re jealous and cowardly and completely unreasonable. You want him for yourself but you never want him to know that. 

If he wants your candour he should be a telepath. Simple.

Irritated by your own nonsense, you lash out at the unsuspecting boy. "You know what? I was joking, too. I remember Namjoon, he was hot. And smart. I think I'll cheat on my dating ban this once and bid on him. He has super nice lips, so." 

Taehyung simply smiles. "Oh, okay. Cool! Glad you’re gonna come along." 

Your threat proves ineffective because he doesn’t like you like that. Wouldn’t give a shit if Namjoon rawed you on stage while you stared him down. You stall on that thought because it’s kinda hot. “It’ll be great. Can’t wait to get my tongue down his throat.”

“Hell yeah! I knew you liked him.”

Yep, Taehyung is oblivious to your pining. As he should be. Because outwardly, your pining consists of nothing more than the odd, lingering look here and there. The balled-up sketches of him he will never see. A secret smile if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. Other than that, you're steely. Poker-faced. Rarely blind-sided by his allure, especially now that you've acclimated to his penchant for exhibitionism. 

 "Thank you in advance for your patronage." Rising from his seat, Taehyung comes to a stand behind you and leans. Encircles your shoulders with his terribly athletic arms and puts his lips to your ear. You're like a feral cat in the arms of a senseless child. You're bristling. "If he turns out to be a jerk and tries something he shouldn't, I'll protect you." For a moment, you're touched enough to unclench a little. "With these guns." And then you choke between his straining biceps and vie to repay him in kind.

----

The common room of Taehyung's dorm has been crudely transformed. Some questionable construction has taken place in order to build the catwalk centrepiece. Sofas and tables line the walls, thrust from the limelight. You've occupied the drinks table for the last 45 minutes, from the second you entered this place. You harbour an intense dislike for the chaotic energy of Taehyung's dorm. Machismo rages noisily between these walls and you much prefer less testosterone-drenched environments. Nevertheless, despite it all you're here on an endeavour this evening. One your idiot, rampant mouth has obligated you to. To buy time with a guy that's perfectly nice and all, but isn’t Taehyung.

Kim Namjoon makes eyes at you from the head of the runway, awaiting his musical cue. The beer you just slurped down bubbles up. You have to look away. Unfortunately, when you do, Taehyung is immediately there, his face in yours, his thumb and fingers pulling at your cheeks. "Hey you, don't get too drunk, okay? I don't trust a single man here. Especially not nice-as-pie Namjoon." 

Nice-as-pie Namjoon has chosen some Bruno Mars track by the sounds of it. The auction-goers' excitement ramps up considerably.

Unable to move your captured face, your eyes sweep the room. "Not even your own teammates?" you scoff cynically, swatting at his hands until he’s baited into a game of slapsies. "Now who sounds jealous?" 

Taehyung stops for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, you're right. I'm extremely jealous. I want Namjoon all to myself. He gives the best massages. And a happy ending when I ask nicely." And then he's back to rough-housing you, slapping your upper arms to alternating beats. "You look cute tonight. Your outfit, I mean," he offers up out of nowhere, so quiet you almost lose it to the bass. "He's lucky."

But you look exactly the same as you did earlier that day. Exactly the same as that afternoon in the cafeteria when he ribbed you for raiding Billie Eilish's Good Will donations. "Um, thanks. I guess." You're genuine, but don’t sound it. You can't look at him for fear of revealing the dopey grin that has hijacked your face.

"You're welcome, buddy." A large palm flattens your hair. His fingers get all in there, ruffling it until it probably looks more akin a bird's nest. Is Taehyung trying to sabotage you? Also, buddy? "Look, Namjoon's walking." 

You turn and see that he is. Strutting, moreover, albeit awkwardly. It's obvious that the lanky boy is unaccustomed to the same attention the team he services is. Nevertheless, there are whoops and hollers aplenty for the handsome blonde dork, and you, too, catch yourself smiling. How can you not, when he pokes at his dimples so? The others seem captivated, too, though less by the  finger-hearts and more by his form-fitting tracksuit. 

“I’d wrap my car around a tree if he was the tree,” one auction-goer confides to her friend. “And then I’d wrap my legs around—”

“Yeah, we get it Lisa.”

Lisa quiets. 

Namjoon’s endless legs sidle to a stop at the catwalk's end, directly opposite you. His bespectacled eyes meet your bespectacled eyes. For one, long second, the interest is palpable.  But then he breaks, and casts his gaze down to his FILAs. 

"Okay, he's, like, in love with you, I think," Taehyung whisper-yells, hands aflurry in applause. "Are you gonna bid?"

Shouts puncture the cheering either side of the room.

"$10!"

"$20!"

Neither of them are you.

The evening’s auctioneer - Taehyung's partner-in-slime Park Jimin - echoes each cry that rings out, giggling into a tinny karaoke mic. "$20 for our team physio?! Is that all you got ladies and gents? Do I have to remind you this guy can grope away pain with his magic hands?"

Namjoon spins toward Jimin's makeshift podium of an upturned bookcase and menaces him with his eyes. Well, it would be menacing were the man not as threatening as a ribbon-wrapped basket of newborn sloths.

The striker backpedals. "Okay, the massage might not be included, but don't let that deter you! He kisses like a pro!"

Screams of how do you know that, Jimin?! erupt and the throng grows ever more wild. Namjoon is redder than the cup you're strangling.

"Are you gonna bid?! You're gonna miss your chance!" For some reason Taehyung is still here, harassment game still strong. He should be preparing to walk next, but sees fit to pester you instead. And because of that, he's caught you in your lie, bare-faced and blushing.

No, you are not going to bid on Kim Namjoon.

"Uh, oh no, I forgot my purse," you grumble around the rim of your next drink, gulping it down like the bottom is your way out of this God-awful situation.

Then what are you doing here?

"It's right there." Taehyung pokes the cross-body bag hanging traitorously by your side.

"Oh, is it?" You reach for another cup even while burdened with one. Anything to sidetrack this conversation.

Taehyung intervenes with a firm hand. Swaddles your knuckles ‘til the shaking stops. You’re shaking? Beer slops over the sides, unnoticed. “___?”

Stupid, warm hand. And why are his fingers so fucking delicate for a footballer? He should model jewellery. Wedding rings.

Yours.

His ringless fingers close around your wrist when you persist in avoiding his gaze. The ruse is almost up. Fuck. There’s nothing left to do but to look at him. 

You do, ever so timidly. “What?”

"What are you doing?" Puzzlement becomes him well. Why is he so goddamn handsome? "If you aren't gonna bid on Namjoon, why did you come?"

Silence, but for the pump of background Bruno Mars.

‘You. I came for you. You were the plan all along. Not him,’ your mind screams.

You, however, just stare.

"Going—going—gone! Sold for $70! Come claim your kiss!" Jimin can hardly stop himself from squealing. For a guy that beds girls on the daily, his sincere excitement over simple lip-locking is amusing.

Taehyung's teammates hail him from the drapery behind the catwalk but he won't yet go. No, he insists on searing holes into the side of your face while you watch Namjoon get sloppy on-stage with some girl you don't know. They're really getting into it. Damn, he forgot about you quick. In  their fervour they edge towards the bounds of the catwalk, too absorbed in one another to notice. Thankfully, voyeuristic bystanders are on-hand to catch them before they fall.

"Kim Taehyung! How many times do I have to call you?! Get over here before I kick your fucking ass," Jungkook roars across the hubbub, halfway through the room. He  enacts the violent gesture for emphasis and knees some unsuspecting girl in the ass. Immediately the macho facade drops and he's all doe-eyed and buck-toothed, prostrating himself before the girl who actually seems grateful to have been assaulted by one Jeon Jungkook. Between his hushed apologies, Jungkook shoots Taehyung a look something murderous. And then he sees you and throws a shy wave, the kind a little kid might when cajoled by his parents.

"Ew." The word comes up involuntarily, like bile.

A deep cackle emanates from beside you. "Okay, guess I'm up." Taehyung squares his shoulders. His mouth, too. He's a very angular boy. "Better get my kit on. Cheer for me!" With a pat to your shoulder, he makes for Jungkook. Leaves you with an insidious dread. His soccer kit is your weakness. 

No, he is your weakness.

"Next up - and I'm sure most of you here tonight are anticipating this guy - our very own Team Captain and soon-to-be Major League Soccer player, Kim Taehyung!" Banshee-shrieking reverberates at Jimin's announcement. "Stick around, he'll be out in a few minutes!"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. You turn from the catwalk and fully embrace the drinks table, supporting yourself with two hands and God's grace.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

No way.

This wasn’t an actual plan. Just a fantasy.

You're not gonna tell him like this.

You're not gonna tell him ever.

All you have to do is just say you turned out to support him. You rarely get to go out with him anyway, what with his ever-growing entourage. Taehyung would appreciate that, and he'd never have to know that you came here for cornier purposes.

You're not a big gesture kind of girl.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

Distantly, you wished Areum were here. She'd have slapped some sense into you, maybe even literally.

No. Wait.

The devious cow would've talked you into doing it. For sure. She has a flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry, can I just—thanks." Someone with offensively bony elbows bulldozes you aside and passes a drink to her companion. An apology is on the tip of your tongue but evaporates into the ether upon seeing the twosome in question. Both were complicit in the casual bullying you endured during your high school years. They don't appear to recognise you now. Not that they even spare your pitiful person a glance.

"Who's up next?" the worst one queries, cup snug to her bosom.

"Taehyung," the lackey answers, glee upending her petulant features. "Kim Taehyung."

An elbow jabs you again as the girl struggles with the clasp on her clutch. Her overlong claws impede her. "Oh shit, already? I thought we had more time. Shit."

"Nope. It's go time. Hurry up, girl, competition's gonna be fierce." The other one watches her digital acrobatics to get into her purse.

Oh God. She has so much money. There's no doubt in your mind she'll trump everyone present.

No. Oh, no.

Not her. Not with him.

Your mind flits through premonitions of the future. They’re all  rather grim. The last one is that of a wedding. A marriage between this dreadful bitch and your most cherished of friends, Taehyung. It's garish and tacky - she's denied him input, of course - and the ceremony is filled with faces that once mocked you mercilessly. None of Taehyung's friends are there; indeed, he is no longer even part of his team. Her possessiveness and his undying loyalty have put an end to his blossoming career. He looks sad beneath a mask of happy. Eyes that once blazed with the embers of ambition are doused by despondency. He is a husk.

And their first meeting is this auction, this cute anecdotal encounter of oh, I just had to have him, and when I kissed him I knew.

Just a glimpse at this dystopian future disturbs you silly. Conviction, while tentative, burgeons in your heart.

You can't let her have him. Anyone but this noxious cunt.

And suddenly you've money in hand, too. Bills you withdrew specifically for this purpose, and yet would sooner have left them crisp and cold in your purse than followed through. But public humiliation is endlessly preferable to damning Taehyung to a kiss with this serpent. Because it won't stop there. It won't just be a kiss but an appeal for more. She’ll say it’s no strings attached, but she doesn't attach strings. She weaves webs. You recall her high school boyfriend. He was a well-performing, jovial guy that always waved hi. And she consumed him, heart-first, ‘til he was naught but a sunken-eyed zombie. He took a leave of absence that never ended.

Sexy, dangerous synth sounds from the speakers either side the catwalk. Ah, shit. Not that song. Any song but that one. NCT U’s Baby Don’t Stop. Of course Taehyung picked that. It fills the air with a fatal drum beat and in he comes through the curtains, strutting like he is the rhythm. The room, rather than become uproarious, falls eerily quiet. Everyone breathes as one entranced being, and no one moves but him. Halfway down the catwalk he body-rolls with the fluidity of wind-rippled satin, burgeoning from his chest and snapping at the hips. Prospective bidders gasp, as do you. And then his thumb is in the hem of his shirt, luring it upwards, exposing his olive expanses inch by mouthwatering inch. You see his abs near every day, but in this context, backed by that song, you find yourself as winded as everyone else. His stomach tautens for show, feeding into loose-waisted shorts that sit far too low. Even you haven’t been privy to this much. And especially not the alluring trail of hair that thickens at his waistband.

Someone shatters the stupor and screams, “$80!”

“Geez, you’re a horny bunch.” Jimin’s laughter peals. “We already have $80. Any advance on—“

“$100!” Some breathless sap cries next. “Oh my God, look at his thighs!”

And look you do. Taehyung grooves at the catwalk’s end, shirt back in place but hiking up the hems of his shorts instead.  You almost glimpse groin. He’s absolutely shameless, straining the muscles of his thighs until they’re lewdly pronounced. They’re veritable tree trunks. His calves, too, defy belief. Rock-hard and rounded and begging to be bitten. The party-goers crowding round his feet must think similarly. 

What distracts you most, however, are Taehyung’s straying fingers. They skirt his crotch in a salacious manner, stretching the material where it shouldn’t. Accentuating things they shouldn’t. You may pass out.

