#and i stopped playing. When i tried picking it up after that long period subsided months later it viscerally reminded me of bad things

[hoshizoralone]

You like vocaloid stuff, so have you ever played Project Sekai? Curious what you'd think of it/its characters.

during its first launch i played it pretty religiously for like 2 months. i really liked the musical theatre guys theyre funny (in general i love boy + girl combos in things that usually are girl centric (this is why idolmaster crossbranch content rules), musical theatre guys edge out the other group for being funny)

i have no substantial thoughts on anyone else EXCEPT i cannot stand anyone in 25ji or whatever theyre called. except mizuki theyre chill but everyone else in it annoys me so bad like damn … every time i see someone say a story update they have its always some insane shit like if this was actually going down on vocatwit half the group would have the craziest callouts. mizuki get out of there

crypton vocaloidwise my interest goes kaito = meiko > luka > rin > [MASSIVE POWERGAP] len = miku

[haztory]

hello hello ! first, congratulations on 300 !! and if you are still taking requests, may i request the angst dialouge “Can you look at me? Please?” with nanami ? thank you & keep up the wonderful work !! :)

“Can you look at me? Please?” from my writing event! (come request something)

warnings: angst, only angst

nanami kento x gn reader

“Tilt your head upwards,” Two fingers prod against your chin, gentle yet firm pressure lifting your face and pressing a wet cloth onto the surface of your cheekbone.

It stings, worse than any regular cut that splits the skin. The wound having been laced and imbued with a cursed poison, the kind that simultaneously numbs and burns the surrounding area. Given only when you were taken off guard, caught too hastily in your preoccupation with the man currently standing in front of you instead of the fight at hand.

A foolish mistake on your part— one you understand the gravity of quite thoroughly, even without the disapproving stares and the extended periods of silence that weigh heavily onto you, imparted by the stoic man and impromptu healer.

Nanami halts his movement, his hand hovering over the injury, and his dark eyes— laced entirely too much with dismay— flicker quickly towards yours, of which you pointedly avoid. 

He waits, silent in his plaguing stare that truthfully discomforts you more than the injury itself; He waits for your sighs of pain to subside, waits for you to meet his gaze. Waits for you to understand that behind the neutrality of his stature and the calmness of his demeanor as he led you back from the mission and into the sanctity of his office at the school, lies a brewing lecture of turmoil and overwhelming disappointment.

You didn’t have to look at him to know that, though.

“Are you alright?” He asks after a minute of heavy silence fills the space of the room. He towers over your seated body, feeling miles away in superiority and physicality despite being right in front of you, his hands touching your face and your knee placed between his open legs. He couldn’t be any closer, not with the rich musk of his cologne swirling around you and the heat of him transferring itself onto you.

And yet, you couldn’t feel further from him. 

“Yeah,” keeping your eyes downturned, you mutter lowly, “‘m fine.”

His hand lowers and with it he drops the rag onto the surface of the table. He sighs, the weight of his stress and the exhaustion from the mission exhaling into the air, settling heavily on top of the already apparent displeasure with the situation. 

With you.

You can only push your head down farther and slink away from the expanse of his body in some feeble effort to minimize the extent of your burden on him, even if you may have had good intentions upon doing so.

If only you hadn’t gotten distracted; If only you remembered that out of the two of you, he was the more qualified sorcerer. There was no need to be so concerned for the likes of his safety, especially not when your own was so intensely threatened in that moment. If only you hadn’t turned your head, yelled his name, pleaded for him to move— 

“(Y/N),” Nanami says, voice soft and silky yet still. Foundational. A pillar that pushes itself into the whirlwind of your thoughts and refuses to budge, forcing you to acknowledge it. To acknowledge him and the depth of the irreparable impression you’ve made on him.

You can hear his words before he even says it, forced to sit with the impeding knowledge of the fate of this conversation and take the daggers of despair that will no doubt pierce every part of your fragile heart as he points out the obvious mistake you made. Droles on about how imperative it is to keep business and feelings separate.

Reminds you of the vow he made upon becoming a sorcerer.

Why couldn’t you have just— 

“Can you look at me?” 

You can’t. 

You can’t have him see that as much as he may be disappointed in you, you are even more so disappointed in yourself. Understanding full and well what your mistake means, even if it is something as simple as a cut on the cheek. You can’t have him see and confirm the large crack that has been made in the solid wall of duty to your occupation that can no longer be reversed. 

If you look at him, if you so much as make eye contact with him, he will know the weakness that you possess, the disadvantage you carry with you into every mission. The sharp Achilles heel that has made itself abundantly clear before the two of you and every cursed spirit that saw you stumble. 

Nanami Kento, in whatever fashion he may exist, has the entirety of your attention in the palm of his hand and the cool swing of his arm. And try as you might devote your focus to any matter at hand, you can never successfully win the battle in keeping him out of your thoughts. 

Nanami Kento is the root of your mistake and the inevitable reason behind your downfall. You’ve known it for far too long, and now, he does too. A prophecy in the making, a tragic tale playing its beginning notes before you that’s too sweet for you to try and end.

But he will. 

He will know of the taint in your commitment to this life, the compromise of your duty and the manner in which he plays an active part in it, and he will remove it in the name of safety. 

Dread fills your stomach.

“Please?” He tries again, quieter this time. 

Soft yet firm, comforting, and wrapped in the linen of silk. Lined with the scent of his musk and coated entirely in a sweet, dripping concoction that refreshed you with one word alone. The sweetest of tones that have your heart accelerating with the single word alone.

You want more, you need more for as long as you can have it. That is your prophecy, the destiny written in the fate of your stars and consolidated by the sharpness of his cheekbones and the gentleness of his touch.

He is error in your duty that you can no longer see as a mistake. You’re not sure you ever saw it as a mistake.

You look up at him, throbbing pain in your cheek no longer felt, instead replaced with the sorrows of his eyes and the slow push of the dagger in your heart. Propelled by him, his hand wrapped around the ornate handle, with your own settled on top of it, guiding its entry, because you have done this to yourself.

You fell in love with someone who could not be loved, who did not want to be loved.

And worst of all, you laid it bare before him when you prioritized his safety over your own. You bear the physical mark of your profession that swirls with draining poison that he gentle tries to patch up. A wound that he tries to heal and leave with no trace of himself in its wake.

His mouth remains closed as you finally meet his gaze, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know.

There’s the furrow in his brow and pity in his stare as he whispers, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

The malice you expected is absent, replaced with a saddened realization of the truth that you both tried so hard to avoid. You find that you would’ve much preferred a furious lecture than whatever this is.

This pathetic rejection on the basis of violated principles and foolish duty; A halting of something that hadn’t even had the chance to begin.

You should feel something, something deep and burning in you pointed desperately at him, for depriving you of the chance of a truthful embrace. But you can only hum, a wry one that punches him in the gut, even when you try to keep it void from all emotion.

“I know.”

He tries to find some consolation in the fact that you at least know that your feelings were meant to die here. He should feel less guilty in the admittance that you never bought into the enticing fantasy of living a domestic life with him, a romantic and fulfilling one in which things could end happily and your jobs weren’t the brutal forces of despair.

He should feel some relief in knowing that you knew as much as him that it was better to leave things unsaid, than to act on them, for then, he could keep you close without having to acknowledge the blurring boundaries.

It doesn’t though. Only leaves him with an aching hollow in his chest and a pain reverberating along his spine.

If only you didn’t know that this love was a tragedy in the making, then maybe he could’ve given you a reason to hate him. He could’ve broken your heart brutally, right here and now, and sleep peacefully at night knowing that you truly believed him to be an insignificant monster that ruined a chance of happiness.

Maybe you could’ve believed him to be an end of a route that would lead to a better future, one that you unabashedly deserved.

But you do know. You’ve carried the truth of that burden alongside him, and you admit it. That’s the worst part.

Nanami sighs again in some effort to exhale the heavy weight that lumps in his throat. It’s futile. His eyes drift, if only to break themselves from your own sorrowful gaze, but much like you, he finds himself inevitably being drawn back—unable to stray from the entrancing state of your eyes.

Unable to stop himself from gazing at the long-awaited happiness he finally found in your irises. The one he longed for.

His hand cups around the back of your neck, bringing your foreheads together and noses bumping gently into one another. The closest he can let you be to him, without breaking his dutiful promise.

He breathes you in shamelessly, memorizes the feel of your skin against his, closes his eyes and imagines that for just a moment, he could have you without restraint in this space. You do the same, soaking in the forbidden lifetime of forever in this brief second. You wish, that in all his empathy and compassion for those around him—that in his exorbitant effort to minimize the extent of the damage his eventual death will amass—he will give you just a minute more; Just a second more to keep him close.

Reality is never that kind.

He pulls away, stray strands of blonde falling in front of his forehead that he hardly minds as he picks the rag up once more and places it in your hand.

“Keep this on the wound. I’ll go find the first-aid.”

He turns, quick in his motion and set in his path as he makes his way to the door. Leaving you and the air of lost infinite possibilities behind. He opens it, and just as he is about to step out, he pauses.

“After tonight I will put in my request for reassignment. I’ll make sure they pair you with someone capable. And from now on, it would be best to distance ourselves. We should avoid making a mistake of this kind again.”

And then he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him, no room for argument in the bluntness of his words. No room for interpretation. Not even a brief hesitation as he confirmed that his vow of loneliness would trump any attempt of momentary happiness he could have found with you.

A statement, strict and concise, affirming what you already knew. You could love Nanami Kento all you wanted, and you could hope and plead desperately that he would love you too, but in the end, all that would be left was the fruits of your mistake.

No.

Not a mistake.

Only a love that was lost before it could even be found.

a/n: apparently the only thing I know how to write for nanami is angst. hope you enjoyed this one anon!!! feel free to request more!! and thank you for the congrats!!

[hansensgirl]

salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

[cowboisadness]

Found You {Arthur Morgan x F!reader}

Summery: She was there for Arthur through everything, being more than good friends but less than partners. They support eachother through the good and bad times, it’s not love tho, no, it’s not love at all.

Rating: M. Basically porn with plot. More plot than i planned i really got carried away with this. SMUT IS HERE! 18+ ONLY!!

—–

Chapter 4 - Together

The next few days were nothing short of torture. Arthur never spoke another word to me, huffing whenever I would say something to him or just walking away from me completely. Everyone else in camp soon noticed something serious had happened between us. Their comforting words and questions on what happened went unanswered and dismissed. I hoped time would help, that I would get a chance to explain myself and apologise for my foolishness and downright stupidity. But as the days passed, the frayed ends of the rope had no chance of being reconnected, no matter how hard I tried and how hard I cried. So I flung myself into as many jobs as I could get. As a distraction.

Robbing homesteads. Stagecoaches that turned into shootouts more often than not. Gambling with fellers that were too drunk to notice me stealing their wears from right under their noses and gone before they realised anything was amiss. Fighting in hidden alleyways with meagre men that thought they could take on a woman with nothing to lose. Just to feel something, another kind of pain that would lessen with time.

It wasn’t until I was sat at the edge of the camp, cleaning my revolver while looking out over the overlook, stars raining bright above. Bottle of whiskey by my side that Hosea came over and sat beside me. Silent at first. Taking in the view.

“You going to explain whats going on?”

“Nothings going on, Hosea.” I shrugged, running the oiled cloth over the same spot mindlessly. “Arthur won’t tell me. I though out of the two of you, you would.” he kept his eyes ahead, not bothering to look at me. I sighed, my shoulders dropping in defeat. I might as well tell him, not like he would be able to change my mind.

“I’m an idiot. I spoke to Mary. Told her to leave Arthur alone and to stop contacting him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know anymore...Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You love him.” I could see his grin out of the corner of my eye, albeit a sad on.

“Not you too, Hosea.”

“You two were very close. Closer than you think I realise. I’m not a dumb old man you know”

I didnt reply to that. No point to, my mind was made up now. Instead, I holstered my gun and stood, picking up the bottle as I did. Turning to Hosea to finally look at him.

“I’m leaving, Hosea. Only for a few weeks or a few months. I don’t know.”

“You really think leaving will help?” “Maybe. It might help him if I’m not here. I’ll send money and write to you and Dutch. I’ve already packed.” After a few more words and questions on my plans when I’m out there on my own, we hugged and I said my goodbyes to him, Dutch and a few others. Promising the girls I will see them again, even though I was doubtful. I willed no tears to spill when I gathered my things, leaving my tent bare and hollow. Mounting my horse I left camp without looking back, letting the wind guide me in whatever direction it wanted me to go.

---

Roughly 4 months had passed since leaving. Currently holed up in a now-abandoned cabin in the depths of Grizzlies East by O’Creagh’s run, hiding from the law after robbing the fence in Van Horne. Id wrote letters and sent money to nearby stations as promised. Keeping updated with the gangs coming and goings. The last time I heard from those who would write back, mainly Hosea and Mary-Beth, was when they were held up in a place called Shady Belle. I haven’t heard anything from them since. That was a month ago. I had thought of going there, finding them. But I couldn’t bare having to leave again after realising they had been getting on fine and had left me to my own devices. Coming to the conclusion that I was not returning and that I had abandoned them all. Which was far from the truth. I still cared, which I’m sure was evident from whatever leftover money I had been sending to them. Only, it wasn’t getting picked up from the stations anymore, along with my many letters. I was travelling back to the cabin after an evening hunting for supper and hopeful breakfast. The blanket of trees now behind me, opening up the wondrous starry night, pulling my jacket closed as the cold breeze this time of year began to sting any uncovered skin. I looked around before dismounting, taking my kill of two rabbits stowed on the side of my ever faithful horse and made my way inside. Looking around once more to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Just to be safe. As I began to skin and gut the meat, the warm glow from the lantern lighting my every movement in the otherwise dark cabin, I heard motion outside. Bears and wolves were not uncommon around these parts. I had to shoot my way out of a wolf pack not a week ago, coming away with nothing but a bruise on my hip from being bucked off the horse in her desperate attempt to flee. Nevertheless, I placed down the knife and picked up my rifle propped up against the door. Looking out the window to the right of the door. Seeing nothing and hearing nothing else. I went to the door, preparing my rifle then placing my ear to the door. It was silence for a few moments, then movement again, making its way up the steps. It didn’t sound like an animal. With a hand on the handle and rifle ready to be used, I swung the door open. The rifle now aimed at the unwelcomed guest.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, but it didnt take long to recognise who it was.

