#but she started pressuring me to do way more time intensive stuff like cleaning the floors and the shower more and just

[indigo]

living with other people really fucking sucks sometimes

[spacegaynsfw]

Alright so. Last night. Good sweet god. First off, this started a few days ago with me admitting to my domme about my developing piss kink followed by talking about working in more humiliation and degradation because I’m here for that. Right? Right. So to start off I’m drinking water like no one’s business. Gotta hydrate. Then I do my edges, which I’m expected to do 25-50 of every day. I’m aiming for 50 since I got out of work early and had time to really get into it. Also, important context, I was wearing a plug all day (yes, at work, I was feeling particularly spicy lmao)

Anywho so I do my edges and call it good, at which point Miss asks where I’m at on a scale of 1-10 with holding and I’m at a solid 7, I’m having to move and bounce a little to keep myself distracted from having to go. Which is, of course, when she has me take one of my toys and fuck myself hard and deep with it. Mind you, I still have this plug in, and there’s only so much room in there for stuff. But I hold it together and I manage to do it for a bit, until she tells me to put clothes pins on my pussy lips and my nipples; four for each lip & three for each tit. Followed by writing “piss whore” on my chest. I do that, of course, and it’s immediately followed by writing “free use” on my thigh near my pussy. Done.

Then Miss has me do two edges by putting my magic wand on high right on my clit, which for one does not take long, but two definitely makes holding a little harder, although the discomfort from the clothes pins is a very effective distraction. She plants a seed in my brain that in the past she’s had subs use piss soaked panties as a gag, and offers it as an option with no pressure since one of my limits is piss drinking. After that short tangent, she has me pull off the clothes pins one by one without opening them (which fuckin hurt, my nipples are still sore this evening but god it was hot). I keep drinking water, and then do two more edges.

Now is when stuff starts getting a little more intense. She has me fuck my pussy again, and it gets to a point where if I keep going and doing what she wants me to do, I will pee. Like I’m at an 8 or a 9. She taunts me a little, then tells me to keep holding. Asking if the little piss slut needs to go, telling me how relieving it would be to go, all that. I tell her again that I am going to pee if I keep fucking myself, and she asks if I’m afraid to make a mess like a dirty little whore. I tell her I am, then she has me put the toy in, close my legs, and hold that way.

At this point I tell her I want to try the panty gag thing.

Maybe it was the horny brain speaking, idk, but I did want to try it. Miss had me pick a pair of panties (I went with a red pair that’s basically a thong so I could get it in my mouth lmao), I took the toy out and put the panties on, then she had me go to the bathroom and stand in the shower with my legs apart. She told me not to go until she said so.

I managed to hold on, though at some point I told her I was really holding but I really had to go. Then she had me get on my knees and send her a video of myself saying I’m a dirty little piss whore. I did that, then she finally let me go, which she also wanted a video of. Of course THAT was when my bladder went “lol” and decided not to want to pee and got like. Camera pee shy I guess? Anyway I did go though & then she got a video of me shoving the piss soaked panties in my mouth.

Finally, to round it all out, she surprisingly let me cum, with the panties still in my mouth of course. Then I showered and got cleaned up n all that, but holy SHIT y’all it was just so??? Like ??? If you’d asked me a month ago if I’d be willing to put piss soaked panties in my mouth I would’ve laughed at you but here we are. And I’d do it again. PLUS then Miss gave me a list of stuff to write on myself before work today (touching up what was already there plus adding desperate, cum whore, please use me, filthy, free head, owned whore, needy slut, and easy bitch) so I’m just. Listen I’m not saying I died and went to humiliation/degradation heaven last night but I’m not not saying that

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[smolcobie]

Juyeon | Exciting Kiss

↪ Summary: Juyeon shows you what’s an exciting kiss feels like.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Suggestive | Making Out | Female Reader | Fluffy

The soft music of the elevator filled the empty space that seemed to only increase their tension there. Juyeon was propped up on the elevator rail while watching you play with the knots of the blue blouse you were wearing.

He took advantage of the occasion to get a better look at you. "She's hot." It was the conclusion that Juyeon came when he saw your black hair falling on your shoulder, the bangs that adorned your sculpted face, your long and shiny brown legs.

You didn't know how to express the way you were feeling. You met Juyeon through tinder, trying to find someone who could help your problems with boys.

Since a cute guy from your class asked you on a date, you felt your head spinning. You didn't know how to kiss or even talk to a guy. That's why you agreed to meet Juyeon, who was coincidentally from the same college as yours.

You texted for a few days until he decided to help you. He gave the offer and you couldn't deny it. He was so charismatic and charming that you accepted the moment he asked for you to come to his house. So now you are in his building, with absolute silence in the elevator.

He came out of the trance when he heard the sound of the elevator opening its doors, indicating that you two finally reached the designed floor. Juyeon got out first taking his key while you followed him from behind.

"Don't mind the mess, I just arrived from a trip 2 days ago." Juyeon commented laughing as he opened the door and revealed the interior of his wonderful home.

"This is what you call a mess?" You laughed "Your house is amazing!"

"Thanks, I always liked clean furniture." He gave a heated laugh walking to the kitchen counter "Do you want something to drink?"

"Only one cup of water is fine." You sat on the large sofa that was extremely soft. You ran your hand over the material, it looked like it was velvet.

'Rich people stuff...' You thought analyzing every detail of the place.

"Here." Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep voice of the boy who sat beside you handing over the glass.

"Thanks." You drank the glass in 5 seconds. It looked like you'd never seen water in your life.

"Were you this thirsty?" He laughed taking the empty glass from you who was nervously holding the hem of your skirt "If you want more, I can get for you." He gently said.

"No need..." You gave an embarrassed laugh "It's just that I'm nervous."

"Why?" He looked at you with curiosity "I told you that I’ll help you."

"It's because I'm embarrassed, you know..." You sighed, leaning your head on the upholstery behind you "It’s just that I'm so pitiful because I can't even talk to a boy... That's why I accepted your offer."

"This is more normal than you think, you don't have to feel pressured about it." He smiled before leaving the glass on the center table of the room "If that consoles you, on my first blind date I accidentally spilled all the ketchup sauce on the girl."

You laughed and covered your mouth as the boy smiled.

"I know, I know. It's very funny now, but at the time she cursed me a lot." He was in a good mood "I'm sorry, I didn't want to laugh, but I imagined the whole scene." You laughed as the boy looked at your shamelessly.

"So... tell me about you." His gaze penetrated to the very last dermis of your skin "Why someone as nice as you single?"

"Well... I don't know." You looked away for a second when you felt your cheeks warming up "I don't have a right answer for that, but I don't think I know how to deal with boys, especially the handsome ones."

"I see..." Juyeon seemed to be interested in everything you said "A boy invited you for a date and you're afraid to miss this chance, right?"

"Yes... well, it's not like he's my soulmate, but I'd like to know that I have one chance, at least, with a boy without screwing it up."

Juyeon watched how your lips moved, the way you fixed your glasses... It seemed to be easier than he thought because he couldn't imagine a universe in which a guy wouldn't like a girl, nice and innocent up to that point.

"Got it." Juyeon approached you slightly, removing your glasses putting them on the table "So, do you want to start now?" He gave a sweet smile after wetting his lips quickly with his tongue "I've got nothing to do now. I'm free to do whatever you wanna do."

You froze, felt your throat close, and your heart puncture with the boy's phrase. ‘How can he be so direct like that?’ You thought smiling embarrassedly.

"Look, I don't mean to force you to do anything." Juyeon soon realized how nervous you were "The last word is yours, I'm just here to help you with whatever you want."

"Okay, yes, I want to." You spoke with the rest of the courage you had, looking into the boy's black eyes.

He just gave a little laugh through his nose before approaching you as if he was studying your every action.

"Are you sure?" He asked again, receiving only an answering nod.

He smiled to himself before touching your neck with his right palm. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes as if you were afraid to see what would happen there.

Juyeon approached his face by pressing his nose against yours. He realized how tense you were and stepped back a little so he could go more slowly.

"Don't think about it too much, just... relax and let it happen." He stroked your cheek so that he could calm you down. "If you think too much about it, you can't do it."

"Okay." You sighed, took a deep breath trying to calm yourself as you felt Juyeon's fingers trail along the side of your neck, while he gave a shy kiss on your jaw.

When he felt that you relaxed a little more, he dragged his lips from your jaw to the corner of your mouth. He opened his eyes quickly to see your reaction and then smiled at the sight of your pink cheeks, eyes closed tightly and your hands squeezing his shirt.

"Have you ever kissed before?" He asked as he gently kissed your cheek and caressed your neck.

"Yes, but..." You were interrupted when you felt the boy's arm pulling around your waist.

"But?" Juyeon asked you who opened your eyes slightly to face the boy staring at your figure.

"It wasn't an incredible experience, you know?" You looked away. "Like it was just... bland kisses, it wasn't exciting."

"Hum..." Juyeon thought for a moment before whispering in your ear "Do you want an exciting kiss?" His raspy voice made a shiver ran down your spine the moment you heard the boy's thick voice so close to you.

"If you know how to do this, then yes." You spoke comically, trying to mask your nervousness.

"You really don't know me." He laughed through his nose smirking before facing you again.

He looked at your lips and ran his thumb there wanting to feel the texture. You couldn't stand the boy's stare and closed your eyes again trying to calm down.

Wasting no more time, he pecked you. He saw how red you was, so he tried again.

And again, again and again.

More and more he stayed a little longer. He felt your soft lips against him, getting used to your taste.

He in no time approached your body, pushing your body backward making your back hit on the soft couch.

You opened your eyes nervously but soon calmed down when you saw Juyeon fix the little strands of your hair that were spread all over your face.

"Relax, today we're just going to kiss." He said before bending down and fitting his face to your neck.

You felt butterflies arise deep down in your stomach as you wondered 'What did he mean by only 'today'? What could happen in the future?’ But soon your thoughts were dispelled when you felt his lips again.

This time with more strength, more intensity, and more desire. You’re tall, but when you felt Juyeon's tall body on top of yours, you felt small for the first time in your life.

You felt bold and put your arms around the boy's neck, pulling him close. He hugged your waist and tightened it even more as he distributed kisses over your collarbone.

You sank your fingers into the boy's hair, who smiled. He came over and gave one last kiss, slow and deep as if he wanted to reward you for being so patient and cute.

You could feel the taste of his tongue sighing into his mouth and shivered when he gave a little moan.

Juyeon slowed down and gave quick pecks before facing you who was all red and with marked lips.

"Did you like it, beautiful?" Juyeon questioned while you tried to calm down your own breathing.

"Yes." You replied shyly, smiling before feeling the boy's lips on the corner of your neck.

“Are you hungry? I can order something if you want.” Juyeon asked while silently hoping you wouldn't realize how much he enjoyed being this intimate with you.

"I'm fine, but if you want to, you can order something." You replied but your insides actually wanted to continue the brief actions they were doing just a few moments ago.

"Okay then, I'm going to order pizza and you can tell me more about yourself." Juyeon reluctantly got up from the couch before giving you another peck and smiling broadly "I want to know everything about you."

"I'll only tell you if you tell me about yourself too." You stood up, fixing your clothes and hair.

"So we have a deal." Juyeon replied before going after his cell phone and calling the pizzeria.

At that moment, you knew this was a terrible idea. Because you'd enjoyed kissing Juyeon more than you should have.

▪︎

▪︎

MASTERLIST

[storiesforallfandoms]

nothing left ~ 10k;z nation

word count: 2229

request?: no

description: he accompanies her back to her childhood home to find nothing left besides the memories of times before the zombies, and they decide to leave some new memories there

pairing: 10k x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

(Y/N) kept a straight face as they drove past the sig with her hometown’s name displayed in bold, black letters against the stark white background. It was the first time she had been there since she and her parents had escaped during the initial Z outbreak. Since then, she had lost everything, but managed to find a new family within the small group that took her in.

They came to a stop at an empty parking lot of an abandoned supermarket. Everyone got out, weapons in tow.

“This place is a ghost town,” Doc commented.

“Almost everyone vacated when the infection started,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t even think there would be any Zs here. It’s probably only been ransacked lately.”

“It’s the only town for miles, it’s our best bet for resources,” Warren said. “We search the place where we can and see what we can find.” She turned to (Y/N) to add, “Do you want to go home? Just to see the place if nothing else?”

(Y/N) was dying to get home, but she didn’t want anyone on the team to see her as weak or fragile. Although she knew they wouldn’t think any different of her if she did show some weakness, in this day and age, your biggest threat was to be perceived as weak to anyone.

Before she could respond, 10k spoke up. “I think you should. It’ll give you a break from everything, and you can be closer to your parents for even just a moment.”

(Y/N) had a hard time saying no to 10k, especially when parents were involved. She knew he wanted nothing more than to be close to his own father again, but, like (Y/N), 10k hadn’t been home in nearly a year. He didn’t even know if his own home was still standing. If she turned down this opportunity that she knew 10k wanted so bad in front of him, she’d never forgive herself.

“It would be nice,” she admitted.

“You go then honey,” Warren said, her voice soft and kind. “10k, you go with her for protection. Meet us back here before sundown. We’ll wait a little while, but not too long.”

The two youngest members left in the opposite direction of the group. (Y/N) led 10k down the still familiar roads. They weren’t too far from the house and, before she knew it, (Y/N) was stood in front of her childhood home. Her eyes widened at the sight of it.

All the windows were smashed and the door was practically ripped off of the hinges. They entered with weapons raised in case of a Z attack. (Y/N)’s heart broke to see the place ransacked and destroyed. Every picture her parents had hung were smashed to pieces. Only one remained partially in tact, one of (Y/N) and her parents when she was barley a year old. They were on their first vacation as a family to visit someone in another state. The picture was of the three of them on the beach together. Baby (Y/N) was in her mother’s arms, taken by the sand in her tiny hands while her parents were smiling brightly at the camera.

10k looked over her shoulder as her eyes began to water. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“I got that a lot,” she said. “We were basically twins. Dad said I got lucky with mom’s genes.”

She held the picture close to her chest as she moved up the stairs to where the bedrooms and main bathroom was. Whoever had broken in must’ve found what they wanted on the first floor because the bedrooms were relatively untouched. Every poster and picture (Y/N) had on her walls were still there. Her old laptop was even still there, although she doubted that it worked anymore.

“It’s weird,” she said. “It feels like I’ve been gone for years, but this room looks exactly the way I left it, like not a day has past.”

“Anything here you want to take with you?” 10k asked.

(Y/N) shook her head. “I took most of the important stuff when we left first. There’s nothing but memories here now.”

She was so lost in her own thoughts - memories of when things were good - that she didn’t hear 10k leave the room to walk into the bathroom until he spoke again. “The water still runs.”

She walked into the bathroom to find clean water running from the tap. She put a hand under the water, feeling it go from freezing cold to comfortably warm in seconds.

“The power and stuff must still be running,” she said. “Good news for us. I haven’t showered in ages.”

“You think it’s safe?” 10k asked, but (Y/N) was already placing her weapons on the bathroom counter and shedding herself of her top layers.

“I’m willing to take one for the team if it means I’ll be clean when I die,” she joked. “You can watch the door and make sure no Zs or no more looters come in. I’ll leave my gun close enough that I can use it if need be.”

10k nodded. Before he could get the chance to turn back on, (Y/N) grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. For a split second, 10k saw the black bra she was wearing. It was old and worn, probably one of the only ones she had left. Due to this, it was basically falling apart, so when he got a brief glance of the bra, he also got a glance of one of her breasts.

10k’s eyes widened as he quickly turned his back so that (Y/N) didn’t know. He stood in the doorway, listening over the sound of the shower running for any indication of someone, or something, breaking into the house.

The warm water running over (Y/N) caused her to let out a moan of relief. It had been so long since she had properly bathed. The warm water of the familiar shower felt like heaven to her.

Outside the shower, 10k was shuffling awkwardly. He and (Y/N) had been close since they had first met, but they had only ever viewed each other as friends and Z fighting colleagues. He didn’t understand why he was starting to have this feeling about her. Maybe it was just boy hormones and the fact that she was a naked girl just a few feet away from him. But it felt like more than that. Maybe it had always been more than that but he was just afraid to admit it.

Before he could stop himself, 10k silently placed his gun next to hers on the toilet cover. He began to shed himself of his own clothes, working quickly and quietly as to not disturb her. (Y/N) had her head back with the water running over her hair and body when 10k pulled the curtain back and stepped in. She opened her eyes to look at him, shocked by his sudden appearance. She looked him up and down for a moment, her face giving away nothing.

“Gotta save water,” 10k said, trying to lighten the mood.

A smile broke out across (Y/N)’s face as a small giggle came from her lips. “Come here, 10k.”

She put a hand on the back of his neck at the same time that his hands found her waist. Their lips collided and it felt like the most right thing in the terrible, fucked up world around them. 10k’s lips moved against (Y/N)’s perfectly, as if they were supposed to be there, to be kissing her so deeply. His hands wandered over her dripping body, touching every inch of her soft skin with his calloused hands.

(Y/N) let out a sudden squeal as 10k lifted her effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was shocked at his strength. Sure, he wasn’t as scrawny and wimpy as he may have looked, but he certainly wasn’t the strongest person in the world. He’s just full of surprises, (Y/N) noted as his lips connected with hers again.