All the while his eyes are down, maybe closed. You want to see his face more than anything. The playful smirk on his plump, wet lips and the focus in his brows. 

“$120!!” You almost lose your head to a cash-strangling fist beside you.

It's her. Pointy-elbowed bitch.

But you aren't thrusting your student loan up just yet. You're in the middle of an almost holy, revelatory experience. Taehyung is still undulating and provoking the crowd, who are no longer hushed but whooping like chimps in heat. His shirt is off and helicoptering overhead. He allows one overcome girl at the sidelines to verify the thew of his biceps and bags himself another bid. You, however, do nothing but gawp, bills clutched to your chest and your eyes affixed to the glorious grin that breaks across his face. His eyes open onto you and then it's you you see at his wedding, standing afore him, bouquet instead of a wad of cash. You want to be the one. Now is the moment, while he's watching you envision this.

"$200,” you splutter. Volume is difficult when your voice is a quivering inconstant.

"What was that? Did we just get another bid?" Jimin wavers too, out of disbelief. "Did someone say $200?!"

The room is a clamour of confusion but Taehyung watched you mouth the very syllables. The shock is such that it softens his salacious movements to a dance more modest. His eyes are wider than you've ever seen them; mouth too. It hangs agape and downturned, as yours does. Because you're not quite sure whether you said something else altogether. Maybe you hurled a cuss word out of frustration? Did you momentarily black out and proclaim Hitler did nothing wrong? Nothing else can account for the scrutiny with which he punishes you with now.

Or.

You actually did bid, and that's why he's walking over, to the very drop-off of the catwalk, no longer any swagger to his step. "What are you doing?" he calls down, the music still strong and now strangely inappropriate. You simply watch the mole beneath his bottom lip move, dumb.

Louder, now, you call again. "$200!"

"Oh! It was a bid! ____?!" The flame-haired MC shares his puzzlement with the rest of the reacting room. All heads turn toward you.

But yours turns nowhere but Taehyung, your expression an open book of long-hidden liking. You watch, suspended by dissociation, as he lays a palm flat against his chest. "Me?"

It could all still be explained away. A joke. You drank too much. You just wanted to see the look on his face. Instead, you grant him the minutest of nods. A simple tip of the chin. "You," you whisper, whether it's heard or not.

Taehyung sees it in the shape your lips make. And then his gaze sweeps back upward, his chest heaving far too much for a man standing stationary.

"What's going on?" The disgruntled echo each other.

Jimin is quick to make sense of things and keep it rolling. "Okay, so, a bid of $200! Anyone else?"

A new song comes on; it's gone on too long. Something with a cantering beat that's adequately sentimental.

So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time—

Clambering atop the platform, you counter someone's desperate bid of $220 with a measured breath. "$250." You hold Taehyung at fingerpoint. "You."

Waste it on me.

For a pants-shitting second, nothing happens. Your outstretched arm gains a tremor that could crumble it. Taehyung sifts your soul with his big, dewy eyes and then he's walking. Stalking toward you. Knocks the money from your hands and seizes your shying face with both of his. The last thing you see is his nose mole before his mouth joins with yours. His grip is like a vice and his lips are no gentler. They pry you open with little effort and then you're flooded with wet heat. Taehyung is insatiable in pursuit of your tongue. His hands drop to draw in your waist, your chest, every inch of your overclothed form. He's underclothed but burning hot, planes of honed skin beneath your fingertips. It's all so right. Feels so good. Taehyung moans that much into you when he chances a breath of air. Applause starts up as the music swells. It's so cliche but you've never had a cliche of your own before and your gloom-ridden ass needs this.

"Going—"

"I didn't know. I wish I had. This would've happened sooner," Taehyung gasps between desperate, too-short smooches. It proves too difficult to resist the pull of your mouth and he captures it again, sloppier. Slower.

"Going—"

"It doesn't matter." You pull the oxygen in, impatient. "Doesn't matter." Your fingers are a tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging on his lustrous locks. "Make up for it."

"Gone! Sold for $250!"

The two of you won't be parted for a moment. Not even when dismounting the platform. There's ruckus around you but it's so distant when his lips are on you. You sink into him like you would a scalding bath. "You don't have to pay that," Taehyung tells your cheek, smearing his saliva-slick mouth back to yours. His greed for you manifests against your stomach, and you ache in return. "This is a freebie."

Your passionate clinch takes you to the sidelines, away from prying eyes. Most of them, anyway. "What about this?" Your hands are suddenly in unseemly places.

"Th-That's also free. Everything's free. Oh, God."

[chrwrites]

Bad Ideas - Chapter 2: “The first round is free for a lovely couple like you!”

For @astronavigatrix​. Sorry I’m so late with the update, hope you like it!

Ch 1

read on ao3

Luka sighed a breath of relief as he found his seat on the train, and smile settled on his face as he watched the city fade into the distance. He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax.

He was going home.

Exam season was over, and now that he was done with the first year of university, Luka felt like he could breathe again. He still had to wait to get the results, but he could let the nightmare the last weeks had been behind and focus on the familiar warmth that being back in Paris brought instead.

He had been looking forward to staying in the city for more than two days and finally see his friends in a better setting than a rushed meeting, especially Marinette. They did keep in touch while he was away, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person and hanging out like they used to do, not to mention that they barely managed to meet during the short periods of time Luka was back because of Marinette’s busy schedule.

It was rare for them to spend a whole afternoon together, still, Marinette always made sure to be at the train station to say goodbye to him in person. Even when he had to leave early in the morning, she would be there to send him off with a tight hug and fresh out of the oven croissants, “In case you get hungry,” she’d say.

He knew he wouldn't find Marinette welcoming him at Gare de Lyon when he arrived, but he would see her the next day. For now, he was content with seeing his Ma and Juleka waiting for him when he stepped off the train. How long had it been since he last was home? Two months? Juleka didn’t even grumble as he hugged her.

The first thing Luka heard as he got off the car with his sister and Rose was a familiar, happy gasp whose owner he'd have recognised everywhere. He couldn’t hold back the smile curling his lips as he turned to the source of the sound, Marinette’s figure was running towards him in the half empty parking lot and he opened his arms to welcome her.

"I missed you so much!" Marinette’s cheery tone was muffled on his chest, and in answer Luka held her tighter, "I missed you, too," he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion he didn't dare to define.

After Marinette let go of his embrace, Luka tried his best to ignore the sudden cold lingering on his skin and greeted the rest of his and Juleka’s friends before they all headed inside the Jardins de Tuileries.

It didn't take long for the group to split up, everyone eager to try different attractions of the carnival fair first, and Luka and Marinette ended up wandering around the park by themselves.

He listened intently to Marinette rambling about this new fashion course she was taking during the summer, smiling at the enthusiasm clear in her voice and indulging in staring at her for longer than he should have. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to her sweet features despite knowing he shouldn’t have thought about her that way. That was part of the reason he decided to leave Paris after all, to clear his mind and come back not thinking about wanting his friend (and his sister’s friend, for goodness sake) to be something more than that.

"I don't understand why you didn't stay in Paris," Marinette said suddenly, interrupting Luka’s stream of thoughts. He sighed, taking some time to think about the answer.

"I figured it was time for Jules to have the room to herself," he shrugged, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans.

Marinette let out a quiet giggle, "Right, but Montpellier is pretty far!" she pouted.

"It takes only three hours to get there with a TGV. Plus, it's unbelievably quiet for a city, and it's only one train stop away from the seaside," Luka said.

Marinette frowned, "Wait— are you telling me that you picked Montpellier because it's close to the sea?”

"... maybe?" Luka shrugged, "I mean, there's also a pretty good university, but you're right. That definitely comes second."

Marinette laughed and shook her head in disbelief, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you!”

There was a moment of silence after that, and Luka's unashamed smile faded as they walked further into the park.

“Do you like it there?” Marinette’s question was unexpected, and Luka hesitated for a second. You're not there.

He shook the thought out of his mind and let out a deep breath before speaking, "Yes, I really like it there. You should come visit me sometime,” he said.

"I’d love to, but I’ll have to find the time for that.”

When Luka nodded in understanding, Marinette added, “See, that’s why you should’ve picked somewhere closer. We could see each other more often!” she teased, bumping her shoulder against his. Luka sighed and before he could answer, Marinette spoke again, suddenly looking serious.

"You know…”, she paused and started fiddling with her bracelet. Only then Luka noticed that she was playing with a small cherry blossom charm, the one he’d gotten for her birthday. He had it delivered since he couldn’t be in Paris that day and he had never seen her wearing it until now. Marinette let go of the bracelet, her arm stilling by her side as she turned to face him.

“It's weird not seeing you on board of the Liberty when I come over," she admitted.

Luka looked down at his feet, one hand going to rub the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the sudden change of pace of his heart, and offered Marinette a bashful smile only when he was sure that his heart wasn't going to jump out of his chest because of the way she was looking at him.

What was happening to him? It's not like he didn't know that Marinette missed him. He knew that, and he missed her too, as much as he missed the blissful afternoons she stayed at the Liberty after band practice, when he would provide a soundtrack to her sketching and she’d end up spending more time talking to him than actually getting her work done. That was probably what he missed the most. But how was he supposed to tell her that when his stomach had started twisting and his hands were sweating?

Maybe he just wasn't used to seeing her that often anymore, things would get back to normal for him now that they could see each other without longing for the next time they would meet again. It’s not like Marinette saying that she was his girlfriend that one time still lingered on him sometimes and he couldn't shake that off.

He took a deep breath, finally facing Marinette and ready to tell her how cute it was that she missed him and how he wished to–

“Do you want to have a go with the Balloon Pop game?” a woman was waving in their direction, a happy welcoming smile on her face as she gestured at the small balloons behind her.

Luka let out a sigh of relief and felt his shoulders relax, thankful for that woman saving him from saying stuff he would have probably regretted.

“The first round is free for a lovely couple like you!” the woman continued.

Actually, forget that.

Marinette giggled at the comment and wrapped her hand around his wrist to pull him towards the stand, and Luka’s feet shuffled against his will, “Marinette…” he protested weakly when he found himself in front of the stand.

“You have to pop at least four balloons to get one prize for your girlfriend”, the woman said.

Luka felt his throat go dry, his brain struggled to get his mouth to move, “I–I'm not– She's–”

“Aw, Lu, come on! We haven’t tried anything yet!” Marinette said cheerfully, her hand wrapping around his arm as she looked at the exposed prizes. She pointed at a teal stuffed snake with huge pink eyes that was standing on the top shelf, “I want that one!”

Luka’s mouth twisted, and Marinette blinked at the confused frown forming on his face. She raised her index to smooth the crease between his eyebrows before pouting, "Please?"

Luka sighed, shaking his head before giving in, "Alright," he said, leaning to the counter.

The woman handed him five darts and winked at him. Luka focused on the target and held his breath until he heard the sound of the first balloon popping and Marinette's happy cheer. He couldn't help the grin spreading on his face, his stomach twisting in an unusually pleasant way. He was happy that she was cheering on him, and that made him only more determined.

He threw the other two darts without much effort and, incredibly enough, both times he managed to make the balloons pop. But when Marinette brushed his arm to soothe his tense muscles, he got distracted and the dart landed right next to the balloon it was supposed to hit.

"Not fair, you've distracted me", he teased, making Marinette roll her eyes and take a step away from him, raising her hands in defeat.

Luka steadied himself, he couldn’t miss his target now. Not when he was almost there, not when that would make Marinette happy. He threw the dart, and heard the last balloon popping instead of watching it. Marinette gasped, but soon enough she was squealing by his side, "I know you could do it!"

The woman at the stand applauded, surprise clear on her face, "Congratulations!" she said, handing the small snake to Marinette, who squeezed it closer to her as she leaned on her tiptoes to give Luka a quick kiss on the cheek, “Thank you!”

That had him smiling like a fool for the rest of the day. Soon after they left the stand and walked further into the park, Marinette sighed, “I can't believe that woman thought we were dating.”

Luka shook his head, “I can't believe that you went on with that anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette asked, raising her head to better look at him, “She said it was free for couples, and this – she proudly held the snake up to his face – was too cute to be left there.”

“I’m just impressed that you can’t lie to save your life but apparently you don’t have any problem when it comes to cute stuffed animals."

“Well, cute animals are worth it," Marinette said, "Besides, these stands are overpriced and rigged. I’m surprised you actually managed to win this without needing a second chance."

Luka giggled, "What can I say, I'm a man of many talents."

They basked in the sun, casually strolling around the park and trying the different attractions. When they got tired of wandering around, they stopped to get some ice cream and rested in the shade of a tree.

The sun flickered on Marinette's midnight hair as she gesticulated about something that had happened at the bakery the previous morning, and Luka tried really hard to focus on what she was saying instead of the way her lips moved or how her hands floated in the air, but no matter how hard he tried, he ended up getting lost in her sweet features, her voice was dimmed down by the sound his heart thundering in his chest.