“Arthur?” It was barely a whisper. A question of disbelief. I blinked a few times, surely my eyes were playing tricks on me.

After a few breaths, he finally spoke “I’ve found you.” We just stood there, I released a breath I didnt even know I was holding. How did he find me? Why would he? Months of keeping myself away from people the best I could and staying hidden for long periods of time I was beginning to feel content with being a lone wolf. Not thinking that lone wolves are weakened beings after too long. Often driven out when deemed useless or a weakness to the pack, or leaving to find their own family. Not alone forever, wolves would struggle and go insane.

But he, of all people, found me. The only question now is why. And that was the only thing I could say as I lowered the gun.

“Why?”

He told me everything that happened. The downfall, the betrayal, the heartbreak. Those that we lost. Everyone gone in one way or another. Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Hosea, Molly, Miss Grimshaw. Dead. Saint Denis bank, Guarma, Micah working with the Pinkertons. In the end, Micah had turned Dutch against almost everyone, whispering little worms into his ear until they grew and grew to leave no room for anything else.

Dutch turning his back on Him and John. Leaving John to bleed out and leaving Arthur on that mountain. Where he thought would be his final resting place. But once the sun was up, high in the sky, he found the energy to live. To heal. To find me.

And that’s what he did the last few weeks until he heard whispers of someone fitting my description that caused a bit of hell in Van Horn. He knew he was close.

“But...why did you want to find me?” I asked. Both of us sat around the small table below the window, two empty whiskey glasses before us.

He took in a deep breath, his perfect blue eyes meeting my bloodshot and watery ones. “I wanted to the moment I was told you left,” He leaned over, taking my hands in his.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months. Especially in the last few weeks. What you did before you left, I understand now why.”

“But I hurt you.” letting a sob escape, my body starting to tremble and I’m sure he could feel it in my hands.

“It did hurt. But losing you hurt even more,” He said, nothing more than a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine and his hold on my hands not faltering as he continued. “I remember what you said to me that night years ago. ‘Bout not knowing how much I mean to you. Well - I - I do. Because I feel the same. Always have. it just took me a while to realise it I guess.”

I couldn’t stop the tears. The damn had busted open. Within seconds he was on me, his arms enveloping me, my hands coming to purchase on his shirt. Neither of us wanted to let go, out of fear the other would disappear into the air like dust in the morning rays. We held each other for what felt like an eternity, my tears slowing and the shaking subsiding. I lifted my head from where it was perched on his chest to look at him, our eyes locked once more. No words were spoken but I could see it in the depths of those pools, the forgiveness and longing. And I was sure my eyes mirrored the same. His hand came up to cradle my face and I instinctively leaned into him, my breathing hitching despite the calmness that washed over me. Then I looked into his eyes again, only to be met with a look I had not seen in many years. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he surged forward, his lips on mine. It was delicate, more fragile than any other kiss we had shared. It wasn’t long until that fragility turned into desperation, my hands at the nape of his neck, his on my waist. My mind was running a million miles a minute, all thoughts of him and this moment. Feeling like we were young lovers again. His hands roamed my sides as I gripped his hair, keeping each other glued to one another. My body began to burn up, feelings I had repressed for months pushing their way to the surface, refusing to be drowned. We broke apart and he pulled me to stand, his lips now on my neck, trailing wet kisses from below my ear to the hollow of my neck, causing me to moan. He looked at me then, desperation and pleading etched upon his face before I kissed him again. Kissing the scar on his chin that was easily visible within the stubble, his jaw, down to his neck and then his chest. Pushing off his jacket and suspenders with it. My fingers returned to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly as he pushed me back into the direction of the bed. My legs soon coming into contact with the edge. His hands now making a start on my blouse, pulling it from the confines of my pants and lifting it over my head. My hands roaming his chest and snaking down to his abdomen, stroking the hair there, causing him to tense at my touch. He always was a fine man, built from hard work that I couldn't help but adore. His arms wrapping around to my back to undo the corsets lacing, completely surrounding me and all I could smell was him. Horse, rain, sweat and something that was just so undoubtedly him. Undoing his gun belt was muscle memory, hitting the floor with a thud, my corset following, now both bare from the waist up. We couldn’t wait any longer, our lips on each other once again as we worked on unbuttoning our pants. He leaned me down to lay on the bed, my legs hanging over the sides as he wasted no time to pull off the rest of my clothing. Laying there propped up on my elbows I watched as he raked his eyes over every curve, scar and freckle on my body. Kneeling between my legs he drew kisses from my knee up my thigh, getting oh so close to where I wanted him to be. He looked up at me once more, giving a shuddering breath before his mouth landed between my legs, soft but purposeful strokes easily pulling moans from me. He didn’t let up, devouring me like a man starved as he paid close attention to my little bundle of nerves. My body shaking again but for a whole different reason. It had been too long and I knew I wasn’t going to last if he kept going for a minute longer. My hands fisting the bedsheets I tried to speak but it was useless, squirming from the sensations. Lifting my legs to rest on his shoulders feeling him moan against me, the vibration causing bolts of electricity to fire through my whole body and land at my core. I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and my hand flew down to card through his hair, holding him there. My body convulsed as I tipped off the edge, my head rolling back as the blinding pleasure washed over me, moaning his name into the air. Arthur was above kissing me within seconds, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. Catching my breath he pushed me further up the bed until my head hit the plush pillows. Removing his pants and then situating himself between my legs. I could feel him pressed up against my thigh, hot and swollen and begging for attention. And oh how my body craved to give him what he needed. His eyes met mine, hooded and filled with lust. Silently asking for permission. I nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead and placing my hands on his shoulders. Electrifying jolts surged through my core as he strokes himself along my slit tenderly. His skin burning to my touch and looking downright drunk. Completely intoxicated. He sinks into me slowly. My body soon getting accustomed to the memory of him as he bottoms out, his hips meeting my thighs. My breath hitches as he bites back a moan. Both of us taking a moment just to bask in the feeling of one another like this again. It all felt the same but so different. He kissed the scar on my collar bone that he only got to see before when it was fresh. We had been through so much over the years we would need to learn about each other again. But one thing remained the same; my body yeard for him. He pulled out before setting a languid pace, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper, his pace quickening and lifting my hips to meet him, Chasing our pleasure. One hand in my hair, tangled up with my locks as his other hand firmly grasped my hip. The look on his face was evidence that he was holding back, needing to completely lose himself in me. And I felt the same. “Arthur...Please.” I purred, not needing to say anymore. His pace quickened with a grunt, one that was a borderline growl. My moans and the sounds of skin on skin filling the air and our ears as he kept hitting that sweet spot. My nails forming crescents on his shoulders. Pulling him down to crush my lips against his, our teeth clicking and tongues dancing together. Pulling back suddenly with swollen lips as the pressure began to build, my whole body trembling more and more as I got higher and higher. Moaning out his name as his rhythm began to falter. Nuzzling into my neck and mumbling ‘oh, fuck,’ in that gravelly but wanton voice. His hand on my hip made its way between my legs, rubbing in quick circles. I couldn’t hold back. That coil within me growing tighter and tighter before snapping. My back arching as the shockwaves rocked through me. Slowing his pace slightly to ride me through it before picking up his pace again, chasing his pleasure with a few more pumps of his hips and he stilled. His hand like a vice on my thigh as he spent himself inside me with a drawn-out moan. It took us a few moments to get our breath back. Pulling himself from me causing me to whimper from the empty feeling and sensitivity. He moved to lay beside me and pulled me to lay with my head on his shoulder. Neither of us willing to clean ourselves up just yet. My skin now acknowledging the cold air around us. The thin sheen of sweat cooling me. Nothing was said for a while as he held me close until he broke the silence to place a kiss to the top of my head then lifting my chin for my face to meet his. “I love you,” he said. My eyes getting blurry from the confession I never thought I would hear. But looking at him I knew it was true. His eyes shone with adoration. I smiled weakly before kissing him once. Looking back into his eyes and with no hesitation, I said out loud what id only heard myself mutter in my dreams. “I love you too."

[plaidbooks]

Hi, I have a request! From the prompt list, “I lost our baby.” Rafael Barba x Reader

A Family

A/N:��Oof, that’s a sad request! I couldn’t do the full sad; it’s...too real to me, but I hope you still enjoy. Obviously, this is gonna be angst, but with a happy ending. This jumps around a bit in the beginning before settling in--just some background on how you and Rafael met and stuff. Thanks for the request, @infiniteoddball !

Tags: allusions to smut (gotta make a baby somehow), mentions of child abuse, mentions of rape/murder, some derogatory language, pregnancy scares

Words: 2257

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

Rafael Barba couldn’t believe that he could ever be so happy in his life. When he dated in high school, he often fantasized about the normal, picturesque life laid out before him—good job, own a house, married, have a couple kids. Then in college, he started doubting himself more and more about the children part, and after Yelina, he started doubting the married part as well. One drunken night with Olivia, she had asked him, “ever thought about having children?” It wasn’t a secret that she wanted to be a mother; that’s how this conversation started. He had shaken his head, brushed it off, but she had pushed him. “Really? Just not your thing?”

He could’ve lied and said yes, let it die right then. But he couldn’t lie to Liv; she’d see right through him anyways. Besides, he still felt pangs of jealousy when he’d go for a stroll in the park, watch dads playing catch with their kids, or teaching them to ride a bike.

“Cause I don’t want to be my father,” he had said before finishing his drink and leaving Forlini’s, jaw still clenched. Olivia, thankfully, had dropped it after that.

It was months later that Rafael had met you. You were a journalist; you had met while Rafael was working a highly controversial case. And while he normally hated the press, refusing to talk to them, he had agreed to an interview with you…mostly because you had assured him you were on his side. He was incredibly thankful he had accepted, because you had both started dating a week later, and you never looked back.

A few months after that interview, Rafael asked you to move in with him, and a year after that, he had proposed. Everything was perfect, except for one thing; you wanted children. Rafael was still hesitant, afraid to continue the cycle of abuse that’s been passed down through generations on his paternal side. But after a very, very long talk, you had him convinced that he was nothing like his father, and that you would make sure he wouldn’t become like him. Besides, after becoming so close with Rafael, you had also grown close to Olivia, and you assured him that the Sergeant would kick his ass if he ever did anything to hurt you or your kids. So, after your wedding, you both spent the honeymoon trying to get pregnant. It was almost shocking how you didn’t end up pregnant with how little you left the bedroom. But now, after an amazing birthday celebration, you held the positive test in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“I’m going to be a father?” Rafael muttered, his voice hopeful, happy. You could see the slightest bit of concern in his green eyes, and you leaned up, kissing him gently.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you whispered against his lips. He grinned against you, pulling you into a tight embrace, one hand going to rest on your stomach.

Rafael felt bad with how much he worked; he wanted to be home, doting on you, especially as the months went by and you started showing more and more. You were embarrassed at first as your belly swelled up, but Rafael’s eyes just sparkled as he thought about the life growing within you; the life you created together. He would take half-days, sometimes full days off, and he was never too tired after a day at work, always caring and attentive to you when he came home. But he still didn’t feel like it was enough.

 ********************

It was midday, and court had just concluded, with Justin Fitzgerald being sentenced to life in prison for the vicious rapes and murders of five women. He was still screaming profanities at Rafael, promising to kill the counselor, as he scooped all his paperwork into his briefcase. He ignored the man that was dragged away, headed to processing, and then on to Rikers.

“Good work, Barba,” Olivia said, patting his shoulder.

He gave her a curt nod, a small smile on his lips. “Jury made the right call. But I’ll confess that I’ll sleep better knowing someone like Fitzgerald is behind bars. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to try and get out of here early tonight; my wife is due to give birth any moment, and I want to be with her as much as possible.”

Olivia gave him a bright smile; she was the happiest for you and Rafael, besides the two of you yourselves. She had already helped you pick out a bunch of clothes—you were projected to have a little girl—and necessities. Rafael matched her smile, his heart fluttering at the thought of holding his baby for the first time, before he moved to leave the courtroom, heading towards his office in One Hogan Place.

 *****************

He was just packing up when his phone rang, Olivia’s number flashing at him. Brow furrowed, Rafael answered, “Liv? Everything—”

“Fitzgerald escaped during the transfer to Rikers. I’m sending Fin and Amaro to your office; lock your door and wait there until they show up,” Olivia said in a rush.

Rafael’s heart plummeted. He hurried to his door, telling Carmen to leave, then closing and locking his door. “Liv, [Y/N]…I need—”

“I’ll send Rollins and Carisi. They’ll escort her to the precinct; we’ll get her, Raf.”

He nodded into his phone, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He hung up, finding your number, and calling you.

 *****************

“Okay, Rafi, don’t worry, baby. I’m sure Rollins and Carisi will be here soon. I’ll call you when I make it to the precinct, okay? Just take some deep breaths, love,” you were saying into the phone. Your own heart was beating faster, but you had to remain calm, for Rafael’s sake as much for your baby. There was a sharp knock at the door. “That must be them; I’ll call in a bit.” You hung up before you heard Rafael scream into the phone, wondering how the detectives had gotten there so fast.

You heaved yourself off the couch, waddling to the door, your hand on your lower back. There was no peephole in the door, but you left the chain on—something Olivia taught you—as you opened the door to make sure it was Rollins and Carisi. But the face staring back at you was foreign, deranged, a wicked grin on his face, a glint in his eye. You barely had time to move out of the way before he kicked the door open, the chain snapping easily.

“Where’s that shit-stain, Barba?” he growled at you.

“I-who? You must have the wrong building,” you replied, backing away from the man. It was then that you noticed he had a gun in his hand. Deep breaths you told yourself, trying to stay calm. But your body started trembling, and you felt tears in your eyes.

The man towered over you. “Nah; see that’s the problem with being a public figure nowadays. No privacy anymore.” The man looked you up and down, sneering. “You the whore he knocked up, then?”

You shook your head. “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about…please, just leave,” you begged, your watery voice barely audible.