His hard boner was against her aching core, teasing her ever so slightly with every gently brush against her. She whimpered against his lips when she felt him brush against her opening, trying to ground her hips against his to feel her inside of him. Knowing that she wanted this as much as he did made him even more turned on. He was almost afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make this moment last long enough.

He helped to guide her down onto his hard length, causing (Y/N) to gasp as he filled her entirely.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked her, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what (Y/N)’s sexual past was like.

“No,” she responded, her voice breathless and airy. “I just haven’t had sex in a very long time. I forgot how good it felt.”

10k smiled at her and pressed his lips against hers again. He pressed her back against the nearest wall and slowly began to thrust himself into her. (Y/N)’s back arched against the wall, trying to get as close to 10k as she possibly could.

He was slow and gentle, which drove (Y/N) even more wild. She held on around his neck as if her life depended on it, moaning and gasping against his lips with every thrust he pushed into her. She could barley even think straight, her mind focusing only on the pleasure that 10k was providing her.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Sweet 10k, always thinking of the comfort of others, even when he was in the middle of the most intense shower sex (Y/N) had ever had.

“It’s more than alright,” she responded. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

10k had heard (Y/N) swearing many times, but hearing the expletive word slip from her breathless voice in that moment drove him wild. He rested his head against her shoulder, groaning as he pushed his hips against hers again, filling her completely.

“You feel so good,” he told her. “You’re so soft and warm, fuck.”

“Who would’ve thought that sweet 10k had a dirty side?” (Y/N) giggled.

“You must not know me well enough, then.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

Her thought was cut short as 10k pulled almost completely out of her then filled her again. Her mind was clouded with lust as she tried to rock her hips against his, begging for the release she wanted.

Noticing her desperation, 10k wrapped one arm around her lower back and slipped his free hand between them. (Y/N) gasped as his fingers connected with her swollen nerves and began to rub circles in them. She could feel a familiar pressure building inside of her. She clung to 10k’s shoulders, curses falling from her mouth in between moans of pleasure. Her legs began to shake as she felt herself hitting her climax. She threw her head back and called 10k’s name - his real name - in pleasure.

Feeling her walls contracting around him caused 10k to feel his own climax approaching. He held on to her hips as his thrusts became a little faster. Before he knew it, his eyes were nearly rolling back into his head as he felt himself filling her with his warm cum. The feeling of the warmth inside of her was enough to almost turn (Y/N) on again.

They stayed tangled together for a moment, completely forgetting about the running water cascading down onto them. It wasn’t until the warm water started to turn cold that they realized it was probably time for the two of them to get out.

Luckily for them, whoever looted the house also didn’t think to take any of the towels in the upstairs linen closet, so they had a way to dry themselves off. Before she started pulling her clothes on, 10k wrapped his arms around (Y/N) again and kissed her exposed shoulders and neck before placing one last sweet kiss against her lips.

“We should tell the others about the running water,” he said as he pulled his clothes back on. “If this place is relatively Z-less, we could probably get away with staying here for a while.”

“We’ve stayed in worst looking places,” (Y/N) agreed. “I’m sure everyone else is dying to clean themselves, too. There’s enough room for everyone to sleep with all the bedrooms and the couch downstairs.”

The reminder of the wreckage when they first entered caused a melancholy mood to wash over (Y/N) again. Noticing this, 10k brought her into his arms and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry about your house,” he said. “I’m sorry someone did this to you, that they took all the memories of this place.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “They didn’t take the memories. No one could ever take that from this place. Besides, I’d like to make some new memories here...with you.”

10k smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I think we’ve already started with that.”

(Y/N) giggled and pulled away from him. “Let’s go find everyone to tell them before they leave us abandoned.”

[trashytummiez]

Harley’s cooking may be overboard to poor Ivy but to Ivy, she wouldn’t said no to Harley’s cooking

"Whadduya think Red?" Harley Quinn eagerly asked Poison Ivy who was in the middle of eating some very heavy pasta she had just finished cooking.

Ivy didn't know what to expect since Harley had never actually cooked for the two of them before. But to her shock not only was Harley's cooking good but it was downright irresistible. It was legitimately hard for Ivy to put the fork down once she'd gotten started eating. After her plate was finished Ivy huffed and wiped her mouth clean. "Dude. Harl! You know I'm not the type to blow smoke up your ass unless we're talking poetry slams."

"Which ya said I was really good at."

"Right. Well this is legitimately some restaurant quality cooking."

Harley's eyes lit up when she heard that and she squealed like the biggest fan girl meeting her biggest celebrity crush in real life. She rushed into the kitchen and much to Ivy's surprise reveals she had cooked a hell of a lot more than a few plates. Harley returns with a giant pot of pasta that leaves Ivy's eyes widened in shock.

"...Holy shit," she utters. "I don't even own any industrial-sized pots."

"I found it the other day!" Harley merrily exclaimed then loaded Ivy's plate with more pasta. "An' now that I know ya love my cookin' so much it's a good thing I did!"

Poison Ivy looked on back at Harley and the huge pot filled to the brim with pasta. But upon seeing that proud happy smile on her girlfriends face Ivy sighed to herself and resumed eating.

She got a little into it again once she started eating some more because the stuff really did taste excellent. But pasta wasn't light. One full plate alone had already left Ivy feeling comfortably full. Barely into her second plate the "comfortable" part had been thrown out the window to just a blunt fullness in her stomach.

Poison Ivy's tummy just felt heavy the more she ate but she soldiered on anyway because not only did the pasta taste good but she simply couldn't deny Harley when she looked so eager.

But it wasn't getting easier.

Ivy continued forcing herself to eat with every time she finished a plate having more pasta just merrily dumped on top of it courtesy of Harley Quinn. And Ivy could eat but she certainly didn't have quite as intense an appetite as Harley did. She wasn't used to eating quite as much quite as frequently.

Still despite the increasing weight she felt in her expanding tummy Ivy continued stuffing more and more pasta down her throat.

In doing so her slim lean tummy began to expand out and tighten around her now ill-fitting leather jacket. And the more Ivy continued to eat the more bloated she became. It felt like there was a big solid rock sitting in her stomach and only getting bigger and heavier the more she continued eating Harley's pasta.

A couple more plates in and Ivy stopped to rub her belly with one hand and moan in discomfort. It felt so tight against her jacket which was stretched out to the point where it barely fit her tummy anymore.

"Unf...oh man..." Poison Ivy muttered in groggy fashion. Then she brought a fist to her lips and released a big closed mouth burp that puffed her cheeks a little and left her huffing the gas out to the side.

"Cmon Red don't quit on me now! We're only halfway in!" Harley eagerly exclaimed and dumped more pasta onto Ivy's plate.

"Unnngh Harl. Don't you think maybe you oughta help yourself to this? You...nrmf...did a great job after all."

"Naw I made this all fer you silly!"

Poison Ivy blinked slowly.

"...You shouldn't have."

But she did and because of that Poison Ivy continued on despite noisy gurgly protests from her stuffed tummy.

She continued stuffing more of Harley's pasta down her throat but taking longer to actually chew and gulp each mouthful down. The fact is Poison Ivy was immensely full at this point and continuing to eat only earned her more gurgling ire from her increasingly stuffed belly. It grew so big that Ivy's jacket was actually riding up and revealing the bottom of Ivy's green bloated tummy.

So after getting a few plates in Ivy groaned miserably and decided to make it a little easier by unbuttoning her tight green pants. Once that was done she unzipped her jacket and instantaneously her belly spilled out with a hefty slosh and almost making Poison Ivy look pregnant. The movement upset the pressure in Ivy's belly and forced her to let out a burp so big that Killer Croc would've been green(er) with envy.

BUUUUUUUUURRRRRREEEEEEEEEYYYIIIIIHP!!!!!

Harley whistled with a slight blush on her cheeks. "Damn! Nice one Red!"

Poison Ivy groaned and slumped in her chair relieved from both getting that burp out and having nothing restraining her heavy rounded belly. She placed both hands atop her big green tummy and ran them up and down with a weary moan.

"Unnnngh...I'm so full..." Ivy moaned. She paused in the middle of her rubbing to release another closed mouth burp that rumbled deeply in her cheeks for a few seconds.

"Almost done!" Harley exclaimed and filled Poison Ivy's plate up with even more pasta.

Ivy looked like her face grew a shade greener.

Her belly groaned a sick acidic gurgle of protest.

But when she looked up in those big hopeful eyes of her bleached girlfriend it was just too much to say no. So against what little good judgement Poison Ivy had she ate and ate. Every plate made her belly feel unbearably heavy as it grew rounder and pushed her green pants down a little bit more.

Poison Ivy's large tummy emitted deeply gaseous gurgles so noisy that even Harley could hear Ivy's belly expressing its dismay. But Ivy kept eating anyway despite that. Her tummy grew heavier and more stretched out getting so big she had to spread her thighs out so it could breathe a little. And still she ate.

By the time she'd finished Poison Ivy was so bloated that she looked as if she swallowed a medicine ball. That's how massive her belly had become.

"Wow! Ya did it Red! Ya really ate every single bite!" Harley exclaimed happily.

Poison Ivy responded with a gigantic burp that made the table rattle and her massive tummy ripple.

BBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHPPP!!!!!!!!!

Harley laughed and blushed at the same time with approval. "Atta girl!"

Poison Ivy just slumped back in her chair and moaned. "Unnngh...dude...my stomach feels like it's gonna burst..." Ivy said moments before uttering another big throat rattling burp. She was so stuffed she couldn't hold them in or muffle the gas in anymore if she tried. And her belly was so heavy that she couldn't even get out of her chair. Not that she had any desire of moving right in that moment.

So Harley Quinn pulled a chair right next to her girlfriend and started rubbing her enormous green belly for her. Ivy's belly felt as hard as a rock. It was so heavy and so full that there was barely any give to it. Her tummy was stuffed taut as a drum and as noisy as a mob run chemical plant.

Still, Ivy uttered a pleasured moan when Harley's fingers ran across her agonizingly heavy tummy. There was so much pasta stuffed inside of her that Ivy's stomach was working overtime just to digest it all. But even with how heavy and overworked her tummy was, Harley's touch was utterly sensational.

Harley knew all the buttons to push from having her own tummy rubbed constantly by Ivy. She lovingly stroked Ivy's sides back and forth. Then she gently ran her hands up the highest peak of Ivy's big round tummy and all the way down to her pelvic area gently kneading into Ivy's lower tummy.

Her fingers kneaded into that tight hard flesh but a little pressure went a long way towards easing the tension Harley felt in Ivy's belly.

And with how stuffed and big it was Harley couldn't help pat Ivy's belly a few times to savor the feeling and the sound of the thumps her hand made. It was like she was patting a really really big pumpkin. The pats made another burp roll up Ivy's throat. At first she tried to muffle it in her mouth but it was so big that it blew past her lips and hand anyway.

mmmMMRRUUUUUURRRHOOOOOORRRAAAAAHP!!!!!

"C'mon ya can do better than that," Harley insisted. She placed her palm over Ivy's shallow belly button then she pressed down on Ivy's tummy a little harder to get a huge gassy burp to bellow out of Ivy's mouth instead.

BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHPP!!!!!!!!

Poison Ivy huffed and grunted. She felt another one bubbling up her throat and thumped her fist against her perky chest to get it out.

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRHP!!!!!

Harley blushed and lovingly kissed Ivy's big round tummy. "Ya did so so good Red. Thanks fer likin' my cookin' so much."

"Well I know you cooked it with your crazy love, Harl." Ivy smiled a lazy drunken smile and gave her belly a few proud pats. "And as it turns out...BUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!! Ungh...love is pretty fucking filling..."

[thisisthehardestthing]

18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun​​

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

:)

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. 

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up– 

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back. 

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips. 

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat. 

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock. 

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you. 

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

 “You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?” 

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it. 

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.

[brutal-nemesis]

Getting Tortured by a Ghost 😳

If you remember the tags on this post, you know what’s about to go down :)

Character Picrews

Ingredients: spooky ghost shenanigans, implied mistreatment of mental hospital patients (really just funky spooky messed up mental hospital stuff), tooth pulling, temporary paralyzation, noncon stripping/clothes change, needles

Honestly, Finn didn’t mind the dare. He’d never scared easily, and he was actually excited to get to spend the night exploring the abandoned mental hospital. The multiple reports of hauntings didn’t faze him; all that stuff was bogus. He was more afraid of getting caught trespassing than he was of creaking doors and gusts of wind. 

The place absolutely had the look of a generic haunted building, hallways filled with abandoned, dusty objects and rooms cluttered with debris. He wandered around, his bright flashlight making it easy to see in the dark building. He was on the second floor now, walking down a long hallway lined with doors. On a whim, he opened one and stepped inside.

The room must have been for examination or something of the sort. There was a padded chair sort of like you’d see at the dentist in the center of the room, with cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Finn looked inside a few and wasn’t surprised to see rusty tools intended for...something medical. He assumed. Turning around, he looked at the chair again. You know what, it would be a good spot for one of the selfies he was supposed to take every hour or so to prove he’d stayed the whole night. Shrugging off his bag, he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the chair. 

When it was about as clean as it was going to get, Finn plopped down and pulled out his phone. After finding a good angle that showed off the room, too, he put on his most confident smirk and took the picture. He briefly glanced at the photo to make sure it was good and went to put his phone back in his pocket. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to miss his pocket completely and ended up dropping his phone on the ground. Signing, he bent over the edge of the chair to pick it up, but while doing this, he noticed something...odd.

There were strips of leather dangling from the edges of the chair. They had holes, like a belt would. But what were they...Finn jumped up out of the chair, backing away from it in horror. Now that he looked at them, those were definitely for...for…strapping someone down. To think that people, very sick people, but people nonetheless, had been restrained here was...frightening. Not because that magically meant that their ghosts were going to manifest, but because something awful had happened here. He collected his belongings quickly, wanting to get away from the unsettling chair. 

But right as he was about to start walking out, the door slammed closed. All on its own.

No, no, there was an explanation, it was drafty in here, the doors in his house had done that sometimes if he had a window open or something. He’d be able to open it just fine, reach for the handle, twist, and pull...pull…pull...

Why wasn’t it opening it’s like it was bolted shut from the other side but these doors didn’t have those kind of locks at least he thought so maybe they did and he didn’t notice and it had locked by accident he’d be fine someone would come looking for him in the morning he’d be fi-

Behind him, the lights flickered on. Lights that weren’t supposed to be working because this building hadn’t had power in decades. He had to be dreaming at this point, there was no way this was real, maybe there was some weird gas leaking in somewhere and he was hallucinating because this can’t be real this can’t be real. But, to be sure the light wasn’t really on...

Finn stifled a cry of surprise as he saw the room behind him. It had become completely spotless, everything in fantastic repair, gleaming metal tools laid out on the countertops, the chair no longer losing stuffing. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, no it was the woman standing next to the chair, dressed as a nurse with a clipboard in her hand, smiling at him warmly.

“Good evening, Mr. Waltersson. Won’t you please sit down?” 

“How do you know my-you’re not real.” Finn gripped his flashlight tightly to keep his hands from shaking as he backed up into the door. “You’re not real and I’m not sitting in that fucking chair.”

“Now, now, that won’t do, Mr. Waltersson,” the nurse tutted. “You need to sit down so we can get started on your treatment.”

“I don’t need treatment I’m not a patient here and this place is abandoned and this isn’t real.” 

“Those delusions of yours will need to be corrected,” the nurse muttered as she wrote on her clipboard. “And you,” she looked up, pointing at him, “need to sit down.”

And in that instant, Finn found himself sitting in that infernal chair. He tried to get up, run away, anything, but he found he couldn’t move a muscle. “Wh-what the fuck let me go-”

“Patient resisted treatment and had to be restrained,” The nurse said as she wrote, waving a hand towards the chair. Finn looked on in horror as the leather straps rose up all by themselves and slowly started to encircle him. He commanded his body to move, to squirm, to get away before it was too late, but it stayed impossibly still. He could only watch as the straps slowly tightened around him, first his ankles, then his thighs, then his wrists, and then his chest. He felt a final one slither over his forehead, and right after it had tightened, he found he could move again. He struggled and squirmed desperately, but the straps wouldn’t give. He was trapped.

“There we go. Now let’s get you changed and the treatment can start.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear.

“You can’t-you can’t do this to me this isn’t real-”

“Isn’t it?” She was looking right at him, and for the first time he saw her eyes, or lack thereof, gaping coal black voids that bored right into him. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Finn’s clothes were gone, replaced with a flimsy hospital gown. He shivered in the sudden chill, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

“What the fu-give me my clothes back!” 

“We wouldn’t want to get blood on them, now would we?”

“Blood-you can’t hurt me you’re not real!” Finn wasn’t sure if he was protesting or trying to reassure himself at this point, but it didn’t matter, because this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He’d snap out of it soon, he was sure of it, because she was going to try to hurt him and it wouldn’t work because you can’t feel pain in dreams, as real as the leather straps and hospital gown felt, they weren’t real, they weren’t, and he was going to wake up from this awful nightmare soon.

“Let’s begin the treatment, shall we?” The woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and Finn flinched at the snap they made. “You need to make peace with reality, Mr. Waltersson, and this will help you with that.” She waved a finger, and a scalpel levitated off the counter and started to approach Finn’s arm. He tried his best to remain calm, reminding himself that she couldn’t hurt him because this was all just in his head.