Stupid, Luka.

Wasn’t that the reason he decided to get away from Paris? That way, he would be able to keep her friendship and not be tempted to blurt out his feelings or worse, tell her that he wanted her to be his girlfriend for real. He tried so hard to stop thinking about that time she came to his rescue the month before lycée was over, but that exact moment flooded his mind when he was around her and there was nothing he could do about it.

He still cared too much for her to let his stupid feelings ruin their friendship, so he did what he could and took the first chance to step back before he could do something he could regret. It was working, kind of.

The sun was low in the sky when Luka and Marinette met with the rest of their friends, the carnival attractions lit up the place in an explosion of colours and the group went on the different rides together. For the first time in a while, Luka’s mind felt light.

When Ivan suggested to go on the bumper cars and split in teams, Marinette and Luka ended up together again.

The perks of being the only singles in the group.

Marinette insisted on driving her and Luka's vehicle. She put her stuffed snake in her bag before giving it to him so he could keep it safe, its head peeking out. “Take care of it,” she said before the ride began and she steered the wheel in the direction of their friends.

She laughed when she hit Ivan and Mylene's car, and Luka felt drawn by the sound ringing in his left ear. Turning to look at her was a mistake, for the surprised gasps and the silly faces she made when someone hit their car unexpectedly made her look even cuter.

It was beautiful, seeing her happy and relaxed like that. His hands twitched on his knees, but when he found himself under the stern glare of his sister after another hit from the bumper car she was sharing with Rose, Luka gathered himself and tried his best not to focus that much on Marinette or on the way the lights of the games flickered on her pretty face.

“Ah, that was fun!” Marinette sighed happily when she sat on the passenger seat of Luka’s car, and she smiled when he asked her to pick the music as they left the parking lot. Luka ignored Juleka's inquisitive gaze coming from the backseat, engaging in a conversation with Rose about Jagged Stone’s newest single to distract himself instead.

He gave Marinette a small smile when they reached her house, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight to him, Juleka and Rose and closing the door behind her. Luka's hand tightened on the steering wheel in an useless attempt to recompose himself.

He started the car again, his eyes on the road as he steered away from the bakery, and Rose called for his attention, “Sooo… what’s going on between you and Marinette?” she asked, he could see her eyebrows rising from the rearview mirror.

“There’s nothing going on,” Luka said absently.

Juleka huffed, and Rose leaned as much as the seat belt allowed her to look at him, “I wouldn't call that nothing,” she tutted.

“What do you mean?”

“Aw, come on Lu, don’t play dumb with me! Are you two dating? Or maybe you’re just testing the waters since you can’t see each other that much and that’s fine, too. I mean, you two would be so cute together and…

“Rose…” Luka said a little breathlessly, pondering the idea of stopping the car in the middle of the road to interrupt Rose’s excited rambling, “We’ve already been through this. No.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, “… you were so cute today, I’m sure she likes you a lot, just as much as you do. Who wouldn’t like you? You’re such a gentleman, and Marinette is incredible, isn’t she? You guys are the perfect m—

“Rose!” Luka’s voice came out louder than he intended, but at least it stopped Rose from finishing the sentence. The girl blinked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat, “I don’t like her. Not in that way, at least.” Luka lied, hoping to sound as convinced as he wished to be.

“But… you won a stuffed animal for her!” Rose protested, “It's like one of the most romantic things ever! You don’t have to hide this from us, Lu.”

“It's not what it looks like…” Luka warned, but, again, Rose didn't seem to be interested in what he had to say, “... and then we could have double dates and we'd have so much fun!!!”

“Rose, please…” Luka sighed, but it wasn't until Juleka called her attention that the girl stopped babbling about him and Marinette together with dreamy eyes.

“Am I wrong, Jule?” Rose whined, and Juleka shook her head, “He’s just being stupid as always.”

Great, Juleka. Thank you.

“Guys,” he groaned, “I'll tell you again, Marinette and I are just friends. It's not what it looks like.”

Except he kind of wished it was.

[barnesbabee]

Peekaboo || P.S

Summary: Someone’s always looking...

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader

Words: Waaaay too many

Genre: Smut, Angst

⚠ drugs, alcohol, violence, fighting, yandere!Seonghwa, degradation kink ⚠

A/N: I do not condone violence neither do I romanticize it, I just wanted to do a yandere concept like shown in anime, that being said, Enjoy 💖

P.S: I deleted this one before because tumblr was messing up with the tags and few people were able to read this one apparently... 

ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

ᴘᴇᴇᴋᴀʙᴏᴏ! ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ...

[18th February, 2019]

 You couldn't tell, of course, but you constantly had a pair of eyes glued to the back of your head. A pair of hungry, lusting, shimmering eyes. You didn't know him, but he knew every detail and every inch of your body and personality.

 He knew your favourite songs, your favourite ice cream flavour, the type of clothes you preferred, and what kind of places you'd go to when you weren't having classes at your university.

  He'd first seen you when you arrived late to a class. The male remembered it like it had been just recently, and not almost months past. It was the very first day, and you were late. You came in the classroom, huffing and puffing from all the running, cheeks red from the embarrassment and messy hair.

  He remembered how he had his head buried in his arms, his grey hoodie and his black, long bangs covering his sleepy eyes, and how he immediately woke up and rose his head up to look at the owner of the beautiful voice that had just apologized for being late.

 Seonghwa thought you looked fucking adorable, and he swore to himself that he would be the one to make your face flush like that, to make you breathe heavily and to grip your hair so hard that it'd get tangled and messy just like that.

  But of course you didn't know him. He was proficient in watching, watching close enough to be able to watch you, to be able to understand everything you said, sometimes even close enough to smell your perfume, but still adequately far so you wouldn't notice his presence. The man was afraid that if caught him he wouldn’t be able to observe you anymore!

  He couldn't bring himself to talk to you... What would he say? He wasn't worthy of you... He liked to just watch you. But he had to admit, the way other men went up to you, the way they held your waist and tried to make you theirs, it made Seonghwa's jaw clench. It made his jaw clench and his blood boil. How dare they touch you like that!? You belonged to him, you just weren't aware of it.

  [24th March, 2019]

"Mr. Park, would you face the board instead of facing Miss Y/N during the whole class for once?"

 All heads turned to look at him, including yours. You looked at him with a small, curious smile, and your eyes met. His head detached from the hand supporting it, and his eyes widened. You thought the deep blush on his fair skin was adorable, and you giggled at his little nervous stutter.

 "I-I'm sorry, I'll f-focus now Sir..."

  Seonghwa lowered his head a little, so his bangs covered his face as much as possible.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! That shouldn't happen! That couldn't happen! What now!? You had noticed him, certainly, you'd see him staring at your unbelievable beauty, since you now knew of his existence.

  As class went on, Seonghwa struggled not to stare at you, afraid you'd be looking at him and you'd make eye contact once more. His leg bounced nervously, and for the first time, he counted the seconds until he was out of the classroom he shared with you.

  As soon as the teacher declared class was over, Seonghwa jumped from his seat as if he were a spring and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He pulled down his hood, trying to cover as much of his face as possible, in hopes that you wouldn't want to discuss what had happened.

 "Hey!" Seonghwa heard your voice call.

 He knew it was your voice, because it was his favourite voice to hear.

 Seonghwa pretended he didn't know you were calling him and kept on walking, but as he knew, you didn't quit easily. You jogged up to him and grabbed his wrist.

  He turned around violently to look down at you. He couldn't believe you had just touched him, he couldn't believe how insanely small you felt and looked compared to him.

  "You're Seonghwa, right?"

 The way his name fell from your lips was unbelievably ethereal. Seonghwa loved the way you spoke his name, and he now knew he didn't want to stop hearing it.

  "Yes, and you're Y/N." Seonghwa replied, wide-eyed and awkward.

  He was shocked you knew of him, he was shocked you knew his name, and he honestly didn't expect this scenario to happen (not any time soon at least).

  He'd imagined many things, how you looked underneath him, how you looked only in your underwear, how your pretty face twisted in pleasure as he fucked you... But never the first hello.

  You giggled at his panicked expression and reddening cheeks.

 "I am... I wanted to ask, do you usually stare at girls during class or do you have something you want to tell me?" You asked, curious if he had some sort of crush or interest in you.

 "No, I usually don’t, but you're the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen."

  [6th June, 2019]

 You didn't know if it was the beer, or the tequila, or the joint in your hand, but you felt particularly brave as you laid on the grass with your friend, looking up at the starry sky. The weather was perfect. Not a cloud was visible and the only thing you could hear were the crickets in the distance.

  You placed the joint between your lips and took a hit, before passing it to the male beside you.

 "You know Hwa, I think I like you..."

 Seonghwa had changed. He had molded himself into the perfect man for you, in hopes you'd become his.

 His hoodies became leather jackets, his cartoon t-shirts became white v-necks, his joggers became tight jeans and his long fringe turned into a middle-parted undercut.

  All of these changes seemed to have worked in the end.

 You had never asked anything of him, but he knew what you wanted, so he changed, willingly. The only part of himself he hadn't changed was his dominant personality, the sense of ownership he felt over you, not only because he couldn't change that, but because he knew based on the past experiences you had told him that you liked a rough man.

  Seonghwa turned his head to look at you and smirked.

  He took one last hit of the joint before getting on top of you.

  One of his hands stood beside your head, holding him up while the other held your chin. You looked each other into your bloodshot eyes. His head moved down, until your noses were brushing against each other.

  "Finally."

[30th of June, 2019]

It didn't take long for you and Seonghwa to have your first time. You had a very sexual nature, and so did he. Seonghwa loved to tease you, he loved to squeeze your ass in public and whisper dirty nothings in your ear while you were with your friends.

 You couldn't wait for the day he fulfilled his filthy promises and fucked the life out of you.

  It happened randomly, when you stopped by his place one night, to drop some documents you were asked to deliver to him.

  He opened the door, not knowing who it was, and was caught off guard by seeing your pretty figure waiting for him.

  Seonghwa was wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers that settled low on his hips, exposing his perfectly defined v-line.

  He had a small tattoo on his lower hip, a quote written in thick black letters, that read 'all or nothing'. You had always adored that piece of work, and you thought it matched him perfectly.

  As soon as you saw his figure, your words got caught in your throat, and you couldn't peel your eyes off of the male's exposed skin, and the way his muscles flexed every time he moved.

  Seonghwa leaned against the doorframe and hooked the hem of his sweater pants on his thumb. You followed his finger's movements religiously, as he teasingly pulled them down a little, to expose his naked hip, and almost giving you a glance of his cock. He had no underwear on. You didn't know what to do with that information, but you loved it.

  "Baby girl if you keep looking at me like that I might cum..." He whispered in your ear.

  You bit your lip and looked him in the eye. You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him inside your apartment lightly.

  "Might as well do it inside me, right?”

  Seonghwa hissed at your words and his hands cupped your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze.

  "You'll be the death of me, beautiful..." Seonghwa told you, before closing the door and pushing you against it.

  You didn't care about the papers anymore. You dropped them and laced your arms around your boyfriend's neck, waiting for him to close the faint gap between your lips.

  He teased you for a second, ghosting his lips over yours instead of kissing you, but when you rolled your hips against his, causing your crotch to come in contact with his semi-hard dick, he gave in. Deep down, you knew that it didn't matter how dominant he was, you had him around your finger.

  His rough yet passionate kisses were no stranger to you, and you loved the way his tongue felt against yours as he explored every corner of your mouth.

  Seonghwa gripped your ass tighter and pulled you closer. You kept your hips' movement, feeling your boyfriend's cock get harder by the second.

  He pulled away from the kiss and pushed you harder against the wall. You could feel all of his body's curves press against your own. One of Seonghwa's hand left your ass and his fingers gripped your throat.

   "I've been waiting for this for too long, I'm not holding back tonight, I'll destroy you." He said, through gritted teeth.

  You pushed him back slightly. He allowed you to do so, curious as to what you'd do next.

 Seonghwa watched as you began to strip. First, your t-shirt, and then your jeans, that you unbuttoned and pulled down painfully slow. Your clothes pooled around your feet and you looked at Seonghwa's lusty eyes.

 "I'm all yours." You told him.

 There was a second of silence, as Seonghwa didn't quite know what to do. He didn't know if he should take it easy, if he should just rip your garments off and take your right there or if he should punish you as hard as possible. It was your first time, however, and he decided he shouldn't be too harsh.

  Seonghwa slung you over his shoulder and slapped your ass.

  "You drive me crazy doll."

  You giggled as he threw you on the bed facing up.

  "I know."

  Your boyfriend chuckled at your cuteness and attached your lips once more. He played with your lower lip as he undid your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. Seonghwa cupped one of your breasts and played with your hard bud.

  "Is there any part of your body that isn't absolutely perfect?" He asked, before taking your other nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly and biting lightly from time to time.

