#i'd also like to squeeze his head between two of my limbs

[papa-evershed]

Robert James-Collier as Daniel Watson THE INHERITANCE EP02

[randomwriteronline]

A Water Agori's scales were more often than not a source of pride for them. They might have been made fun of for being harder to clean than feathers or constantly changing mucus, yet you would not have found a single self-respecting Agori with even the hint of speck of dirt between them, each and every one seeming to seamlessly connect to one another in a long velvety fabric: even Berix, as scrappy as he was, took care to keep at least a dull sheen to his upper skin. That was the mark of a proper Gaquri.

So he was less than keen on jumping out of it when a cold foreign texture wrapped around his shoulder and turned him around.

His mouth was babbling excuses and explanations already, syllables making a mess - no he had not stolen this sword, it was his, he had found it, collected it, it belonged to him, it was all fair, no harm done here, he was just...

The being stared hard at him with their alien face, perfectly silent.

Oh. Oh, this was one of those two, right? The organic things, the ones from the wreckage... The not-Toa-looking Toa. What were their names? Which one could this one have been? They were the Toa of, of, of... He had it on the tip of his tongue--

The hold on his shoulder squeezed a bit, sending a chill rippling through him to get his attention back on the situation at hand.

Ice. This was definitely the Toa of Ice.

Berix felt himself dwarfed under his scowl.

"Hello," he peeped.

Ice Toa (goodness, what was his name?) did not reply - right, because they would not speak, because their throats hurt, right, right. His strange organic eyes fell on the small blade in the Agori's hands and stared at it intently.

"It's mine," the young would-be warrior sputtered out. "It's mine, it's - I found it and repaired it and it's mine, it's, that's, it's - mine. In, in case you were - because I didn't steal it, see? It's... Mine. It's mine."

Ice Toa gave him a strange, confused look.

His free hand pointed at Berix's shield.

"That's also mine. I, er, I won, that, actually. Against a - against a Skrall. I beat it. On my own. I won and I, I gave it away and now it's--"

There were many things he had expected: a mocking gaze, a huff, a roll of the eyes, a nod or shake of the head to denote disbelief, an angry furrowing of the brows, a punch to the head or a hand shutting him up, even.

He had not expected for the being's hands to be so... soft.

They were clasped around one of his own, the one holding the sword, and despite not being warm he almost felt as though he was sinking in them.

They lifted his fist in a manner that he could only describe as inquisitive; then one moved to his shield, grasping it carefully and lifting it as well. Ice Toa set his eyes back on him, not at all hostile but still somewhat stern, and stared a bit more.

Berix stared back for a second. Wow. Those were really, really dark eyes. Very humid. Very beautiful, too...

He startled himself back to reality before he could lose track of his thoughts and stumbled over his words: "Oh, uh, you - you like? These?" he asked.

Ice Toa nodded. He looked around as if searching for something, all while shifting the weapons up and down.

"You... Are looking? For, for weapons? For yourself?"

He nodded again.

"What for?"

At that, Ice Toa stepped back and mimicked meeting the fist in which the Agori held the blade with a similarly set one, as though he too was fully armed. Before Berix could even jolt back, the being pulled the limb back and bent forward in a curt bow.

The spit image of a proper warrior...

"You want to... You want to duel?" that must have been what he'd meant, right? Before he could agree or deny, Berix had begun rambling again: "I mean, I do know a place where there's - I don't know if I'm allowed in there, but, but technically they don't know me, so maybe - but I- I don't know if they'd, if you should, if I - I'm not, er, I'm not a good, a good fighter, I've- I've just started, really, so maybe not - a real duel, I can't do that, but sparring I'd like, I'd, I'd be glad to spar - or maybe it'd be better if I can look for someone else like Gresh or Kiina or maybe even Ackar since they're probably more--"

Cold palms on his shoulders shut him up once more. Ice Toa nodded slowly, maybe a little overwhelmed by the river of words.

What was he agreeing to? "So, should... Should I go call...?"

The other shook his head.

"Ah. So you... It'd be alright, if I... If we sparred?"

A nod.

Something Berix could not exactly know, not having been there, was that the healers had been very clear on keeping the not-Toa-looking Toa in a state of rest until they were both perfectly healthy, fully aware of how clothes worked, able to speak, and with a vague idea of what to do about their current situation.