The man just smiled that wicked smile as he moved closer to you. You tried to back away, but he was much quicker, wrapping an arm around your throat from behind. “Come on, baby. We’re going for a ride,” he muttered in your ear, making you shudder. You could do nothing but try and keep up with his pace as he led you out the front door, down the hallway and to the elevator, his gun to your head the whole way. Your legs were shaking by the time you made it to the front door of the building, the man forcing you down the steps.

“Freeze, Fitzgerald!” a female voice called. He turned towards the voice, and you were face to face with Detective Rollins, her gun aimed at his face. She glanced at you, making sure you were unharmed before her attention went back to the man; Fitzgerald, apparently.

“You try anything, and Barba’s whore is dead,” he sneered at her.

That’s when you felt it; a small pop inside you, and then a rush of liquid on your thighs. “I…I think my water just broke,” you muttered, your eyes filling with tears. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, and you were starting to panic. Rollins looked more distressed, and Fitzgerald knew he was going to win this standoff.

Everyone you had talked to had warned you that after your water broke, the contractions would start off small, like mild period cramps, before ramping up. Which is why you knew something had to be wrong. You screamed in pain as a contraction hit, your knees buckling. You slumped in Fitzgerald’s grip as your body went limp with pain, and he had to struggle to hold you. Which is when Carisi, who had been slowly sneaking up behind you both, grabbed Fitzgerald’s gun, wrestling it from his hands. He dropped you as he fought the male detective, and Rollins was on you, taking your hand in hers as the pain subsided.

“I got him,” Carisi panted, cuffing Fitzgerald.

Rollins glanced at him, nodding. “Okay. Call a bus, we need to get—”

She was cut off by another scream from you, pain rocketing through your body. Tears were streaming down your face, and you were sure you were going to break her hand with how hard you were clutching her, Rafael’s name escaping your lips.

When you stopped screaming, Rollins said, “fuck the bus, I’m taking her to the hospital. Call for a lift to Rikers.” And with the strength of Superwoman—or a cop with high adrenaline—Rollins dragged you to your feet, whispering encouragement into your ears the whole walk to her squad car.

“Something’s wrong…I lost our baby…I’m sorry Raf…” you whimpered, openly weeping.

Rollins rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s gonna be fine; once you’re in the hospital, you’re gonna get help, and you’ll see. It’s gonna be okay,” she just kept repeating this over and over again. You had barely sat down in the passenger seat when you screamed again.

 ***********************

“Go faster!” Rafael ordered through gritted teeth from the backseat of Fin’s squad car.

“We already have the streets cleared and sirens on; this is the fastest we can go,” Amaro explained from the passenger seat.

When Carisi had called Rafael, telling him his wife was in labor, not even the two detectives ordered to protect him could keep him in his office. Carisi tried to explain what had happened, but Rafael had stopped listening after hearing the words “Fitzgerald broke in” and “in labor”. His heart was in his throat, and his grip on the back of the passenger seat would tear a lesser fabric.

“Bullshit; go faster,” Rafael barked back. They were a block away, the hospital looming in the distance, and it took everything in Rafael to sit still as they approached. Fin had barely stopped the car in front of the sliding doors before Rafael rocketed out of backseat, sprinting to the front desk. He asked for your room, but in his rush, he was speaking too quickly, and the nurses telling him to calm down was only making him more nervous.

“Barba, over here!” Carisi called, waving to the counsellor. Rafael took off after the detective, narrowly avoiding nurses and doctors. The taller man led him to the elevator, hitting floor 4, and then the longest elevator ride in Rafael’s life took place. “Fitzgerald is safely in Rikers now,” Carisi said, as if that mattered at all. Rafael gave him a pointed glare, and Carisi took the hint.

The doors dinged, and Rafael launched out before he realized he didn’t know which way to go. Looking back at Carisi, the detective waved him along, leading him to a quiet room, Rollins sitting in a chair outside. Now that he was here, Rafael came to a top outside the door, terrified, hesitating to go inside, afraid of what he’d find. But Rollins stood, giving him a soft smile, a nod. Taking a deep breath, Rafael entered.

You were laying in the hospital bed, propped up with pillows, a small bundle in your arms. You glanced up at Rafael as he came over to you, tears in your eyes and the brightest smile on your face.

“Rafi, there’s someone you should meet,” you murmured, slowly holding the bundle out to him.

Rafael’s heart skipped a beat as he saw his daughter’s face, the small patch of black hair on her head. He carefully scooped her into his arms, bouncing his knees as if it were natural. “Thank God, she looks just like you,” he said softly, voice full of awe.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think she looks more like you. When her eyes were open for a moment, they had your green.”

Rafael smiled at you, before his eyes went back to the bundle of joy in his arms; his daughter. “She’s perfect.”

“Yes, she is,” you agreed. “I was so scared today…I thought I might have lost—”

“Don’t,” Rafael said, cutting you off. “All that matters is that she’s happy and healthy, and that you’re safe.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead softly. “We’re a family; that’s all I care about.” Rafael Barba couldn’t believe that he could ever be so happy in his life.

[kth1]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland​ – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.  

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.  

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.  

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[illfoandillfie]

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this! 

Taglist: @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

 “Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

 You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

 Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

 It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

 You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” ���So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

 “Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

 He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance.  Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

 Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

 At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

 You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

 “How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

 He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

 On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

 Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly.   “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

 The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

 You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

 You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

 You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

[fallenrepublick]

Could you do a Thrawn x reader where the reader gets fatally hurt on a mission? Maybe they weren’t supposed to come along but they snuck along anyways? I’m in the mood for some angst!

Oh, anon, you don’t know what you’ve unleashed here on this day...

I’ve been nice to you all, given you angst wrapped in little bows of fluff, ending things on good notes for the sake of your emotions. But no, not this time.

Behold, after all this time..... an angst fic, with no resolution.

Warnings: Just fighting ;)

Trust, one of the many aspects that relationships rest on to succeed, is differently earned depending on the type of person you seek it from. On this, most can agree. Some people, mostly those who’ve not often been betrayed or still cling to hope that their loyalties are not misplaced, trust easily. To earn their trust is an easy thing, and sometimes their naivety brings about their downfall, only for them to pick up once more and do the same thing all over again. Other people are more difficult to get through to, their jaded personalities and stubborn perspectives creating a sort of barrier that only those who prove their loyalties may find themselves on the right side of. And then… there was Thrawn.

Skeptical by nature, he wasn’t one known to “trust” others. Ask anyone, and they’d say the only thing close to it was being expected to complete a task, and nothing more. All things considered, it made sense, and many of the imperial officers in those positions didn’t seem to have the best track record on performing the way they should have been, and he had little reason to go outside professionalism and develop any close friendships.

That was the way everyone else saw it, at least. As his personal advisor and the one he explained, “maintains the most consistent and viable amount of common sense” in comparison to your colleagues, he was never found without you. And this, he found, made it much easier to love you.

Amongst others, you were at his side out of necessity, providing input and suggestions where it was needed in relation to the task at hand. Amongst each other, you were at his side out of a desire, his attachment to you clear, and admiration for you present in every moment he watched you move. It was a language only the two of you knew, and it was the way you wanted to keep it.

Which was why, when Thrawn announced his closest upcoming mission and who would be coming with him, you were shocked, and almost hurt, that you were not a part of it. You couldn’t share this sentiment among the officers that crowded the room, but Thrawn noted your silence throughout the rest of the meeting. He had little time to act on it, though, for once you were alone, you made your displeasure known.

“You’re leaving me here,” you said accusingly, crossing your arms in disdain. “You never leave me here. What is it?”

Thrawn sighed, and standing from his chair, walked around the curvature of his desk to where you stood. “This mission is… different, darling,” he explained, voice gentle and patient, despite your unwavering displeasure. “There are many reasons I chose not to have you come.”

“Oh yeah? How different? What reasons?” You leaned forward, bringing your face close to his as a sort of challenge.

“When combating Jedi, there are many unknown factors,” he said simply, maintaining your eye contact, practically answering your challenge. “To allow you on that battlefield would not only be an unnecessary risk, but it would also be irresponsible. I trust you to take care of things here in my stead.”

At the time, you had agreed, the last part of his admission to you instilling a small amount of guilt that you couldn’t help but give in to. But when the day came for him to leave, his figure receding into the cavern of his ship, it was almost on instinct that you climbed yourself in as well, holing yourself up in a utility closet that seemed to have the least probability of being accessed by any of the crew members.

The distance travelled proved considerably smaller than what you were anticipating, and after about three hours of you wondering if you had just made a bad life decision, the ship left hyperspace, approaching a planet that, from your position in the closet, was all but unknown to you.

The sounds of the crewmembers outside your door scrambling across the floors as they attempted to prepare for landing sent a surge of anxiety through you, and it took all you had not to simply leap out and reveal yourself. Instead, however, you waited, listening until their steps were but faint echoes in the distance, before you opened the door and stepped out, the silence of the now-empty ship providing a momentary peace before you left to face whatever immense danger Thrawn had wanted to protect you from.

The ramp was still lowered for easy access if an escape was necessary, and you tread down it carefully, attempting to prevent the soles of your feet from clanging against the metal too loudly. Far off, fire was being exchanged, and the lights from blaster bolts illuminating their surroundings suggested the combat to be more intensive than if they were simply combating a group of rebels. No, Thrawn had been right. They were Jedi.

Jedi, surely not the type that were spoken about in stories of the past. If that were the case, the troopers would not be lasting this long. These Jedi, or whatever you’d call them nowadays, were fools tricked into believing they could measure up or make a difference. That being said, a laser sword is still a laser sword.

Making your way around the buildings of the damaged village, you spotted Thrawn amongst the chaos, blue skin a dead giveaway against the glow of red that was raining from the blasters of the people among him. He had a plan. He always did. But the fact he hadn’t told it to you made your heart utterly sink, and the strange inkling that something would go awry seemed to grasp hold of your mind relentlessly as you watched the conflict play out.

You had to help him. You wanted to help him, and at this point, you had come too far to simply stand around and watch this happen. Him seeing you was the least of your worries. So you crept behind your territory, ducking behind blockades as needed and finding shielding behind the environment as you progressed further down the front. And as such, it was inevitable that Thrawn saw you.

His expression changed within an instant from frustration to abject horror as he watched you approach, dust and dirt clinging to your normally crisp uniform and speckling your face. Pressing his back up against the barrier, he turned his attention to you fully, pulling your arm towards him so that you were on your knees at his side.

“What,” he hissed, anger lacing his voice. “Do you think you are doing here?”

“Normally, you trust me with information,” you began as he turned periodically to send a few blasts back to the rebels. “But you dodged telling me basically everything about this mission. I’m here to find out why.”

“That’s it?” He was growing increasingly more frustrated, and even as you turned with your own blaster, taking multiple shots at your enemies, it was clear you were not going to be here long if he had any say in it. “I gave you an order.”

“Not formally.”

You noticed him bite the inside of his lip to keep himself from saying the thing on his mind. Even then, though, you could practically hear it.

You’re lucky I love you.

Across the battlefield stood the two Jedi, the ones it seemed everyone nowadays was hunting. That didn’t stop you from leaning out and aiming straight for them, which in turn, did not stop them from blocking your blaster bolt and redirecting it straight through your side.

It was a shock, to be sure, the initial contact of the bolt sending a surge through your body as you fell backwards, the concrete hitting your spine and making the wound sting even more than it already did. Remaining still, the pain subsided, only for it to shoot through your body once again if you tried to move.

It was then that you noticed Thrawn had dropped his blaster entirely. Sliding his hand under your neck, he raised your head slightly, bringing it to rest on his legs as he knelt at your side. You could hear him saying your name, an urgency in it that only made you more afraid at what had happened. It was difficult to process, though. The sounds around you had dimmed to white noise, and you were left with only the voice in your head and the hum of Thrawn’s voice, indistinct, but identifiable.

“Darling, look at me,” he directed, his hand holding your cheek to turn your face. Your eyes were clenched shut, a strange instinct as you tried to numb the pain or at least block it out. “Please, open your eyes, look at me.”

His pleads echoing in your ears, you obliged him, if only for his reassurance. As you did, he called a lower officer, ordering him to bring a medic now. The Jedi were no longer a priority.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be alright.” His eyes never moved from yours, constantly monitoring how well you were keeping your consciousness. It was not very well.

“You’ll be alright, just stay awake, please…” HIs impatience was growing. The medic hadn’t yet arrived. “Just look at me. Stay awake. Please. Please.”

[miminorenai]

Chapter 21

In the church engulfed in silence —

Sitting on the bench, Charles speaks of conversation he had with Mimi, bit by bit.

Charles “......Even if she believes in Dazai, she said she can’t believe in me.”

Charles “She said he’s never a person who won’t be sad by a person’s death......but a long time ago, I used to be sad a lot too?”

Charles “What’s the difference with me and Dazai? Mimi seems like she’s having a hard time with Dazai......”

Faust sighs at Charles who’s muttering vaguely.

Faust “How rare, for *Shall to show negative emotions.”

(*Faust called Charles ‘シャル’ instead of his full name シャルル

Charles “Negative emotions......?”

Faust “Are you jealous?”

Charles looks up blankly at Faust.

Charles “I’ve never been jealous of anyone before, but......”

Faust “Your UNawareness is a pain.”

Faust “It appears that winning over vampires in the mansion is out of the question.”

Charles “Such thing is non-negotiable/undiscussable, huh?”

Charles “But Dazai —”

Dazai “If you could make my wish come true ···— I might be interested to get on with our discussion.”

Charles “Despite saying it like that, he didn’t tell me after all.”

Charles “What is Dazai’s wish, I wonder? What does he desire to the point pretending not to see Mimi’s favor......”

Faust “......”

From the information they received from Shakespeare, the reasons of resurrection for the great men in the mansion......

......their purposes and backgrounds were being investigated.

But regarding Dazai, his exact purpose remains unknown and has not been reported.

Faust thinks with his finger on the chin, and opens his mouth after a while.

Faust “......Shall. You once said that Dazai’s past might be resemble you.”

Charles “Hmm......yeah.”

Charles “I used to execute......a lot of people. That guy let someone died too, although the amounts are different.”

Charles “I don’t know what caused his double suicide affair, but......”

Faust “If that’s the case, a thought experiment......would you like to play an *association game?”

Charles “Game?”

Faust “It’s simple. — What do you think of the person who’s causing other people to die?”

Charles “......”

Charles’s suffocated by the cruel question.