  When you felt his other hand separate your folds, you whimpered. Your legs spread wider and you immediately gripped his dark hair. He played with your wet cunt like it was his personal sex toy.

  Seonghwa's fingers teased at your entrance for a second, before entering you. His pace was slow, purposely trying to tease you and make you beg. Your loud moans made him smirk.

  "So fucking needy for me... Tell me what you want?"

  You arched your back and bucked your hips, trying to get some more friction.

  "Fuck I want you to take those fingers out and fill me with your cock!" You moaned.

  You were desperate, you needed to feel him. You had been teased so many times, you'd imagined him fucking you so many times already, and now that he was there, half-naked fingering you, you couldn't take it anymore. You had to feel him.

 Seonghwa stripped from his pants and placed himself between your legs, spreading them a little wider in the process. He took no time to enter you. As soon as he found your entrance he thrust into you and started moving at a reasonable pace, so you could get used to the feeling.

  He fit inside you like he belonged there, like you two had been made for each other. You loved the way he filled you and he loved how tight you were around his cock.

  "Oh my God, you feel so good Hwa..."

  The praise falling from your pretty lips was Seonghwa's kryptonite, and like his little tattoo said, he had no mid-term. His slow thrusts became violent, fast, and shamelessly pleasurable from one second to the other.

  Your brain went to putty, and at that precise moment all there was in the world for you was your boyfriend's cock ramming into you.

  He slapped your ass harshly thrice, making sure his hand would be marked.

  "Who owns you, pretty baby? Tell me who owns this pussy." Seonghwa growled as he gripped your thighs.

   "Y-you..."

   He slapped the side of your thigh.

  "S-speak up doll."

  You moaned his name loudly at how good he was making you feel.

  "You own me Seonghwa! I'm yours!"

  His pace quickened, as if it was possible, and he took one of your nipples between his fingers.

   "That's right, you're my little cumslut."

   You looked at him through hooded eyes. His fringe was stuck to his forehead and he had such a lustful and ruthless expression on his face... You swore you could cum with that alone.

   "Hwa... I'm gonna cum..." You managed to squeal, between your exasperated breaths.

   "Do it, I wanna feel you around me, baby."

   His hand closed around your throat one last time, knowing how much you loved it. Immediately you reached your climax. You gripped onto his biceps and arched your back, as your vision went blank for a second, absolutely blinded by pleasure.

   Upon seeing how fucked out you looked, how absolutely beautiful you were when you came, how pretty your agape mouth was as it spewed dirty praises, he was thrown over the edge and came buried deep in you, filling you with his thick, warm cum.

   Seonghwa removed himself from you and plopped on the beg beside you. He threw his arm over your stomach and nibbled on your neck.

  You giggled at his neediness.

  "Are you not tired?" You asked, amused at his actions.

  Seonghwa caressed the spot that would later become a pretty shade of purple.

  "I am..."

  "Then what was that for?".

  Seonghwa looked at you for a second before replying.

  "So that everyone knows you have an owner."

[15th July, 2019]

  Seonghwa's tight grip on your wrist was not released until you entered his apartment. He slammed the door shut and turned to face you, his face as stern as ever.

    "Who the fuck was that guy!?" He asked, like a madman, staring at you like his eyeballs would pop out of his sockets at any time.

   The sight before you was incredulous, what had gotten into him!?

   "Seonghwa, he's my friend."

  "Oh yeah!? And do all of your friends want to fuck you!?"

   You furrowed your eyebrows, confused and quite clearly not understanding where all that commotion was coming from.

    "Seonghwa, we hugged. Wooyoung does not want to fuck me, we hugged and he said I looked good because we haven't seen each other in almost two years, stop overreacting! You sound insane!"

   Your boyfriend gripped your upper arm and pulled you closer. His stare burned on you, his eyes had lost their glisten and were now pitch dark, fuming with rage and jealousy.

   For the first, dreadful time, you were scared of him.

  "You think I'm insane!? Hm!? You think I'm insane 'cause I don't want my baby fucking around with other guys!?"

   "Hwa, I love you, and only you, okay? I'm not fucking Wooyoung I'm yours, alright?"

   Your voice became quieter as you spoke, hoping he would calm down, but his grip never loosened.

   "How do I know that!? How do I know you're not being a whore behind my back!? I had never heard of this Wooyoung guy and suddenly he's your 'friend'!? How many other 'friends' do you have!?"

   You couldn't belive the words that fell from his lips... Those lips that you loved so much, how could they insult you and accuse you in such a heartless way.

   You were visibly taken aback, and tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes.

   You pushed him away harshly, not caring about anything at that point.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you even say that! I'm friends with whoever I want to be friends with Seonghwa, you don't get to decide it!"

   You waved your arms around like crazy, trying to make sense of the situation, and the tears you tried to suppress fell down your cheeks.

  Seonghwa pressed you against the wall and grabbed your jaw.

 "You don't fucking get to do whatever you want cause you're mine! No one else can have you, you belong to me!" He yelled in your face.

 You were sure every neighbour of his had heard you two already.

  "I belonged to you! Past, Seonghwa! I've had enough of this bullshit, I don't want a controlling piece of shit boyfriend!"

  You shoved him away from you and made your way towards the door.

  "You can't leave me!" He yelled.

 Without looking at him you grabbed the door's gilded handle and turned it.

 "Watch me." You told him, voice as steady and as strong as ever.

 "Please, you can’t leave me."

  His shaky, insecure voice made you freeze in place. Your hand stopped turning, your eyes widened and you stopped being able to think for a second.

 His behaviour shift was like night and day...

 You turned around, to find Seonghwa standing limply, with a lifeless expression and tears in his eyes as he watched the love of his life leave.

 He was sobbing.

 Your brain was a mix of emotions, this man was completely different from the rough asshole that had confronted you not ten seconds ago. That day he showed you two sides of him you had no idea existed. Two parallels, that seemed almost impossible to be within the same person.

 Once San saw you standing there, giving him a small chance of redemption, he stood up, slowly as if he was afraid to chase you away, and stepped towards you.

 He cupped your face and examined the unreadable mix of sentiment running through you.

 "Baby I'm sorry, I love you so much I just don't want another guy to steal you away..." He told you softly, with his deep, angelic voice.

 You sniffed and wiped away a cheeky tear.

 "But Seonghwa, I've told you you're the only one for me..."

 Seonghwa hugged you softly, and you hugged back as he exhaled in relief.

"I know, but I want you for myself only... But its okay, it won't happen again, right?"

 You were a little unsure, but when his grip grew tighter out of his stress, desperation and fear of you leaving, you immediately replied.

 "It won't ever happen baby."

 Seonghwa hummed happily.

 Maybe it wasn't the best choice, but at least you knew, that as long as you were with him, you'd be safe. Safe from him.

 "You're all mine..."

[shiversdownyerspine]

5. Deprived

Gettin a little hot in here. :B

18+

The kittens arrive in the quiet of the night, stars dotting the deep dark blanket of sky. Sleep had failed to find you, and so you had shuffled your pajama-clad way to your kitchen with a chunky knit blanket wrapped around your chilly shoulders. The thick charcoal colored material dangles to the backs of your knees as you wait impatiently for your kettle to boil water for a big cup of chamomile tea.

As the water softly bubbles to your earnest desires of being lured to sleep, you find yourself distracted by a soft knock on your front door. You perk up, knowing by experience that this would be your nameless, faceless animal transporter. And just like with every other task animal, when you open the door you find nobody in sight, just a randomly sized pet kennel resting on your doorstep. You kneel and scoop up the crate to bring it inside.

Excitement momentarily stealing away your drowsiness, you quickly switch off the heat of your stove and carry your cargo to your room. Tea can wait a moment, the water will still be plenty hot by the time you're done. Closing the door behind you, you take a quick peek to find two fuzzballs huddled together at the back of the crate. The kittens are awake but clearly tired, and judging from their quivering bodies, probably a little bit stressed. Not wanting to cause more discomfort, you quietly unlock the kennel door to slowly reach in and gather them up for a quick health check.

Eyes, ears, and noses look clear and healthy, tiny claws and whiskers and tails are where they should be, no bumps or scratches to be seen. You briefly tut at the lack of towel or blanket in their kennel, worried about the absence of warmth and comfort. You've tried requesting some basic amenities for when your task animals are being prepared for delivery, but your needs have yet to be met. You're fairly certain by now that they never will be.

Both kittens are male and look to be around seven weeks old, still a bit too young to be neutered. As a matter of fact, they are still too young to be away from their mother, but some things just can't be helped. Judging by the pale bodies and dark brown coloration of their ears, face, tails, and paws, they are chocolate points. Satisfied, you pop the babies back inside and grab up the fluffy towel waiting on your dresser, carefully pushing it in and around the kittens before moving them to your bathroom.

Nestling their kennel in the corner of their 'room', you drape another blanket over them to offer privacy and leave the crate door open a crack for if they choose to explore. Softly closing the door to your bathroom, you head out of your bedroom and step once more to your kitchen to finally fix your mug of tea. Hot drink in hand, your gaze settles on the stove clock which reads 4:57 AM. With a sigh, you sip your tea and tug your blanket further up your shoulder, lamenting the lack of sleep you will be suffering from come morning. You suppose in the end you'll just have to rely on good ol' fashioned coffee to offer you any sort of alertness today. Resigned, you wander off to your bedroom, but are interrupted before you can make it there.

Midstep, you nearly drop your mug when the door to your guest room opens and there in the doorway stands a groggy, long john wearing Otto. Long hair ruffled and eyes half-lidded, he peers down at you questioningly. You freeze, your eyes sweeping up and down over his defined muscles before a blush rises to your cheeks and you drop your gaze to your feet, murmuring an apology for waking him and quickly explaining away the disrupted sleep because of the kittens arrival. You apologize once more and quickly scurry to your room as a befuddled Otto looks on, wondering why you had been up long before the kittens arrived.

Three cups of coffee in, the morning comes and goes relatively uneventfully. You do have to insist to an avidly interested Oscar that he wait just a little while longer to meet the kittens as they are still waking up and quite uncertain about their new home. You promise after their breakfast he can visit, lightly patting the grumbling man's back in reply as his brothers drink their coffee. With kitten food in hand, you hope this will help coax the babies out of their kennel. You amusedly eye Butternut and Pumpkin who are crowded around the door to your room, smelling intently.

You nudge them away with a hum of, "In due time you goofs."

To your delight the kittens perk up noticeably after feeding, and after some consideration you poke your head out your room to softly call for anyone interested to come see. As long as they keep the other cats out, that is. Oscar is naturally the first one up out of his chair while Axel and Otto hesitate before joining their younger sibling. They were simply bored, but they did have some interest in the mystery surrounding you and thereby extending to your room as well.

You tell the brothers to mind their feet before noticing Otto subtly eyeing your odd assortment of bits and bobs you have collected in a small jewelry box that had long since lost its shine and its lid. As Oscar and Axel carefully slip into the bathroom, they linger to watch you curiously from the doorway as you step to Otto to reach in your treasure box.

"I'm a bit of a collector, if something has a good texture and makes an impression, I tend to keep it."

An old bullet casing brushes your searching fingertips; you hold up the item for Otto to take, which he does, warm fingers brushing against your own slender digits. He rolls the hollow shell between thumb and forefinger as he inspects it closely. Perusing your other little knickknacks, you muse aloud how you never really plan to do anything with the trinkets, just allow yourself to indulge in an odd whim every once in a while.

Hearing the squeaky inquisitive sounds from the kennel in your bathroom, you and your little entourage find your attentions being redirected. With a gentle bump of your knuckles against Otto's wrist, you motion to follow you. Behind you the man's eyes drag up and down your figure in a surreptitious slide, settling minutely on the full curve of your rear before forcing himself to focus instead on the little jewelry box as he returns the tiny article to its rightful place.

With curiosity sated and more information shared about the tiny fuzzy additions to your home, you usher your guests out of your room as the kittens settle in for a much needed nap. You're tempted to follow their lead and crash on your bed, but you have a couple more things to do. One task being to introduce the towel you had rubbed the two kittens down with to your cats as a pseudo meeting. The Swedes watch in the living room from the sofa as Pumpkin takes a whiff, fluffs up, and slinks away while Butternut just plops herself down next to the towel like it's the most interesting thing she's ever smelled.

The other task? Well, technically you owe Axel and his brothers a tidbit of information after you refused to answer a question about your feathers during his 'interrogation'. And as you admit to the Swedes that you owe them some extra information, Oscar jumps right in.

"What is...favorite animal..no..task animal?"...It's technically against the rules, but it's a good question so you'll allow it.

Excited, you gush, "My pekin duck! Now, I love all my animals, but being my very first task, she's special. Most likely she was going to be prepared for food but the target never made it to dinner. She was wild-caught so it wasn't difficult to rehabilitate and release her. Good thing the woods have a lake. Well, more of a glorified pond really, but she loves it."