Something else he could not exactly know as a consequence was that the not-Toa-looking Toa had currently snuck out into New Atero to busy themselves and not go insane where they had laid barely moving for a couple days now, and that Gresh had been notified of as much and was currently scampering across the city looking to wrangle them like unruly goats and haul them right back to their cots kicking and whining (because they could not quite scream) if he had to.

He also could not exactly know that Pohatu was currently half-limping his way to the small still not fully constructed arena with said Glatorian in hot pursuit in order to distract him from Kopaka's attempt at finding both something and someone to fight with, and that he had recently just discovered the joys and horrors of parkouring with a body that is not nearly fast enough nor impervious to caving into itself when you slam your stomach against the ledge of a roof. Though to be fair, Kopaka didn't know that either - because if he did, he would instantly give up on his own desire for a healthy battle, join Gresh in his chase, and tie his brother to the bed himself.

All that Berix was currently aware of was that a seasoned warrior with the most beautiful dark eyes he'd ever seen wanted to spar with him, and honestly, that was never going to happen again.

So he shrieked: "Sure!! Sure thing!" and dragged the organic being along to the arena so fast he almost ripped his arm off.

The portion of the building currently accessible was small enough for very few people to actually be there, but that did not stop it from being abuzz with a tiny crowd of mostly fairly young Glatorian anxious to prove their prowess against their peers. An armory of sorts had been set up too, blacksmiths and welders fixing up weapons before leaving them in a nook to simply wait for someone to pick them up - blades and shields of almost every shape and size, each less familiar than the last.

Kopaka let his fingers meander over the metal, slowly taking in the textures as he looked something his speed. It felt cold, smooth - completely foreign.

Something alien and external to his body.

His thoughts wandered to his tool, lost to the Star, as he attempted to replace that extension of himself with something infinitely lesser.

He shook his head.

A smith glared at him as his fingers settled on grasping a double edged sword, as plain as could be (no curves, no spikes, no embellishments, just a handle and a straight blade) and raised it to evaluate it in silence.

"Whatcha lookin' fer, piece o' meat?" they barked at him, drawing a few other people's attention to the strange creature with no armor: "Tryin' t' bore yer opponent t' death with that piece o' scrap? None o' me other works good 'nuff fer ye? Leave th' weapons t' felks wh' know what t' do with 'em, ye soft-skinned freak, they need 'em more than th' likes o' ye ever will."

Kopaka held the plain sword out in front of himself.

He swung once, twice, the natural swiftness with which he did so turning the solid shape into a gray blur. He twirled the handle in his palm with ease in a motion so smooth and fluid that his wrist seemed made out of water: the blade whistled threateningly as he brought it down, only stopping inches from the ground.

As different as it was, his body remembered well. Good. Something less to worry about.

Nobody made any additional comments when he moved on to checking over the various shields with furrowed brows and a methodical look. He tested their weight, how they felt around his arm and hand - frowning at the discomfort against his skin, against his bones, against his everything - until he found one that felt familiar enough.

He turned to Berix, scaring a few onlookers as his hard focused eyes passed over them for a second - sending them rushing back to minding their business, though the buzz of their murmuring seemed a little more hushed. The scrappy Agori simply stood, half entranced by his display: he jolted back to life when the Toa nodded towards the open portion of the arena, as if just reminded of the spar he'd been promised, and scampered off to follow him.

"Hey, hold- uh, I was wondering, actually, avout- about-" he began, stumbling all over his own tongue as he tried to word himself.

It was a little hard to focus while Kopaka kept trying out his sword, handle twirled between his careful fingers almost absentmindedly, swinging and pulling back against a mellow imaginary foe or testing out his grip on the shield as he shifted left and right - his thin skin grew taught at every motion, and the apparent softness of the body hardened with each shift of the muscles as they tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed.

The strain accompanying the growing intensity of the action made his limbs tremble a little, probably due to a recent lack of exercise. Aside from that, however, everything about the Ice Toa screamed that he was quite the incredible opponent to be up against.

Berix swallowed to get past the dryness of his mouth: "About, about-" he tried again, but completely missed the start of the sentence and had to clear his throat: "I was -- I wanted to ask if you, if - are, are you sure you don't want to, uh, you know... Ahem! Are you sure you want to fight like, like that?"