Faust, observing his reaction, urges Charles to answer with a sharp gaze.

Charles “......Regret, I guess. Even if I said I’m sorry......no matter how much I apologize, it’s not enough.”

Faust “And, there’s no way for atonement.”

Faust “So — what if you could go back to the world before you made a mistake?”

Charles “Huh......?”

He blinks.

Charles “If I can go back......if I can do that, I’ll stop the execution.”

Faust “How? Are you going to let the dying people escape?”

Charles “If it’s possible, I’ll do it then......”

Faust “You’ve got a point there. Then, if there’s a more fundamental solution —”

Charles “Fundamental solution......”

Charles drops his gaze on the floor and thinks carefully......and suddenly raises his face.

Charles “The executioner ···— it’d be good if I were gone.”

Charles “—··· Ah, I see. Perhaps Dazai......”

Charles smiles, as if he discover a star before his eyes.

Charles “......Hey, doc. Lord Vlad said this earlier.”

Vlad “If all the great men who influence the world disappear, what will happen to the future?”

Vlad “……Hmm, how interesting.”

Charles “If Dazai’s purpose is really ‘that’, is it worth trying?”

Faust “The great men to disappear......should we do that experiment?”

Charles “Yeah. If we’re to use that door, we can even try it right away. Lord Vlad said that the abnormality had subsided.”

Faust “No one could use the door properly except for His Excellency Vlad.”

Charles “But I’ve heard of it before.”

Vlad “— The other side of the door is a space-time interval.”

Vlad “It gathers the earnest feelings of humans throughout every era and period. It’s such a door.”

Vlad “If you have a strong will, the door may respond and lead you to the desired place.”

Faust “......I see. It’s certainly interesting to see what happens if we succeed in using the door, but —”

While Faust’s face shows that he’s still has objection on the matter, Charles’s truly in bliss.

Charles “......Yeah, that’s it. It’s different from our original plan, but isn’t it better to fulfill Dazai’s wish?”

Charles “And then, there would be no death to come after this.”

Charles “Isn’t this a good thing? Mimi will definitely understand.”

Faust “— Shall. You......do you aware?”

Charles tilts his head to Faust’s voice, which has a slight suggestion of sounding out.

Faust “His Excellency Vlad still loves human.”

Faust “When he casts something away, he has his own standard, whether it’s necessary or unnecessary for the world.”

Charles “Ah, if I do whatever I want, will he get angry......?”

Faust “It’s not like that.”

Faust “......What are you trying to do is Shall’s own choice, not His Excellency.”

Charles “Uh huh, is that so......? But I’m sure it’s not in vain.”

Charles “Mimi might be sad if Dazai’s gone, but  — “

Charles “......I’ll fill the empty hole in her heart.”

—··· A few days later, MC’s going out shopping in town with Sebastian.

Sebastian “Which reminds me, do you still read Dazai-san’s book?”

MC “Ah......, yes. Little by little between works and nights, though.”

MC tries to keep calm and answers the shaken topic that’s suddenly comes to her mind.

MC “To be frank, I still carry it around, even now.”

Sebastian “Right, Mimi is steadily becoming a Dazaist.”

Sebastian “It seems that Dazai-san is also writing.”

Sebastian “If there’s a request, allow me to do the editing or proofreading......”

MC “Sebastian, are you serious......!?”

Sebastian “Of course.”

Sebastian “But, it’s been particularly hard to catch Dazai-san again, nowadays.”

(......That’s right.)

MC hasn’t been able to talk with Dazai since that night he kissed her.

(He’s actually avoiding me after all......)

(But, I’ve been refused many times now, what should I do?)

The feelings of awkward, sadness......various emotions are mixed in MC’s chest and she cannot advance to the next step.

(Even so, I want to talk, even a little......I want to meet Dazai-san.)

When MC’s thinking about such thing, a scenery suddenly pops into her head.

(From what Dazai-san told me, if it’s that place —)

(I feel like I can meet him......)

There’s a strange sense like being called to the multicolored spectacle.

(Yeah......let’s go there.)

Sebastian “Mimi, what’s wrong?”

MC “Nothing......um, Sebastian. Can I take a short detour on our way home?”

And then, MC heads for —

— alone, to the path she visited with Dazai before.

On both sides of the path, the hydrangeas still have their vivid petals. But......

(Dazai san’s —··· not here. As expected, such coincidence will not happen so often.)

(I wonder why? It felt so wonderful when I walked with Dazai-san, now I’m just lonely......)

Except for the changing seasons, the scenery doesn’t change that much, but it looks different.

Instead of someone she couldn’t meet, MC opens Dazai’s book.

(In those days, it was fun to be together, and it felt so natural to be close to Dazai-san.)

(Somewhere in my mind, I was hoping he feels the same way......)

MC “This is......a hairpin?”

Dazai “It’s a hydrangea hairpin. I thought it would look good on you when I saw it in the town.”

Dazai “All right, it suits you well. You look very cute.”

**

Dazai “You are so good at believing in people.”

Dazai “……Really, Mimi-san is so honest enough that makes you dazzling.”

Thing that were fun and exciting......when MC remembers the days she spent with Dazai, her chest tightened in pain.

(I wonder if we can’t go back like we used to......)

(No, even if we can’t go back —)

(Right now......the scariest thing would be Dazai-san will go somewhere that’s out of reach.)

Dazai “......If you’re going to say that far, then tell me.”

Dazai “What kind of things filled my heart/mind while I kissed you just now?”

MC “......Dazai-san, are you angry? That, or is this also your intention of being a clown......”

Dazai “Hmm, who knows?”

Dazai “Mimi-san, I......I’m afraid of your straightforwardness.”

Dazai “When you’re with me, I ···—”

(I'm still curious about what Dazai was going to say back then......)

(What is making Dazai-san baffled to be with me......?)

For that little while, it seems MC was able to reach the edge of his heart, and while she’s pondering on his words many times over —

MC “Ah......”

Maybe because MC was distracted, the book slips off her hand.

She reaches out to pick it up in a hurry......and catches sight of a sentence from a page that opened by accident. 

—「駄目な男というものは、幸福を受取るに当ってさえ、下手くそを極めるものである。」

“A hopeless (useless/no good) man is someone — even at the time he receives happiness — will carry his hopelessness to the extreme.”

(Happiness......Right, Dazai-san too —)

Dazai “Listen, stop have feelings for such man, since I cannot make you happy.”

MC “How about Dazai-san’s happiness……?”

Dazai “I don’t need that. I don’t wish for it anymore.”

That guy, being stubborn, doesn’t even try to accept something like happiness.

(Since the reason for his revival is “to accept punishment for making other people unhappy”......)

(But I —)

—··· MC wants Dazai to be happy.

He scoops up the subtlety of human hearts, and give them incomprehensible kindness in indirect (roundabout) expression.

(But even then, he always takes a step back......)

MC wants to reach out for him —··· who’s alone at a distance and feeling lonely in his whole life, as he sinks into a dark place.

MC “Dazai-san......”

MC picks up the book as if touching his heart gently, and as her feelings welled up, she hugs it tightly to her chest......

......there were eyes staring at Mimi from the shade of tree.

Dazai “I just turned my legs somehow, I wonder why are we attracting each other......”

Dazai “The weak fear happiness itself, huh......?”

—「弱虫は、幸福をさえ恐れるもの」 

“The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.”

After muttering a sentence he once wrote in ‘No Longer Human’, he laughs, like mocking himself.

Dazai “Mimi-san, I’m afraid of you. Since when you’re with me, I feel happy......”

Dazai quietly leaves the place, as their thoughts and feelings passing by one another —

He then goes towards the man who summoned him.

Charles “Welcome, Dazai.”

Dazai “It’s an honor to be welcomed directly to your stronghold.”

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

Happy Birthday to Me Pt. 12

(Fuck. Last one)

He asked me if I was staying the night.

Of COURSE I was staying the night. Where on Earth would I want to be if not here with him? 

I told him as much. I reminded him that I’d promised not to distance myself from him again and warned him that this meant I was going to be completely insufferable from now on to make up for the lost time. 

“You will completely forget the concept of personal space,'' I warned. 

He grinned at me again. With teeth showing and everything. I’m pretty sure I heard a chorus of angels. 

I felt his fingers trace my hairline and down the side of my face.

“Okay,” he said, completely unperturbed by my warning.

He IS trying to kill me before I hit 30!!!!!! I knew it!

And then! He just went in and kissed the tip of my nose! Like it wasn’t anything! And he just let me go and stepped back again!!

I whined that he can’t just kiss and run like that! And he just reminded me to go upstairs to wait while he locked up. 

I grumbled about handsome men playing games with my poor fragile heart before I went up, stomping on the stairs to let my indignity be known. I grabbed my photo album as I went. 

Once I let myself into the apartments I figured the first order of business was to check on the bunnies to see how they held up after all the commotion from downstairs. 

Most of them were fast asleep in a pile of fluff, but Suibian perked up the moment she heard my voice and hopped sleepily over to me! I started to fuss over her and pet her, telling her how good she was. She closed her eyes and leaned into my scritches. 

Ooooh it’s so wonderful to have an animal that actually likes me! And she’s so cute! I won the jackpot! If I can only have one animal actually like me I’m so glad it was her. 

I heard quiet footsteps and turned to find Lan Zhan coming up next to me to look at Suibian as well. 

“Look!’ I said, excited, “Suiian has my sleeping hours!”

Trust my little girl to wait up for me when all her siblings were snoozing. 

Lan Zhan asked if I wanted to bring her into the other room but I decided that, as tempting as it was, it was probably better for her to sleep with the rest of the rabbits. 

I told Lan Zhan that it was her bed time, and he replied by noting that it wasn’t quite my bed time yet. (True as it was barely creeping on Midnight by then and I’m usually up at least until like 1am or so. )

I countered that it was DEFINITELY past HIS bed time. It’s kinda incredible that Mr. “In Bed By 9” was able to stay standing so long. 

And since my heart clearly hadn’t had enough yet today, I decided to pull him in close to me by the waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He seemed to jump a bit, but didn’t try to pull away. 

“I’m not tired,” he said.

Liar. 

In order to hopefully hide the sound of my heart trying to pound its way out through my ribcage, I gasped dramatically, “Lan Zhan? Not tired yet???” I asked with just as much drama as the gasp. “I’m astonished!!!”

I considered after that though and laughed. Perhaps I was a bit sleep drunk myself actually. “Though I must say,” I admitted after my giggling subsided. “After tonight there isn’t much that should surprise me about you anymore.”

To prove my point I sang a couple bars from “My heart will go on” under my breath. I laughed as he hid his face in his hands. I pulled those hands away and started to drag him into the livingroom with me. 

I asked him what other things he was hiding from me as we went. I didn't really expect him to answer but before we made it to the couch, he pulled me back with the hand that was still holding his. I stumbled rather clumsily into his arms, but he caught me all the same only to push me away and twirl me before pulling me back towards him. 

‘I once took dancing lessons for a semester in college. I wanted to learn something different but it didn’t work out.” he said. “Turns out I’m more suited to waltzes than I am for swing.”

And just like that he started to guide me in a waltz. 

I will say right now I have no idea how to waltz and all those movies that say ‘you just need to find yourself a partner who knows what they’re doing’ are all lying. It’s all bullshit. 

Lan Zhan somehow managed to slip his feet under my feet (?????) and guided me through the steps though. Once my brain caught up with the rest of me I hurriedly got OFF his feet before I did some damage and instead tried to concentrate on following his lead. 

But then I just couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. I put my head on his shoulder, not able to resist being closer to him now that I knew I could. I slid my hand out of his and guided it to join its partner around my middle instead, wanting to be held, and we swayed together. 

How long did we dance like that? Swaying softly to the song that only we could hear?

I dared to ask him what other surprises he could possibly have in store after this bombshell, but he assured me that for now, at least, this was it. 

I pouted up at him in my best impression of A-Ling and asked him how it was fair to my poor battered heart if this is how he gives me new information about him? It was really gonna be a problem because I still want to know every detail of his life. I want to know absolutely every piece of him. 

Each bit of his soul he’s given to me is a shining nugget. More precious than gold or diamonds. Something to be cherished. Just like him. 

“How can my heart take it?” I asked.

To which that son of a gun replied

“Your heart will go on.”

Oh youuuuuuuuuuuuu.

I couldn’t stop laughing after that. Especially once he joined in. If any of the bunnies were still awake they surely thought those humans in the other room were bonkers. 

We calmed down eventually, still swaying the whole time. Just staying together in each other’s arms in the dark livingroom. 

Eventually I had to admit defeat. This day, as wonderful as it was, had been very emotionally exhausting for me. I told Lan Zhan I was tired and ready for bed and he responded by swaying me in the direction of the hallway. Which of course set me off again. 

We swayed and spun all the way to the bedroom door where we, tragically, finally had to let go of each other so that he could get me something to sleep in. 

I took the clothes, but hesitated. It was after midnight. Surely my allowed greedy period was over right? But still. I had to ask one last thing. 

“Is it.. .okay if I sleep in your room with you tonight?” I asked, staring quite determinedly at the floor. 

Lan Zhan answered almost immediately, saying that yes. Yes he would like that very much. 

That got me to look up so I could grin at him. In the dark I hope he couldn’t see that I was about ready to start crying again. 

There’s nothing wrong with crying, really, but fuck I was tired of it at that point. 

Without any further ado, I scurried off into the guest room to change into the over-large pajamas as quickly as I could. Before I headed back to his room, though, I decided I was ready to take another look at that photo album. And maybe I didn’t need to be alone to do it after all. 

I held it close to my heart, trying to drink in all the love that had gone in to making it for me, and scurried back to where Lan Zhan was waiting for me, already in bed. 

I scooted closer to him and asked if it was okay if we went through the album together again. He kissed my forehead (where I probably should have washed of Shijie’s mark but I was entirely unwilling to do so. RIP Lan Zhan’s pillow. I didn’t think of that haha. )

“Anything you want,” he said. It sounded like a promise. A pledge. Almost like he was swearing an oath.

Really it was just my sleepy mind making things overly dramatic again. 

We went through them together, Lan Zhan letting me pick the pace. We talked about some of the pictures and he didn’t judge me when I cried a little again after all. 

When we got to the picture of him alone at his guqin, though, I paused. 