The cold tip of the scalpel pressed into the flesh of his arm, fuck it felt so real, and as it started to move downwards, slicing into him, he couldn’t help but gasp at the pain because there was pain it was real this was real but no no it couldn’t be there’s no such thing as ghosts but how, how else could this be happening to him? The scalpel made multiple cuts in his arm, each one burning more than the last.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Waltersson? Ready to accept reality yet?” The nurse leaned over him, a deceptively warm smile on her face.

“This isn’t-just because this hurts doesn’t mean it’s real. I-I could have been injured some other way and my brain is trying to justify it because there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “It looks like you’ll need something more...intense. But before that…” she reached out to touch him, but her hand passed right through, filling the area with an unbearable cold. She laughed darkly and sat right on top of his lap, passing through him but not the chair. All he ended up feeling was a horrible icy chill and a slight pressure. 

“Get off of me. Real nurses don’t do this, anyway,” Finn growled, trying to disguise his fear and discomfort.

“The rules stopped applying to me a long time ago, Mr. Waltersson. In fact, I don’t know if they ever did.” Finn’s skin crawled as her gloved hand traced up along his body, leaving a trail of icy cold in its wake. It settled around his throat, the cold and pressure making it slightly difficult for him to breathe. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. But I suppose that makes it more fun for me. I’ve always liked the feisty ones.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear. If this woman was a ghost, had she...had she treated patients like this? The thought terrified him more than his current, very much not-real predicament did. 

At least, until he saw a pair of pliers floating towards him, the nurse smiling at him as they did. “Open wide.” He clamped his mouth shut tightly, fruitlessly trying to turn his head away. She sighed, and he soon felt the pliers pinch his nose shut, making it impossible for him to breathe. Finn held out for as long as he could, but eventually he caved, opening his mouth and gulping in air to relieve his burning lungs. The pliers wormed into his mouth, clamping one of his lower molars in their jaws.

All the while, the nurse watched him with a sick smile on her face, her aura of warm professionalism starting to disappear. Finn whined, hyperventilating as the pliers began to yank at his tooth. He’d needed to have a tooth pulled as a kid, so the intense pressure was familiar, but the accompanying pain was something horribly, horribly new. It exploded in his mouth when the tooth finally came out, and he felt tears leak from his eyes. This...this was far too intense to be anything but reality. The ghost laughed maniacally, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his own cries. 

When he had started to calm down, she leaned in, her face right in front of his. “Well, Mr. Waltersson, do you understand now?”

“I-I understand that you’re a sadistic bitch,” Finn said as blood dripped from his mouth. He tried to spit it in her face, but it passed right through and ended up all over the gown. She just smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The fear behind your bravado is all too obvious.” She stood and waved a hand, summoning a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Let’s get you taken care of, then.” The bottle unscrewed itself and dumped part of its contents on Finn’s injured arm. The wounds lit up with a horrible, stinging pain, and he fought the urge to scream. He tried to stay as still as possible as a bandage wound around his arm, just wanting to get this nightmare over with. 

His resolve faltered as a syringe floated into view, already filled with...something.

“W-wait no what the fuck is in that thing don’t you dare-”

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s just a sedative. Come and play with me again, won’t you, Finnegan?” She placed her hand in his as the needle slid into the crook of his elbow, injecting its contents into his veins.

“I abso...lutely...will…not…” he gasped as he slid into unconsciousness.

Finn jolted awake what felt like seconds later, so startled to find himself still in the chair that he fell out of it. He stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, his mind racing. That...that hadn’t fucking happened, had it? He was back in his own clothes, thank God, but his arm and lower jaw were in a suspicious amount of pain. He reached with his tongue, and...his tooth was gone. He stood and carefully pulled off his hoodie to find his arm bloodied and bandaged. So then...that was all real, the pain and the chair and the straps and the pliers and the ghost nurse and her horribly empty eyes.

A terrible thought formed in the back of his mind. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands, going to the photo app. There, in the selfie he took right before everything went to shit...it was faint, but there was definitely someone standing behind him. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, it was the photo that was taken after it. 

It was of him, lying in the chair, still restrained and wearing the bloodied hospital gown, very much unconscious.

He finally let himself scream.

Tags because y’all said 👀👀: @spookyboywhump @befuddled-calico-whump

[baepsaetan]

Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 1

Amazing banner credit to @joonscore​​

Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Wordcount: 6.1k

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.

Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.

Ao3 Link: here

A/N: This took me a disgustingly long time to complete, but I’ve limped to the finish line! I wouldn’t have got there without @ditttiii​​, who helped me talk through an early version of the fic. Also major thanks to my beta @birbdae​​ for cleaning up this long piece! 

Is there anything he loves more than stepping into a club for the first time? The easy answer is yes, but in the moment – in the present – right now – Hoseok can’t give the easy answer. Shoving through the door is like plunging into water, waves of heavy bass surging against him as he submerges into the half-remembered music and suddenly warm air. The change in temperature is a welcome relief after the cold outside and only serves to reinforce the sensation of entering a thicker atmosphere. Breathing in against the sudden pressure, Hoseok does a grateful little skip as he pulls off his beanie and gloves.

Next to him, Taehyung laughs, the deep sound competing with the heavy music beating at Hoseok’s eardrums. “Not even on the dance floor and you’re already starting?”

Tossing his head to get his dark hair out of his face, Hoseok grins. “That suggests I ever stopped.” He hadn’t. Not really. Once you start to dance – to inhale the music and turn it into pure, unadulterated movement – you don’t really take a break. You just… slow down, sometimes.

His companion grins, a boxy affair with no ridicule in it. And why should there be? Taehyung is a dancer, too, and a helluva good one, if Jimin and Jungkook are to be believed. (They usually aren’t, but in the case of a possible new crewmember, Hoseok is willing to lend a little belief.) He’s known Tae for a year now, since Taehyung became friends with Jungkook in one of their classes and started hanging out with the crew, but it wasn’t until a week or so ago that Kookie persuaded him to show off his stuff. Apparently, in the past, there’d been some kind of accident that stopped Taehyung from dancing, yet according to Jimin and Jungkook, that hadn’t shown at all when he finally broke out in front of them.

Hoseok will see the truth for himself soon enough, anyways; it’s not like they came to the recently opened club to just stand around. His eyes flick eagerly at the thought, scoping the place out.

It’s pretty packed, and given how huge a club it is, that’s saying something. This is one of those open area concepts, all sprawling space with two bars pushed off to the corners, and a much smaller upper area, almost an oversized balcony. On the far side of the club there’s a DJ booth that’s swarming with people in front of it, so much so that he can’t see through the crowd to whoever is getting them so pumped. And there are more people streaming in by the second; he and Taehyung have had to shuffle to the side several times since they stepped inside, and by now they’re almost plastered against the wall. That would have been disappointing, except that according to Jin, on Saturdays the floor gets cleared at around 11 and the serious dancers get to have a go at it for a while.

In the meantime… Spotting a gap in the crush of bodies, Hoseok takes his chance and darts almost seamlessly through, throwing over his shoulder as he does so, “You want something to drink?”

His companion follows, albeit more slowly. Not that Hoseok can blame him; Taehyung is broader than he is, making knocked shoulders and collisions almost an inevitability. When Hoseok makes it to the nearest bar, he’s left the other behind.

It gives him plenty of time to hover around the edges, admiring the form of the bartender, who puts Taehyung’s shoulders to shame. The man in question isn’t exactly the picture of grace – not like those in Hoseok’s crew – but his energy is so loud, so vibrant, that it makes up for nearly dropped glasses and a few hesitations as he mixes the drinks for various customers. The breathtaking smile helps; the way he goes from 1 to 100 the second anyone tries to complain about the wait time probably helps, too.

Red-faced and outraged, he’s chewing out some poor guy for that exact offense when Hoseok finally finds room to sidle up to the front of the bar. “And if you think I’m making you another Manhattan after that comment, you can stick it straight up – oh. Hey, Hobi!”

The offender slinks away as Hoseok shakes his head in mock seriousness. “Is Namjoon paying you to bartend or to insult customers?” he shouts over the deep resonance that’s currently more a feeling shuddering across the floor than a sound.

Jin’s indignation doesn’t fade so much as evaporate entirely. Blinking with easy complacency, a small smile playing across his face, he turns and begins prepping the order a girl apologetically yells at him. “Just to bartend. The insults I give for free.”

“Wow, a star employee.” Fake seriousness dissolving into something more real, he asks, “Will Namjoon be around tonight? I wanted to ask him about the competition the club is hosting.”

It takes a few moments to reply, Jin’s hands and concentration caught in the mixing profession before he pulls himself away. “Not until a lot later, if at all,” the bartender replies eventually. “He’s looking after Remi tonight, so if he comes it’ll be after she goes to sleep. And can you imagine Joon leaving her alone?”

“No,” Hobi admits. Namjoon dotes on his daughter so much (the few times a month that he gets her) that it would be a miracle if he showed up tonight. Which is a little inconvenient for Hoseok, but the vague annoyance is buried under the reminder that being a good dad comes before being a good club owner.

He stands in fidgeting silence – silence surrounded by sound and people – for a few moments, playing with the studded collar of his black jacket, watching Jin work, and trying to enjoy the music. Taehyung must have been caught by someone, which is fine and not unsurprising given that it’s Tae. However, the absence of his companion, and with Jin mostly absorbed in his drinks, has mild anxiety trickling under Hoseok’s heels and through his fingertips. He rocks on the former and drums the latter against the sleek black leather of his pants in an attempt to drive the restlessness out. It doesn’t work particularly well, but automatically he finds himself adjusting his movements to the rhythm of the bass, and the focus required does help.

Each song is mixed so well, there’s no weird or awkward moment for his concentration to snag on, and the transitions are seamless, so smooth that the DJ must have curated this tracklist with individual attention to each end and beginning. Not unheard of, exactly, but certainly a pleasure when compared to many of the jarring amateur attempts Hoseok has been subjected to before. Last they’d talked, Namjoon had mentioned he was looking to hire another DJ for his new club, and if this is the man… well, Hoseok just hopes he’ll be the same guy who’s doing their dance competition, too. Another question – or request – to throw Joon’s way the next time they meet.

He’s just about to resign himself to submerging back into the crowd in search of Taehyung when the boy in question pops up, all teeth and warm apology. “Sorry, hyung! I saw a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, and you were so far ahead already I didn’t think I could call you back, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit so I paused and then I’d lost you and –”

“Don’t sweat it.” It’s always been a marvel to Hoseok that such a rambling and excited apology could sound sincere, but Taehyung makes it work one hundred percent. “Let me grab you something. What do you drink?”

“Oh, well, I like whiskey sours, but you don’t have to –”

“Whiskey it is.” As he turns away, Taehyung’s surprised expression isn’t lost on Hoseok. Yeah, he isn’t often this direct, but the young man’s never seen him at dance practice and besides, the music is scraping under his skin, rubbing his bones the wrong way in the best way possible. It’s forcing him into a different form.

Suiting word to deed, he returns to the bar, puts in Tae’s request along with his own. Like a cheerful despot towering behind his counter walls, Jin takes the order before other people’s, waving off the muted outrage of his customers with shameless ease. It’s good to see his relatively new job hasn’t reformed him too much; it’s not that Jin’s ever actively rude or cruel. but he just has one pace, and that pace is his own.

For all that Hoseok admires that quality in his friend, it still has him flushing and ducking his head apologetically at the accusing looks. He’s quick to grab the drinks, but when he tries to shove money at Jin, the other man waves him off. “My treat,” the bartender calls. “When you all start dancing, everyone’s going to get thirsty and I’m going to be getting tons of tips!” His laughter quickly spikes too high to be heard in this crowd, but he’s still laughing as Hoseok, even more flushed, winds through the press of bodies with the glasses held high.

When he reaches Taehyung, his companion just sips his drink, but Hoseok downs his. The burn down his throat is no more intense than the burn he feels building in his muscles. A different kind of heat.

He finds himself shifting, his body beginning to ache with impatience. Tae is an entertaining person, but Hoseok's restlessness is blazing through his concentration, leaving cinders in its wake, and words of any kind – no matter how entertaining – are a poor thing in comparison. While he's always eager to move when at the club, this is a new level of agitation, a heightened awareness of the sounds and heavy ambience, and at first, he doesn't know what has him so on edge.

They talk some more, just waiting, really, for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive. Taehyung doesn't have a car and Hoseok had agreed to drive him, and Jimin was going to drive Jungkook after a late class. They should be here within half an hour or so, though in the meantime Tae, ever obliging, grabs he and Hoseok two more rounds of drinks. It's while he's grabbing the third round that the impatience becomes less of a hum and more of a howl, and Hoseok grasps with a sudden jolt that it's because of the song that's currently playing.

Whoever is mixing this music is really doing an amazing job; the song modifications, amplifications and beat alignments almost make the atmosphere come alive, and all it needs is an avatar to show off just how much energy it really has. He could be that. He should be that. It’s almost like he and the DJ are in a private conversation, and they’re egging him on, jamming little pinpricks into his joints, demanding he dance.

His mouth is dry – too dry – but that's nothing new when he's in the club, and Hoseok hardly notices it. The next song has just come on, as seamlessly as the last, and with a sharp pang of understanding, Hoseok realizes why he feels so tense, even more so than usual.

This DJ – whoever they are – has similar tastes as Yoongi. The powerful flow of thudding music is creating something in Hoseok, a kind of nostalgic frenzy, and it makes him swallow hard, swallow again with the feeling of shards of glass and regret slipping down his throat. He hasn't heard a DJ who favours reverb and synth choruses so much since the last time he'd guested at one of Yoongi's gigs. How long ago was that? Four years? He can hardly remember.

To remember is absolutely not why Hoseok is here.

"Hyung?" Taehyung says something to him, has said it more than once, to judge by his tone. Hoseok snaps his eyes to the other man's face, his breath abruptly staggered. "Hyung, are you okay?"

"Yeah," and to Hoseok’s ears his voice sounds tinny, strained. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jimin and Jungkook should be here soon, right? I should go grab some alcohol for them."

"Do you wanna take your shot?"

"I will after. Be back in a sec."

"Sure...?" Taehyung's eyes are sharp and probing, uncomfortably and unexpectedly keen, and Hoseok can't remember if he knows about Yoongi. He definitely wouldn't know Yoongi – none of his friends do – because they didn't know Hoseok back then. So – there's no point in explaining. No point in bringing it up. Hoseok swallows again, and walks away, needing to escape. Although he can't escape the music.

He also can't help how his gaze skitters to the DJ booth, there and back again, short looks that can't penetrate the barrier of people crowded around it. It can't be him. It can't. The last time he saw Yoongi...

You didn't come here to remember, he reminds himself savagely.

Jin has seemingly even more customers pestering him than before, and just hands off the drinks without a fuss. This time, hypersensitive and too raw to accept charity, Hoseok makes him take the cash, pressing it to the counter when the bartender tries to decline. Head tilting, thick eyebrows furrowing, for the first time this night Jin looks something other than melodramatic, and Hoseok doesn't want that. He came here to dance, for Christ's sake, not have someone notice a mini-meltdown!

Hefting on a smile that feels like it weighs one thousand pounds, he brushes off his friend's concern and darts away, carrying a tray of glasses. He's hardly taken a few steps before he downs his drink. Too much, too fast, especially for him, but he needs the soft buffer of alcohol right now. Hoseok won't look at the DJ stand. It's not him. There's no way it could be Yoongi. And even if it were...

It's not.

And even if it were, what would he do? Go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness? Punch him in his bleakly certain face? Or–

It's not him.

The music resonates around him – through him – in shuddering waves, jarring his weak attempts to tamp it down, and Hoseok is starting to feel feverish with the familiarity of the flashbacks flickering through his head. He's definitely had too much to drink. He just – he needs to do something. He needs to move.

It is with a huge wash of relief that he gets back to Taehyung and sees Jimin and Jungkook have arrived. Jimin is dressed in faded denim jeans and a glittering blue and yellow jacket, though the jacket will probably be off by the end of the night if other nights are anything to go by. Jungkook is a little more subdued, just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but his outfit makes the tattoo sleeve on his left arm pop. Both of them are standouts in the crowded space. Add in Taehyung with his black and white patterned shirt and matching headband, and Hoseok really can’t blame the number of eyes he notices settled on the trio.

Taehyung is oblivious to it. “You’re back!” he exclaims, leaping forward to help Hoseok with the drinks.

Jimin’s sultry expression – he calls it his performance face – is something he wears as easily as his brilliant jacket, and he shrugs it off with just as much aplomb when his gaze lands on Hoseok’s tight look. Eyes flickering about as if he could spot the problem, his smile becoming warmer but tinged with concern, the small man accepts the glass from Tae and then asks, “What’s up?” 

A grin can be a work of art, and Hobi turns this into a masterpiece. All ease and bright lines, no clouds in this painting. He’s not quite as good at lying outright, but the noise probably masks his beat of hesitation. “Nothing! I’m just excited to get started.”

“Makes two of us,” Jungkook comments, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he nabs a shot from Taehyung.

“Three!” Taehyung chimes in. They all fall silent, turning expectantly to Jimin.

He’s still watching Hoseok, his lips lightly pursued. Hobi can’t help his nervous titter at the close examination, turns it into a more raucous laugh. “You’re not excited, ChimChim? Come on, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”

At last, Jimin breaks eye contact, if only to shove back the unruly silver bangs tumbling across his forehead. “I’m excited,” he says, apparently deciding to drop whatever he’d seen on Hobi’s face. “Just hope there aren’t too many rookie dancers around. We don’t wanna make them look too bad when we start.” The look he wears is nothing short of angelic, but Hoseok knows well enough the competitive edge that lurks under that innocent façade. Jimin likes to win.