The warrior nodded, tapping the ground with the tip of his sword.

"You're certain?" the Agori insisted.

His answer was a gentle clang as the blade hit the shield: an open invite, even somewhat impatient.

The younger being gripped his own weapons harder. Alright. Alright. It was just a spar. He'd handle it just fine! He just had to be careful about this. Just had to be careful.

The not-Toa-looking Toa stared and waited.

Berix raised his arm, aiming for the center of the shield before him: he looked to his own feet as he stepped forward somewhat clumsily, which almost made him slam his teeth against the hard steel surface as the barrier was raised - clearly expecting a blow meant to land much higher.

He was shoved back gently as he tried to mumble apologies. His sparring partner hit the shield with his own sword again, this time resting the blade on the top of it.

"I - I know, yeah, I know," Berix nodded, "I need to hit the- I know, that--"

A hand forcibly raised his head from under the chin to stop him from looking down: dark humid eyes held his gaze steady and forced him to hold it back, actively fighting his attempts at checking that his armored boots would not end up stepping on and crushing the frail bare feet he was pitted up against. The Toa drew a line with his fingers between his head and the Agori's with a stern curve to the shape his mouth.

"I know!" the younger being repeated with a more vehement nod, feeling awfully embarrassed. He'd had this sort of conversation so many times before, with Glatorian and Agori alike, and every single time it was because he'd made a fool of himself: "I know, I need to keep -- I just, I'm worried I'll - I mean, you're, I don't want to--"

A pat on his cheek stopped his rambling. The Ice Toa held his own chin out in a strange way, as if to say it didn't matter, he didn't have to worry; he took a step back, gestured at him to remind him to look straight at his face, and jerked his shield towards himself to invite him forward.

Berix's second swing aimed closer to the head and hit only a little above the center of the shield.

Kopaka threw him back again, nodding. His sword clanged harder against his only protection, twice, encouragingly: good, good! You've got that part down, now put in your strength. I'll hold steady, you just need to hit, hard.

The third swing pushed him back ever so slightly, and his arm seized in a comfortable familiar way and his hand gripped tighter, and he swung back, and as he hit without hurting a chill rippled through his spine, and it felt good. It felt right and natural and normal, and suddenly the flesh felt less cumbersome and his joints felt more fluid and his body moved like a well-oiled machine and his tools were a part of him and he was Kopaka Mata Nuva, Toa of Ice, protector of Mata Nui, of Ko-Koro, of Ko-Metru, of Karda Nui.

He was himself.

He was fully himself.

He needed more of this.

His movements were careful, calculated, because Berix was only starting to thread the path he'd been born on and could not have kept up with him otherwise, but it did not bother him. So long as they kept sparring, he was more than fine with the slower pace, the lessened tension. Correcting him was good practice too, a healthy way to remind himself of proper form - he'd never had to think about it before, but it was good to become conscious of it; it also meant that the other grew more steadfast, more sure, more confident with each silent instruction, hitting harder, faster, in a gentle yet constant crescendo that the Toa couldn't help but find slowly exhilarating.

Excitement got the best of him for a moment: with a lightning-fast flick of his elbow he parried the Agori's blade before it could even land a hit and sent it sliding across the ground.

Somebody above him clapped enthusiastically.

Both sparring partners looked up, startled: right in front of the finished portion of the arena's seats, dirty bandaged legs giddily dangling from the ledge and clothing covered in stains of dirt and sand, Pohatu treated them to a radiant smile and a wide wave of his hand.

That had to be his quietest entrance yet, Kopaka mused as he straightened his back. Quite the achievement, really.

The not-Toa-looking Toa clapped again, much faster, hands lowered to point at the discarded weapon. His brother quickly made his way to it: grasping the blade very carefully he picked it up and handed it back to the somewhat stunned Agori, who grabbed the handle with a start.

"You're fast," he only babbled a bit breathless.

Kopaka nodded deeply, in thanks.

Berix took a deep breath to push his chest out, lowered his stance to steady his footing, and fixed his grip. The satisfied look he got back just for properly preparing himself for the coming fight made a proud wobbly smile bloom on his face: perhaps he let it get to his head a little bit, smacking his sword against his own shield in an invite mirroring the warrior's, but he couldn't help the thrill coursing through him when his sparring partner smirked gingerly.