He’d done so much for me. I’d never be able to pay back this kindness. Not even if I managed to somehow gain immortality. Not even if I was able to try until the end of time. 

“Thank you for tonight,” I said, cringing at how inadequate that was. It didn’t even begin to cover it. 

He told me that there was no need for thanks. That he wanted to give me this. 

I didn’t know what else to do in response to that. I just leaned into him to nuzzle his neck. Told him he was the best. 

A true statement, but again, completely inadequate. 

He, in essence, replied with a “No U.’

And then. 

Hold on. I want to remember this as accurately as possible.

“I feel very happy when I’m with you. You make me laugh. You encourage me to discover new things. You show me how much bigger my world can be. And you make me feel safe through it all.”

Pretty sure my heart full stopped. 

When it lunged back into motion again it was all I could do to squeak out his name and hide my face in his chest (ad;jkfadjf;aldk;adjskf;adlsf;kjfalksdf; you could park a car on that thing fuck). 

I reminded him again to WARN me first! Jeebuz Crisps!!! And he said he’d try.

Jerk. 

We stayed like that for a while in a silence so comfortable I’m pretty sure I just fell asleep. I think I remember feeling Lan Zhan maneuvering us under the covers to sleep properly but that could just be my mind filling in the blanks because that’s how I woke up. 

I don’t remember much of what I dreamed, but I know each and every one of them had family. And In each and every dream, Lan Zhan was at my side. 

THEN I FUCKING WOKE UP TO THAT ASS HOLE HAVING A FEVER SO HOT IT BOILED ME OUT FROM UNDER THE FUCKING COVERS

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE LAN ZHAN STEALING MY COLD AND DOUBLING THE DOSE???????????????????????????????????????????????????????/

So it was my turn to play nursemaid to him except the main difference being that HE WAS ACTUALLY SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WTF WERE YOU HIDING BEING ILL THE ENTIRE NIGHT????????? GDI

I stayed with him as much as I could until he got better, though I had to help do my shift (AND HIS) at the cafe. 

In the end I”m the one that ended up cleaning up the last of the party.

Guess that’s fair. 

Once he started feeling better I surprised him with the chunk of cake I’d hidden. 

He looked at me with eyes that shined like A-Yuan’s when Shijie gave him his kiss. 

Apparently this asshat had only managed to get ONE BITE of cake the entire night! The one I fed him!

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I HAD CAKE THIS WHOLE TIME AND YOU ONLY GOT A BITE??????????????????????

WHY DIDN’T YOU EAT IT WHEN I WAS ON STAGE SINGING AND YOU JUST STOOD THERE HOLDING IT LIKE A DERP???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????/

Ah well. In the end he got to have his cake and eat it too. Haa. 

[hollerace]

The Hockey Fan--February 12, 2021

The bar was low. Dark, smoky, smudged, on the border of the North End. Thacher Street. I discovered it, via a Connecticut guy who had moved nawth. I avoided the fern-laden, brassy, high-end watering holes filled with people who spoke in chilled whispers, getting louder only to feign laughter.

That's how I found this place. It was faintly Irish—this was Boston, after all—but no shamrocks or leprechauns danced on its walls. A sooty Guinness sign blinked forlornly through the smoke. When I first saw her, she sat, or perched, on a bar stool. She was slight, almost petite, and, except for her porcelain skin, very black. Clothes, stockings, shoes, hair, purse.

The hair, I noticed first. Done up in a longish page boy. Luxuriantly raven, falling in even cascades, framing the bone face, landing perfectly. When she swung her head, I saw harpstrings moving in great sheets, in planned arpeggios. The luster was palpable; it mesmerized me. I wanted to smell her.

The second time I saw her, she approached me. It was a Thursday, I was off the road. The Bruins were on TV, with no sound, as always. There was no juke box. Clinkety glass, jangling silverware and strums of conversation were the backdrop.

“Do you like the hockey?” she said.

Her fragrance washed: icy and clean. Not like an applied scent, it was something she carried. She took the seat next to me and sat on its edge. Her hands fluttered.

“I do,” I said. Hawkey. The accent, richly Bawstin, the ah's, the aw's for short o's.

“I've never been,” she said. “I should like to go sometime.”

I mulled her way of speaking. It was halting, as if tethered, yet old-timey sounding, like that of a fussy maiden aunt. I wondered if she wore powder or had a hanky in her sleeve.

Her black boots gleamed as I stooped to pick up a fallen napkin. I fought speaking further; she was staring at the TV.

“May I buy you a drink?” I said.

“No,” she said. “Certainly not. But that doesn't mean we can't speak. Mercy me. You seem nice.”

“I like the Black Bush, rocks,” she said, naming the upscale brand of Bushmills Irish whiskey.

I grinned and opened my mouth.

“No,” she said. “Don't make light. Yes, I see the double meaning. But I don't think you are a man who'd make such a joke. Would you?”

“No,” I said. “I wasn’t going there. But it is good whiskey. It's aged in Spanish Oloroso sherry casks and bourbon barrels. Seven years old.” She said, “So, you are knowledgeable.” After coaxing one out of a black leather case, she lit a Virginia Slim.

I grinned. “Not really. You see, I have a buddy who works for the importer. I can even get you some product or glasses.”

She finally allowed me her first soft smile. Her mouse-mouth moved slightly. A hint of small, even, white teeth. The parentheses at the corners sidled slightly.

“And you are honest,” she said. “But I drink it only here. Never elsewhere. Allow me to buy you one, however.”

And she did. Should I tell her I was a drummer, having moved here for a gig that might take me elsewhere? I avoided this path.

We sipped quietly. Her eyebrows, perfect arcs, hunched over her glass. Dark eyes; perhaps the smallest of wrinkles dancing around them. She may have been older than I, early thirties. She wore many black layers. When she shifted, ever so slightly, hints of black, not-sheer-not-opaque stockings peeked between boots and skirt. I tried to imagine her legs.

I drank with her. Without touching me, she pulled me in, her gravity extending toward me, grasping, holding on. I think our stools moved closer.

A new period commenced; the screen snapped her head back. “Oh,” she would say every once in a while. An almost-goal. A breakaway. A skirmish.

“Oh,” she said, again. A quiet, mouse-oh, barely escaping her thin, reddened lips.

I turned at an oblique angle, seeing her in a little compartment from my eye-corner, pretending to watch the game mere blocks away, played by ant-men on ivory ice.

“The Bruins are going to lose,” she said during the third period. “Yes,” I said. “They are. Would you like to go to a game?”

“Very much. With you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Even better,” she said. “I come here on Thursdays.”

Her departure was also small and tidy. She shrugged on her coat (black leather) and said a hint of good-bye.

And was out the door.

Iggy, my friend the barkeep, rolled his eyes at me. “Not for you, boyo,” he said.

“Why?”

“Not for you.”

<><><>

I went on the road for a while. In New York, I leaned on a record-company guy I knew. He was crazily connected, especially for sports seats. I traded him a ringside table at Max’s KC for a pair of Bruins ducats, which he mailed me.

When that Thursday came, I had been away for a few weeks and knew I was taking a crazy chance. I made sure to stop in Rozzie Square for a few nips of Black Bush, which I stashed into the pocket of my pea coat.

I waited at the bar, hoping, nursing a Rolling Rock.

She came in, a wave of black. I smelled her first. A dress this time, suitably short, with black pumps. Leather gloves. Her legs were sturdier than her remainder, gleaming through the hose. I liked them. It was a different leather coat, a larger bag.

Her Black Bush was ready before she sat down next to me. That small smile, perhaps a hair wider, again. She carried the cold in with her; it added to her scent.

“We have time for just one,” I said.

“Before what?” said the eyebrows.

I slid the tickets onto the scarred walnut next to her coaster.

“Is it the hockey? Tonight?” she said. The hawkey. I loved it.

“It is.”

“And you would like me to accompany you?”

“I certainly would.” Now I was mimicking her without thinking. She didn't seem to notice.

She looked at me, almost schoolgirl-shy. “Then we shall go. I’ll leave my bag with Iggy. I was hoping to see you.” A bigger smile; the only part of her face that moved was her pinched mouth.

We walked the few blocks up North Washington Street to the Garden. The NY-connected seats were quite good. Near one corner, only a few rows back from the glass.

“We just made face-off,” I said.

“What's that?”

“That's how they start the game.” I tried not to sound expert or exasperated.

She looked at me, icy and stern. “I don't claim to know about the hockey. I just like it.” From thereon in, I explained only when she asked a question.

“Oh,” she would say from time to time, lightly tapping my wrist. She did this as she spoke--digital punctuation. “They move so quickly.”

“They hit the white barriers hard. Do they mean to hurt each other?”

“It's faster, louder and better,” she proclaimed.

During the first break, I asked her if she wanted Bushmills.

“You surprise me,” she said.

I showed her the airplane nips. “I can get some cups and ice,” I said.

“No matter. This way is fine.”

She took bird sips, her pinksilver tongue darting to lick her lips after each sampling. I found this alluring, sensual.

When the Bruins scored, she stood regally and emitted a small, “Yay.”

What affected her most was a fight. In the third period, Terry O'Reilly squared off against the oddly named Larry Playfair of the Sabres. Very close to our seats.

She stood with the rest of us and jerked left and right, as if a player had jumped into the stands and was pummeling her. I heard her grunt, just a bit. When the referees finally separated the combatants, she sat back down, seemingly exhausted, wrapped into herself.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?” she said. “Heavens. They were really fighting.”

“In a hockey way,” I said.

She said, “I abhor violence, but nonetheless, that excited me.”

She took my right hand and placed it between her breasts. “See?”

See? I think my pulse was outracing her gallop.

She then daintily situated my hand in her lap, where she held me gently. Her fingers were long and cool, her manicure seamless and perfect. We sat that way for a while.

“Have you any more Bushmills?” she asked, returning my hand.

She caught me staring at her once. A full profile. A puckish nose, the proper chin that extended just short of proud. Limned by the confetti, raucous crowd, she glimmered softly—with seemingly no edges. I felt succor. I lost track of the game.

We finished drinking just as the game did. Without discussing it, we walked back to the bar. She removed her right glove and took my left hand.

As I was about to walk into the bar, my hand on her upper arm, she delicately twirled away. She said, “I truly like you.” She gave me the smallest possible kiss on the cheek. Almost a child's kiss, innocent and wan.

Indoors, she said, “Come back by the coatroom with me. I need to fetch my bag.”

I followed blindly.

“I want to kiss you,” she said. And did so. Quickly. On the lips.

Outside, she flagged down a cab. And dragged me into it.

She told the driver, “19 Cornwall St., Jamaica Plain.”

Then she looked at me, “I can come over. If you want.”

I squinted. How did she know where I lived? This was not a time for rumination.

“Yes,” I said. “That would be nice.”

As I dug in my pockets, she paid for the cab.

I was thankful that my second-floor flat was somewhat presentable. I asked her if she would like a drink as I threw mail from the sofa and socks from the coffee table.

Then I turned to look for her.

“In here,” she said.

My bedroom.

“Join me,” she said. “Love me, please.”

It was angular and concise. It was fencing, thrusting, parrying, folding. It was quick motion, dekes and backpedals. It was gently primal. It was violent, then prim, wordless, tender, gruff, almost emotionless, yet simmering. It was engulfing, releasing, joining, separating. It was familiar, yet foreign. We moved in concert, then wildly out-of-tune. Finally a daub of a sigh floated from her. In the end, the music subsided, with no coda.

We drowsed. She broached the soft stillness. “I must go,” she said.

As I rose to protest, she was already wearing a black silk something.

She said, “I used your phone.”

I said, “Please. Stay the night. It's almost three. How will I get you home?”

“That has been arranged.”

She moved toward a window, parting the curtains, looking out over Flaherty Park.

She said, “Please kiss me good-bye.”

Then she gathered me in and kissed me for real. For the first time, it seemed. A whole, coiling, languorous, steamingly wonderful kiss. It lasted a minute or an hour.

Dressed, she moved toward the door. Half-turning, she said, “Janet.”

“What?”

She said, “My name is Janet.”

And was gone.

After throwing on my robe, I went to the window. I could see a large Lincoln Continental heading away. It was black.

<><><>

On April 1st, I called all over town, trying to score for the game that night. Just before lunch, my phone ...

“It's Janet,” said the voice.

“Janet,” I said. How did she get my number? “I've been trying to get tickets for tonight. It's the last home game and the playoffs will be impossible for me to handle.”

She said, “This doesn't matter. I cannot go, anyway.”

I said, “Then could we meet another Thursday?”

“Season's over,” she said. I heard a voice in the background.

“Thank you for loving me,” she said, and she hung up abruptly. I felt a chill.

<><><>

Like a religious zealot, I made the pilgrimage back to Iggy's place for a few Thursdays. There was no sign of Janet. I kept at it, wanting to worship at the altar again, wanting to celebrate the rite. Wanting to smell her, hear the tinkling voice, see the miniscule smile. The parentheses. Everything.

<><><>

That summer, another phone call changed my life. It was from Sammy McGuane, an old bandmate. He had managed a record deal and wanted me to bang some tubs. Along with some other projects. 

In LA. The timing beckoned.

Before I left Boston, I went back to Iggy's and left him a forwarding address.

I said, “If she ever-”

Iggy cut me off. “Awright, awright. But I doubt it.”

<><><>

The letter didn't come until over a year later, in August. Iggy's name and the bar's address were scrawled, almost indecipherably, on the crinkled envelope.

It wasn't actually a letter, but a newspaper clipping. It was from the Globe, dated about three weeks prior. A brief story followed the photo. I read first.

REPUTED MOBSTER SENTENCED TO 15 YEARS

Johnny “Gigs” Giambalvo, seen leaving the Suffolk County courthouse, has been found guilty of seven counts of racketeering, and money laundering after a short trial. He was given a fifteen-year sentence by Judge Felix Herrera. Giambalvo, who will be serving his time in Walpole Penitentiary, is also due to be tried on two counts of aggravated assault, which could lengthen his sentence. He is alleged to have assaulted members of the Boston Bruins hockey club after he found his wife in attendance at a team party.

His wife of seven years, Janet Cutrone Giambalvo [pictured on left], had no comment. Despite rumors of the couple's estrangement, she sat with her husband every day in court.