Axel side-eyes you slyly, "Duck makes good meal, shame."

You gasp, "No!..Well okay, probably, but I could never eat Ducky!"

Simultaneously, Axel's brows lifted high, Otto choked, and Oscar gasped, "Ducky?! Her name?"

You hesitate, ears red, before exclaiming proudly, "Yes, Ducky. Ducky the Pekin duck...come on this shouldn't surprise you, I named my cats after squash! Don't you dare laugh!"

Otto was roughly huffing into his fist as you floundered. Oscar had shifted closer to you with a wide grin, bumping his knee against yours. 

Axel smirked, teasingly sounding out the two syllables, "Duck-y..."

The glare you send his way is intended to be irritated, but is quickly ruined by your twitching lips fighting back a smile.

"I-It's a childhood thing! I couldn't bring myself to call her anything else!" You rub your cheeks, as if that would somehow lift the vivid color from your face.

"The lake by our orphanage had a variety of birds, and every single one in that water was Ducky. I was too young to really care about the differences. Also it drove our poor caretaker crazy, which ah...kind of enforced the habit."

Your mirth falters as you process your little slip up...that's what your lack of sleep gets you, you suppose. Okay, no use fretting. Push on.

"So when I saw my first animal, her name was already decided really." You smooth the material of the towel in your hands, relaxing your posture. 

"Chickens." You blink, looking quizzically to Axel. He nods towards Oscar.

Otto shifts his weight from one leg to the other, hands tugging his suspenders as he adds, "Chicken thief."

Your gaze settles on the youngest Swede with a playful gasp, "Oscar, really?"

The man meets your feigned incredulity with his ever-wicked smirk and declares with devilish pride, "Salt and Peppar."

It clicks, "...You named them after seasoning. Because you were going to eat them?"

Axel drags his eyes from Oscar to you, "Eventually."

You can't help but giggle, the three men twitching at the sound, "So, when you were younger you stole chickens? Wait wait, I'm going to guess...it wasn't just Oscar..and he roped you two into it?"

Oscar barks a laugh as the other two sigh and nod. You grin, "Goodness, chicken thieves in my home. Did you all get caught?"

Smug, Oscar shook his head as Otto responded, "Nej. Too fast. We...kept for eggs, ate later...old age."

You bump your elbow gently against Oscar's arm, immediately drawing his attention to you, "I've never had chickens before, but my old Ducky does have a bit of an attitude. How were Salt and Peppar?"

Axel snorts, leaning forward, "Angry. Not bad killing mice. Also good flavor."

Otto folds his arms across his chest, nodding in agreement. You chuckle, "Okay if any of you see Ducky, you can't eat her. It's just not allowed."

Still staring, Oscar licks his lips, "..Can we eat you?"

Axel and Otto tense, eyes boring holes into the scoundrel. You scoff, completely missing the lewd innuendo, "Oh ha ha clever; I have feathers, like poultry. Very funny."

You stand with a smile, realizing you should really grab some kind of food mat for the messy eaters resting in your bathroom before lunch time rolls around. You retreat to the kitchen to search while the brothers linger in the living room, staring Oscar down. Butternut in his arms, the youngest removes himself from the floor just to lazily stretch out on the sofa, innocent as can be as he ignores his brothers obvious ire. Pumpkin slips out from under the coffee table to hop up and settle on his stomach in classic cat-loaf position.

Axel begrudgingly turns his attention to you, recalling your cheeky attitude and fiery stubbornness concerning his prior questions in the kitchen a good while ago...yes, he won't deny how heat had pooled in his loins at your antics, bubbling even more when he glimpsed charming pink shyly sweep between your lips. But obviously it wasn't enough to tempt him; no, he didn't imagine himself seated at that very same chair, boots planted firmly on the kitchen floor as his hands squeeze your rear, bouncing you naked in his lap, fucking the defiance out of you as you moan and beg and promise you'll be good- he sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring. Taking a moment to reign in his hormones, he stalks off to the garden for fresh air, scowling all the while. Oscar.

Otto grimaces at Oscar's impertinence and clenches his hands, hesitating as remorse unsettles his stomach as he remembers the feel of you, your back against his front, his hands holding your body helpless and trembling with distress...and wonders instead about making you shake with something else; smoothing his hands over soft fabric to push under your sweater and up quivering belly to gently palm your breasts, pushing fabric away to bare them to his touch, fingers brushing your nipples, lightly pinching and plucking as your head lolls back, your hips rolling to push your ass against him- he exhales, trousers feeling just a tad uncomfortable. With a rough swallow, he lumbers off down the hallway to their room to...regain his composure. Fucking Oscar.

Oscar knows damn well what he's done. He's noticed the way his brothers' eyes linger on you, their growing infatuation not nearly as hidden as they thought. At least not from each other. Now they won't be able to get some rather debauched ideas out of their heads; just like he can't get rid of the thought of your pretty startled eyes blinking up at him, but instead of up, you're peering down, doe-eyed as he moves down your body and between spread legs, preparing to demonstrate the actual meaning of his joke as his hungry mouth hovers teasingly over your panties, just close enough that he can smell you as the heat of his breath warms the dampening fabric.

Oscar strains his neck to sneak a glance at you in the kitchen, adoration softening his expression as he hears your joyful exclamation when you track down the food mat for the kittens. It's possible you were just doing your hostly duties, but they all notice how you blossom as you accept their presence and he and his brothers gradually accept yours. He has no doubt his brothers are subconsciously beginning to consider you theirs; he saw with his own incredulous eyes as big, brutish Otto held you still, firm but careful, not a single feather crushed under fist...or how Axel, steely, stern Axel, was opening up to you about their own lives, tiny piece that it was. He had almost been stunned into silence with that one.

The thought of you in their beds had been just that; a tempting thought, conjured by night and temporarily sated come morning. But seeing his brothers' walls cracking, little by little? How curious. He can't resist giving his stubborn brothers a little push, jostling their imaginations, maybe some taunting thrown in to strain those cracks?...oh, this will be fucking fun.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 7

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

TW for this chapter: Suicide Attempt

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Panic in the Medicated Bath

Song Qingshi searched the warehouse all night and finally found old robes made of red ice silk. He dismantled the decorative formation above, handed it over to the valley servants, and asked them to modify them to look like inner robes overnight. Then, he quietly put them on the bedside of Yue Wuhuan along with the new cotton gown.

The next day, Yue Wuhuan was shocked when he saw this ice silk robe.

Song Qingshi has urged him up from outside the door: "Hurry up, let's go for a new treatment."

"Yes, Master." Yue Wuhuan knew that he had changed masters, so he didn't dare to think too much. He put on his clothes and went out in a hurry, feeling much more comfortable in this outfit.

Song Qingshi took him through the corridor and went to the alchemy room next door. This was originally a forbidden place in the Medicine King Valley. A place where the original body used animals and humans to experiment with various medicines. It was also the place where the valley servants were most afraid of entering. Song Qingshi complied with the "Declaration of Helsinki" and rejected any human experiment that violated ethics. Fortunately, when he took over being the Medicine Master, there were not many test items left by the original body. He immediately released what he could release and helped those that needed help, and then changed it to a treatment room. The remaining specimens and general teachers are placed in other rooms - these were the big treasures of medicine, and he would study slowly when he had some free time.

Yue Wuhuan was walking towards the alchemy room and found that more than one valley servants cast sympathetic glances his way, and he became a little nervous. After entering the alchemy room, when he saw Song Qing take out a medicine vat big enough to fit a person in, he became more paranoid.

Song Qingshi didn't notice his anxiety. He threw the various medicinal materials that had been counted ahead of time into the tank, then poured water and used the alchemical fire in his body to control the temperature. After the water in the tank turned red, he turned back and said: "Take off your clothes and get in."

Yue Wuhuan stood still, his eyes stiffened when he looked at him.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qingshi finally remembered that he had forgotten to explain. "The Prince’s Plume Expelling Decoction is a medicinal bath. It won't cause discomfort."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before stretching his hand to the belt and untying it.

Song Qingshi turned around, sat down with his back to him, not peeking at him entering the bath.

Yue Wuhuan breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly removed his clothes, and stepped into the bloody medicinal water. The hot liquid medicine penetrated into the skin, causing a slight tingling sensation, but there was indescribable comfort. He took a deep breath, relaxed completely, and suddenly sank his whole person into the water. He didn't expect that the water would overflow because it was too full. It splashed on Song Qingshi’s neck, ears and hair. A pale red flower blossomed on his white robe.

For most Daoists, the robe was a very important thing and any damage would cause heartache.

Yue Wuhuan realized his mistake and sneaked out of the water quietly. He hid in the tank and peeked out, worried that he would offend Xianzun.

Song Qingshi didn't care what happened. He stared at the bluestone on the ground in a daze. After a while, he discreetly shook the water droplets on his hair.

Yue Wuhuan picked his words carefully and asked cautiously: "Master, will you turn around so that this slave can clean you?"

Song Qingshi lowered his head and looked at the bluestone more attentively: "You are bathing, you can't peek." In his world view, it was reasonable for doctors to check the patient's physical condition during treatment, but if the doctor peeks at the patient trying to take a bath, it was morally corrupt and shameless.

Yue Wuhuan pondered these words for a long time, and guessed: "Does Master dislike that this slave's body is too dirty?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and whispered: "You don't like being watched."

"Master jokes." Yue Wuhuan's eyes hardened, and he was silent for a moment, peeking out of the water. His long hair wet sat on his shoulders, just like a mermaid who just came out of the sea. His body was otherworldly, and his muscles were perfectly proportioned with no hint of fat. His waist was slender enough to be held with one arm, but there was hidden power inside. He leaned against the edge of the bath, approached Song Qingshi’s ear, blowing lightly. His phoenix eyes were extremely charming, the red tear-shaped mole was so gorgeous that it could charm people’s hearts, and his voice was as tempting as the devil. "What is there not to see on this slave's body? The people who have seen it. . . there were too many to count. They all say that the slave's body is very beautiful and defined, and it can stop a man in his tracks. It was made to be adored. . ."

Song Qingshi quickly interrupted him, repeating: "You don't like being watched."

After Yue Wuhuan watched him for a long time, he said hoarsely: "This slave doesn't care anymore."

Song Qingshi didn't know how to explain, but insisted: "You don't like it."

Can he refuse just because he doesn't like it?

Yue Wuhuan thought this was ridiculous. In the years when he was just sent to accompany guests, he was coaxed to say that he didn't like it and didn't want it. The result was only meant to find his weaknesses for their amusement.

He didn't like to be seen, so that meant he was forced to show the most unbearable postures to everyone in the square and at banquets time and time again.

He doesn't like saying those lewd things, so he was tortured by various drugs and instruments of torture until he learned to use his voice to add to the excitement. . .

Until he abandoned his sense of shame, gave up his dignity, and pretended to enjoy these things.

He had known for a long time that in the eyes of these stupid cultivators, he was just a beautiful toy, without emotions, existing just to be moulded into whatever his master wanted. He often wished that he could go mad and be stupid, like most slaves, and lose his ability to think. He could mindlessly live a dog-like life and using his body to please his master.

It's a pity that there was always a trace of clarity in his heart, coldly examining his embarrassing self, and then cutting him to pieces. . .

Maybe he had already gone crazy. . .

He couldn’t tell when the fire rose slowly. The temperature of the potion was getting hotter and hotter. Yue Wuhuan’s face also became hotter and hotter, but he couldn’t feel the scorching heat and dipped his head into the bloody-red potion until water flooded up his nose and he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to get up, hoping to just stay submerged forever so that the hot water could clean the filth off his body, preferably right down to his bones.

Song Qingshi noticed something was wrong from the quietness behind him. He turned his head and found that he had been distracted when they were speaking and did not control the Red Lotus fire well. The water temperature rose several degrees and it was so hot that Yue Wuhuan had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Song Qingshi didn't move cautiously, got up and rushed over, reaching into the tank to get the person out.

The wet beauty was dragged into his arms. His eyes were closed and his limbs drooped feebly. His long curling hair clung to his fair skin, dripping onto the ground, making the Acacia Seal on his back shimmer. Song Qingshi's mind was clear. He quickly laid the person on the ground, confirmed he still had a pulse and started CPR.

Yue Wuhuan spit up water and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that Song Qingshi’s face was so close to his. He could even see his own reflection in his clear, black eyes. Because of the heat from the tank, Song Qingshi's eyes were heated and red, with water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. He looked like a naive and innocent boy, nothing like an ancestor of the Nascent Soul sect who had practiced for nearly a thousand years, deceiving and cheating death itself.

He hadn't recognized the other party's true identity by the river at the time. He had wanted to sympathize with a man who would never experience an unjust death.

Yue Wuhuan's thoughts became more and more chaotic. He curled up subconsciously, and all kinds of messy memories flashed in front of him. The tenderness in his chest and the remaining warmth on his lips made him a little confused between reality and his memories as if he had returned to when he was punished by his masters.