The swing coming a him hit true with a loud clang, making him stumble back, but he managed to respond. They exchanged blows - not evenly matched at all, but exchanged they were, in a manner close enough to a dance, and Pohatu looked closely with limbs shaking from adrenaline.

Metal against metal covered every other sound. Bang, clang, clink, sdeng, like a clumsy iron beast hopping in place on unsteady legs, leaning and crashing against the iron bars of the cage in which it was stuck, biting them and kicking them and pushing them and scratching them and slamming its head against them, louder, softer, faster, slower, quicker, subtler, harsher, gentler, resolute, steady, unclear, stumbling, howling, snarling, rhythmic, wild, complete, shapeless, precise, senseless, in a maddened melody without words, just bang, bang, bang, bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! A shout.

His eyes turned upwards. Gresh was running breathlessly towards Pohatu looking like he was going to bite his ass off. His shield slipped off. A blade too fast was coming. His armor would do.

He raised an arm.

There was a tinkering sound of iron against iron, and a strangled scream.

He parried the sword to the side, shoving it off.

It clattered to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Berix shouted. His hands were trembling, caught between clutching at his mouth and reaching out towards him, to try and help, his weapons dropped, his face pale beneath his helmet. "I'm sorry!"

Kopaka shook his head to reassure him. Something was dripping down his arm; he shook it as well, trying to get rid of the sensation.

But the Agori kept shouting, kept apologizing, not knowing what to do, and more voices began murmuring as well, someone cursed, someone asked him if he was alright, someone tried to reach out to him - he yanked himself back: too much attention. Too much noise. He turned back to Pohatu only to find him staring, color drained from him, clutching his arm. Gresh had forgotten all about him and was now shouting at the Toa of Ice as he rushed down the arena's seats.

The dripping persisted.

Kopaka shook his arm again, feeling strange. He looked down at it.

It was bleeding.

Oh.

Right.

No armor.

His breath suddenly seemed to be so much louder in his ears.

In an unsightly calm haze, not even certain whether he was acting on his own accord, he shifted the sword onto his injured hand, sank his fingers into the open wound (feeling the severed muscles spasm against his digits, the liquid trickle out of him, the frayed skin struggle to hold on), and peeled the flesh away, further, further, further, until his fingertips rested on something cold; until the almost rusted dull sheen of his bones met his eyes.

The world tilted back to make him stumble a few steps, and he leaned forward to keep his balance - his movements felt sluggish, his head suddenly light. A disgusting tingle passed through him and coiled around his intestines with a tight grip.

Something grabbed him from behind, keeping him steady while everything slid left and right like untethered chairs rocking on a ship caught up in a storm at sea.

He could not make out words, could not make out textures, he wasn't even sure he could see, but even despite the great tiredness that overcame him all at once he winced as every noise around him became far, far too loud; so Kopaka shut his eyes hard and decided to stop hearing.

He opened them again a second later, feeling heavy and numb.

Or like he'd been stampeded by a Kikanalo herd.

He stared at the ceiling for a while before remembering the arena didn't have one.

His other senses sizzled to life slowly, taking their sweet time before they allowed him to get a proper idea of his sorroundings: the rough cloth of the cot was familiar enough against his limbs, his legs held a little aloft on what probably were some hardened cushions, and the fabric of the clothes provided to him was bunched up in multiple places from the sort of curled up position he was laying in; indistinguishable voices were muttering to themselves, probably coming from another room based on how muffled they sounded - he wasn't in the mood to try and comprehend speech at the moment, so he simply allowed their buzz to fill the space with white noise.

Something thin, like a wire, a thread of sorts, was in his arm. He could feel its hold on him, on his individual cells, as it pulled his flesh taught together to close his wound while it still pulsed beneath, above and around it.

If he'd been more conscious, he would have ripped it out of himself in a panicked hurry; thankfully he was barely tethered to the material world at the moment, so the horror didn't hit so hard.

His back laid against something soft and warm; so not the bed. Whatever it was held him in place with equally soft straps of sorts, two curled around his waist and one wrapped tight around his chest in a loving and fearful manner, while another part of it was buried in his hair and one hand held his, at once careful not to grip too tight yet keeping his palm captive in an invincible grasp. His comfortable cage whined quietly, with a certain rhythm, and he could feel the breath come in worried huffs through its nose.