It would be none other than The Hockey Fan in the photo, trailing a stout, grim, dark man out of the courthouse.

She wore black.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 15: Canyon Birds (Trial 21)

Word count: 1894

Chapter warnings: Dangerous actions

[Please do not replicate any of the behaviors read in this book.]

-----

       "Alright, the limited power is Suho this time." Y/N said, finally having calmed down from their not-so-joyride.

       "Luhan was originally going to go, so why not have him do it now?" Sehun pointed out.

       "Uh-" Luhan started to sau, before Kyungsoo agreed.

       "Yes, that would make the most sense."

       "I don't know if I-"

       "Alright, Y/N, hit the button," Kris said, trying to get a move-on as quickly as possible. Noting his nervousness, Y/N leaned over, muttering a small bit of reassurance.

       "Luhan, the sooner you do the challenge, the sooner it will be out of the way. They get harder, so the longer you wait, the worse it's going to get. It's your second challenge, you're almost there." He breathed in.

       "Yeah, I guess, but still... I have a bad feeling about this."

       "We'll keep you safe, don't worry."

       "I... If you say so." Making brief eye contact with her, she realized that he was even just slightly shaking. Was he actually that scared? She put a hand on his shoulder, nodding, then clicked on his name. Watching it load up, she called everyone back to attention.

       "Alright, the next trial is... Parkour?"

       "That sounds like fun." Baekhyun shrugged.

       She looked over at Luhan, who was now completely white.

       "Are you okay?" She whispered.

       "I- I can't- that's not-" His hands were tangled together, knuckles pale with the pressure he was putting on his own skin. He was obviously trying to get the words out, but he was just stuttering over and over, practically zoned out.

       "He'll be fine," Kris waved a hand. "What's the rest of the challenge say?"

       "Uh," she looked down. "The price of dropping out is still... 'failure', whatever that means. The italics..." she squinted to see them. "Apparently there are a few bridges nearby. We need to pick one, and he can cross it by jumping between the beams on one of the outer edges."

       "That explains why Suho is out." Kyungsoo mentioned, always analyzing the reasoning behind each challenge. "If it's a bridge, there's water underneath, so he'd be at an advantage." Kris continued driving, pulling onto a left turn. He evidently knew where the nearest bridge was. As it was becoming late afternoon, there were periodic cars, but it didn't seem like anyone would bother them.

       Everyone started to get out of the car, although Luhan remained in place. She looked to him, then out the window at the bridge. Just as the app had said the sides were lined with support beams, although they weren't very deep. Or sturdy. It wouldn't be impossible to make it across, just very, very difficult. He'd have to focus.

       "What's so bad, Luhan?" she asked in a low voice, trying to make it not seem like a big deal. "Even if Suho can't use his powers, we still have Sehun with wind, Kris with flight, and Kai with teleportation. Even past that, Tao can reverse time if something bad happens, or you could even use your powers on yourself." It was ironic how just moments before she had been complaining about the reliance on their powers, but now she was trying to use it to calm Luhan down.

       "I... I don't... I just don't really prefer being high up." She tilted her head slightly, not having expected it. Although Luhan was clearly one of the shyer members of their friend group, he had never seemed so shaken by something.

       "It'll be alright, come on." She grabbed his hand, half helping, half pulling him out of the car. Putting her arm behind his, she placed a hand on his lower back, trying to steady his shaking. As they walked to the edge of the bridge, she looked down, head spinning at the distance. Even aside from his self-proclaimed discomfort, the height would worry anyone. Still, the rest of the boys seemed nonchalant about it.

       "Let's get a move on!" Baekhyin cheered, jumping around dangerously close to the unguarded edge. She looked over to the man she was supporting, his eyes dilating in and out, proving to her that his vision was falling between focused and blurry.

       "Listen," she muttered. Step on the first beam, and I'll follow you on the bridge side. You'll be on the outside edge, I'll be on the inside. The requirements never said I couldn't help you, yeah?" He looked at her, acknowledging her words, but was unable to nod or say anything. "It'll be okay, I promise."

       She helped him over to the bridge, trying her best to cover up how terrified the man was. She knew that at least some of the boys must have known that this wasn't quite his thing, but she still didn't want him to suffer the embarrassment of everyone watching it. His ankles tremors with weakness as he stepped out onto the first bar- the only one still supported by the Earth. Removing her hand from his body, she carefully crossed around the wall to come face-to face with him on the other side.

       As she was on the bridge and he was on the beams, he was a bit shorter than usual, gripping the edge with white knuckles. She placed her hands on top of his, palm to the overtops of his hands, allowing her to firmly grab onto his wrists as best she could without hurting him. He looked up to her, eyes on the brink of watering as they darted back and forth, occasionally glancing to his feet.

       "Don't look at the ground. You're fine. I've got you, okay?" He breathed in, the noise shaky, trying to nod. "Alright, now you just have to step to your left. Can you do that for me?"

       "B-but-" He started trying to say, the first words he'd spoken since he'd gotten out of the car. "But I can't see t-the floor unless-"

       "Just keep reaching your foot out until I tell you you'll make it, okay?" He had no choice but to do as she instructed, feeling around for the wooden beam as his hands slid excruciatingly slowly, guided by hers, along the edge. "Good." She reassured him as he just lightly touched the beam with his foot.

       Once he was on the second beam, she looked to his feet. The distance from them to the water had increased a sizable amount, even in just that one large step. She glanced back to the group of boys, who was watching eerily silently. Normally they would be joking around, or just not paying attention at all, but for some reason, this intrigued them.

       "Let's go on to the next one."

       "I- I don't want to, I can't-"

       "You'll be fine." She kept repeating. "Everything's going to be fine. Just keep going." They made it onto the third, then to the fourth. By the fifth beam, they were nearly to the center of the beam. The rushing water below was roaring in her ears, making it impossible to concentrate, but she still tried to keep Luhan's eyes on her. "Good, now just step."

       As he reached for the fifth beam, testing it with his foot, it was about the same as the previous times. His leg was still shaking uncontrollably, but he hadn't slipped. Once he mounted the beam, shifting his wait and drawing the other foot over, though, she heard a sickening crack. Looking down, she saw that the beam was writing at its ties with the bridge, clearly already failing under Luhan's weight.

       "Alright, next one-" She prompted, trying not to sound panicked."

       "J-just give me a s-"

       "No!" She said, laughing awkwardly. "No, you need to move now Luhan. Right now."

       "I-" Instinctively, she looked back down to the beam, which was already leaning. Feeling it under his feet and seeing her look, he, out of habit, looked down. Not only was he faced with the near-breaking-point board supporting his entire body, but he also leered into the seemingly endless abyss, rushing water taunting him at the bottom. Yelling in surprise and terror, he half-shook, half-jumped, causing it to snap completely beneath him.

       "Luhan!" She screamed as he fell instantly, wrists torn from her grip as the angle wrenched his hands away from her. Leaning over the bridge, she was reaching out, as if able to stop him with her sheer willpower. His face was nearly blank, as if his brain had shut down the idea of his fall altogether. Quickly, Kris appeared underneath him, grabbing him by the waist like a firefighter catching a trapped kitten. He swiftly brought the man back up past the edge of the gorge, sitting him down on the grass. Running over, Y/N knelt next to him, winding her arms around his shoulders as he rocked back and forth slightly.

       "I am so, so sorry, you're okay, everything's okay." She was shushing him as if he were a little kid, trying to get his crying to subside. It wasn't a soft, dignified crying, either. He was completely racked by sobs, holding his head between his knees in terror. "It's all right, everything's all right."

       "We still have to finish the challenge, though." Chanyeol said under his breath. Chen tried to shush him, but Luhan overheard, sending him into even more of a panic.

       "Just give him a second." Suho said with a sigh. "He can try again when he's ready."

       "No!" He shouted, startling everyone. She tried to keep him from freaking out, running her hand over his shoulder blades, but he continued to yell. "No! I'm not trying again! I'm not! I'm not! No!"

       "Luhan, we-"

       "I'm quitting! I'm dropping out!" He said, tears still streaming down his face as his body heaved. He was going to cry himself to the point of throwing up.

       "Honey, you can't do that-" she started to warn him, running a hand through the back of his hair as he continued crying. "We don't know what the catch really means, and if you stop now you can't play anymore.

       "I don't care!" He yelled. "I don't care..." Wiping his eyes, he tried to stand, nearly falling if not for Y/N catching him. He pushed her off rather rudely, walking past the car.

       "Luhan, come on-" Suho ran after him, trying to grab him by the arm. Shaking him off, he moved from being terrified and shaken to just angry.

       "I didn't even want to be a part of this to begin with. It was a fun idea, okay? But this is ridiculous. This is only the twenty-first challenge, by the end, what will we be doing? You all can keep playing for as long as you want, but I refuse to put myself through this anymore."

       "But the failure, it's not-"

       "I don't give a shit. How is this-" He pulled out his phone, waving the app around. "This stupid little thing going to ruin my life? I'm not dumb, they just want to mess with us, and it's gonna get one of us killed. Well you know what?" He pressed a button, Y/N leaping forward to try and stop him, but it was too late. The screen had shifted to a maroon color, a white message reading that he had left the game.

       "I quit."

Go to Chapter 16

[spunky-89]

Friends... or more?

Surprise I’m not dead. I have had some serious writer's block and I just finished this one-shot last night. I’m probably gonna turn it into a series but I’m not sure.

Word Count: 1k+

There was never a real shift between friends and more than friends. You were a constant in their sea of turmoil and shifting loyalties and relationships. You stuck by Steve no matter what, and when Bucky came back into his life you welcomed him with a warm smile and some fresh cookies. You had become a home for the two super-soldiers and they never let you forget how appreciative they were for that.

It was one day in late November when you started to question what you were. You three never really labeled your relationship but the best you could say is it was that of three best friends. You were lounging in the living room of your large apartment. Your back molded into Bucky’s chest as he laid kisses on your shoulder periodically and Steve’s head was resting on your lap as you were absent-mindedly running your fingers through his hair, a movie you watched a hundred times before played on the TV. That’s when you spoke your inner thoughts.

“So I had a question, well maybe more of a thought… I don’t know what to call it.” You said, unsure of how to broach the topic.

“What’s wrong?’

“What are we exactly?” You said hesitantly, a bubble of anxiety filling your chest.

“What’d’ya mean doll?” Bucky asked, his body stiffening slightly under you.

You huffed and sat up, forcing Steve to sit up as well. Once his head was off your lap, you rose to your feet and started pacing. A habit of yours when you were stressed or worried. The boys watched you pace back and forth, sharing a worried glance at your behavior.

“I mean, are we friends, are we more, are we less I mean I just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid and I know labels aren’t really important and it doesn’t matter what other people think but like I want to know for me and it’s been bugging me lately cause on one hand we are way too touchy-feely to be just friends but in the next moment Bucky gives the waitress the flirty smile when we go out and I just don’t know anymore and-”

“Hey,” Steve said, now standing in front of you, stopping you from pacing. “You need to breathe and try that again a little bit slower.” He said calmly.

He took your hands in his and that was when you realized they were shaking from your anxiety. He led you back to the couch and sat you back between him and Bucky, who had worry written all across his face.

“Okay, so what is all of this about? Why are you freaking out so much?” Steve asked.

“I just,” you paused and took a deep breath, trying desperately to make a coherent sentence while you mind ran at 100 miles an hour.

“I started thinking about us. I saw a couple the other day while I was shopping and they were just being normal and everything, holding hands and deciding what to make for dinner and I thought of us.” You look to both your boys and gauge their reactions. They seemed to be listening to you intently but that was all you could read.

“It was so instantaneous it weirded me out because here was this married couple and I’m thinking about my two best friends and I just, I need to know what you guys think in your head because mine is a swirling storm of thoughts and-”

“Sweetheart, you’re not breathing again,” Steve said gently. You took a few deep breaths with him until your breathing evened out a bit.

Everything was quiet for a bit after that. No one said anything. You had laid your heart out and now you were beginning to regret it with every silent moment that passed. You thought that maybe you misinterpreted the signs and they didn’t feel that way. Maybe they were just innocent in their affections. Maybe they just needed comfort and you gave that to them, but there were no romantic feelings. That thought made tears to sting your eyes and panic to well in your chest. You tried not to show the panic but clearly Bucky picked up on it because no sooner had your breathing picked up again he had you in his lap. His hand stroking through your hair as your sobs rang out through the apartment.

“Shhhh, Doll you need to calm down okay. Shhh Sh Sh, it’s okay.” He tried to console you but with each kiss to the head and every calming word he spoke, you just thought more about how afraid you were to lose this. To lose your boys.

“Sweetheart, you need to calm down so we can talk okay?” Steve tried.

“I can’t lose you,” you sobbed.

“Oh no no no, you won’t sweetheart, you are not losing us. I promise.”

“Yeah, and he’s Captain America, he doesn’t lie.” Bucky joked. You choked out a little laugh between your sobs at their antics.

“While you finish calming down, let us talk yeah?” Bucky said. You nodded as your tears started to subside.

“We didn’t mean to scare you, you just shocked us is all.” Bucky started.

“We never really thought much about putting a label on us because it didn’t seem necessary,” Steve said.

“We care for you (Y/N), you are the very glue that keeps us from falling to pieces. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to come home to after a long day. To greet me with a smile and a kiss to the cheek. To care for me without fear of judgment of my past.”

“That first day I met you in that store was the first time anyone of this century helped me without wanting something in return. Just a completely kind, selfless, soul helping an old man like me. The way you willingly gave me your number to call if I needed any more help figuring out the new world around me.” Steve said softly, smiling at the woman curled in Bucky’s arms.

“Long story short Darlin’ you’re stuck with us.” Bucky said.

“I think I can live with that,” You sniffled, smiling at your boys.

[fatgirlwritesscenarios]

Best Boyfriend to the Rescue

((A/N: Periods suck. Thank you.))

Pairing: JihoonxReader 

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,531

Summary: There are women whose period lasts only 2-3 days; whose cramps are simply minor inconveniences; whose whole world doesn’t grind to a halt simply because their uterine wall is shedding itself and you know what? Lucky them! But...you are the only woman with a boyfriend like Jihoon and that makes your periods just a little more bearable. 