Scholar-Tyrant Song almost failed his class, so scared that his soul almost flew away. His movements were as fierce as a tiger, relying entirely on instinct. After Yue Wuhuan woke up, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that there were many ways to treat drowning in the world of cultivating immortals, and there was no need to use modern first aid at all.

He wouldn't be able to clearly explain this. . .

It was standard for medical students to perform CPR on a drowning victim. Regardless of whether it was someone beautiful or ugly, a child or an old man, he would do it without hesitation. Song Qingshi was a little embarrassed that he hadn't figured out the best first aid technique for the immortal world ahead of time, but he can worry about that later. He just had to figure out how to explain it.

Yue Wuhuan had lost the focus in his eyes. He slowly unfolded his body, no longer covering it up, like a fish that was forcibly dragged ashore to die, preparing to be slaughtered.

Song Qingshi quickly turned his face away, closed his eyes, and apologized honestly: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake with the temperature of the water."

"It's not Master's fault," Yue Wuhuan's eyes were open, but he couldn't make out anything around him. He was listening, but he couldn't understand what was being said. He repeated his standard answer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. . ."

This is the truth that he had paid a heavy price to learn and had been instilled in him over and over again, always reminding him how to live.

"Wuhuan, you are so beautiful, you were born to be played with."

"Wuhuan, it's your body that seduces men, so it must be abused."

"Wuhuan, it's because you are so aloof that it makes me not want to stop."

"Wuhuan, you are a monster born for sex."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

. . .

"My fault, my fault, my fault. . ." Yue Wuhuan kept repeating numbly, "It's all my fault."

Because he was the wrong that existed in the world.

Song Qingshi took off his robe and put it on Yue Wuhuan, and suddenly realized that the mental state of the person in front of him was very fragile, as though he were caught in a terrifying trap. He thought for a while and gritted his teeth. He stretched out his hand to slap him but hesitated, so he got up and brought a bucket of cold water next to him. He used the freezing technique and poured it down suddenly over his head. Yue Wuhuan was shocked by the cold, and his mind cleared somewhat. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to give him the Tranquil Mind Spirit Calming Pill to take.

"Master?" Yue Wuhuan came to his senses, a little confused.

"It's okay." Song Qingshi took the towels and clothes he had prepared earlier, wrapped him up layer and layer like a dumpling, and then gave a rational explanation, "You were hallucinating because you almost drowned."

Yue Wuhuan nodded blankly.

Song Qingshi determined that he had wrapped the dumpling tight enough. He stopped, satisfied, and ordered: "Wear more in the future."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him and asked anxiously: "This slave can wear more?"

Song Qingshi eagerly educated him: "Autumn is coming soon. It's going to be cold. You must wear more to avoid catching a cold."

"Thank you Master for your pity." Yue Wuhuan responded softly as soon as he was sure that he was not toying with him. He clutched his clothes tightly. For some reason, he suddenly remembered that when he first entered Golden Phoenix Manor, he was forced to take off all his clothes and was reduced to being a plaything.

Now, this seemingly deceptive man had personally helped him put on his clothes piece by piece, as though he were trying to convince him of something. . .

Because the medicated bath had been interrupted, the effect had not been fully achieved.

Song Qingshi busied himself adding water to the medicine tank and re-adjusting the temperature.

Yue Wuhuan sat quietly on the ground watching him work for his sake, lost in thought. Suddenly, he later realized that the never-ending burning sensation in his body had died down. He moved his body slightly and was surprised to find that the sensitivity caused by drugs had also greatly decreased, and the friction of the cloth was no longer causing him discomfort.

He tried to find an answer, but couldn't understand it. He finally plucked up the courage to ask, "Master, what is the purpose of the Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction. . .?"

"Huh?" Song Qingshi stopped and froze for a while. He found that he had again fallen into the scholar-tyrant's bad habit. His mind was moving too fast. He always felt that others would understand as long as he gave a name or an answer, regardless of whether others were following his thoughts or not.

Song Qingshi was a good academic who knew how to accept his mistakes and correct them. He reorganized his words several times in his mind and chose the simplest explanation, "Your body has been corroded by many drugs, so it causes great discomfort. The Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction can be used to remove the drug residues in your body. This medicinal bath needs to be taken five times, and the last two times will be taken with Muscle Generating Flower and Snow Toad Cake added to help repair the old wounds. When that happens, it might be itchy and uncomfortable but we can't use anesthetics. Don’t worry, you just need to endure that stage, and the body will return to its original state. . ."

Song Qingshi couldn’t bear to say it: Those people didn’t care about whether Yue Wuhuan lived or died. All kinds of aphrodisiacs were used uncontrollably on him, causing conflicts of various drug properties in his body and residual excess. If the drugs had continued to be used, he wouldn't have made it another few years.

"I was overdosed on drugs. . . Yes, they thought I was boring," Yue Wuhuan wrapped his clothes tightly around his frame, reluctant to let go. He hesitated for a long time but decided to control the unwillingness in his heart and explain clearly what Song Qingshi would figure out sooner or later. He was so confused that he once again forgot how he was supposed to address himself, "Master, without the medicine, my body will not respond to men. You won't be able to find pleasure in me. I-I'm not used to those things, only with the help of drugs. . ."

Song Qingshi interrupted his incoherent speech: "Don't do things that make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to be nice to me." The more Yue Wuhuan opened his heart, the more fear he felt. He was like a bewildered child, desperately saying, "I have nothing, the only thing I can give you is this body. . ."

Song Qingshi realized that he wasn't in a good emotional state right now and turned away. He knew he should do psychological intervention now, but the words in his heart that he had practiced thousands of times all disappeared the minute he opened his mouth. He couldn't say anything sweet and comforting. He was clearly extremely upset, but in the end, his thoughts could only be condensed into two words: "You have."

The Yue Wuhuan in his heart was the kid who had practiced his swordsmanship under the peach blossom tree, the boy who dreamt of becoming a cultivator with a mortal body.

The Yue Wuhuan he saw in his eyes was a soaring phoenix in the heavens, the brightest star in the night, but with its wings broken and covered in dust.

Song Qingshi walked step by step, firm in every step.

Yue Wuhuan tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling, and he wanted to retreat.

Song Qingshi squatted down on his knees and looked meaningfully into his eyes.

Yue Wuhuan felt that he couldn't retreat.

Song Qingshi promised word by word: "I will and return to you whatever you had before, and I will give you everything you want."

Yue Wuhuan's breathing became short. He still couldn't understand what this promise meant, but he understood the seriousness and determination in Song Qingshi's eyes. He asked carefully: "What do you need me to do?"

Song Qingshi asked: "Don't try to commit suicide again, okay?"

Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time and finally nodded.

[doyelikehaggis]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scanny | Scott McCall x Danny Mahealani (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @childofsquidward

The collie laying on the table is patient and docile as Scott finishes slotting the cone into place around her neck. She just stares up at him with big eyes, nudging against his hand with her nose.

Laughing, Scott rubs her head. Her tail gives a little wiggle in response.

"You know, you're the only one I've seen who isn't bothered by this thing," he tells her, scratching behind her ear. 

She just gives a playful yip in response. 

The bell rings over the front door, alerting Scott to someone entering the animal clinic. Somewhat pointless considering he heard the heartbeat first. But Lola's ears immediately perk up, and her tail bangs against the table.

Scott grins at Danny when he appears in the doorway, holding two festive coffee cups.

"You've been missed," he says.

Lola's already standing on the table, barking fondly at Danny. He laughs, and moves towards her, fuelling her excitement.

"By which one of you?" Danny jokes.

Scott's eyes widen. He opens his mouth, but he falters, and Danny's already focused on Lola again anyway. Heat rushes to his face. He quickly tries to regain some composure. 

"Hey, girl! Oh, you look so good!" Danny coos. "Did Dr. McCall take good care of you?"

Scott tries to bite back a smile and fails. He's getting used to hearing his friends call him Dr. McCall, more as a joke, but something about the way Danny says it gives him this fluttering in his chest.

So, when he first saw him at the start of December, it was a surprise. He'd practically disappeared off the face of the earth for two years, and then suddenly he was back in town for the holidays, to see his family and friends. 

But not only that, Scott hadn't quite realized just how attractive Danny is. Was he always that good-looking while they were at school together? Of course he was, everyone knew it. But Scott hadn't exactly been out to himself at that point, so seeing Danny back from New Orleans, even more tanned, with even more defined muscles—yeah, Scott might get a little nervous whenever he sees him now.

And it doesn't help that they seem to be seeing more of each other now than they did while at school. They run into each other in town. When Scott went back to fill in for Coach while he was away towards the end of the year, Danny just kept showing up, saying he was visiting a teacher to discuss something (he is, after all, in computer programming now, so it makes some semblance of sense), and they'd talk out on the field. He bmped into him while bringing his mom lunch at the hospital. 

Scott even saw him while out with Lydia two weeks ago. He was catching up with Jackson, who was also back in town for the holidays, like everyone else. 

And now at work, too. The universe seems to be playing some joke on him. He doesn't mind all that much, for once. As long as this isn't going to lead to him finding out that Danny's actually been turned into a vampire, or has been possessed by some new, evil spirit.

"Thank you," Danny says, lifting his eyes to Scott. Of course, Scott's still the one looking up at him, because it would appear Danny has had another growth spurt as well as everything else. 

Scott realizes he isn't answering. Just gazing. He grins, and hastily tries to not be totally obvious.

"Just doing my job," he says with a shrug. 

Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but I know for a fact that this clinic should have been shut for the rest of the holidays. So, thank you for seeing her anyway."

Scott hesitates at that. "Well… you're a friend. And I had to come in today anyway. And—" he looks down at Lola, who's settled back down on the table, and gives her head another rub "—I couldn't just leave this one stranded on Christmas Eve."

"We both thank you, then." Danny then holds out one of the coffee cups. "A gesture to prove it."

"God, thank you," Scott says, gratefully accepting the cup and taking a drink. "I haven't had anything all day. Or since last night. Including sleep. I might be running on three Mountain Dews and a kitkat."

Danny raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "That… can't be good for you."

Scott just shrugs again. He'll probably feel the effects later on today, since it's currently only one-thirty in the afternoon. As long as he makes it to four to head to the station to see Stiles, then he can head back home and have a nap. And maybe food.

"I didn't know the life of a vet was so demanding."

"It's the holidays," Scott explains, taking another drink before continuing. The gingerbread-cinnamon-whatever is in this latte is the best thing he's ever had right now. "Lots of people want their pets better before Christmas and New Year. A lot of strays get found with bad injuries. Currently I have—"

Barking starts up from the dog room in the back. Scott smiles, gesturing towards the door as Lola once again perks up.

"—them. Eight labrador puppies. They're under a year old. Deaton and I were trying to get them rehomed before the holidays, but it didn't work out. That's why I was coming in to work anyway, since Deaton's out of town."

"Never mind, your job is clearly far more demanding than I thought." Danny smiles, glances down at Lola, then pauses. "Do you need a hand with them at all? They sound pretty eager for attention."

"Yeah, I was gonna take them out for a walk once I was finished up here," Scott says.

Danny's grin widens. "You planned to walk eight hyperactive labrador puppies by yourself? In the snow?"

Scott just gives another shrug. "They're not too hard to handle once they're outside."

The look Danny is giving him only intensifies the fluttery feeling in his chest. It's like something's tickling him from the inside. He can feel the heat beneath his skin, in his cheeks.

"Guess that whole Alpha thing really does give you an advantage, huh," Danny says, a certain teasing twinkle in his eyes but his grin sincere.

Scott has barely gotten used to the idea of Danny knowing about the supernatural at all, never mind him making casual comments about it. And especially not while he's looking at him like that.

"I don't know if it's anything to do with that," Scott says, shaking his head. "But… sometimes, yeah. It comes in handy."

Danny nods. The puppies are still barking in the back, trying to get Scott's attention.

"Well, I think Lola could use a walk after being so good about this," Danny says. He looks at Scott, smiling. "Mind if we join you? I can be pretty good with dogs, might help to take a couple off your hands for an hour."

Scott's eyebrows raise in surprise, and his heartbeat raises itself as well. 

"You… but—" he frowns, his head tilting with a confused smile "—it's Christmas Eve. Don't you wanna get back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a little while," Danny says, brushing it off. Then, because he seems to be catching on, he rolls his eyes, and says, "Please? You helped me with Lola when you clearly already had your hands full. I wanna do more than get you coffee."

Scott's heart drops into his stomach and lurches right back up. He swallows, and tries to keep his mind on one track, biting his lip. 

"Uh… yeah," he breathes out before he can think twice. "You know what? That would be great. Thank you."

"No problem," Danny says, sincerely.

They get Lola to hop off the table, and head into the back room to get the others ready. Danny just laughs when he sees the little christmas hats Scott put on the ones that were happy to wear them.