He squeezed the hand in reassurance. Pohatu stopped whimpering to gently tighten his embrace around him and dug the lower half of his face further into his hair.

Oh, one of the voices from the other room seemed to say, Is he conscious?

His brother simply rocked him in place.

An orange visage came into view as Kopaka's neck was craned by the other Toa's hold - a Tapyri, a somewhat old one, it seemed. Next to them stood another one, probably from the water tribe and much shorter, wringing their hands together with a worried, sheepish expression. They looked familiar, but in his state and without their helmet on Kopaka wasn't quite certain he could recognize them right now.

The tall Fire Agori (Glatorian?)'s mouth moved: Hey there, said his voice from another room: Are you with us?

The not-Toa-looking Toa blinked slowly without answering. One of his thumbs raised affirmatively.

"Good to know. You were out for quite a bit, I've been told," the being replied. Then, looking him up and down again to properly take in his near catatonic state: "And if I have to be honest you still don't look that fine to me."

"What would you expect from someone who got his arm almost cleaved in half?" Gresh's voice intervened angrily, though Gresh himself appeared to be invisible - oh, nope, there he was, walking into his line of sight. The room wasn't limited to Kopaka's motionless eyes, after all.

The Gaquri turned to him sharply at that: "I didn't mean to!" he cried out with a shrill voice that revealed him to be Berix, sounding as though he'd been repeating that same sentence twenty times a minute.

The older Glatorian waved a hand to stop their argument before it could start again.

"But it's true!" Berix insisted: "I didn't mean to, I was in the middle of a swing and I didn't manage to stop it! I didn't--"

"But you did!"

"Gresh, calm down."

"But it was an accident, I swear! We were both so focused and then you yelled," (and he pointed an accusatory finger at the Jungle Glatorian) "And he got distracted and dropped his shield and didn't have time to think of going for a parry probably and I was in the middle of the swing, I couldn't stop the momentum in time, and then he raised his arm and I--"

His rambling was interrupted by a clack of teeth against teeth as soon when his hand began wandering too close to the cot.

The poor thing retreated with a yelp as Pohatu all but snarled at him with the pulled back lip of a Muaka whose territory has been carelessly breached by foolish outsiders, his hands closed tight into fists around Kopaka's clothing, hardened in the manner of claws, willing to protect him at all costs. His brother could not see him from how his head was angled, but he could imagine him, and it was frankly such an unnatural sight in his mind's eye that he was glad he couldn't witness it directly.

But the Agori was right: it hadn't been his fault. If the not-Toa-looking Toa had never separated in order to make the healers lose their tracks, Pohatu would have never ended up chased by Gresh, who would have never shouted at him in the arena, thus not distracting Kopaka while Berix was about to swing. His injury had been a group effort of sorts.

Hurray for Unity and all.

The older Glatorian glared sternly at the four younger beings in the room: "All of you, calm down!" he ordered.

The mechanically enhanced boys hushed, one clearly aggrieved, one trying to disappear in his own shoulders; the not-Toa-looking Toa moved from a wordless roar to a low growl.

The Glatorian gave him a certain look - one reminiscent of the kind that often accompanied Onewa's reprimands: "I said, calm down."

Kopaka managed to pat his elbow clumsily to make his stone-stubborn peer desist.

His brother pouted and retreated in his hair, quiet.

"There," the older warrior sighed: "Was it so hard?"

A few indistinct grumbles replied; he elected to ignore them in order to focus on the frazzled being still recovering from his fainting bout.

Despite the half-lidden eyes and mildly vacant gaze, he did not seem to be too disoriented or puzzled; his movements weren't exactly graceful but his coordination was not bad, only about on par with someone who has just woken up from a deep sleep, and would have certainly improved once he properly got over the bloodloss-induced dizziness that still had a hold on him. He wouldn't be surprised if he was processing something else as well - from what he'd understood between accounts from Gresh, Berix and doctors alike the wound went all the way down to the bone, and this skilled, clearly veteran warrior had had the bright idea of personally checking just how deep his injury happened to be by manually peeling the muscle apart. He had seen even worse things than exposed bone of course (the Core Wars were filled with plenty of material for the worst of night terrors to sample from), but a being that hadn't even had skin up until not too long ago would have reasonably been a bit more than startled before such a sight.