Jungkook huffs a fervent agreement. He likes to win, too. He’s good at it. Actually, they all do, and they all are. There’s a reason Hobi’s put this particular team together.

Right. Something to focus on, instead of the shadow of memory that the music keeps trying to make more substantial. With a playful nod, Hobi notes with false regret, “Well, if Tae is as good as you say, they might be out of luck.”

“I’ll do my best!” the man in question promises earnestly, and Hoseok can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees a flash of… something… in Taehyung’s eyes. Maybe not the same sharp need to win that Jungkook wears blatantly and Jimin cloaks yet never lets go of, but something. Passion, at the very least.

Hell, it works for Hoseok. Who cares what drives his people, as long as it's driving them to work hard?

As long as it isn’t driving them straight off a cliff.

He knows exactly where that thought comes from, and unbidden he turns to the DJ booth. It’s still too crowded to tell who’s working there. Probably a good thing. At this point Hoseok doesn’t know what will hurt him more; if the DJ isn’t Yoongi, or if it is.

The rest of them are talking and drinking, and he listens with half an ear, half a brain, half a being. The other half is straining to tell if the music really is as familiar as he thinks it is. If he can match that melody with that moment, or that bass with that breath, or that reverb with that regret. It’s stupid, pointless, harmful, but he can’t make himself stop. How funny, that he could have sworn he was over this. Had drummed it out of his muscles and his head both. God, if only he could dance.

Like an answer from the heavens – or maybe elsewhere – the music suddenly cuts off. A voice comes on the mic, clear, crisp, and familiar, but not who Hoseok was half expecting. It’s Jin. “Hey ladies and gentlemen and everyone else. As ya’ll know, it’s time for the Saturday dance off! If you fancy yourself a dancer, stay where you are, otherwise get your ass out of the floor area marked by the thick black lines. If you didn’t know there was a dance off today and you don’t like it, there’s a big ass door under the exit sign. I think we’re over capacity anyways.” With a loud blare of feedback, he cuts off.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, people start wandering out of the space Jin had indicated, crowding against the walls, or heading to the smaller area upstairs. He thinks he sees a few people leave after the announcement, but that might have just been a coincidence. By the time things have cleared, there are some twenty people on the dance floor, not including his crew.

This is exactly what he needs to clear his mind. Hoseok observes those left, his head tilted, an easy smile unconsciously gracing his lips. He can tell at a glance a few people are just idiots who want to flail around and call it dancing. There’s nothing wrong with that, exactly, but experience has taught him that people like that usually get pretty embarrassed when they suddenly find themselves next to professionals. Unless they’re really drunk, in which case they’ll just be a slight distraction. Nothing his guys can’t handle.

As for the rest… Hoseok actually recognizes two women, a couple he’s met at a few competitions, both official and underground. They’re good. Really good. His smile grows, and amid the tingling warmth of all the alcohol he’s had, there’s a fiercer burn, a kind of exultant excitement. He’s too drunk, probably, but this is crystal clarity, a heatwave burning everything unimportant and leaving just his focus and his friends.

And the music. The DJ regains control of the mic system, and he’s starting off with something heavy, almost ominous. The bass is shaking the floor, shaking Hoseok’s foundation, and he finds himself shaking in response, with little tremors of tension. Whoever’s running the music, they know how to start a show, and Hoseok is aching to finish it.

This isn’t an actual competition, of course. No judges, or set songs, or styles. It’s freestyle, and if there’s any kind of critic, it’s the crowd, already buzzing with anticipation and adding to the air of expectation. Hoseok breathes in and it feels like he’s inhaling something far more than air.

Because this isn’t run by anyone official, there are no rules about who can start, or how, or when. While Hobi and the rest of the serious dancers size each other up and feel out the rhythm, a trio of wasted kids stumble into the center of the floor. Their awkward floundering is laughable, and so Hoseok does laugh, a joyful sound echoed by Jungkook and Taehyung and a good deal of the crowd and competitors. It’s not unkind, at least not on Hobi’s part; he’s just too excited to reach the level that’s so far above these people to keep back the explosion of mirth. 

Jimin’s lip is lightly curled when Hoseok glances at him, but though he isn’t laughing, he’s squirming in place, clearly impatient to start.  

Why keep him waiting?  

“You ready?” he asks his crew, a redundant courtesy. They are. “I think we go low for this one? I’ll take the center? Let’s go… Jimin, then Jungkook, then Taehyung? And keep heavy on the left?” Phrased as questions, but they aren’t, just more courtesy, letting Taehyung know how he wants to approach this. They’ve already discussed general four-person set-ups, with Tae and without. The other two know what Hoseok wants. Everyone nods, short, sharp.

He steps forward. Not far. Not really enough to crowd the hammered trio’s space. Just enough to announce their presence and give them room to work. His friends follow, and Hoseok can almost feel them at his back. The wide grin has faded, replaced with an unintentional intensity that, unbeknownst to him, makes it hard for people to look away. Most of the laughter in the crowd dies, replaced by wire-tight quiet.

In that quiet, he begins. Slowly to start. Why hurry perfection? The music pours into his marrow and he turns it into movement, gives it form and features for the simple price of sweat. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung join in several beats later, not quite matching his moves or each other, but close. Distorted shadows. They flicker in time with the rhythm, a collection of power moves loosely connected by breaking. Hoseok breathes, draws in the crowd’s awe and admiration, and turns it into fuel as he burns through everything but the music. 

Worries, memories, regrets, nothing can survive the blaze of his concentration, and Hoseok feeds them to the flames with ruthless abandon, glad to feel them smoulder to ashes.

 His moves become sharper, harsher. Everything gets so much more defined when he dances. The audience, his friends, his body, they all assume a stark clarity, almost painfully distinct. He doesn’t worry – he just moves. The music pulses all around him, urging him on, a nameless connection, and as the fluid lucidity gets even sharper, he prepares to speed up.

Soon – in fact, at what feels like exactly the right moment – the song flows into something else. Faster and more electronic. His body reads it almost before his mind does and Hoseok feels himself changing his motions to fit. More popping now. It feels right to hit the floor, so Hoseok does, in a totally controlled spin on his back that nonetheless looks wildly, perfectly out of control. He stops with a shoulder roll that allows him to transition to his feet, making room for Jimin to step forward and claim center as the crowd cheers.

Jimin is… fucking beautiful. The thought is a vague spark without solid form in the midst of Hoseok’s movement, but it’s true all the same. He dances differently than Hoseok or Jungkook, more gracefully, like any second he could swap his bones for the wind and begin to fly.

Not immune to the effect, but far too disciplined to fall for it (much), Hoseok keeps up his pace next to Jimin, letting himself relax even further into the music. The drunk trio are long gone, shuffled off in embarrassment, but some of the others are inching closer. They’re being polite – letting his crew get in a full rotation – but that’ll end soon enough. He relishes their interest. Not because he has something to prove, or particularly cares what they’re thinking, but because once they start to respond, it’ll be another bar to aim for, another goal, one more reason to keep dancing. And God, does he want to keep dancing.

Jungkook is next, powerful, demanding. He hits each move like it’s personally offended him, smashes into the poses as if he wants to break through reality and reach some other plane. When his feet hit a series of rapid beats in quick succession, it’s enough to get the crowd, already primed, to start whistling and whooping.

Hoseok finds himself doubting his choice to put Taehyung last. From what he’s seen from the corner of his eye as they’ve gone, Tae has kept up fine, his movements slick and confident. Maybe just a hair slower than the trio, but that could easily be chalked up to a lack of familiarity, given how much the other three have practiced together and how long Taehyung has been on a break. Still, asking him to follow up what Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok himself have already shown… He’d thought it would give him time to settle any nerves and see how they all approached being center, and Jimin and Jungkook had sung his praises to the high heavens, but now it seems like it might have been cruel.

Taehyung moves into the middle, and for some reason there’s a sudden swell of appreciative screams. Not from anything Hoseok can see from behind and to the side – maybe Tae had made a particularly great expression? The screams don’t really… stop… after that. From what Hoseok can observe, he gets it.

Turns out it wasn’t cruel to put Tae last. Like, at all.

The man is a consummate performer. Several times, when Taehyung’s supple steps put his back to the front and Hobi can see his face, he’s almost literally struck by how good his facials are. Passion is the name of this game and Tae plays it to perfection, his expressions conveying such a range of intensity that it’s a surprise he hasn’t started a fire with his glower alone

Hell, Tae winks at him at one point and Hoseok finds himself grinning at the smug audacity, breaking his own fierce look. Whoops.   

He whips it back on, but they’re almost done, anyways. Another group has edged closer, brash with impatience, and a few seconds later start their own dance. Of course, Hoseok’s crew doesn’t give way immediately – like you could snatch the crown that easily – and for a little bit they’re actually dancing against the other crew. It’s a brawl of sorts, Hoseok’s favourite kind of fighting. It doesn’t last long enough (it never does), but it’s exhilarating while it does. The fact that their opponents are pretty good is just gasoline added to the flames.

However, if a good dancer knows how to step while on the stage, a great one knows when to step off the stage, and as the most recent song winds down, Hoseok stops himself. Unwillingly, painfully, but he does. He gives a short bow to the opposing group, granting them the floor amid a cascade of cheering. 

When he and his crew walk away, the shouting just gets louder, deafening in its wild appreciation. Exhilaration swells under his ribs, threatening to crack them with its overwhelming force. For just a moment, Hoseok hears the cheers, feels the way his body is still crackling with energy, remembers how good it had felt to move, and he’s complete. For just a second.

And then the moment is gone.

The rest of his friends are grinning under the praise of the clubgoers, a little playful swagger in their steps as they jostle each other, giving compliments and insults on the individual executions each had pulled. Jimin snags his jacket from a girl who had picked it up from the floor, waves with giddy appreciation at her. They’re quick to find a good spot to watch the other dancers, the crowd happy to give way after what they’d shown. A couple of people offer to get them drinks and Jimin accepts while Jungkook and Taehyung beam. They’re all practically glowing, flush with success. They’d done well; they deserve to be proud. He’s proud of them.

He can feel proud and still be hollow, right? The sudden empty fatigue hits him like a cement truck going 100. It’s almost always like this after he dances, and the more intense the performance, the harder he gets hit. Hoseok abruptly becomes aware of the sweat pouring off him, the waves of heat billowing across his skin, the strained, quiet pain of muscles stretched just a bit beyond their limits. He’s… tired isn’t right. He could do three or four more routines like that, all in a row, without getting truly, bodily exhausted.

Drained. Yeah. That’s it. Like he’d poured something vital into each move, spilled himself across the floor, until there was too little of him left.

Jimin and Jungkook know him well enough to give him a little space after a dance, but Taehyung isn’t in the loop yet. “Hobi-hyung!” Sweat has darkened the younger man’s light brown hair, and if it weren’t for his headband, it probably would have been dripping down his face. “Hyung, you were incredible! You have to teach me how to pop at your knee like that, I’ve only ever done my upper body!”

The disconnect is there, unbearably strong. It will fade in the next few minutes, leaving him just fatigued instead of full-on wrung out, but in the meantime Hoseok makes himself laugh. Taehyung deserves that much, even if it sounds strange to his ears. “Only if you teach me that expression you were wearing during the chorus while you were center. Think I saw a few people faint when you looked their way.” He laughs again, trying to make the sound more natural. Pretty much fails.

Taehyung seems grateful for the compliment, nonetheless. He bobs his head, flashing a boxy grin. “It’s not a fair trade. Making faces is easy; I think I’d have to be high to move like you were, if I ever could.”

His jaw abruptly tightens, tension arcing through his throat. So quick he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t expecting it, Jungkook and Jimin exchange a glance. They know (almost) all of his history. Jimin reaches out, plucks at Taehyung’s shirt sleeve. “Come on,” he whines. “Didn’t you see me? Don’t you think I was cool, too?”

It’s a masterful attempt at distraction, though Taehyung seems inclined to dwell on Hoseok’s moves. “Well yeah, of course! But what hyung did was –”

Jimin interrupts him. “Anyways, I want to introduce you to one of our friends,” he says cheerfully. “Seokjin-hyung. He works as a bartender here.”

“Oh, but Hoseok-hyung already–”

“I’ll come too!” Jungkook chimes in, and together they drag the bewildered Taehyung into the crowd and away. A kindness, letting Hoseok have this moment of weakness. What had he done in another life to deserve these people in this one?    

What had he done? For just a second, a memory enters his head, of a few colourful blue and red tablets sitting in an outstretched hand. A voice, achingly ironic and raspy, asking, “You ready to get ecstatic?”

He couldn’t have said if it was the pill or the voice that he longed more violently for after the sodden rush of dance-inspired euphoria was gone. Given the way his eyes cut to the DJ booth, Hoseok supposes he has his answer.

He has his answer, but he doesn’t have what he wants. The press of people has dispersed with the dance-off, the clubbers are more interested in crowding the square than swarming the DJ, leaving his view clear for the first time tonight. There’s a girl working the booth. Not someone he recognizes.

Not Yoongi.

A shaky exhale splits his clenched teeth, and Hoseok closes his eyes. He hasn’t been listening to the music since they stopped dancing – not really – but it sounds different now. No longer as intimate, the connection between him and the rhythm is broken. Had he just imagined that bond before the dance-off, made up that gut-wrenching familiarity? Given that he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight, he seriously doubts that he has the creativity to imagine something so vivid.

Maybe the girl DJing learned in the same style as Yoongi. Maybe that’s what set him off.

He hasn’t had any drugs tonight, but he’s still coming down from a high. That’s how it always is, after dancing. He told his friends, his family, that he got clean, but it was a lie. Hoseok just replaced ecstasy, his drug of choice, with something else. Movement instead of MDMA. Not a bad trade. He couldn’t have made a career off of being a chronic user, after all. Couldn’t have found happiness, either. Probably.

His mouth is bone dry, and he’s lost sight of his friends. They’re probably busy harassing Jin. For a while Hoseok watches the other dancers, fingers tapping out a pattern on his thighs in time to the beats, grateful for the chance to pull himself out of his despondency with a bit of friendly critique. From what he can see, the group that went after them is the most skilled so far. 

The couple he’d recognized earlier haven’t gone yet, and they’ll shake up the ranking, but slowly Hoseok settles into the comfortable conclusion that his crew is the best one here. It doesn’t matter – there are no announced winners – but it’s promising for the actual competition coming up in a few weeks.

Things get better. He gets better. He always does. By the time the couple finishes their piece – with a flourish of partner flips that have him joining the raucous cheering – Hoseok is back to feeling energized by the sweat still slick on his skin. He’s back to being overjoyed by the music beating against his eardrums, back to savouring the crush of bodies and noise and life that scream nothing more than here you are, right now, isn’t it amazing!        

Even stepping in a thick puddle of someone’s spilled drink isn’t enough to dampen his spirits.

With a grin and a lighthearted curse, Hoseok heads to the bathroom, intent on wiping off his shoes. Sticky sneakers are a fact of life at clubs, but given that it’d been a mini lake of beer and he hates the sensation of his feet peeling across the floor, this seems to be a justified trip. Even better, the dance-off is finishing; he won’t be missing anything.

It’s as Hoseok is leaving the washroom, shoes squeaky clean, that someone grabs his arm from behind. Hard. He startles with a yelp that’s barely audible over the raucous noise of the club, his heart rate spiking. Moving jerkily with the admittedly excessive alarm pounding in his chest, Hobi turns to berate whichever of his friends thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.

Freezes. Stares. Doubts.

Hoarsely ironic, Yoongi observes, “Still as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, huh?”

[goldkirk]

how I do just enough to take care of myself that I don’t totally spiral on really empty-well days

I’ve gotten 3-5 hours of sleep max for the past three days so to say that I’m not at the top of my game is an understatement. But I’m finally out of my total overwhelm and distress just enough to haul myself around today determined to do good things for my me and determined to work on therapy stuff that DOESN’T drain me or stress me out.

And to be serious about drinking water and eating at least twice and do some hygiene stuff. The more flat and hiding-downward and confused and wispy-ghost-that-can’t-hold-thoughts I am, the more I can’t do a lot of the really important routines for eating and caring for my body and getting concrete hands-on feels-satisfying-to-accomplish-it tasks that are the most critical backbone component of Katie Being a Functioning Human Who Feels As Minimally Lousy Physically As Possible (and its sequel, When Katie Has the Good Luck to Manage Several Days in a Row of Consistent Medication Times and All Basic Daily “Living Human Body”Routine Things, She Miraculously Will Actually Have More Capacity for Like, Everything). I also had an insurance issue getting a really important daily drug for several days so that. Really wasn’t a help.

THINGS ARE GOING TO BE BETTER FOR MY BODY TODAY BECAUSE I AM GOING TO GO AS SLOW AS I NEED TO BUT MAKE IT HAPPEN. No more shame. No shame and overwhelm paralysis. I only have to do three main things, and I am NOT allowed to beat myself up over it no matter if it takes me till 5 PM just to put shower and put on clean clothes. I’m gonna do it and I’m writing how I’ve learned to plan a day like this in case it can help any of you. 💛

Step 1: try to get in your body as much as possible—if you’ve got any pain or any discomfort or anything that really is making your experience of having a physical body way worse, try to drop any other plans and take care of ONE thing for that first. In my case, this morning I woke up feeling extra run down and empty and sore, and I figured out I needed food and also hadn’t drunk nearly enough water yesterday. I’m working on fixing that now. It’s taking me an hour to eat oatmeal, but it’s happening because I’m taking care of the me that shouldn’t need to be suffering this way and DEFINITELY doesn’t deserve to have me make it worse because I don’t want to do anything.