As they're getting them all on their leashes, Danny casually adds, with a glance at Scott, "And if you were up for it, I'd like to get coffee with you sometime."

Scott accidentally clips the leash to his hand instead of the collar. He winces, quickly undoing it and fixing it to its right place instead. Then he looks over at Danny and his amused grin, his heart racing.

"Like—like a date?" he asks, hardly daring to believe that's what he means. Danny was never interested in him. Was he? 

Scott's quickly going through every interaction he's ever had with him.

"Exactly a date," Danny corrects. 

Scott's eyes are wide. His mouth opens, then closes. He wasn't prepared for this. Sure, the thought of Danny liking him back crosses his mind after Stiles and Lydia both insisted that he did after he told them about running into him all those times. But that doesn't mean he was prepared for it.

"You can say no," Danny says, giving another casual shrug as clips the last lead on to the last excited puppy. "I just thought I might as well ask. Waiting three years to do it was bad enough, I didn't want to seem totally pathetic by waiting four to at least know what you'd say."

"Three—what?" Scott asks in disbelief, sure that he must have somehow misheard. "You've wanted to ask me out for… three years?" 

"Like I said, it was starting to seem pathetic." Danny looks at him, holding his stare with a soft gaze. "But, Lydia told me that you came out last year, and after seeing you, I figured I should at least ask."

"Wow. Uh…" Scott's mind is a mess, and he can't sort his thoughts out. Except for one. "I'd love to."

Danny blinks, thrown off his own guard now. Apparently even he wasn't prepared. But he quickly recovers, as does Scott, smiles forming across both their faces.

"Go on a date with you, I mean," Scott says, as if it needs further elaboration. 

"Really?" Danny asks. "Uh… today?"

Scott's breath is knocked out of him, but he's already nodding again. "Yeah, absolutely."

He didn't think anything could make the fluttery feeling in his chest worse. Turns out, Danny smiling at him like he is right now is the thing that can. 

"Okay, great," he says. "Then let's get these guys out of here."

Scott happily agrees. They head out of the back door after making sure the front is locked up. It has to be an hour or more that passes as they walk the dogs through town, taking an open path into the woods, through the snow. The whole way, Scott and Danny are talking, and laughing, catching up on the years they missed and in between. 

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Week Glow Stick/REDRUM - Glow Snap

Danny’s been king for a while and that means helping ghosts out sometimes. And that helping has repeated required dealing with humans treating ghosts like crap. But farming ghosts for glow sticks is a new one.

Danny Phantom was beginning to get used to his role as High Ghost King, the balls, the parties, the formalities and respect. The fashion was more difficult to adjust to than everything else in all honestly. Frock coats and even dresses. At least usually all he had to wear was his cape, that was just part of him now though. Another thing he had to get used to were the royal attendances, where he effectively had to just sit at his throne and hear ghosts out. Only if he accepted their request for an attendance of course. He usually rejected the Observants and Vlad, generally on principal alone. Especially since it was nearly a guarantee they were just trying to annoy him. If the eyeballs really needed to see him then they could go through ClockWork and Vlad could literally just show up at his house.

Now if anyone else put in a request to have an attendance with him then he usually paid attention, since that was a rare thing. Most ghosts wouldn’t even dare due to the ‘behaviour’ of Pariah giving the entire throne, title, and crown a really nasty reputation. Most of the Zone simply assumed or worried that this Phantom fellow, who defeated Pariah, was just like him or worse. The ghosts that knew him didn't even bother going through official routes, they just showed up in Amity or invited him to their lair. So when he got a attendance request from a ghost he’d never heard of representing an entire species of ghost that he hadn’t yet met, he accepted without hesitation and felt rather worried. This Brextex likely only knew the High Ghost King as the guy who overpowered the evil tyrant Pariah and was thus taking a chance by willingly asking to be alone in the throne room and lair of the new King. It didn’t help that most of the rumours about him involved the fact that he beat up other ghosts and had made powerful allies. So either this ghost was desperate, out of options, or just recklessly curious. Just in case it was either of the first Danny had elected to stick with his true ghost form rather than ageing himself up to look more ‘adult’ and imposing (or in the Observants case, remind them of Dan). Sure his true form was more visually impressive than it was when he was fourteen, but his seventeen-year-old ass did not nearly have the muscle, size, or defined body structure his mid-twenties self would. He’s honestly wondering when the heck that growth spurt was going to hit him in genuine. But hey, at least his fangs had grown in and he’s pretty sure his ears are beginning to taper.

But anyway, accepting that attendance request is what finds him sitting at his throne, one leg over an armrest and drumming his fingers in boredom on the other armrest. He’s tempted to start pulling down his crown in front of his face only to let go and watch it spring back up, small amusements. The FrightKnight comes in just as Danny had decided to go ahead and do that.

Danny rights himself as his High Dread Knight speaks, “Brextex has arrived, your highness. Are you content to see him now?”. Danny just nods and absently waves for the guy to just go ahead and let the ghost in. He honestly would appreciate the FrightKnight relaxing more on all the formalities, not going to happen but still. His knight nods, letting the ghost in and going to stand outside the doors.

Danny will admit, this is one of the odder looking ghosts he’s seen. He looked kinda like someone who was nothing but skin and bones but the bones under the skin glowed. The skin didn’t though, and he just had glowing light in sunken eye sockets rather than physical eyes. The fact that he walked across the hall towards Danny rather than floated was pretty odd for a ghost too. Eh, maybe he just preferred walking on solid ground; Danny often did.

Brextex immediately kneels when he’s considered officially close enough, not coming any closer. Which was pretty typical for ghosts who had never met him. What does catch Danny’s attention is that he can hear the ghost's bones creaking and straining as if they were real solid bones that had seen plenty abuse. Danny’s joints and spine would creak like that sometimes. “Bless you for seeing me, High King Phantom. May you bless me speak?”.

“You may”. Danny makes a point to smile warmly when Brextex raises his head, which seems to startle the ghost for a second.

“I’ve come to request aid, your highness. My kind, linchens, we- we’ve been suffering for a long while”.

Danny squints a little and leans forward, “how so?”. He thought he had made it clear to the FrightKnight that he wanted to know about any groups, clans, kingdoms, or tribes that were genuinely struggling. Either he’ll have to have a talking with him about what qualifies as ‘struggling’ again, or he didn’t know himself. The Zone was large, so he couldn’t really fault him if that was the case. But the FrightKnight was old, reasonably he should know about all of the different groups. “The FrightKnight was supposed to inform me of any genuine suffering or issues”.

Brextex shifts slightly, maintaining the kneeling position though, “well sire, I don’t believe the... FrightKnight looks beyond the Infinite Realms. See, my kind haven’t been part of it for ages. We’re... located in the Mortal Realm”. Okay, that gets Danny’s attention real fast. He probably looks more than a little surprised, since ghosts weren’t generally capable of staying in the human world for very long. Obviously this kind of ghost, linchens, could. But then that’s kinda weird that he hasn’t run into one yet. Heck, showing in Amity would have been easier than finding a portal and coming to see him formally. It’s not like the hunters in Amity were much of a threat now after all the truces he’s formed. Dora could come without a human disguise and buy tea even. Maybe these ghosts simply didn’t know?

Danny nods, “feel free to explain the issue then, I’m often in the Mortal Realm so I can certainly help”.

Brextex just blinks at him for a bit before standing up quickly and motioning with his hands as he speaks. Clearly forgetting the ‘proper etiquette’ at the serious possibility of Danny not being an unhelpful asshole. “Pariah used to keep us as pets to break our bones for fun so when one of the old ones found a portal to the living world we all fled there. But the living were quick to capture us and decided they liked our bones to and somehow broke our connection to the Infinite Realms”. Danny doesn’t like where this is going and if the G.I.W. have anything to do with this he’s going to be having some words with their head boss... again. “Or that’s the story that’s been passed down. Ever since they’ve been keeping us and harvesting our bones until we fade from the-”, Brextex jerks a bit likely from Danny’s eyes flashing a little angrily. By the ghost swallows and continues “-from the draining. The others were able to get me out since my ecto-field’s weaker and young. We had heard about a new king and thought that- that you would maybe be different. We had to take the risk. We had to-”.

Danny holds up a hand to pause the ghost, because frankly he doesn’t even need to hear more to be willing to help. A group of humans actively murdering ghosts to collect their bones? Hell no. That is absolutely not something he’s going to let fly. But right now he needs to get across that his flash of anger wasn’t aimed at the ghost. Brextex does not need to start begging to him. Standing up, which Brextex looks a bit freaked by, “I’ll help. Absolutely I will”. Walking down the throne steps, Brextex remembering himself and kneeling again as Danny approaches. Danny making a point to reel in the anger, because he does not need to stress this ghost more, and patting Brextex on the head, “you're fine. Humans treating ghosts like monsters and whatnot is something that ticks me off and that I’ve gone well out of my way to deal with. And to hear some have been murdering ghosts, I don’t give a flaming crap why, that is unacceptable”, sighing, “now come on, get up. I should probably at least know why, or what you believe to be why, you and the rest of your kind are being treated worse than animals at an unethical and illegal slaughterhouse”.

Brextex stands up more than a little stiffly and eyes him warily, giving a strained, “bless you”, then clearing his throat, “well... our bone enamel glows really strongly if we snap or break a bone”, he digs in the small little beat up bag he’s got around his waist and pulls out a little bag. Handing it over to Danny though clearly avoiding actually touching the king. “They shave our bones down after harvesting so they’re opaque-”, pointing at the bag, “-and look like that. We’re not really sure why and we honestly don’t care“.

Danny nods and scowls, opening the bag and pulling out a bunch of freaking glow sticks. Danny blinks, honestly a bit too shocked to really feel much of anything, “glow sticks?”. Sure his parents had used to rave about a conspiracy theory that glow sticks were filled with ectoplasm and had thus banned them from the house. But them being actually right was utterly insane.

Brextex furrows his brows, skin pulling tight, “you’ve... seen these before? Why? What are they for? Their purpose? Are they needed? Do the living need to do this to us?”.

Danny shakes his head immediately, because holy shit no. “They’re used for cheap entertainment. Completely unnecessary entertainment”, then scowls deeply, even growling a little, “this is absurd and I’m not having it”. Looking to Brextex, who looks nervous, “where are the other linchens being kept? Because I’m about to have some very not nice words with whoever assholes thinks torturing and murdering anyone for freaking glow sticks is remotely okay”.

Brextex nods and grins a little, “I can take you”. While Danny lifts a hand to form a portal in the air, the ghost watching in a bit of amazement. Danny doesn’t need to tell the FrightKnight he’s heading out, the guy can sense it just fine.

-

They step out onto a rooftop in Amity, Danny sending away his crown and cape as he turns to look at Brextex who’s looking around, “this place... it is your lair too”, then adding on like he’ll get in trouble otherwise, “your highness”.

Danny waves him off, trying not to seem ticked off, “don’t bother with royal titles here. Humans don’t know and I'd mostly prefer to keep it that way”. The G.I.W. knew but that was purely so he could threaten them more effectively. “Yeah, welcome to Amity Park, the place I usually am. The one place the G.I.W. are banned from”.

“The... G.I.W.?”.

Danny shrugs almost aggressively, “group of anti-ghost terrorists. Almost blew up the Zone once. I’ve had words with them”, nodding curtly, “now, where to?”. Brextex stares at him for a bit before pointing off to the east, a bit of green light sting shooting off. Danny plucks it to see how far it goes. The area seemed just a bit outside of a populated area.

Danny nods, “alright, I’ve got it”, looking to the ghost, “do you want a place to rest? I live with ghost hunters but they’re cool with good ghosts that don’t run around attacking humans. They’re pretty knowledgeable too, so if you need anything they can help. My friends could keep you company too. I don’t want you coming off with me and straining or hurting yourself”.

Brextex stares a bit more before furrowing his brows, “you are... very different. Kind”. Danny smiles at that, “my friends say I’m a little too nice sometimes”, and quirks an eyebrow.

Brextex nods a little, “I’ll... take the offer then”.

So Danny teleports them down into an alley and changes back human. Though that makes Brextex jump back and look incredibly confused. Danny chuckles and rubs his neck, “ah guess you don’t know. I’m a halfa”.

“A... halfa?��.

Danny nods and starts walking, the ghost following behind, “yup, half a ghost, half a human. This is how I look as a human. The people I live with are my human parents”. Danny sends off a quick text for his friends to get their butts over to his house as he pushes in his home’s front door, “mom! Dad! I’ve got a friendly that needs a place to crash for a bit!”.

His mom sticks her head out of the kitchen, glances at the ghost and back to Danny, “well he’s an interesting one”. Danny doesn’t even let her finish that and points at her, “no labs”.

“Alright, no worries sweetie. He’ll be staying in your room?”. Danny just nods as he heads upstairs, his friends joining him and Brextex just as the two had gotten halfway up the stairs.