They certainly had peculiar eyes. All that white around the iris...

The not-Toa-looking Toa blinked slowly.

"My name is Ackar," the Glatorian began, realizing he hadn't exactly introduced himself to either of the beings on the cot. He gestured at Berix and Gresh vaguely: "These two are under my supervision. You are... Kopaka, isn't it?"

The other nodded - as best as he could with his head bent somewhat awkwardly from within his peer's embrace.

"How are you feeling?"

He raised a hand limply, waving it a bit: more or less alright.

Better than nothing, Ackar thought to himself: "The healers are pretty furious with you two for running off like that, you know. Your friend took his own dose of yelling already."

Said friend - Pohatu, if he remembered correctly - looked perfectly remorseless.

"I'd be willing to mellow them out when they inevitably come to lecture you," (which if I had to be fair you wholly deserve, he did not add, because only an idiot parries with his arm, even when he's a master swordsman, which you clearly are and only adds to my dismay), "If you'd be up to explaining what happened in the arena."

"But I already--!" the other two Spherus Magna natives protested.

Ackar raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks: "I know what both of you said," he replied, "But he's the one who got injured, and I want to hear what he has to say about it."

"But he can't!" Berix insisted.

"Physically!" Gresh added quickly, before the Agori could make it seem as though they were hiding something. Ackar gave him a strange look, and he repeated: "Physically. He can't - they don't speak. They don't really know how. Because, well, mouths and all - they just didn't have them before, so they don't really know what to do with all of that."

"Yes, that's - that's what I meant. I meant that. Not that he- that we-" the Jungle Glatorian shot Berix a glare, and the Agori's voice turned tiny and shrill: "I'll shut up."

His peer grunted in approval: "And also they feel their vocal chords and it bothers them."

The Fire Glatorian blinked.

"They what?"

"The doctors said that's the problem, likely."

"Alright. But they feel their what?"

"Their... Their vocal chords. They can probably feel the air going through them and it bothers them. Because they did try, but they always stopped halfway through and held their throats."

Ackar turned back to the organic beings.

Kopaka showed no reaction whatsoever, still partially dazed. Pohatu, instead, had furrowed his brows in concern and raised a hand to his brother's neck, fingers almost grazing it as though he could have shielded it; when he met the older warrior's eyes he simply nodded in confirmation.

The Glatorian's shoulders rose and fell gently with a sigh: "Well, something's got to be done about that," he just noted. "You really cannot say anything? Not even vocalize?"

The not-Toa-looking Toa shook his head.

"Is it that painful?"

Again, shake of a head.

"It doesn't hurt? So it's a matter of discomfort?"

A nod.

"We can at least work with it then. That's a relief."

A wordless whine. Evidently the being had connected the dots and wasn't keen on enacting Ackar's plan in the slightest.

The veteran huffed through his nose, half amused: "Don't act so difficult, kid. Either you start getting used to the feeling or we'll have to play charades to communicate with the two of you for the rest of your lives - and I can assure you, no matter how uncomfortable that feels, it can't be any worse than trying to bathe a Spikit."

Pohatu shot him a very eloquent glare: I don't know what that is, it replied bitterly, so I'll assume you're wrong.

Ah, yes.

Typical.

Ackar smirked in a way that could have almost been interpreted as fond. This sort of behavior reminded him of Kiina.

"Just open your mouth and say 'A'. That should be simple enough."

It did sound simple enough, Kopaka had to admit. Certainly, if all he had to do was part his lips and let the air out of his chest loudly, he would have managed that. It would have even been a quick matter, and he would have barely felt a thing. His voice probably would have cracked due to disuse, which would have been awfully embarrassing, but he could have just spoken softly enough and nobody would have even noticed.

He separated his jaws in the way one does when yawning, and proceded to let out a blood curling scream.

When he was done, he coughed.

His throat hurt a little bit.

The room remained quiet for a moment. Understandably.

Then Pohatu spat out a laugh - only a couple of syllables, completely devoid of myrth.

And then he laughed again, and again, and he kept laughing, laughing, laughing, increasingly histerically so, until he was all but hyperventilating into his brother's hair as his chest compressed and expanded like a crazed accordion.