Step 2: think of a couple things that make you feel better when you do them OR bleed out feelings a bit without being too intense or hard for you to do when already low. For me, that’s petting Aoife, maybe doing a little bit of extra skincare or makeup if I’m up for it later, playing Cozy Grove if my eyes aren’t too tired, and (since I got given the homework to try it this week) trying to start doing art therapy but from literally the “what you’d have a toddler do” level instead of starting with trauma exercises or thinking/focused art things. IMPORTANT: if that art attempt starts feeling at any point like it’s making my mood bad or prompting me to get really sleepy/zoned out because my brain isn’t up for it, I’ll stop right away. I’m learning the lesson that it’s NOT worth it to push through chronic illness or mental illness symptoms that are your “pressure valve” indicators.

(I ignored my body on that issue for so long that this summer it went “FUCK’S SAKE WILL YOU LISTEN TO THIS THEN????” and escalated to literally forcing me to pass out asleep at any time of day with no more than two minutes of warning if I go too far past my body’s signals to please sit for a while or please stop trying CBT techniques or whatever. Don’t be like me. 😅)

Step 3: do not put those on to do list for yourself.

Step 4: think of the minimum body things you need to do to make your body actually feel better abd more human again—for me, that’s washing my face and putting the creams on it, washing my hair since it’s been a few days, putting on Real Shoes that lace, eating and drinking several things, and taking my medications as early as possible.

Step 5: do not those on your to do list either.

Step 6: pick THREE things. ONLY three things, or two if three is too much. The three things that you think will help you feel the most better if you do them before anything else. For me, today, that’s eating one thing, washing body/hair so I feel not gross, and putting on big-girl clothes that make me feel like I’m actually dressed for a real day.

Step 7: NOW you have your to do list. Go through those as slowly as you need to, and if/when you finish them, then you can pick two or three more things that you think would be the next nicest options for you, and then you can attempt to do those too. And once you’ve done a few things that are simple and concrete like this, it gets easier because your brain starts getting some nice dopamine rewards from seeing things visibly accomplished AND your body feels more comfortable and has more energy to do things.

I love you. You can do this. We’re all gonna be all right, believe me. Seeing as none of the trauma managed to kill us and we survived, apparently we’ve actually got plenty of time to improve and recover. We already survived! We did that part! We got the damage and now it’s about rehabbing our injuries. The story doesn’t stop right there, with us stuck in tangles of fog and dysfunction! Our bodies want to heal already, and we’re helping them when we can. Dysfunction is not what our default state is going to be stuck in forever. The story ends with us actually okay one day. 💛

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 41

(Taehyung X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, but lots of fluff

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

You had never seen Jin so angry. The look on his face was almost enough to make you feel absolutely terrified, even if you knew that anger wasn’t directed at you.

There was no getting past being honest with Jin after he already heard so much. So Yoongi had grabbed his arm and hurriedly dragged him into the stairwell before attempting to calm him down and explain what he had heard.

But there was apparently no calming him down.

“And you guys felt like this wasn’t important information to share?” Seokjin asked.

“We thought it was better if less people knew about it,” Taehyung replied. “There’s nothing we can do at this point, and Bang PD already told noona that he’s going to let her finish healing without anything else being asked of her.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong,” Seokjin agitatedly replied. “Are you just letting it slide? Not going to do anything about it?”

“If you heard about that, then didn’t you hear what I told noona?” Yoongi asked, meeting Jin’s intensity.

“I heard Y/n saying about the article’s release being intentional and done behind her back,” Jin answered. “I wasn’t close enough to make out anything before that. But frankly, I don’t care what you said, Yoongi. Something should be done about it!”

“First of all, would you just- please calm down,” Yoongi said, attempting to do the same for himself. “Don’t go waking the whole building. And you should care about what I said before that. What do you want us to do, hyung? Barge into Bang’s office, tell him how much of an injustice it was, and demand he compensate her?”

“Sure, that sounds like a great start,” Jin said, still obviously very agitated, but his voice at a reasonable volume.

“Okay, then what?” Yoongi asked. “Do you think he’s going to just admit it? Do you think there is no chance whatsoever of it affecting noona’s job? Or our own? Do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked for for years, and risk making noona losing her job, make her have to move back home? While she’s still healing?”

“He can’t just do stuff like that, though!” Jin replied incredulously.

“He’s a businessman, Jin,” you said. “He saw an opportunity to better your guys’ image and popularity and he took it.”

Your friend turned to you and furrowed his brows. “You’re not telling me right now that you’re okay with him just- just using you like that, are you?”

“Of course I’m not!” you whisper yelled, making the boys around you flinch. “It is constantly bothering me. He called me earlier today, and I felt so awkward I had no idea how to talk to him. He apologized for asking me to go to the airport to pick you guys up, but I wanted so badly for him to come clean and apologize about the article instead. I can’t tell you how much I want to just wheel right into his office and demand that he tell me what he did and why he did it, even if I already know. I want to hear it straight from his mouth, and I want him to tell me he knows he did something wrong and say he’ll never do it again. But it’s not going to happen, Jin. It’s just not.”

Letting all of the anger you’ve felt over the situation out in your rant made you feel breathless. The others remained quiet for a moment, probably unsure of how to respond to something like that.

“Yoongi is right,” you said. “It’s wrong, and he shouldn’t have done it. I’m getting more attention than I ever asked for and it’s nerve-wracking being this much in the public eye. But what good will it do to ask for an apology? It will make him aware that I know what he did, and probably wonder who else knows. I have no idea if I’d get fired, if he’ll do something to make sure that I can’t tell anyone. And I’m scared of how it could affect you guys. I needed to talk to Tae and Yoongi today because I just had a lot of emotions and wanted to confront him, but knew it wasn’t a good idea and they helped reason that with me.”

Jin chewed on the inside of his cheek while he calmed himself down. “I’m still not okay with this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted. “But what else can we do, really? Other than hope that he decides to come clean about it on his own.”

“Hyung, please promise you won’t do anything,” Tae pleaded in a small voice. “I really wish I could too, believe me. But I just don’t think this is one of those things we can fight.”

Seokjin didn’t look any of you in the eyes while he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m sorry for exploding like that, I just-” he sighed, unable to finish his sentence.

“I know, hyung,” Yoongi said, placing a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “I felt the same when I found out. I understand.”

“Now I get why he’s acting so apologetic, though,” Seokjin said. “When he gave us permission to take a long break to take you out of the house, he just seemed odd. I couldn’t place what it was, but it was almost like he felt guilty. Which I guess could be explained by the airport, but it felt like more than that.”

“I mean, being attacked by a couple of sasaengs does make one afraid to leave the house when they’re so defenseless,” you said, laughing a little. “If I could stand on my feet and run away, that’s one thing, but I’m literally at others’ mercy like this.”

“That’s why you have us to protect you,” Tae said, smiling widely at you.

You smiled back, feeling more at ease now that you were all on the same page.

“Alright, let’s get back before someone else gets curious and eavesdrops,” Yoongi said, sending Jin a teasing look.

It was Jin who took you back to your apartment, helping you into bed. Nobody really argued when he silently decided he’d do it, figuring it would help him feel better to help you in the ways that he at least knew he could.

“I seriously can’t wait until you can start walking again,” he said as he helped you gather your covers and tuck in. “Not that it’s a burden to help you, but just because I know how frustrating it is for you.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, you and me both.”

Jin suddenly looked serious as he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n, you know you can always come to me for anything, right? If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Jin. I promise I will. If I need to talk or just need some company or something, you’re the first person I’d go to.”

“You really are like family, you know?” he said. “It’s not just me. But you really are like a sister to me. So I want to be a good brother to you.”

“You are, Jin. I treasure your friendship. And I love being a part of this family. I would never trade any of you guys for anything.”

“Even if it meant you’d instantly be rich?”

“Absolutely,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’d pick living a poor and hard life if it meant that I had the seven of you with me. I’d even be willing to be stuck in a wheelchair for life.”

Jin laughed quietly. “Well, we’re for sure going to try to not let any of that happen. But thank you, I’m sure we all feel the same.”

He gave your hand a squeeze as he leaned in to kiss your forehead before getting up and you one last ‘good night’ while he left.

You really did have such a wonderful family here.

By now it had been about two months since your injury. It could take up to six for your legs to fully heal, and with you staying entirely off your feet the hope was that you’d heal more quickly than that.

Two days after that night in the stairwell, Mrs. Kim attended your doctor appointment with you. She was really sweet and you couldn’t have been more grateful for her wanting to keep you company during this short time. It was especially a relief having someone with you when you visited the doctor. Not that you were scared of hospitals or anything, but you often had trouble remembering to ask questions and just nodded along to what the doctor told you. So someone else being there who could remember to do so was a huge help.

After an x-ray of your legs to see how the bones were healing, your doctor informed you that the healing process was going well. It would still be a little while before he recommended anything like walking, but they were at least healed enough that putting some weight on them shouldn’t have been bothersome.

To test it out, he asked you to place your feet on the floor and put a small amount of pressure on them and told you to immediately stop if you felt any pain. You found that it didn’t really hurt with just a bit of weight, but it did feel weird to do so for the first time in so long.

With the confirmation that it didn’t cause any pain, he told you that you were able to assist when people helped you in and out of your chair now. They still had to hold the majority of your weight, but walking lightly to help make it easier on them was no problem.

It was small progress, but it made you feel happy and excited, nonetheless.

After the doctor appointment, you decided you wanted to go back to the office first and let Bang and hopefully the boys know the news.

You felt nervous since this would be your first time seeing him in person since you learned about the article, at least if he was available to see you. But you felt it was important that he knew any progress in your condition and it wasn’t like you could avoid him forever. You had to see him at some point, so might as well rip the band-aid off now.

Your boss ended up not being at his office, and a quick message to Sejin let you know that the boys were practicing choreography for the concert so you headed toward the practice room in the meantime. You waited outside with Mrs. Kim, watching through the window as they practiced for Boyz With Fun. The choreography for the song was more lighthearted and didn’t need to be precise since the song was mostly for fun, but it was still very high energy.

When the song ended and didn’t restart right away, Taehyung’s mother knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to intrude without permission. It was Hoseok who came to open it, smiling brightly despite looking exhausted. “Hello eomeoni, noona. What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to stop and say hi,” you said. “We just came from my doctor appointment.”

“Oh, that’s right! That was today!” Hoseok sounded excited. “You can come in. We’re due for a break anyway.”

He opened the door wide, holding it while you wheeled through after Tae’s mom.

“You had your appointment today?” Namjoon asked from his spot on the floor through ragged breaths. “How’d it go?”

“My legs are healing well,” you said with a smile. “He said I can put a little bit of pressure on my feet now.”

“Really?!” Jimin asked, sitting up straight after having been laying flat on the floor.

You nodded. “No walking or anything yet, but he said I can put some weight on them to help when you guys are moving me in and out of the chair.”

“That’s great!” Tae said, smiling widely as your eyes met his. “That’s huge progress. That means your bones are healing really well.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart skip a beat. It felt silly, but everyone seemed so enthusiastic and made it seem like it was such a big deal when it was really only just a small amount of progress.

That, and how are you supposed to not feel affected when Taehyung was staring at you like that.

“Yes, the doctor said she’s healing really well,” Mrs. Kim said. “He said she’s healing faster than they expected, almost as fast as they hoped she would. He expects it to be no more than two months, if that, until she’s able to start getting back on her feet.”

“And then you’ll be able to resume being our manager,” Jungkook said.

“Well, after I can walk again, yeah,” you said. “I can already feel how weak my legs are. They’re going to need a good amount of physical therapy before I can walk entirely unassisted.”

“But that’s still so much closer than it could have been,” Namjoon smartly added. “With how bad that fracture was, the doctor said it could have taken up to six months. But since you’ve been really good about resting your legs, I guess that helps a whole lot, huh?”

You nodded. “That’s what he said. He said he could tell that I’d been following his instructions to not put any pressure or weight on them.”

“How much longer are you boys practicing?” Mrs. Kim asked.

“Probably another hour,” Hoseok said. “We have a few things to refine, but we made a deal that if we can do the choreography with no mistakes for five runs in a row then we can go home early. I think we can do it.”

“Well, I guess I’d better go get dinner ready then, hm?” she responded. “I want to make something a little special today since we got the good news from the doctor.”

“It’s really no big deal, eomeoni,” you insisted.

“Nonsense! Every step is progress, and that’s something to celebrate.”

“I still need to let Bang know,” you said. “I might need to just call or text him to tell him.”

You could see Jin’s head turning to you out of the corner of your eye at the mention of your boss’ name. “We can tell him for you if you want,” he said.

“It’s fine.” You smiled in his direction. “I can talk to him.”

Jin took a moment to think before nodding, clearly understanding what you meant. You were okay with talking to him despite the fact that you still hadn’t quite gotten over what happened.

“Do you want to stay, noona?” Taehyung asked hesitantly. “I know you used to like to watch us practice. You could stay and go home with us?”

You turned toward his mother, about to ask her what she thought before she beat you to answering.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said, smiling. “You have been wanting to get out of the house more anyway. Do you want to stay?”

“That would be nice,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. Seeing Tae’s boxy smile break out on his face at your response most certainly didn’t make your heart skip again. Not at all.

“Alright, I’ll see you back at your apartment in a little while then,” Mrs. Kim said before turning toward the door. “Take good care of her, boys!”

When she left, you wheeled yourself to the front of the room, as close to the corner as you could so you wouldn’t be in the way of their reflection.

“Do you want to sit on the floor?” Taehyung asked. “We can use our jackets to make a little seat for you, it might be more comfortable than your chair.”

You thought about it for a moment, realizing that that would help keep you more out of the way for them since your chair could be folded up as well. “If it’s not too much trouble, then sure. It’ll keep me from blocking your guys’ reflection, too.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that!” he backtracked, flailing his hands around a bit.

“Whatever is more comfortable for you is more important,” Namjoon chimed in. “You’re not in the way, not at all. But if you’d prefer to sit on the floor, then it’s no trouble for us.”

You smiled at their thoughtfulness. “I know that’s not why you asked, Tae. It’s okay, it was just my own concern. But yeah, if you don’t mind I would definitely like to spend some time out of this chair.’”

“Absolutely,” Jin answered, smiling reassuringly. Everyone jumped into action, grabbing their spare jackets to pile into the corner.

You wheeled yourself away so they could work and turned to look at what they were doing. A smile slowly spread across your face as you watched them quietly discuss how to set everything out so that it was the smoothest and most comfortable they could make it.

It made your heart swell, the amount of thought and care they put into such a small task. You really didn’t know what you would do without them.

After almost everyone sat on the little pile of clothes, testing to make sure that it was comfortable enough (It was only supposed to be Jimin, but then a few of the others decided they wanted to make sure themselves, which of course made you laugh), they dispersed and you approached the makeshift seat. You locked your wheels, Taehyung approaching to help you get out. Scooching forward as usual, you internally reminded yourself that it was okay to put some weight on your feet to help him out. Especially since you were being moved to the floor, it would require a bit more maneuvering than the usual chair-to-bed or vice versa.

But when Taehyung reached out for you, he wasn’t standing in front of you and with both arms reaching underneath your arms. He instead was a little to the side, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as the other looped underneath your knees. Just as you were opening your mouth to ask what he was doing, he lifted you with ease, hands reflexively linking behind his neck to keep yourself steady.

Before you could even blink you were being held princess style, which most definitely wasn’t the standard way of picking someone up out of a wheelchair. You had to resist the urge to tuck your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment, brain working well enough to notice that that would only make things worse.  

“What are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as he knelt down next to the clothing pile to set you down. “Why’d you pick me up like that?”

“It was easier,” he answered. “Less shuffling and easier to get you sitting down.”

It felt like forever before you were finally sitting on the floor, even though it must have must have been no more than ten seconds. Once he pulled away you found yourself feeling simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the loss of his warmth.

Looking up at the others, you caught the knowing smirk and raised eyebrows on Jin’s face. You felt a sudden urge to smack the expression off of him, but of course you couldn’t exactly get up and walk.

“Comfy?” Hoseok asked, giving some of the material around you another fluff for good measure.

“Yes, it’s nice and soft. Thank you,” you said.

“Good,” he responded. “Alright, let’s get her chair folded up and get back to practice, guys!”

It was really nice to watch them practice again. It felt so normal, you could almost forget that your injury ever happened and like you were still working with your boys almost every day.

At one point, when they had just a moment in between runs through the choreography, Jimin captured a selfie of the two of you. He sent it to Sejin with what he wanted to caption it with to get it approved before saving to post on Twitter later.

It ended up being closer to two hours, rather than the one that Hobi projected, before they were perfect enough to head home early. Luckily, you weren’t picked up so intimately this time as you were helped back into your chair by Yoongi. He said he wanted to let you practice and get used to letting your feet rest on the floor and help do some of the work.

You appreciated your heart being saved from anymore palpitations today.