“Oh! New ghost huh dude?”.

Sam just smiles at the confused-looking ghost.

Danny nods at Tucker, “you guys hang with him while I go unleash ghostly wrath on some people”.

Tucker pats the ghost on the shoulder and the two walk into Danny’s room. Sam raising an eyebrow at Danny, “what is it this time?”.

Danny scowls, “glow sticks are ghost bones apparently”. She scowls immediately herself, “you have my full support”, and nods at him as he turns to leave. Danny promptly teleporting away as soon as he’s back outside.

-

Danny floats above the little factory-looking building, arms crossed and scowling. It’s not even a debate him taking his mid-twenties full ghost looking form, the fact that his royal cape had a flaming white collar and large green skulls pinning it shut with a shadowy chain only made him look slightly more threatening than Dan did with his simple tattered cape. His crown wrapped around the flaming hair pretty darn well too in a way that just emphasised the crown even more. But before he does anything drastic he’s going to check this place out invisibly.

And what he finds inside is frankly, disgusting. The first thing he comes across are these tools that looked like potato peelers and piles of what he’s sure are ‘bone peels’; which he scowled at, feeling his lips pull over his other fangs. The second looks to be a literal vat of ‘discarded’ glow sticks, ones that were misshapen, damaged and leaking; the fact that they were taking these ghosts body parts and just throwing them away very explicitly pisses him off. Who knows how many ghosts faded for these damn scraps. It wasn’t like fucking glow sticks were important or even necessary, to kill to make them was beyond wrong and idiotic. The room with just boxed up glow sticks doesn’t really bother him beyond just how much was here. How many ghosts had faded in this place? Was there a risk of extinction? If he were to ask the FrightKnight the guy would probably claim to have thought this species of ghost already had gone extinct.

Getting to the centre of the factory is when he finds the ghosts. There are at least twenty or so ghosts that looked similar to Brextex stuck inside plastic cases that were practically skin tight around them, with little hinges and doors that could be opened for access to their arms, legs, fingers, toes, and ribs. There was tubes hooked into the back of the cases that appeared to be feeding the ghosts ectoplasm, Danny can tell by smell there’s some kind of drug mixed in. He’d place money on it being a type of tranquilliser or complacency drug. Especially with one of these linchens ghosts having escaped recently. He can tell from looking at the ghosts faces that the drug(s) definitely weren’t any kind of pain medication.

Floating over to one of the cases and putting his large clawed hand on it, he can sense the ghost inside is a child ghost. Scowling, first thing first, he needs to get them out of here. At the very least there are no alarms set to the cases, even if there were cameras he quickly shorted out with a little ecto-electroshock, meaning he can immediately start disconnecting the drugs and start tearing open the cases; duplicating so he can catch/carry the ghosts when they effectively fall out, either too weak or too out of it to really be aware of him or what’s going on fully. One of the ghosts particularly worries him as she’s gooey to the touch; making damn sure to teleport her to his room immediately with a duplicate, the rest he gives a more thorough look over to before sending them off.

Glancing around the room and nodding to himself with a huff. All clear. Now to scare the crap out of some assholes. Letting himself return to visibility as he heads to walk out, slapping a hand on the wall to send ice out coating everything in the room. Try ever using any of that shit ever again.

It doesn’t take long for an invisible duplicate to find the boss over in the ‘office’ building section, which he smirks over as he kicks in the main doors and blasts blue ecto-flames around him; making damn sure his footprints scorch the ground. The receptionist and people hanging around in the lobby jump over the loud sound before standing up and freaking out. Danny comes to a stop and crosses his arms, forcing anyone with the guts to try and flee to have to squeeze past him. He has no clue how involved any of these people are so he’ll let them off with singed jackets, jolts of cold, and a healthy dose of fear. Most people chose to just huddle in corners and radiate fear.

Danny huffs after a bit and continues stalking towards the big bad bosses office, completely ignoring the secretary as he goes. Though he does grumble with a deep voice, “I suggest you get a better job. There won’t be much left of this company soon”. Let her take that threat however she wants to. He wasn’t about to burn the place down, but an ecto-blast or two should do the job.

Kicking in the bosses door hard enough to blow it clean off its hinges and into the far wall, it just skimming past the guys head. Said guy is too stunned to do more than jerk and stare at him, which Danny snarls at him for. But at least that makes it easy to grab the guy's face and slam his head into the back wall, hard enough to give him a nasty headache but not outright kill the guy. He’s not here to add on to the death-toll.

“Alright fuckface, you and I have a few issues to settle. And this is a non-negotiable communication offer. Specifically about your little ghost harvesting setup”. Dropping him and watching the guy groan before scooting away from him across the floor with his hands and feet. While Danny moves his hand to coat the open doorway with flames, blocking off the only real exit here. Flicking a wrist to make one of his thrones form, simpler than his official throne but still pretty stunning-looking; all in sharp angular black and white and peppered in ectoplasmic gemstones.

Danny sits down while staring the guy down, growling at him, “I suggest you take a seat”. The guy nods and scrambled up without hesitation, reclaiming his average black office chair. Danny snapping immediately, “name and position”.

The guy swallows, “Brillar Glühen. Head of the Kialuma Company”, Brillar clearly tries to force himself to relax into the back of his chair, “and you are?”.

Danny grins very meanly, making sure his fangs are very noticeable, “Phantom, High Ghost King and ruler of the afterlife”, then just to be mean, “some might prefer to call me Hades or perhaps Satan”. No one called him Satan, like, ever. But there were plenty who considered the Zone to be Hell, so he’s fairly sure he can claim the name just to scare some asshole.

Brillar is visibly shaken and swallows, “nice to... to meet you”. Which Danny huffs a mean laugh at, “no it’s really not”, Danny scowls and leans forward on the guy's desk, “look here fuck-stick, I don’t know how someone who’s clearly barely fucking thirty is running a company older than that, but not only do I not care but I also am not going to change my course of action because of that”, pointing a clawed finger in his face, he’ll give him points for not moving back even if the prick goes stiff as a board, “obviously you damn well know how your company goes about getting its end product, if you don’t then you’re an idiot that deserves to be yelled at anyway”. Brillar nods stiffly so Danny scowls at him before continuing, “tell me then, why the fuck do you think it’s okay to tear out a beings bones repeatedly till they effectively die just to sell as a party novelty item”, growling, “last I checked, even humans knew better than to commit needless murder”.

Brillar swallows, “the creatures are already dead-”. Danny snapping, “so’s your mother, your point?”, making the guy jump a little.

“They- they don’t feel pain and-and one moving on is a mercy”,

Danny rolls his eyes harshly, “let me guess, you got that load of horse crap from the previous boss or the G.I.W., well here’s a tip for you. That’s wrong. We feel pain as much as the living. And since you might as well be an informed asshole, ghosts can not ‘move on’ by being murdered. It happens naturally”, scowling, “so knowing that, you see why you and I might have a few issues”. Brillar gulps and nods slowly. Danny growls over the lack of an actual answer, so he stands, grabs the guy's collar, and smacks his face down onto the desk. Lighting a ball of ecto-fire in his hand and holding it in front of the guys face, growling, “so what are you going to do about our little issue?”.

Brillar sounds more than a little shaken, “f-find a different resource. And- and let the-the glowing creatures- uh, ah, ghosts go?”.

Danny bares his teeth in his face a bit, “don't say that like a question, mean it”, shoving his head against the desk a bit more before releasing him and sitting back down, “this is a company that sells a cheap novelty item, that’s it. You have no place torturing sentient beings. And bones? Seriously? Do you even think the living public would be okay with that? You disappoint me”, scowling, “at least if you were some kind of ecto-phobic bigot, your stupidity and cruelty would make an ounce of sense”, shrugging aggressively, “and I’d have an excuse to beat the shit out of you”.

Brillar sits back up slowly and stares at him, Danny flashes his eyes just to freak the guy out more. Brillar swallows, “I- please don’t”.

Danny sighs and rolls his eyes, “I won’t. You’re just an idiot fed some bullshit information and handed a company that was already spinning its wheels financially fine so you felt no need to change anything. Ethics, common sense, and basic decency be damned. Oh and if you think I can’t use human methods to sue you into oblivion or politically murder you, then you are gravely mistaken. So take fucking heed and watch your shit or I will be far far less nice if I have to show up here again”, snarling, “now good day and have fun fixing all the shit I destroyed in your factory”. Then making his throne and himself burst into flames before turning invisible. Let the prick think he ‘road the fires of Hell’ or something. He does have to restrain a laugh when he invisibly watches the guy right himself, pull out his phone while shaking so bad he can barely type, and says, “h-hey dad, uh, can you um, when does the church open?”.  

Danny smirks to himself and decides to speak as darkly as possible into the phone, “someone needs to repent and get off of Hell’s naughty list”. Making the guy shriek, launch himself across the room, and throw his phone into the air. Danny rolls his eyes and silently snorts as Brillar eyes his phone warily.

Danny flies out, gathers all the ‘discarded’ glow sticks/bones and the ‘bone peels’, then teleports home. He’s honestly not surprised to see his friends and all the ghosts in the yard rather than in the house. Brextex looking to be fretting over the other ghosts of his kind. All the ghosts jump and go bug-eyed when Danny suddenly appears. All the ghosts quickly and jerkily moving to huddle together when they actually get a good look at him; obviously frightened. Brextex looks less frightened but far more confused than the others.

Ticker comes over and smacks him on the bicep, “dude, maybe take your true form and cool your jets before you scare them even more”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah, but first”, snapping a clawed finger and making all the ghost parts he stole/reclaimed appear in his yard, “you know I have more energy at my fingertips like this”, then changing back to his true ghost form.

Walking over to the group of huddling ghosts, who shrink back from him some. The whole being feared thing may please his ghostly nature a lot but he still doesn’t particularly like being feared. Brextex is the only one who doesn’t actively noticeably shrink away or seem fearful. Danny waves and smiles friendly at them, “relax, please. One of my powers happens to be a pretty heavy dose of age slash form manipulation. That previous form happens to be good for scaring the crap out of assholes”, smirking, “I don’t think you have to worry about being bone harvested anymore and a few humans definitely need to change their pants”. Tucker snorts on the side, the ghosts just look slightly confused but do relax some. Danny looks around and spots the child ghost he was the most worried about, promptly moving to her and kneeling down. Grabbing her hands and checking her energy levels, “glad to see you’re looking a bit better”, frowning slightly, “you’re still lower than I’d like, you can take some from me if you like?”.

She shifts and fiddles with his fingers some, “really?”. He nods so she grabs him and gets rather clingy, Danny picking her up and standing; carrying her around as he moves to check on the others. Easily hearing Sam laugh a little and speak at some of the more surprised looking linchen ghosts, “told you he was a kind soul who’s stupid protective”. Catching a few ghosts looking at her and nodding jerkily, but the group of ghosts do start to seem less nervous and timid around him.

Once Danny’s satisfied with the state of everyone, eyeing the child ghost, “Alright, you’ve had enough. No getting greedy now”, she just hums innocently at him as he puts her down. Turning to face the group, “so I have a question for you all, Brextex said y’all have been disconnected from the Zone. So my question is if you want to stay here in the living realm or be reintroduced into the ghost realm”.

Danny watches as they all look to a linchen with stringy red hair and red ‘eyes’, he felt older than the others so Danny’s guessing he’s their leader, or as close to one as they have. He clears his throat and steps forward, “we don’t have... fond memories of this realm. While we believe our kind left the Infinite Realms for safety... I don’t believe we have to fear there anymore. You... are not Pariah. We’d like to go home... your highness”.

Danny nods curtly and smiles, “then that’s what we’ll do. Now it might take some time for you all to reconnect fully and properly. That’s just the nature of things I’m afraid. So I’ll have some knights keep guard over wherever you chose to set down your roots, that way the miasma and local flora and fauna won’t damage any of you. Alright?”. They all nod looking a bit stunned though. Danny gestures to the bone stuff he brought with him, “these are yours to do with as you wish, as far as I’m concerned they belong to you. If you remember your traditions for respecting the faded, then maybe these will help you do that”. They just nod, clearly only getting more stunned; which makes Danny chuckle a bit.

Sam and Tucker share a look and shake their heads, while Danny makes a portal and guides the ghosts through.

-

Danny speaks at the FirghtKnight while watching the linchens settle down from afar, “let me guess, you thought they were extinct?”.

The FrightKnight nods, “I rather assumed that when they disconnected from the Infinite Realms it was due to being whipped out. Ghosts being able to exist amongst the living indefinitely as you do is uncommon, my king”.

Danny snorts, “I’m uncommon, Frighty. There any other ghost species that fled to the human world and were never heard of again?”.

The FrightKnight seems to almost sigh, “‘fraid so sire. The fallen mad king chased many off”. Making Danny actually sigh, guess he now has a bunch of things to look into. Hopefully there wasn’t, like, horror movie companies using real ghosts as movie ghosts.

End.