                                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*

This was it. This was the end for you. This was how you were going to die: curled up on the hard cold floor, crushed by a mountain of blankets, some late afternoon drama playing in the background and you suffering from woman’s monthly punishment from God. Your period always put you in a catatonic state, your body numb and exhausted just from dealing with itself and all energy zapped from your being. The only things you felt in your zombie state were your cramps. Evil, sharp, unrelenting and uncaring, your cramps put you out of commission for a full two days. Your only stroke of ‘luck’ was that your period always came on a weekend, giving you those two days to recover.

So that’s how you were spending your Saturday, suffering for the good a child you may or may not have one day in the future. Your phone sang every now and then with text messages from your friends asking if you were alright. There was even one from your boyfriend, Jihoon, that you hadn’t replied to yet. 20% because you didn’t want to bother him with your woes and 80% because you just didn’t have the strength anymore. That was, what…4…maybe 5 hours ago? Sounds about right. You had been drifting in and out of consciousness during that time, knowing back as many painkillers as you could without killing yourself and overall just being miserable.

You had falling into a restless sort of sleep with your eyes trained blankly on the TV, watching the last 20 minutes of some drama, and when you came to, a variety show was on…and someone’s arm was around your waist. Any other time, you would have raised hell because who the hell?! Today? You hoped they would kill you so the pain would go away indefinitely.

“Are you awake now, Jagi?” Careful fingers carded through your hair and warm breath ghosted past your ear.

‘Jihoon?’ you thought absently, rolling back and turning your head up.

That was Jihoon alright, head propped up on his fist and just as crushed under the blankets as you were. How he got in there without waking you up, you’ll never know.

“I texted you,” he stated, trying to sound agitated, but giving himself away when his dimples made an appearance as you reached up to poke his cheek.

“I know,” you mumbled.

“I sent you several texts.”

“…You did?”

He nodded, “How come you didn’t text me back? I was worried.”

The groaning whine you released was all the answer you could give, shaking your head for good measure. Why did he think it was a good idea to ask a question that required strength to answer? Jihoon laughed his adorable laugh and tightened his hold around you.

“I know, I know,” he teased, nuzzling into your hair, “You don’t have the energy today.” He pulled back to study you, his eyes roaming your face as a smirk found its’ way to his lips. “You do look like crap.”

You glared and he cackled. “What? D.K. said the best remedy for pain is jokes and laughter!” You were going to remember that for when you felt better.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily, feeling around for your phone.

Jihoon reached over to grab it for you, placing it in your hands, “Almost 8 PM. So dinner time.”

You were surprised and looked back at him again, “You’re home early…”

“Mmhm,” he verified, idly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “After the 5th text with no reply, I tried calling your friend to see if they heard from you. They told me you were on your period and at home, so I finished up what work absolutely needed to be done and came straight home to take care of you.”

Why, you could just cry!...Oh wait, you were. Jihoon became a bit alarmed when your eyes filled with tears faster than a shot glass filled with water under the tap.

“Yah, why are you crying?” he asked, catching the streak of tears on his fingers.

It was going to take too much energy to explain your menstrual mood swings, so you opted instead to turn fully around and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Jihoon went still for a brief moment and then embraced you back. A smile took his face and a chuckle echoed in his chest.

“Aish, you’re so clingy,” he teased, pausing when you suddenly whimpered and fisted his shirt, “Jagi?”

You whimpered again, the sound filled with pain. Your body tense and your legs shuffling uncomfortably, you regretted moving from your original spot. A miniscule monster with razor sharp teeth and an affinity for pain started tearing at your abdomen. Jihoon cradled you, stroking your back and helping you ride it out. He pressed his lips to your crown repeatedly, whispering comforting words until the pain subsided and you could breathe at last.

“That was intense,” he observed, brushing your hair off of your hot skin, “It can’t be comfortable to be on the floor like this and going through that. Come on, Jagi, let’s move you to the bed.”

You thought to protest- you didn’t feel like walking- but Jihoon surprised the hell out of you by picking you up, blankets and all, and carried you to the bedroom. You were pretty sure you were dead weight at this point, so when did he get that strong!? When you were settled on the soft mattress, he sat beside you, gazing at you steadily.

“Have you eaten?” He frowned when you shook your head, “Y/N, you can’t starve yourself. Doesn’t that make the cramps worse?”

“Don’t yell at me.”

He scoffed and laughed a little bit- he hadn’t been yelling and you knew it, hence your exaggerated pout, “Where’s your heating pad?”

“It broke.”

“What do you mean ‘it broke’?”

“It stopped working today. It won’t heat up anymore.”

“Today is definitely not your day.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. You looked so tired and Jihoon hated seeing you like this, but he also knew how much you hated seeing him worried over you.

“Wait here. I’m going to make you something to eat.” He pecked your lips and made to leave, glancing back just once before disappearing.

You remained in place, rocking back and forth, focusing on blocking the pain out. How many years had passed since Jihoon left you to suffer like this? How dare he come riding in on a white horse to comfort you only to abandon you so soon afterwards with little more than a quick kiss? Okay…Okay, maybe you were exaggerating. It probably wasn’t that long at all. The cramps only made it feel like a millennium.

You vaguely heard shuffling and the muffled clink on the nightstand next to you. You peeked out from your cocoon, grinning eyes greeting you before you were coaxed to sit up.

“Look what I got.” He held up a brand new heating pad…So wait, he actually left?! “I ran down to the store two blocks from here. Literally ran. I hope you know how much I love you.”

He set you up comfortably against the headboard, plugging in the heating pad and placing it gently against your stomach to let the magic work. You whined when another wave of cramps assaulted you, Jihoon giving you some pain-killers and a cup of hot tea to chase them down.

“My favorite tea,” you mused quietly as you took a sip, Jihoon nodding proudly.

“And your favorite soup,” he added, gesturing to the bowl of steaming goodness waiting for your attention, “Make sure to eat it while it’s still hot. The heat will help.”

You giggled, tilting your head back when he leaned down to steal another tender kiss, “Thank you.”

He hummed, his forehead resting against yours and those lovable dimples on display, “Of course, Jagi. Anything for you.”

Soon enough, the two of you were cuddled up under your blankets, your empty bowl and tea mug stacked on the night stand. Jihoon had his arm around you, stroking your arm and shoulder as you rested your head on his shoulder. His laptop lay open between you, playing some move you couldn’t be bothered to recall the name of. You were too warm, too happy, to care much about the title, your cramps all but disappearing thanks to your wonderful boyfriend’s care.

You felt pinpricks every now and then, but as if he too felt your pain, Jihoon would reach his hand over to stroke your stomach over the heating pad.

“Feel better soon, Jagi. I don’t like it when you’re in pain,” his voice said worriedly.

“I already feel better, Jihoonie,” you mumbled, eyes closing drowsily, “I still feel tired, though.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” A kiss brushed the top of your head and then Jihoon was softly singing, a lullaby just for you.

You smiled tiredly, his voice sounding farther away with each passing note until you succumbed to your exhaustion and drifted into peaceful slumber. Finally.

“I love you, Y/N. Get better soon.”

[five-rivers]

Artifact/Nursery Rhyme

Who doesn’t post things in a timely manner?  Oh, that’s me.  This is a continuation from Cauldron/Electricity.  

.

Artifact/Nursery Rhyme

.

Danny scanned the ground to either side, looking for caves. It was probably bad to have preconceptions on a search like this, but he couldn't get the picture of the witch, Vivian, hiding out and plotting in a cave out of his head. He was looking for houses, or other structures, as well, but not as hard.

He glanced at Sam. She'd been weirdly quiet this whole time. He hoped she wasn't too upset. He had tried, really tried, to get Vivian out of her, but it hadn't been enough. Sam had been overshadowed for days. That was more than enough to make anyone angry.

But when Sam was mad, she usually didn't get quiet. She was loud, and vocal, and told you exactly what she was angry about. Unless she was angry that you didn't ask her to go to the with you, because she'd called the dance stupid half a dozen times, and then, well...

Quiet Sam was a lot scarier than loud Sam.

At first, it had looked like she was blaming herself for what had happened, and Danny had, using techniques that usually worked on him, tried to maneuver her away from that idea. But what if she hadn't been blaming herself, and now she was angry with Danny for assuming she was? What if he had screwed up, and now she was blaming herself because he'd put the idea into her head?

He was a terrible friend. Why couldn't he have been competent for once, and gotten the ghost out of her?

Well, one way or another, he was going to get them out of this. Even if he did wind up having to do that familiar contract thing. Between Dungeons and Dragons in middle school, and a whole heck of a lot of research into the occult when becoming a ghost, he knew that 'familiar' meant 'servant,' so he doubted it would be a fun thing. But if it was Sam, it wouldn't be too bad.

Probably.

She didn't try to get Danny to use his powers to break animals out of the zoo, or to vandalize car dealerships anymore, anyway. She wouldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to. Convince him? Yes. But not force him.

He exhaled, realizing he had been staring at Sam, and not looking for wherever the witch ghost had hidden her stuff, for the past several minutes.

He looked back up the slope just in time to catch sight of an opening about a quarter of the way up.

"Sam," he said, touching her elbow, and pointing. "Check it out."

She followed his gaze. "Shouldn't be too hard of a climb."

Danny nodded. "I think we might be able to just walk up if we go around a bit?" He made a zigzag motion with his hands.

"Yeah, let's try that."

It didn't take them very long to get up to the cave. Their previous experience climbing down had given them insight into how the ground here behaved. Once there, however, they spent several long moments staring into it, unwilling to go into the dark.

"It's a good thing you still glow," said Sam. "You did test out all your other powers, right?"

"Except for the Wail, yeah," said Danny, running through them mentally once again. "Ice seems to be working a little, and I can still transform," which she had seen, "but that's it."

"Ice?"

Danny pulled off his right glove (his right, never his left) and held out his hand. Frost momentarily blanched the tan surface of his skin before subsiding. "That's all that's happening, though."

"Might be useful," said Sam.

"Maybe. Okay, I'm going in."

His glow illuminated the cave softly, coolly, like moonlight. At first it only played over bare stone, and Danny groaned internally, thinking that the cave might be empty, but he kept going, periodically glancing over his shoulder to see Sam following behind him.

But, at last, when he was about to turn around, the edge of a table and the outline of books came into view. He hurried forward, and entered an area that looked a lot like a study. If a study had been built inside a cave. He picked up one of the books, and frowned at it.

Multilingual he might be, courtesy of ghost nonsense, but interpreting 'creative' spelling was not his forte, especially when it was on top of cramped, curly handwriting.

"Mind helping me find something to light these candles with?" asked Sam.

"Oops!" said Danny. "Sorry." He had forgotten how much better he could see in the dark than normal people. After a minute of searching, he found a pack of long matches in a drawer. He lit one, and started lighting candles.

"Thanks," said Sam, picking up a candle and using it to light others. "That's much better."

Candles lit, they sat down to flip through the books, stopping at any mention of familiar spirits and contracts.

Danny sighed as he got to the end of another one without any luck, and went back to the shelf. He supposed he didn't have to put the books back on, but his book-loving sister had ingrained in him that not doing so was rude.

Then again, kidnapping was also rude.

"I think I found something," said Sam.

Danny walked back and peered over her shoulder. "This is for ghosts that can't talk," he said, after a moment of inspection. "Let's see if there's a better one." Sam turned the pages. "Maybe- Oh, no, this is for natural spirits."

"And you aren't?"

"No, it's a term for ghosts that are born ghosts. Keep going, though, it looks like this is the right one."

Sam turned a few more pages. "Okay, I think this one looks right."

Danny leaned in, scanning it. His shoulder brushed against Sam's, and she jumped. "Sorry! This one looks about right, though. And it doesn't look too bad?"

"Doesn't look too bad! Danny, are you seeing this?" she jabbed the offending page with her finger.

"Oh. Huh. Yeah, I guess it is kind of gross, but that's okay. It's not like it'd be the first time."

"It's talking about putting a needle in your eye."

"Yeah, but I've hurt my eyes before. They heal."

"What if it doesn't heal this time?"

"Then I'll have to get an eye-patch."

Sam lowered her eyebrows. "Don't you think we should try other ways of getting out of this, first? Maybe we can wait out whatever she did to you."

Danny tilted his head, and thought about it. "Are you thirsty?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, but it's not like we have any water, do we? Why are you asking?"

"Because humans can only last three days without water. If Vivian got you a drink before bed, and there's no guarantee she did, you've gone most of a day without drinking. Even if it doesn't go that far, you can wind up with kidney stones from getting dehydrated. That's what Mom says, anyway."

"I think you keeping your eyes is worth me having kidney stones."

"I don't. I especially don't think it's worth you dying." Danny felt himself droop. "It isn't just the water, anyway. I can't protect you like this. Who knows what Vivian will do if she thinks we're not making an effort."

"I hate giving in to people like her."

"It's tactical," said Danny. "Like with Vlad. We let her think she's won, then counterattack when she doesn't expect it."

"Well, when you say it that way, it isn't so bad, I guess." She sucked in her lower lip. "I don't want you to have to do this."

"I don't want you to have to do that, either," said Danny, pointing at a lower line. "But let's read it, and make sure we understand it completely before we start. Side effects, and stuff. And see if there's a way to undo it."

"And if there's another one, with less stabbing."

"That too."

.

"Ready?" asked Danny. It had taken a while to find everything the ritual- and it was a ritual- required, and once they did, they hadn't wanted to do it in the witch's cave.

Sam nodded, rubbing her palms on Danny's jeans. "As ready as I'm going to be."

Danny scooted across the rug they'd stolen from the cave, closer to Sam. He was careful not to disturb any of the chalky markings they'd drawn. Some of them felt... odd.

"It'll be fine," said Danny.

Sam looked down. "I know you think so, but what if it's a trap? What if it turns out like..." she lowered her voice, "the portal."

Both of those options had crossed Danny's mind. But Danny was pretty sure Vivian could have kept him in that bottle indefinitely. Whatever this was, it wasn't about him and his powers. Combined with her behavior back in Amity Park, Danny was pretty sure this was about Sam.

"Then we'll figure out where to go from there. But, right now, the important thing is to get you back to a place you can survive." This island most definitely did not meet that criterion, and Danny would prefer to find out if Vivian was lying sooner than later.

"Fine," said Sam, fingering the tip of the needle. "Let's get this over with."