Even on the walk home, you felt so refreshed at even the smallest return to normalcy that you didn’t care about Jungkook wanting to push your chair for you when you’d usually insist on wheeling yourself.

Mrs. Kim’s delicious homemade dinner filled with laughter and the company of your closest friends warmed your heart even more, so by the time you got around to texting your boss if he was available and calling him when he responded, you didn’t feel even the slightest pit in your stomach as you had the previous day.

You still had quite a while to go, but everyone was right. You were making progress and despite how small, it was reason enough to be excited and celebrate. It was enough to help keep you going as you waited for the day that you could walk again, at least for now. Nothing was perfect and there were certainly more things that you needed to personally work through, but it was the little steps to be celebrated that would help you climb your way there.

After laying down for the night, you got the notification that BTS tweeted. You clicked to see a sweet but short message about how you heard good news from the doctor today, and how excited they were to have you cheering on their practice.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face and dreamt of your head pressed against a warm chest while strong arms carried you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @misohime​ @netflix-batman-sleep​ @smallbaby-cat​ @leitholdwithlove​ @ramyagovindraj​ @rjsmochii​ @overtherainbow35​ @leesalts​ @whobuiltthemoon​ @bethebitchuare​ @shookysxga​ @jeneate101​

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged! And also feel free to leave comments or send asks to just talk to me!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

[kombatea]

Hungry / Kabal

Warning: 18+!

Note: Gifs are not mine. If you are/know the author, contact me for proper credit.

***

„Hello baby.“ You smile when you see your cat running towards you as you finally come back from work. It was a long day and you felt like it would never end but the idea that you will spend the whole weekend with him was keeping you in the good mood. „Should I cook something? He is always so hungry when he comes back.“ You desperately look in the fridge. „Nah, he will bring something. Fast food or some fried stuff.“ You roll your eyes with a chuckle. He has such an appetite. Kabal was always the foodie type. There is no possibility to be hungry in his presence. „But at least your dinner will be healthy.“ you rub your cat's head as she starts to eat her favorite cat food. In the meantime, you undress and get in the shower. There is no such feeling as washing away the rough day away. With the eyes closed, warm water coming from the showerhead feels like summer rain. The scent of your fav shampoo makes you immediately calm.  „NOOOO!!!“ you scream as something grab you from the back by your waist. „Please, let me...“. But before you can finish your beg you slip on the slippery floor of the shower. Just a second before you fall the same pair of hands catches you and tightly embraces you in a hug. „Like to live on the edge I see.“ familiar voice laughs. „Kabal! Did you lose your mind?!“ you scream as shampoo gets in your eyes. „I´m sorry. I couldn´t resist when I heard that you are in the shower.“ he apologizes as he helps you to rinse. After a short moment, you finally see him in his whole naked glory and frown. „Can I get a kiss? Pretty please?“ There is no way that you can resist his puppy eyes. You hug him around the neck and press a long and sweet kiss on his lips. You have missed them so much. And the rest too. You help each other with cleaning your bodies and laugh the whole time. He won´t stop to crack his stupid jokes that you love so much. As you start to blow your hair with a blow dryer he starts to jump in your way just to steal some hot air for himself. „How do I look?“ Kabal asks you with the craziest mess on his head that he calls hair. „Fabulous. As always.“ you wink at him and apply the leave-in conditioner to tame the nest. Well, at least you tried because he runs out as soon as he saw what you are up to. You know that he went straight into the kitchen to browse for some snacks so you go straight into the bedroom. As you are applying the moisturizer on the legs he comes back to you. „Can I help you?“ he asks with a strange smirk. „Yeah. I mean... why not.“ You smile even though it feels a little bit strange because he has never done this. It´s always you who is in charge of moisturizing your and his skin too. Especially since he was burnt. He enjoyed it since you remember but after the incident, it´s almost like your sacred ritual. It took him a long time to even let you see him without any clothes on. Touches were forbidden for what felt like the whole eternity. And now? He is parading fully naked like his old self. You feel so happy because you thought that this will never happen. Not even in your wildest dreams. He knows that you love him without any conditions and you are the embodiment of his safe space. You handle him your body lotion while sitting on the bed watching him curiously. He studies the bottle and it takes him a few tries to figure out the type of opening. „Lay down.“ Kabal says. „Pretty please.“ He adds as he catches your surprised look. You lay down with the towel still wrapped around your body. He starts with your feet. You know that he used too much of the product just by the sound of it coming out. You chuckle. „Did I something wrong?“ he pokes out his head up. „No, everything is fine.“ you lie with a wide smile on your face. „Maybe I can do something to make you laugh even more.“ Kabal says as he starts to tickle your feet. „Don´t you dare!“ you shout and almost kick him right in the face. He knows that you are the most ticklish person on the planet. „I´m not sorry.“ he laughs. „Come back and lay down. Please.“ „Kabal I swear that something bad will happen to you tonight.“ „Oh no, poor me.“ he looks at you with a pretentious crying face. He probably calms down a little. No more mischievous tricks as he is massaging your legs with slow but perfectly pressured touch. You can tell he tries to concentrate just by how hard he frowns. „Kabal?“ you almost whisper. „Yes?“ „What´s going on?“ „Nothing. Just trying to make you relax. Why?“ he asks you without interrupting the massage. You want to say something but when you spot his look you have to laugh. He frowns so hard when he realizes that the towel is blocking the rest of your body. „Let me take care of this thing.“ he says as he stands up and unwraps you. Then he rolls you over like a sack of potatoes so he can take the towel away. Your face slowly starts to hurt from all of smiling and laughing. He is so ridiculous and loving at the same time and it makes you love him more and more. „Much better.“ He says as he looks at your naked body and continues with the massage. Slowly but surely are your giggles exchanged by an intense sensation that drowns your body in pure pleasure as he spreads your legs and kisses your inner tighs. „Kabal! Oh god... What about the massage?“ „I think it´s time for something better.“  He growls as he proceeds to kiss you on the most intimate part of your body. You immediately stop thinking and let yourself enjoy his work. He knows exactly what you like. It takes him just a moment to make your toes curl with euphoria. As your fingers dig deeper into the mattress he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with his holding you tight. „Come to me, please.“ You whisper. He immediately gets on the top of you and takes your head in both arms as you wrap your legs around his waist leaving no space between your bodies. Skin to skin he kisses you gently but full of passion and impatience. „I´ve missed you.“ He says between the hungry kisses. „So much.“ You answer as you try to breathe in some air. He trembles as you trace his back with your fingernails. You end up with your hands on his neck pulling him as close as possible. „...love you, love you... I love you...“ he moans as you navigate his cock right there where it belongs. You melt under his warm body as he slowly fucks you. So deep that you don´t if you can handle it. „Is it good?“ „It´s perfect!“ you almost scream. In the tight embrace and with his lips all over your neck, you are unable to move. Or more like unwilling to. Where would you go when you are in heaven on earth with him. „Do you want to turn around for me?“ Kabal asks you looking deep into your eyes. „Yes... yes...“ He carefully helps you while holding your hips and being still really close to your body. You lay on your stomach and he is right back in you. Your head is resting on his arm while Kabal spreads your leg out to hold you in place. His moves get faster and faster. You feel so calm and horny at the same time. He won´t stop until he makes sure that you are fully satisfied. You caress his face while he kisses you and then proceeds to the back of your neck. Suddenly he pulls out, sits down on his legs, and pulls you back to him. You slowly dance in his lap with your hips moving from side to side. „Oh my... Yes... that´s amazing...“ Kabal growls as he holds you in a tight embrace and fucks you. „Baby... I´m ready.“ You moan and position yourself on the knees. He doesn´t need to hear more. It´s almost like a magic switch. He knows that he doesn´t need to control himself anymore. „I want to watch you as you cum for me.“ He says impatiently when he turns you over. The pace of his movements gets faster and faster. You feel that sweet sensation that comes just seconds before your orgasm. Loud moans fill your bedroom and you want to scream when he doesn´t stop even when he knows that you just cum. „... please... stop...“ „Really?“ he smiles. „No.“ He knows you and he is so proud of how hungry you are. For him, for his body, for his cock. And there is nothing that he wouldn´t give you in the exchange. Multiple orgasms? That´s just the beginning. You spent the whole night enjoying each other until you fall asleep exhausted. Kabal has much better stamina than you so every time you close your eyes to get some sleep he makes sure that you are tucked under the warm blanket. Kabal is a sucker for cuddles. Something about spooning you is so comforting and precious that he can´t fall asleep until he holds you in his arms. And you probably don´t even know about it. He loves you with his whole heart and there is no way that you will not be loved exactly how you deserve.

[spideyxmee]

The Moon's Dark Side Loves Better

A/N: Hi everybody! Thank you for giving time for this short oneshot of a (messed up) scenario I had.

On a serious note, please read in caution. This mildly contains serious topics which I won't specify in case I spoil everything. If you have any trauma or anything in regards to serious and disturbing topics, please proceed with caution or just don't read this at all and move on to the next fic.

Lastly, it is not my intention to hate/bash any canon characters.

I hope you would enjoy it!

socials | ao3 | intro

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Specific traumas I won't specify (please go to the next fic if you don't want to see any), some swear words

Pairing: Lily/Male OC, Jily

Genre: Dark

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Elio Gebber was a normal Ravenclaw with a pure heart. He was always kind-hearted and sweet to everyone he came across. The teachers adored his witty attitude in class and his clean reputation. It attracted a lot of people, even the ones older than him. He had attractive features that could charm anyone, long dirty blond hair, and grey-blue eyes. You could see his confidence in the way he walks and talks.

The students know nothing about Elio's hobbies and personal life. He would let others talk about themselves rather than tell something about him. Others describe him as reticent, while others call him mysterious, but this didn't stop students drool all over him.

It all changed when he showed interest in Lily Evans suddenly at the start of his 5th year. Though he was a year younger than her, he didn't care at all what others say. The news spread like wildfire and eventually alerted Lily's other courter James Potter, who was the complete opposite of Elio. But he was as popular among students.

"He's no match for me, right, Sirius?" James asks his best friend for reassurance that his long-time crush would eventually pick him rather than that "nerd." His best friend, Sirius, offered to bully and threaten Elio until he wouldn't even mention Lily's name. James was mature enough to turn down his offer and be a better man for his love.

"Hi, Evans!" Wearing a charming smile, the sanguine Ravenclaw leaned into a pillar to talk to the redhead in front of him at the Gryffindor table.

"You look wonderful today. Would you mind having some Butterbeer with me this Saturday? I would like to get to know you better."

Lily was staring at Elio, astonished. The whole table chattered, and the event eventually reached the far Slytherin table.

"Damn, that was smooth,"

"Maybe I should take him out, huh, Prongs." Sirius's gay heart leaped, while his group of friends shushed him and comforted the down James while he can only watch as the girl he liked for many years gets taken by a boy below his year. He refused to do his old tactics of aggression and respect Lily's decision.

From all the peer pressure, she agreed to give Elio a chance at dating. From what she knew, he was decent boyfriend material, but she would also like to know other things about him. They met up in the Three Broomsticks and had a successful date. He was nice enough to pay for everything they would buy.

On their second date, they enjoyed playing with the fallen leaves and buying candy at Honeydukes. He had great humor. He asked if she would like a kiss, both knew it was too quick for that, but he presented a muggle chocolate Lily adored called Kisses.

For their third date, a month later, they announced that they were officially dating. Elio knew everything about her. Now it's his turn to share things about himself. He told her that he had a hard childhood and didn't like sharing it with anyone. She understood him and promise to avoid mentioning it in the future.

"Hey, Lily! How are you doing?"

An old friend of hers, Frank Longbottom, approached them while sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks. He was visiting Hogsmeade for a break from his Auror training. She tried to hug him, but Elio was being overprotective and pushed Frank hard away from her. It was the first time anyone saw him being physical.

"Elio! That is so unnecessary," she pulled the boy back and stared at him in shock while asking herself why he was out of character.

"This is my friend, Frank. Frank, this is my Boyfriend, Elio." She blushed while she helps her friend stand up from the fall. The boy that wore a dark expression didn't even apologize and sat down again. He wanted the other two to sit down and ask questions that sound too protective for other people but seem normal to him.

Frank had to go and was only passing by to say hello. The boys both looked at each other intensely. That wasn't a good first impression with Lily's close friend.

As they walk back to Hogwarts after their date, Lily asks Elio if he was ok and grabbed his hand. It was cold and clenched tight.

A few dates came and go, but it got worse and worse. Elio became more aggressive over Lily's simple mistakes like misplacing borrowed things. He turned into a two-faced idiot that seems nice when people were looking. But when alone with his girlfriend, Elio sounded manipulative and self-centered. He wanted the love of his life to be perfect just for him.

After no time at all, she broke up with him. He threatened her that he would die if she broke up with him, but this didn't work on the bright woman at all. She was over his idiotic tactics and two-faced ass.

She told the whole school about him, but none of the students believe her. Elio became depressed and suicidal, and Lily was the one he blames. The entire school despised her, and rumor spread that she only dated Elio for his popularity and looks. The teachers could only do little for the broken-hearted's well-being. Their respective House heads talked to them he looked in a better state. Lily has no proof of abuse to accuse him.

"Lily, can we talk?" James patiently waited for her to come out of their House Head's chamber. Now is the time to at least comfort her.

"Since when do you call me by my first name, Potter?"

It was hard for her to hold back tears from her talk with Professor McGonagall. The teacher offered to look more into her ex for her. But that's all she can do for now.

"I-" Before he could get to say anything, she attempted to walk away. James went in front of her to stop her and gave her a concerned look. Lily stood straight and raised an eyebrow.

"I am here to say that I trust you and know that you would never lie about what Elio has done to you. You can always come to me if you want to talk."

She doesn't have any reason to trust the toe rag back after what he's done to her ex-best friend in their previous school years. But from what he's done this year and the Shrieking Shack incident, she feels that James is a better person and less of a toe rag.

Weeks went by, and the two talked more and more each day. Elio thought this was preposterous and made a scene breaking down and crying every time he sees them together in public. People around felt sorry for him and criticize the two friends that were soon to be a couple.

The school soon didn't care about the drama anymore and focused on other things, which Elio didn't fathom would happen. He hid and kept a low profile for years.

On his 17th birthday, Elio obliviated his mother to erase every memory of him. His mother, Sharon Gebber, didn't care about her own child. Ever since his mother and father divorced in the summer before his 5th year, his mother abused him. She would often use him as a slave and never notice the achievements that he did so that his own mother would pay attention. This lead to his thirst for recognition in public.

Elio successfully erased her mother's memory so she could fuck off his life. He learned about the power of the spell for a specific plan of his. But clearing his mother's memory was just a practice run.

After he graduated, Elio took a job at the daily prophet to earn some money. People there think he's mental. He credits every team achievement to himself and seeks attention every chance he gets.

And even after five years, he was still not over his "love" for Lily. Elio wanted her to love him since he believes that he deserves her.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

While Lily was shopping for baby Harry's stuff at Diagon Alley, she came across an old friend of hers. Elio was sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, writing on a notepad about news from Gringotts. She winced as she recalled all the unpleasant memories of him shouting and making her feel bad about herself. Though it was a long time ago, it still left a faint scar on Lily.

When Lily was about to turn away, he looked up, and they met eye-to-eye. He ran up to her and was about to hug her until she stood back.

"Oh Merlin, Lily! How are you?"

She thought of getting mad at him and ignore him for the things he did. But she thought, what if he's changed? He's matured physically, maybe emotionally and mentally too.

"I'm ok. How about you?" She talked slowly, and her voice was softer than usual.

They sat down and chatted for a bit. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, while Elio was very talkative and talked about himself a lot.

"He didn't seem to change a bit." She thought as she prepared an excuse to leave.

"Elio, I think it's time for me to go."

"Oh, you're already about to leave? Why so soon?" he smiled and talked at the same time, looking like a maniac planning. Which he indeed was.

"I have to really take care of my son, excuse me." she grasped her bag hard, trying to hold back the tears as she watched the same smile Elio wore when they dated fade. She left sniffling and wishing that her spouse, James Potter, to be on her side. But he was protecting their 2-month-old son from the dangers ahead.

"Son?" Elio realized that his first love has had a family with another guy. He gave out a psychotic laugh and cried his heart out. People around stared as the adult threw a child-like tantrum.

Lily heard this from far away, but she learned to never look back.

While crying, Elio thought of something. He then chased Lily and decided that it was time for his plan.

He cornered her in a dark alleyway between shops. He covered Lily's mouth with his hand and chanted a spell to stop her from making any noise. He then snatched her wand, tied her feet, and tied her arms behind her with rope from his wand.

"I have wanted to do this ever since I heard rumors of you and that Potter guy's marriage. Now you and he have a child! I can't stand it, Lily. I thought you loved me!" He stopped and scanned around the environment. "Bystanders will notice all my shouting."

"How about we talk at my humble flat here in London. How does that sound?" Elio wrapped his arms around his sweet childhood sweetheart. Lily tried to scream in hopes that someone or anyone would help her. No sound came out of her mouth as she shed tears silently. She fought her best against the stronger, more muscular man armed with a wand she wished she had.

After not long, they apparated together to his flat. To no surprise at all, his place was eerily clean, and the walls painted white. It pretty much looked like a well-furnished white torture room.

"Sit, my love." Elio dragged Lily, holding her arm with his nails sink into her skin. He locked all the doors to keep Lily in his living room as he'll get some water.