He wasn't really sure what part of this ordeal was the worst - the lightheadedness that was squeezing the world into itself like some kind of funhouse mirror, the feeling of his larinx spasming erratically with every exhale, the deafening sound of his own heaving breaths, the sudden complete inability to percieve anything through his other senses, the fact he had no idea why he was reacting like this, the fact that even if he had the time to try he could not stop?

A cold hand landed heavy on his head. His brother patted him slowly, less gently than he would have if he'd been a little less out of it: it took what felt like hours, but the repetitive comfort managed to stabilize his breathing into silence again.

A head peeked into the room.

"Another patient almost went into cardiac arrest from whatever the hell that was," the healer said, at once flatly and with genuine concern: "Are you people alright?"

Pohatu held onto his brother with eyes blown wide without saying a single thing; said brother replied to the question by silently raising his free thumb, still petting the other's head to keep the fit of insanity from taking over his mouth a second time.

Gresh stared at the two not-Toa-looking Toa like they were some unsightly multiheaded Vorox-Skrall-Rock Steed hybrid of sorts.

Berix was too busy hiding behind him to speak or look.

Ackar sighed.

"It's a start," he decided to say, encouragingly.

[carpexdiemm05]

Never After (SGE x Reader) - Chapter 2

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I woke to the most brilliant pair of blue eyes I'd ever seen.

And a hand clapped over my mouth.

The sheets of my bed twisted as I writhed, trying to get out of my captor's grip.

"Shh," he said into my ear. "You belong with the others. Now sleep."

As he lifted his fingertip to brush my temple, I was forced to do just that.

***

When I woke for the second time, I was hacking up bucketfuls of water.

I leaned to the side and coughed until the last bits of moisture were dispelled from my lungs. My throat burned.

"Y/n!"

Then Sophie was there, throwing her arms around me and sobbing into my shirt.

"Wha—Sophie?"

"Oh, Y/n, you're okay!"

I gripped her upper arms and pulled her away from me enough so I could see her face. "What are you talking about?"

Her crying eyes were nearly frantic. "I don't know! All I saw was you dropped into the moat and then one of the wolves threw you onto shore but you weren't waking up for the longest time!" She pressed her hands to her tear-stained face and sobbed. "And Agatha's here but she was dropped into the School for Good! Oh, there's been a terrible mistake, they've mixed us up! I'm supposed to be where she is!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down." I shifted to sit up more, wincing as my soggy clothes grated against my sand-crusted skin. "What do you mean? They've mixed what up?"

Sophie cried some more. "Don't you see? We've been taken to the School for Evil."

Something gripped the back of my collar and hauled me to my feet. I came face to face with the snout of a large gray wolf. Its breath stank of rotting carcass.

He pushed me into a line. I stumbled, nearly slipping on wet sand, but the soles of my boots found traction at the last second.

A pack of wolves stood—on two feet—in bloodred soldier jackets and black leather breeches, snapped riding whips to herd students into line. If any dawdled, a wolf delivered a swift crack, so I kept an anxious pace. I spotted Sophie a few heads in front of me, her golden locks making her stick out like a sore thumb.

The tower gates were made of iron spikes, crisscrossed with barbed wire. Nearing them, I saw it wasn't wire at all but a sea of black vipers that darted and hissed in our direction. I swallowed and breezed through. The rusted words held between two carved black swans over the gates read:

THE SCHOOL FOR EVIL EDIFICATION AND PROPAGATION OF SIN

Ahead the school tower rose like a winged demon. The main tower, built of pockmarked black stone, unfurled through smoky clouds like a hulking torso. From the sides of the main tower jutted two thick, crooked spires, dripping with veiny red creepers like bleeding wings.

The wolves drove the children towards the mouth of the main tower, a long serrated tunnel shaped like a crocodile snout. The tunnel grew narrower and narrower until I could barely see the child in front of me. I squeezed between two jagged stones and found myself in a leaky foyer that smelled of rotten fish. Demonic gargoyles pitched down from stone rafters, lit torches in their jaws. An iron statue of a bald, toothless hag brandishing an apple smoldered in the menacing firelight. Along the wall, a crumbly column had an enormous black letter N painted on it, decorated with wicked-faced imps, trolls, and Harpies climbing up and down it like a tree. There was a bloodred E on the next column, embellished with swinging giants and goblins. Creeping along in the interminable line, I worked out what the columns spelled out—N-E-VE-R—then suddenly found myself far enough into the room to see the line snake in front of me. For the first time, I had a clear view of the other students.