"Your line is first."

They had actually already written the 'contract,' but actually putting it into effect 'magically' required ritual, rhyme, and a small amount of spilled blood and ectoplasm. The book had had several options to choose from, and they had picked the most appropriate and least dangerous-looking one. None of them were perfect of course, because none of them compensated for the 'spirit' side of things only being mostly dead.

Hopefully, that wouldn't affect things too much.

"Right," said Sam. She cleared her throat, and looked down at the book. "Tell me not a single lie." The words shivered, almost, but not quite, echoing. Sam turned the book so Danny could see it.

"Cross my heart, though I have died," he responded.

"With me for a moment bide," read Sam, her voice cracking on the last word, her hands trembling in anticipation.

Well, Danny wasn't exactly looking forward to this next part either. "Then stick a needle in my eye."

Sam picked up the needle, then froze. Danny nodded at her and the needle encouragingly. She raised the needle to eye level, and paused again.

'Do it,' mouthed Danny. She bit her lip, and stabbed the needle forward.

Ouch. Yep, that hurt. Sam pulled the needle out, and Danny closed his eye, pressing one hand down on his eyelid. Watery green ectoplasm leaked out, dripping down his cheek. Ow.

Shakily, Sam continued on to her next line. "Tell me the price I'll have to pay."

"That is the one and only way," said Danny, before she had even turned the book around. Odd, he had read the ritual through several times, but he hadn't thought he'd memorized it.

"For you to forever stay," continued Sam.

"You'll pay it 'til the end of days." That line was ominous, and the alien quality that had worked its way into Danny's voice made it more so.

Sam held up the piece of paper they'd written their contract on. "On this contract place your seal." All that was written on it was 'We agree to be friends with each other,' which was something they intended on doing anyway.

"Keep the spirit of our deal," intoned Danny. Yeah, the ritual was definitely doing something to him. His core felt way more active than it usually was, even in ghost form.

A dark spot bloomed on the bottom right corner of the page, and slowly resolved into a phantom 'D.'

Cool.

"Be my servant, be my slave." It was this line that had Sam arguing for a different ritual. She didn't want Danny to be her slave. However, the others either required a lot more stabbing, stuff they didn't have, or looked way more suspicious to Danny, from a ghostly perspective. One or two in that book didn't have anything obviously wrong with them, but repelled Danny for reasons he couldn't articulate.

"And aren't you so very brave?" The words tumbled out of Danny's mouth without any conscious thought or permission on his part.

"Be my wisdom, be my sword," said Sam, unaware of Danny's internal difficulties.

Maybe he should try- "Forever, if you keep your word." -Nope, looked like he couldn't stop, or even delay. He hoped Sam wasn't having the same problem, because that would suck.

Then he remembered what was going to happen next, and his core protested at the very thought. But he discovered he was completely immobile.

"I'll give you blood." Sam poised the needle (still covered in the gore from Danny's eye) over her hand, and drew it across her palm, leaving a shallow red line. "I'll give you gold." Sam put a few dollar bills and coins (taken from Danny's wallet), down in between them.

Danny's core suddenly swelled with power, but there was nowhere for it to go and it hurt. Ice, the only outlet, feathered across his skin. His awareness of everything outside himself, Sam, and the ritual dropped to zero.

"I am not so lightly sold." As if his friend's blood was a 'light' price! Stupid ritual. It was priceless!

"Anything for which you wish," said Sam.

"Give me your heart, give me a kiss."

Because of course the blood magic ritual had to be sealed with a- All other thoughts fled as Sam leaned in to kiss him.

Danny had the feeling of something settling on him. Something comforting, like a good, heavy blanket, strong, like ghost-forged chains, and permanent, like death. All the extra energy his core had built up during the ritual flowed into it, and then some, leaving his core weak and trembling.

The kiss lasted a lot longer than was really necessary.

Which was nice. Really nice. But as soon as Sam pulled away, he collapsed.

Sam managed to catch him. "Danny, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"No," said Danny, his head lolling against her shoulder, which surprised him, because he had meant to say, 'Yes, I'm fine.' "No energy."

He felt himself lose hold of his ghost form, which was really embarrassing in this position; he was only wearing his t-shirt and boxers. His eye slipped closed.

Darn.

.

The first indication Sam had that the ritual was working was when she kissed Danny. She immediately felt energized, refreshed, all the hunger and thirst she had built up since finding herself in front of that cauldron vanishing. She felt connected. Like she could feel Danny. And she liked it.

She liked it a lot.

She probably let the kiss last a lot longer than she had to. The spell didn't specify, after all.

Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all, if they could feel like this.

But then Danny collapsed. That was bad.

Then he passed out. That was worse.

A wisp of cold air slipped past Danny's lips, tickling the side of Sam's neck. She shivered and tensed, casting her eyes about for the ghost. "C'mon, Danny," she said, shaking him slightly. "Get up, I need you."

Surprisingly, this entreaty roused Danny, and his uninjured eye slowly eased open. "Hn?"

"Strictly speaking," said Vivian, sliding into visibility, "you didn't have to stab him with the needle. That's part of the binding, to keep the ghost from backing out, and he wasn't going to do that, were you, dear?"

She reached out to touch Danny, and he hissed weakly at her. She laughed, tilting back her head, but then leaned forward, pressing her thumb into Danny's forehead. He moaned, and turned his face into Sam's shoulder.

"There," said Vivian, shaking her hand. "He should have access to his powers again." She smiled, teeth sharp. "It will take some time for the two of you to adjust to your new circumstances, but I very much look forward to teaching you once you do, Sam." A larger smile. "Apprentice."

Sam glowered.

Vivian bent down to pick up the book. "I never used this particular ritual," she said. "It requires the spirit to already be invested in the witch, so to speak. Perfect for you. Not so much for me. My mentor was the one who passed it on to me." She snapped the book closed. "He has a good eye, though. One of the ones you were considering would have turned him into a cat."

Sam swallowed.

"Now, I'll leave the two of you to adjust. Don't worry about starving. His power will sustain you until he recovers enough to fly you back home." Vivian's smile grew lazy, indulgent. "Speaking of which, I had a lot of fun there, and I need some way to pass the time. Don't I?" She vanished, cackling.

Danny whimpered.

"Crap," said Sam. Then, more gently, "Hey, Danny, how do you feel?"

"Not great," he said. "Like I just had a marathon fight, and then got beaten with a stick."

"Oh," said Sam. Usually Danny wasn't this honest. Or quite this clingy. He was still wrapped around her. Which, she, surprisingly, didn't mind. "Anything else?"

"I think that maybe I can't lie to you, because I just tried to say 'I'm fine' twice, and couldn't."

"Oh," said Sam.

"It's okay. You're probably going to have side effects, too. Or maybe it's not a side effect?" He giggled. "It's not a bug, it's a feature? I think I just need to sleep."

"Okay, you do that then."

Danny promptly closed his eyes, and his grip relaxed. Sam stared. Okay, no, she wasn't even going to consider that until she had more evidence.

She sighed, and leaned back until they were both lying on the carpet. One thing at a time. They'd figure this out.

Together.

[forallyourikemensengokuneeds]

A gods kindness

She was wondering in an open field near Kasugayama castle to which she had been brought along for reconnaissance and then promptly left behind. It was a beautiful sunny day, and she could see no reason to stay at the inn and wait for them to return which would be hours from now. She knew she couldn't be seen by her friend Sasuke, the trusty ninja or by his friend Yuki who was the famed lead vassal to Shingen the sworn enemy to her friends and Sasuke worked for Kenshin the other sworn enemy. If either saw her, they would figure out what she was doing here and then feel obligated to report to their Lords. It would cause a fight if her friends were found out not even an argument but a bloodbath and she would be the cause. Instead of taking that chance she opted for a walk in the open fields they passed through on the way to the castle's town. She hoped she wouldn't see either even though she liked both of them very much.

She let the day drift on as she enjoyed the freedom of the open field she could relax and enjoy the sun. She was close to drifting off when a white rabbit appeared out of nowhere. The rabbit hopped right up to her and didn't jump away as she reached down to pet it. She sat there with the rabbit as a few more showed up. Then a few more. Soon she was surrounded by a fluffle of rabbits. She was enjoying them and even playing around with them as a man came out of the forest on the edge. He watched as the rabbits who had made the castle their home hopped and played with the lone woman in the middle of the field. As he moved closer, he saw she was the friend of his ninja, but surely it couldn't be her as she was just a seamstress in Azuchi. "Umi!", he called, and one rabbit lifted its head.

"Go back to the castle, now."

The girl knew that voice. She didn't have even to turn around. If she did, she would be looking at one of the perfect men she had ever set eyes in, however beautiful he was he was cold and inhuman in his lust for war. Kenshin Uesugi was standing behind her.

"You! Girl, turn around.", dread turned to panic as she did.

"Yes?", she asked as she turned.

"I know you, your Sasuke's friend. A seamstress, correct?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing here near Kasugayama?", He asked. His eyes blue and green raked over her.

"My brothers brought me along as they needed to do something here. They thought it would be a nice getaway.", she replied hoping he could not see her lie.

"Your brothers left you? Alone? Here? To conduct business?", he seemed baffled which was unlike his god-like image. "That is unacceptable. You will come with me to the castle. You can send word to your brothers to meet you there as I would like to have a few words with them."

"That is not necessary. I will go back to the inn And wait for them.", She quickly replied. The bloodbath she had tried to avoid would most definitely begin if her "brothers" had to pick her up at the castle.

"I know it is unnecessary however your brothers need to be taught a lesson. They should never leave a beautiful woman left to roam by herself.", he stated simply,"Woman are just too weak to be left alone for very long."

Her heart had been lifted when he called her beautiful however he had to ruin that feeling so soon.

"Come on." He said.

"No really, I can't go with you. I will find them, and we will be gone."

"Nonsense. I said we are going to the castle, now", he was becoming irritated with her. She hung her head low and started to follow him. Surprisingly the rabbits all started to follow as well. Kenshin has pet rabbits? The idea that the god of war had a soft spot for fluffy bunnies was too much for her as she let a giggle out.

"Whats so funny?", he asked over his shoulder.

"Are these rabbits yours?", she asked.

"No. They just live at the castle.", he said.

"You called one by name.", she replied.

"So what?", he asked.

"Oh, nothing.", she shrugged and internally laughing as hard as she could.

He was leading her and the fluffle of bunnies through the castle town where she spotted Hideyoshi who was staring directly at her in shock. She looked forward and then back then shook her head. Hideyoshi was about to come forward to grab her when she motioned with her hand to stop, and Masamune who had his head ducked looked up, and his mouth dropped, but he did manage to stay Hideyoshi's forward action. Masamune nodded to her and smiled. A sign they would figure out a way to get her. She knew this would not be a good thing.

When they arrived at the castle, Kenshin ordered the rabbits to their area and led her to a waiting room to which she was met face to face with her friend Sasuke. He was recently shocked to see her as she was him. Shingen at the same time had moved throughout the room. "An angel sent to us by the heavens.", He said. She was trying very hard not to fall into his deep brown eyes.

"Oh please. Save your stupid pick up lines.", kenshin said to Shingen.

"I have told you many times they aren't pick up lines.", shingen returned.

"Can you speak to a woman without the words goddess, angel, or flower?", kenshin asked.

"Not when every woman I meet is a goddess, an angel, or flower it is just speaking the truth.", Shingen replied. "Do you know how to speak to a woman period? Instead of ordering her about?"

"Why would I want to?", Kenshin asked, and with that, he left the room. He left her with the two other men who looked at him moving and her. They both openly stared at her like why was she there. She smiled.

"He just brought me to the castle to have a look around.", she said as she turned and then said,"I have looked I think I should be going."

She walked out of the room and down the castle stairs as fast as she could. She had to find Hideyoshi and Masamune before something terrible happened. She luckily ran right into them as she descended. She grabbed both on her way and pulled. The two men were shocked but followed her. "We need to go, now!"

Kenshin went back into the room he had left her in and was surprised when she was no longer there. He then searched the entire castle for her. Where did she go? He hoped that she was not with Shingen as he wished the girl had better taste than to fall for lame pick up lines. He was becoming more frenzied as time went on. He ran into Shingen in the hallway, "where is she? If you touched her, I would kill you!"

"She left. Hours ago.", Shingen replied casually.

"She did what?", he sounded confused even to himself,"then I will kill her!"

He took off down the same route as she did into the busy marketplace. He went to the two inns he thought she would have stayed at, but neither recognized her description. He went to the market and looked around; there was no sign of her there either. Where was the girl?

His anger at her leaving was subsiding, and confusion and panic were taking their place. She was just a woman. He kept thinking to himself however he could not get the slip of a female out of his mind. He turned and spotted three people on horseback at the edge of town. The two men looked familiar, but at a distance, he could not be sure of who they were. She was in the middle of the two on her own horse. Her head lifted and looked directly at him. She said something to her brothers that Kenshin could see as they both headed off for a place in the distance. Kenshin was livid again for her brothers had no care about her safety. He was walking toward her as she hopped off the horse to met him.

"You left.", He stated.

"I saw my brothers and joined them."

"They left you again! I should take their heads."

She smiled at that. It had been a long time since a woman smiled at him softly.

"I told them to go ahead a bit so I could thank you for caring about my safety.", She said,"If they met you they would say or do something and well... I don't want to hate you."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. His hand covered the spot she had touched.

"Goodbye Kenshin.", She said as she hopped back on the horse. He watched as she rode off still holding his cheek. He saw the three join back up as they rode off.

He walked back to the castle a little sad she had left however he had her friend. He went to Sasuke and ordered him to tell him everything he knew about her. Sasuke did, leaving out one huge fact.

Sasuke was sent to deliver a message to Yukimura a week later. He also had another delivery to make, so he paid a small sum to three older children to deliver the few packages to the castle for the Princess. Who accepted them with a smile. She went to her room to open them and was surprised at the collection of hair pieces in her favorite colors, new kimonos that were in the most expensive of silks, also fabric of all kinds with all the other sewing things she might want or need, and last a soft bundle at the bottom of the pile. It was like a pillow in the shape of a rabbit; she knew then who had sent this to her. She sat and stared fondly and placed one of the new kimonos on. Her smile grew, and she knew the god of war did have a heart after all.