When he left, Lily tried to remove her arms and legs from the rope, but she had no luck. She tried to wriggle her limbs out and cut the ropes using sharp objects around. Alas, none of her tactics worked.

Elio returned, seeing Lily with her face wet with tears.

"Oh, love. Don't cry. I'm here. Drink some water." He wore his demented grin again. He was talking to her like nothing happened between them. It was like they were dating again.

She shook her head and bit her lip, making her facial expressions more emotional and angry.

"Wouldn't hydrate, ey? Not drinking water and keeping hydrated is bad for you, baby."

He raised her chin and looked at her face with awe. Lily tried to bite his finger off, but he pulled it away immediately.

"Ah, a little feistier than I remembered." Elio came closer to her lips as he prepared to kiss her. She gave him a painful headbutt, giving both a throbbing headache.

"Ok, Lily. I have had enough. We will come to my room and have some fun playing, won't we?" He sprung to his feet while rubbing his head to relieve the ache. His voice and face were a mix of angriness and excitement.

Knowing what he means, she got to her knees and attempted to talk, "Why, Elio. Please, I have done nothing but be nice to you."

He stopped from pulling her into the bedroom. He sat to her level to meet her eyes.

"That's the point. You did nothing to make me happy." Elio continued to pull her. The chains he used to attach Lily to the bed were ready. The whole room was filled with candles and rose petals, all ready for their steamy night.

"Don't resist me, my Lily! I deserve your love. I need your love." He clenched his teeth, making his words sound hard and scary.

It was the last thing she heard before all of her trauma.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

The morning sun arose. Elio prepared eggs and toast for breakfast without releasing Lily.

"Your bed in breakfast is here, love!" He places the small table on her lap. Elio was covered in bruises which he calls hickeys. The sleeping Lily was the most bruised, not just physically.

Elio obliviated her, confident that he replaced all of her memories with false memories of both of them together, being a happy and normal couple. He didn't know that he messed up.

"If you ever tell anyone about all this, I will kill you and your whole family."

He was removing her chains and undoing the silencing spell when he heard a knock on the door. Aurors arrived at his house for the interview he needed for an article. It was scheduled for 8 pm, but they misunderstood it for 8 am.

While Elio was away attending the Aurors, Lily woke up remembering everything except Elio's face and identity. She did, in fact, hear the mysterious man's threat involving her family. Lily wanted to get out immediately. She found all her stuff and clothes in the room. Luckily with the help of magic, she left out of the window and gently fell to the ground without scraping her already damaged body.

Elio returned to the room after chatting with his guests. He found no one there. He thinks this was mind-boggling and impossible. He prepared all this thoroughly, and he saw no one to blame but himself. The thought of it made him ask his guests to leave his home and throw things around the house.

Lily healed her scars that left unnoticeable traces at first glance and then apparated back to her home. She told the worried Order of the Phoenix members and her panicked husband that she went to her muggle friend's house that had no telephone. She also assured them that she was unable to contact anyone since it was an emergency.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

"James, I'm pregnant."

Her husband celebrated while carrying and dancing with baby Harry in his hands. While he was happy, Lily worried if it was actually her husband's baby she's bearing.

The whole Order of the Phoenix knew. Others say to be careful of this new baby because they know that the he who must not be named is coming for their first child.

While doing an interview at the Leaky Cauldron, Elio looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, and he reeked the smell of alcohol. The good-looking young man was nowhere to be found. He worked day and night, punishing himself for losing "his whole world."

He was a workaholic without any motivation for any other things, even the news of Lily's second child he overheard from a random person at the bar.

"I deserve this miserable life. I don't deserve happiness, and most importantly, Lily." he thought after wrapping up the interview and ordering alcohol.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

After a long day of work, Elio didn't stop find stories for work. His workaholic ass made him travel far. He reached West England just for the story about the undiscovered magical creatures around the area.

While searching around a village called Godric's Hollow, he heard a familiar scream. In a house, he saw a silhouette of a woman fall to the floor through a window. Elio wanted to see what happened, but he didn't want to be a suspect. So he covered any trace of him like wearing removing his shoes, wore gloves, and summoned a hairnet. It looked ridiculous but at least he won't be seen by the Aurors as a suspect.

He rushed inside to see James Potter, lifeless. He then realized. Lily must be the woman. He hurried up the stairs thinking about multiple things. "What happened? Will I report this? Who did this? This might make a good story. Is her child dead too? Is Lily dead?"

The first thing Elio saw was a swaddled, blonde infant cooing. Despite the cries of the toddler and her inert mother, she remained calm and silent. The sight of the infant made Elio's heart warm. She looked a lot like him.

His sharp and quick mind made it seem that this little bundle of light that reflected his past beautiful self's features is his own child. The thought pushed his panic buttons. He told himself, "I have made enough mistakes. I let Lily down and abandoned her. I will fix all of them."

Elio left the house with the child, and still, she didn't cry.

He did everything he can for his child. He quitted his job, changed his identity, and started a new life just for his child. He met a woman and he planned to obliviate her into thinking they have a family, and the girl is their child.

Without knowing it, Elio's wand was broken when he chanted the spell. He forgot all his memories that involved Lily, which was a lucky coincidence. The bad things he did to her? Kidnapping Lily's child? All forgotten.

He also forgot his act of acting to be nice and friendly to his "family." Elio's personality changed to match the kind of person he pretended to be.

He's successfully released a magazine of his own. He raised his girl to be better than his old self, even after his spouse died when their daughter was nine. The smart, little Ravenclaw girl loved everyone better than the person she reflected. And after all the bad things Gebber has done before, he helped some hero complete his mission.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

This was the life of Xenophilius Lovegood.

[bitoffairydust]

Yesterday we came home from the hospital as a family of three.

Things haven’t been super smooth sailing, nor did I expect them to be, but our little one is doing well and I’m healing fine so that’s really all we could ask for.

Wednesday was a bit of a whirlwind. I was scheduled to go into the hospital for my induction at 5, so we spent the morning doing a bit of last minute clean up around the place. Then around 12, someone from L&D called and said if we were available to come in earlier, we could just show up whenever. We still had a few things to finish up so we had lunch, I took a shower while my wife did the dishes, then she took a shower and got the cats set up for a few days home alone before we called an Uber to head to the hospital.

We got there around 3:30-4 so not super early but they got us into the delivery rooms right away and someone came over to go over a few questions (medical stuff and what I was hoping for with the birth). I got hooked up to the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors, they got my IV line in, and then we went over the induction options for me. Based on my last check up, I was about 1.5 cm dilated, so before anything else they had to get me to about 3 cm, which they offered to do with either the foley balloon or misoprostol. Then the plan was to start me on oxytocin to get contractions going. I requested the miso, cause I figured there would be enough things going in and out of my vagina for the evening without an additional thing thrown in there 😅

It actually took a little while for the induction to start because as it turns out, three people (myself included) showed up for their induction within 5 minutes of each other and I was the last so it was closer to 7 before the resident came to examine me. In doing so they found I had actually progressed to 3 cm on my own since my last appointment so they were able to just get me started up on oxytocin.

Contractions started up pretty much instantly but they were very manageable. I’d say just from the oxy progression, the worst contraction I got was maybe a 5 on the scale from 1 to 10. Then they ran through the dosage and did another exam to see where I was at. They didn’t give an exact number then but I think it was somewhere between 4 and 5 cm. Before starting me up on another dosage of oxytocin, they went ahead and tried to break my water as it hadn’t yet. They didn’t actually manage to fully get it, and honestly, at that point, them trying to get it to break was actually more painful than the contractions I’d experienced that far.

That changed pretty fast once they established they’d gotten enough of the membranes for the time being. I’m fuzzy on the timeline but I think it must have been close to 10 at that point, and the pain level climbed very quickly along with contraction intensity and frequency. I tried to bounce on a ball for a bit and the nurse showed my wife some pressure points to try and help with the pain but it did nothing. Around 10:30 I requested the epidural, which was unfortunate timing on my part as the anesthesiologist had just gone in to assist with a c-section. By the time she was out and got to my room it was about 11:30 and pain was an easy 10 on the scale with contractions maybe a minute and a half apart.

The epidural itself went in pretty smoothly but at first there wasn’t much to be said for relief. Since they mentioned it could take 15 minutes to really be felt I didn’t think much of it, and I did feel like things were getting a bit better as minutes passed. The last contraction I was asked about felt more back down to a 5 on the pain scale so the anesthesiologist left. Unfortunately, that 5 turned out to be a fluke because pain shot back up pretty quickly and I was soon at a 10 again, no matter the dosage boosts.

That part was quite honestly the worst of it all, having expected some sort of relief and finding it to be just as worse as before. To make it worse, baby was not handling those contractions well. His heart beat would drop with the start of each contraction, though it picked up before the end of them so though they wanted to keep an eye on it it wasn’t cause for intervention yet. The nurse monitored his heart rate with me laying flat on my back, on my right side, on my left side and then sitting straight up. The latter was the slightly better option for him, but definitely did nothing to help my pain management. She did get me back on my back to try and relieve me a bit since the difference to the effect on baby wasn’t huge but at that point contractions were relentless. I was dealing with back labor contractions, which were maybe a minute apart, and because they suspected the placenta had detached a bit when they tried to break my water, when a contraction would subside, the pain in my abdomen would become more prominent and almost to the same level. It made it feel like I was contracting non stop with no break for catching my breath or trying to recuperate.

Around 2 in the morning there were a few people in the room examining me and trying to figure out the best course of action. A C-section being needed started being mentioned if things didn’t improve, but I was at a little more than 9 cm by then. The OB and the anesthesiologist had a talk outside the room and decided to re-do my epidural as it had clearly failed (they did an ice test and it was clear I wasn’t frozen anywhere at all), and if I were to end up needing a c-section, I’d have to have it redone anyway.

She took two tries to get everything situated in my back. That second try did the trick. I don’t think I can even describe the amount of relief when my foot started feeling warm and then going numb, and within maybe 5 minutes it was amazingly painless. They did another ice test and this time I felt no cold at all anywhere, and when the nurse pointed out I’d just had a contraction it cemented it because I’d not felt it at all. The only thing I could feel at that point was a bit of abdominal pressure every now and then. And I will say, I did have a great team with me. Everyone was very empathetic and trying their best to get me to feel some form of relief before the second epidural. And they seemed almost as relieved as me when that last one finally worked - especially because after that baby’s heart stabilized.

By the time the epidural was done, even though they figured I had likely progressed to 10 cm, they elected to let me rest for a bit, and give baby a chance to keep making his way down, so I got to catch a breather until about 4 am. Then they told me it was time to try and start pushing, with the nurse guiding me since I still couldn’t feel any sort of contraction. I pushed through maybe four or five contractions without huge progress, and the OB came in to assess and established baby needed a bit of help coming out. They set up the forceps and had me push through another couple of contractions, but they were pretty week and hard to catch even for the nurse by then, and baby’s heart rate was starting to struggle again. So they got on the phone to get a room prepped for c-section, and the doctor told me I would get to push through one last contraction, but if nothing happened we’d have to go into surgery.

The nurse tried to wait for a good one (she had already reupped the oxytocin drip at that point) and by some miracle, the next push for his head half out and with the second one it was completely out. The rest of his body followed quickly and before I had even caught up with it all, I had his tiny little body on me.

Even though they’d brought someone in from the NICU just to be safe, he ended up being perfectly okay. I needed a bit more attention because I had more bleeding than normal, and I had to have 4 stitches and another IV line put in to help with the blood loss. Then we stayed in the delivery room until about 6 at which point we were brought over to our postpartum room.

Since then nursing has undoubtedly been the biggest challenge. He did have a tongue tie, but he struggled from the get go. He would latch well but lose it and then get frustrated and cry. He also is a very lazy eater - I’d spend easily 30-45 minutes per side trying to get him to stay aware long enough to take in maybe 15 minutes of proper feeding, but he’d start smacking his lips practically the moment he was done, and he’d wake up hungry again within the hour.

Unfortunately there was no lactation consultant on staff as she was on vacation this week. People commented time and time again about how I had no supply issue, and his latch (when he was latched) was good, but it didn’t seem to help. I also felt I kept getting conflicting information as one moment he’d have crystals in his urine to indicate potential dehydration, and the next they’d be telling me he had barely loss any of his birth weight and was perfectly on target for that.

We did decide to get his tongue tie cut as it seemed to really be frustrating him at feeds and make it harder for my breast to properly fit into his mouth. The feed that followed the cut was easily the best we’ve had to date, but unfortunately it went downhill from there. After we got home and I tried to feed him last night, he did fine on the right side but then only lasted 10 minutes on the left and then lost it, started to scream and wouldn’t latch again. I haven’t been able to make him latch on the left side since, and I only managed to get him latched to the right a couple more times before we ran in the same problem, so we had to go ahead and start giving him bottles. I’ll be trying to work through it with a lactation consultant as soon as possible, and I’ve now started pumping, but in the meantime, him being properly fed was the biggest thing.

He does also have a small fracture on his right clavicle, likely from the forceps, but the pediatrician said that will resolve on its own within the week. In the meantime we just have to be very cautious how we move his right arm, and she prescribed him Tylenol if need be.

In the meantime we’re just trying to settle down to our new sleep deprived routine. But then looking into all the sweet, funny faces he makes both when asleep and awake makes it feel pretty worth it.

- Marie

[random-mha-thoughts]

Small Things (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Anon requested: “I have a request! BakugoxFemale Reader. Fluff please! Ok bit o context first, the reader has like a size manipulation quirk but cant really control it. Alrighty here’s the basic idea: so Baku picks a fight with her, The reader is very self conscious and stuff and tries to stop this because she knows its not a good idea. She ends up shrinking herself to 2 inches tall for a few days and has to stay with Baku. He ends up finding out that she likes him, and hijinks ensue, cuz he also likes her uwu.”

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Word count: 1,959

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: I’m really sorry this came out this late anon 😭 Please forgive me!  Passover started this week and I was helping my parents clean house between my online classes, and I had no energy or time to be doing anything, so I’m sorry.  I hope you still like this and you’ve been waiting patiently for it!  I ended up changing the last part so Bakugou confesses first because that’s the logic that felt right with the characters, and I kept it a little shorter than I intended since I wanted to get this out asap, so I hope that’s okay.

Participate in my 1K followers event!

I want to die of embarrassment, I feel so small.  No, seriously, I'm like two inches tall, I'd rather die.

As the rest of the class watches in horror, Denki had to be the idiot who breaks the silence into a fit of laughter.  "(Y/n)'s a real midget now!"  He's having himself a good time, doubled over like it's the first joke he's heard in his entire life, Sero and Mineta chuckling right next to him.  If I hadn't messed up, I would've stormed over and punched them all out.

Unfortunately, mistakes have been made, mistakes I have no control over.

Bakugou had walked into the class in the morning while I was talking with the girls and challenged me to a fight in his cocky, brash manner.  I, of course, refused because there's no way I'm facing someone like Bakugou and winning in a fight.  My size manipulation quirk could be pretty useful and effective, but I don't have the best control over it.  When it comes to shrinking and expanding other objects, I've already mastered it, and I'm great at manipulating my size to be bigger, but I've always refused to practice shrinking myself.

As I stepped backwards, shaking my head violently against his request, he gained each step back on me.  "Whaddya mean 'no'?!  You're telling me you're afraid?!" Bakugou bellowed.

I finally bumped into the back wall and screwed my eyes shut.  "No, I don't want to, just leave me alone," I pleaded feebly.

Bakugou towered over me like a thug, his signature scowl morphed into his face.  "Look at you.  When you train and you're big, you're such a big baddie!  Only when you're in your tiny, normal size, you act like a coward!  You're nothing unless you're bigger, is that what you're telling me?!  That you're useless and unconfident when you're this height, tiny?!"

I was so embarrassed by his insults.  I was hearing exactly everything my thoughts say in silence, but said out loud so I had to face them, and everyone in the room heard them.  They all probably think the same thing he does.  I felt like crying as I curled into myself against the wall.

When I blinked my eyes open to wipe my tears, the first thing I saw was Bakugou's shoes.  That's when I knew I'd messed up.

This is so much worse than being just shy of five feet.

After Kaminari's little chide, my face heats up in shame and a new set of tears starts to form.

"(Y/n)-chan!" Uraraka bends down, shock and sympathy mixed into her eyes.  "Are you okay?  I can't believe you finally shrank like this!"

I try using my quirk to grow back to normal size, but I can't.  "I-I'm stuck," my voice shakes out, more high pitch than before.

She holds out her hand to the ground.  I get on and curl up.  "Just get me out of here, I've embarrassed myself enough."

"What's going on now?" Aizawa stands at the front of the classroom, arms crossed and aloof as ever.  He's one hundred percent done with us at this point.

"(Y/n)-chan shrunk and she can't grow back to normal size, ribbit," Tsuyu explains.

Aizawa locks eyes with the fuming Bakugou in the back.  "And I'm guessing you had something to do with that?"

The boy snorts.  "How was I supposed to know she would freak out like that?!"

"Well, she's your responsibility now," our teacher orders.  "You're gonna have to help her grow back to normal since you made her shrink.  In the meantime, you'll have to take care of her needs."

Both of us are less than thrilled about that.  Balugou shoots a death glare at me in Uraraka's hand.  "Teme..."

Aizawa bristles, his scarf starting to levitate around his shoulders.  He doesn't even have to do anything but stare down the boy so he snorts and sits at his desk, grumbling about his fate.

"It's okay, (Y/n)-chan, you can sit at my desk for now," Uraraka beams at me, setting me down on her desk for me to sit.

I bury my face in my hands.  How did I get so misfortunate?

Aizawa wasn't kidding when he said Bakugou would take responsibility for me.  The boy was forced to copy notes into my notebook after class, study with me, carry my bag, get my lunch, and other things I take for granted being normal size.  However, even through all that, I still stayed two inches tall.  As such Aizawa used his silent glare to pressure the unruly kid into keeping me in his room for the night just so we can hopefully talk over our differences.

"You better not pull anything weird, you hear me?" Bakugou warns me with a growl.

I'm perched on his shoulder as he walks us to his dorm room.  I can't say I'm not nervous being alone with the boy for the first time, I'm not sure if he'll squish me like a bug or throw me out the window first chance he gets.  As soon as we enter his room, he puts me down on his bed.

"Don't touch anything until I come back, stay right there," he points an accusing finger at me before grabbing some lounge clothes and heading into his bathroom to change.

I nod my head quickly, scared out of my mind and already on edge.  I swing my legs off the end of the bed as I wait, my heart hammering in my small chest.  I'm afraid that he'll start throwing more insults at me once we get to talking again, and then I'll end up disappearing into the size of an eyelash.  Burying my head in my hands, I quietly groan to myself.  I'll never be good at my quirk, will I?

"Why are you crying again?"

I jerk my head up and compose myself, avoiding his eyes.  "No reason."

Bakugou rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly, kneeling down in front of me to stay level.  "If we're gonna talk, you have to look at me at least."

Clasping my hands together on top of my lap, I tap my thumbs together nervously.  "I can listen to you fine even if I'm not looking at you," I retort, too soft and unsure for me to sound convincing.  If anything, it gives away how nervous I am.

Another annoyed sigh leaves his lips and he aggressively scratch his head.  "Fine, I'll just talk then," he grumbles before taking a breath.

I steel myself for his potential yelling, squeezing my eyes closed again like the coward I am.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, dumbass.  I'm sorry I even asked you to fight me in the first place if it made you that nervous."

I relax all my face muscles and ease open my eyes.  Bakugou's not looking at me, but I can tell that he means it, even if he still sound aggressive about it.

"I don't know why you'd feel nervous about fighting me when you'd probably kick my ass no question, all you'd really have to do is make yourself bigger and crush me or make an object twice my size and knock me over the head with it, but whatever.  I didn't ask you to fight me just to pick on you.  I don't pick fights with people I know aren't worth my time.

My stomach stirs.  He believes in me?  He thinks I can stand against him?

"You're always so confident in your quirk during practice that I didn't think it would be a big deal, so when you were backing down like you were scared, it wasn't right.  I thought you were just holding back from me.  Until I realized you're actually scared.  And then I tried taunting you because I know you're capable of doing better, I thought I could somehow get you to open up and get you fired up to show me otherwise, but I guess it had the opposite effect."  He finally looks me hard in the eyes, making me gulp at the intensity they burn with.  "I know you need to hear someone say this.  You're not weak, you're strong and you can kick anyone ass if you wanted to, whether you're small or big, and I admire that about you."

My breath catches in my throat.

"Yeah, it's better to look all scary when you're bigger, but being smaller has advantages in a fight.  You can maneuver better, you have the element of surprise, you can reach places no one else can.  You're not nothing without being big, you still have a lot going for you.  You don't need to cower in fear just because you're smaller than most people.  I know you're self-conscious about your height the way you are, and that's what makes you lean into expanding yourself, but..."  His face turns slightly pink and he struggles to get his next words out, finally saying them quickly like he's ripping off a bandage, "I like your height just the way you are."

My heart skips a beat at that.  I'm already touched and rendered sheepish by the amount of praise he's showering me with, but the last one is a nail in the coffin.  He likes my height.

Before I know it, I'm no longer looking up at him, instead looking down.  Holding my hands out in front of me to confirm it's not an illusion, I dart back and forth between them and Bakugou's blank face.  It took that kind of sentence from him to put me back to normal, how embarrassing!

"Huh, so that's all it took."  I'm more frightened of the smirk growing on his face as he stands and leans over me sitting down on his bed.

I clench my fists and prepare for a world of teasing only for him to place his hand on my head.  Instinctively, I look up only for him to lean down and place his lips on my forehead.  If my cheeks were pink before, they're certainly rose red now.  "It's very hard to kiss your forehead when you're only two inches tall," is the smooth line that rolls off his tongue.  "That's another thing I like about your height, it's perfect for me to plant surprise kisses on your head whenever I want."

"B-Bakugou?"  I finally summon words, only for them to be this dumb.

His hand slides down from the top of my head to my cheek.  "I like you, stupid."

Another throb in my chest.

"I was gonna confess to you somehow at the end of our fight, but you freaked out and ended up the size of Tinker Bell, which was actually cute the way you sat on my shoulder around school for the past few days."  His smirk briefly softens into a genuine smile, one that takes me a moment to process in case I was hallucinating it.  "Well, I'd rather you give me an answer quickly before you end up shrinking yourself for another week.  What's it gonna be?"

My mind still reels over everything he's just admitted to me, overwhelming myself to the point where tears well up in my eyes again.  "I don't think you'll like how emotional I am," I rub my face and try to play it off.  "It might annoy you after a while."

Bakugou sits down next to me and wipes my eyes with his thumbs gently.  "Did I also mention you're the perfect height for to also wipe your tears away like this?  I don't believe in that destiny crap, but I think it means something."

With that, I collapse my small body into his chest, my embrace around him providing my answer to his proposal.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

fine.

prompt: stitches (from day 24)

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hey! this fic took me longer than i thought to write but i had a really fun time with it and i’m super pleased with how it turned out! it’s a bit more medical than my usual stuff and there’s like, a good bit of descriptions of needles so be careful of that! hope you enjoy :)

Nick ducks the knife, and it slashes through the air where, just half a second ago, his face had been. He kicks at his opponent’s knee, and the man steps to the side to avoid it, then swings out with the knife again. It grazes Nick’s cheek, and then he’s pushing the man’s arm away, leaning into a punch, which is deflected. 

The knife cuts through one of his sleeves and into his skin. He lands a hard punch to his opponent’s face, and follows it up with a fist to the stomach. In return, the knife digs into his face, just in front of his ear, and drags downward. Nick pulls away, tries to grab the man’s arm, and ends up with a cut across his right palm. 

This cut is the first one he’s actually felt, over all of the adrenaline. It’s hard not to feel it, since it’s right across the hand that he needs to punch and block with. It burns and protests as he curls his hand into a fist, but he ignores it and decides to go for it. 

It being the end of this fight. He launches forwards with everything he’s got, doing his best to protect himself but knowing he’s going to get a little more cut up in the process. He lashes out with hit after hit, until a particularly nasty punch to his opponent’s face has him spinning on his feet. He looks at Nick, the knife in his hand glistening red, his eyes unfocused, and apparently decides he’s had enough. He turns and runs. 

Some part of Nick thinks he should follow this guy. But he highly doubts they’ll be meeting again, and he also doesn’t think either of them actually wants to kill the other. So he stays where he is, sitting down on the cool (and, if he looks hard enough in the dim light, blood-speckled) concrete, back pressed to an uncomfortable metal support beam. 

He sits there and catches his breath and feels the adrenaline start to wear off, leaving him feeling slightly shaky and entirely too aware of the injuries he’d sustained during the fight. His face is wet and warm and stinging, and his palm of course is still hurting, worse now, for having been curled into a fist and used heavily for the past few minutes. There are a couple of spots on his torso where he can feel the fabric of his shirt getting damp with blood, and a few similar spots on his arms. The cuts sting and burn and bleed, but he’s reasonably sure that none of them are deep enough to be any immediate cause for concern. They just sort of hurt, and they’re making him feel like he doesn’t want to get up off of the floor. 

But he can’t exactly stay here and wait for the pain to wear off (not that it will, necessarily, but at some point he’ll get used to it, which is good enough). It’s sunset now, and it’s November, and if he stays here too much longer he’s going to get really cold on top of being all cut up, and he’d prefer to not deal with that. He’s already shaking a little, though he’s loath to admit it. 

So he reaches his unhurt left hand across his body and wrestles his phone out from his pocket. The brightness of the screen is startling in the low light of his surroundings, and he squints for a minute as he locates the right contact. 

Which is Monroe. Monroe may not like it, but Nick knows he’s not going to push him, not going to make him disclose any information like who he’d fought with and why. He loves Hank, but the first thing his partner is going to do is insist on knowing the who, what, when, where, and why of the situation. And the first thing Juliette will do is insist that he tell Hank about it. Which then leads to the same problem. So Monroe it is. 

“What’s up?”

“Monroe, hey,” Nick starts, and then realizes he’s got no idea what else to say. “Could...could you maybe come and get me?”

Monroe’s voice goes serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nick replies quickly. “Nothing bad, anyway.”

“Nick.”

“There was...a fight, and I got a little cut up.”

“And that’s ‘nothing bad,’ huh?”

“It’s fine,” Nick insists. “None of the cuts are that deep. I’m fine. I could just use a ride.”

Monroe sighs. Nick pictures him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. Where exactly are you?”

Nick tells him, and Monroe promises he’ll be there as quickly as he can. “Try not to bleed too much before I get there, okay?” he asks, and Nick promises he’ll try. 

Not that there’s much he can do to stop himself from bleeding. From what he can feel, none of the cuts are too deep (he hadn’t lied to Monroe), and he’s only got one useful hand, anyway, which means he can’t apply pressure to every single cut. And he can’t really tell which ones might be worse than the others - they all hurt, and they’re all bleeding, and it’s honestly kind of hard to tell where one cut ends and another begins. 

So he just sits there, bleeding and trying to stop his body from trembling, because, as a rule, Nick doesn’t get shaky. He doesn’t want Monroe to worry about him, and anyway, it’s not like there’s a reason for him to be shaking. It’s just the adrenaline leaving his system after an intense fight. A normal reaction, sure, but not one he’d like to be having. So he focuses his attention on stopping it, so much so that he doesn’t notice Monroe arrive until he hears his voice.

“Nick? You in there?” 

Nick looks up from where he’d been staring intently at the floor. Outside a cracked door, he sees the beam of a flashlight. “Over here!” he shouts to Monroe, and watches as the door opens. The beam of the flashlight moves around, and hits him. He closes his eyes against the sudden brightness, and when he opens them, Monroe is standing a few feet from him. 

“‘A little cut up,’ Nick? Really?” 

“What?”

“Dude, you look bad.”

“It’s fine, really. None of them are that deep. I told you.”

The flashlight goes directly into his face then, and Monroe crouches down next to him, looking him over intently. “Yeah, buddy, several of these are pretty deep. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna need stitches.”

“No, no, I’m -”

Monroe cuts him off sharply. “Hospital. Stitches. Now. Or I call Hank.”

“Fine,” Nick agrees, and reaches out his left hand to let Monroe pull him to his feet. 

Once he’s standing, he sways for a second, slightly dizzy. Maybe he’s lost a little more blood than he’d thought. He doesn’t want to even think it, but Monroe is probably right - the hospital might just be a good idea. 

The drive is silent but not tense. Monroe looks over at Nick every few seconds, like he’s worried Nick’s going to bleed to death right there in the passenger seat. Nick would remind him to keep his eyes on the road, but he’s kind of tired and he’d rather not speak unless he has to. He trusts that Monroe will get them there safely, anyway.

Luckily, the ER isn’t terribly busy. They both sink into uncomfortable plastic chairs, and Monroe holds a clipboard with a form on it and asks Nick questions while Nick presses a towel onto his cheek and holds loosely onto another one wrapped around his right hand. 

A few minutes later, Nick is called back by a kind-looking nurse, and he stands and tries not to wince at the movement as he follows the nurse back to a room. 

The nurse gestures for Nick to sit down on the table and types some information from Nick’s form into the computer. “The doctor should be here in just a minute,” he tells Nick, “but before she gets here, would you like to tell me what happened?”

Nick shakes his head slightly. “An accident,” he says. The nurse looks unconvinced, but doesn’t press the issue, which Nick is grateful for. He honestly has no idea how to explain this in a way that doesn’t involve the words “knife” and “fight,” which he thinks are probably words that the people in the ER would rather not hear.

The nurse leaves the room, then, and a second later, the doctor walks in. She pulls on a pair of gloves and has Nick remove his shirt - which takes him far longer than it ought to - and then looks him over. 

“These cuts on your torso and arms won’t need stitches,” she says, beginning to wipe the blood off of him with a damp cloth, “but even under all this blood I can see that a few of the ones on your face, and definitely the one on your hand, are going to need to be sewn up.”

Nick had been expecting this, so he nods, trying not to wince when the cloth hits what must be a particularly deep cut on his face. 

“Almost done,” the doctor says reassuringly, switching to another cloth and carefully taking his hand. 

He definitely winces when the cloth hits the gash in his hand - in fact, he very nearly pulls his hand away, but stops himself. The doctor makes a noise of sympathy, and Nick tells himself that he better get it together. It’s not like he hasn’t had worse. 

With his various cuts now cleaned up, the doctor moves on to closing them. Her gloved fingers rub a numbing cream around the cuts on his face, which feels strange but not painful. She waits a few moments, getting the needle and thread ready and explaining the stitches to Nick. 

“The stitches that’ll be on your face are dissolvable. I won’t need to remove them - once your injuries have healed, they’ll just disappear. Now hold still,” the doctor says, and then there’s a needle pulling through his skin, and he freezes. 

It doesn’t hurt, which is a relief. It feels extremely weird, though. He’s numb, but there’s a sort of distant pulling feeling in his skin as the needle passes through it, and if he focuses on that too much he starts to feel a little dizzy, so he stares at the wall and its poster of proper sharps disposal techniques and tries his best not to think about the needle and thread weaving their way through his skin. 

“That part’s done,” announces the doctor, after what Nick thinks is a few minutes. “I’m going to put a special glue onto a few of the other cuts, bandage the rest, and then stitch up your hand. Speaking of your hand, I’m going to need to give you a shot of local anaesthetic now, so it’ll have time to start working before I stitch it up.”

She turns to the cabinet behind her and grabs a few items that Nick can’t quite see over her shoulder. When she turns back around, she’s holding a small needle and an alcohol pad. 

“This is probably going to sting a bit,” she warns, and Nick assumes she means the alcohol pad, which does sting, but then the needle goes into his hand and stings way more, and suddenly he has to blink very hard to clear the tears from his eyes, but then the moment passes and the stinging subsides and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“Doing okay?” the doctor asks, and he nods. He’s fine. This is really not that bad, in the grand scheme of things, he reminds himself. Not that telling her that would be a good idea. 

Assured that Nick is alright, the doctor begins applying the glue to some of the cuts on his torso, face, and arms. The ones on his face barely feel like anything when she glues them shut, owing to the numbing cream from before, but the ones on his torso and arms sting and burn where the glue touches them, and once again - which is now two times too many - he finds himself blinking back tears. 

And then that’s over, and he’s fine, and the doctor puts small butterfly bandages on the rest of the smaller cuts (he doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’ll pull them off the second he’s out of here), and then she moves on to his last and worst cut. 

“I’m not going to lie, even with the anaesthetic shot, this is probably going to be unpleasant,” she warns. 

“It’s fine,” Nick replies, holding out his arm for her to get to work. 

The needle pulls through his skin, and, just as the doctor had said, even with the anaesthetic, it hurts. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths and the whole time he feels every prick of the needle, every stitch crossing his palm, and it feels terrible. He wonders if she hadn’t given him enough anaesthetic, or maybe she’d given him the wrong thing, and he thinks about asking her but he doesn’t want to move at all, and he thinks he might be shaking again, and his hand is burning, and then - 

“All finished,” the doctor announces, and, in mild surprise, Nick looks at her, and then at his palm, which is now covered by a gauze pad. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, and carefully slides off of the table, holding his right hand out away from his body to make sure it doesn’t bump into anything. The doctor helps him pull his torn, bloody shirt back over his head and arms, and then he’s released into the waiting room, where Monroe stands to greet him. 

He must look about as bad as he feels, because the first thing Monroe says is, “whoa, dude, you good?”

“Fine,” he replies, and his voice comes out more snappy than he’d meant. “Sorry,” he adds. “Just tired.”

“I bet,” Monroe says, as they step through the sliding doors and into the chilly night air. “Let’s get you home.”

Nick asks the question before he has the time to think about it. “Can I come to your house?” If he goes home, he’ll have to explain this to Juliette, and while there’s no escaping that, he’d rather not do it tonight. He’d rather not do anything tonight, except take a few painkillers and lie down and sleep. 

“Yeah, of course,” Monroe says, and if he’s surprised that Nick asked, he doesn’t show it. “Anytime.”

“Thanks,” Nick replies. “For all of this. And - sorry. For kind of dragging you into my problems.”

Monroe turns and gives him a stern look as he parks in front of his house, but doesn’t say whatever words it is he’s thinking, which Nick is grateful for. He can only take so much kindness in one evening. 

Monroe says something else instead, lighthearted but sincere, as they step through the front door. “What else are friends for, if not dragging each other into their problems?”

aaa thanks for reading this! the medical stuff is about as accurate as i could get it :) hope you enjoyed, love you!