One girl had an overbite, wispy patches of hair, and one eye instead of two, right in the middle of her forehead. Another boy was like a mound of dough, with his bulging belly, bald head, and swollen limbs. A tall, sneering girl trudged ahead with sickly green skin. The boy in front of me had so much hair all over him he could have been an ape. They all looked about my age, but the similarities ended there. Here was a mass of the miserable, with misshapen bodies, repulsive faces, and the cruelest expressions I'd ever seen, as if looking for something to hate. One by one their eyes fell on Sophie and they found what they were looking for. The petrified princess in glass slippers and golden curls. The red rose among thorns.

I clenched my jaw.

We needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

I followed the line into a sunken anteroom, where three black crooked staircases twisted up in a perfect row. One carved with monsters said MALICE along the banister, the second, etched with spiders, said MISCHIEF, and the third with snakes read VICE. Around the three staircases, I noticed the walls covered with different-colored frames. In each frame there was a portrait of a child, next to a storybook painting of what the student became upon graduation. A gold frame had a portrait of an elfish little girl, and beside it, a magnificent drawing of her as a revolting witch, standing over a comatose maiden. A gold plaque stretched under the two illustrations:

CATHERINE OF FOXWOOD

Little Snow White (Villain)

In the next gold frame there was a portrait of a smirking boy with a thick unibrow, alongside a painting of him all grown up, brandishing a knife to a woman's throat:

DROGAN OF MURMURING MOUNTAINS

Bluebeard (Villain)

Beneath Drogan there was a silver frame of a skinny boy with shock blond hair, turned into one of a dozen ogres savaging a village:

KEIR OF NETHERWOOD

Tom Thumb (Henchman)

Then I noticed a decayed bronze frame near the bottom with a tiny, bald boy, eyes scared wide. A boy I knew. Bane was his name. He used to bite all the pretty girls in Gavaldon until he was kidnapped four years before. But there was no drawing next to Bane. Just a rusted plaque that read:

FAILED

I looked at Bane's terrified face and felt my stomach churn. What happened to him?

I gazed up at thousands of gold, silver, and bronze frames cramming every inch of the hall: witches slaying princes, giants devouring men, demons igniting children, heinous ogres, grotesque gorgons, headless horsemen, merciless sea monsters. Once awkward adolescents. Now portraits of absolute evil. Even the villains that had died gruesome deaths—Rumpelstiltskin, the Beanstalk Giant, the Wolf from Red Riding Hood—were drawn in their greatest moments, as if they had emerged triumphant from their tales. The other children gazed up at the portraits in awed worship.

Then, another portrait caught my eye. One of a boy grinning maliciously, clad in a tunic made of autumn leaves, hovering fifty feet in the air.

PETER OF MOAT BRAE

Pan (Villain)

I furrowed my eyebrows. What? No, that couldn't be right. Peter Pan was a hero. A boy who had slain Captain Hook and saved the Lost Boys from a lifetime of misery at the hands of Hook's crew.

One of the wolves shoved me forward. "Move along," he growled.

Turning the corner into a wider corridor, I saw a red-skinned, horned dwarf ahead on a towering stepladder, hammering more portraits into a bare wall. The frames on this wall held familiar faces. There was the dough boy I had seen earlier, labeled BRONE OF ROCH BRIAR. Next to him was a painting of the one-eyed, wispy-haired girl: ARACHNE OF FOXWOOD. I scanned the portraits of my classmates, awaiting their villainous transformations.

Then I saw the frame under his hammer. My own face smiled back at me.

I narrowed my eyes. I'm really considered to be Evil? Their standards must have dropped tremendously.

A dark-skinned hag with a massive boil on her cheek thrust a sheet of parchment into my hands, which outlined my schedule.

An ogre then dumped a ribbon-tied stack of books in my hands.

Best Villainous Monologues, 2nd ed.

Spells for Suffering, Year 1

The Novice's Guide to Kidnapping & Murder

Embracing Ugliness Inside & Out

How to Cook Children (with New Recipes!)

A spotted satyr threw a musty black fabric around my neck—the school uniform, a dumpy, tattered tunic that sagged like shredded curtains.

A scream drew my attention immediately. Across the way was Sophie, struggling against a wolf's hold.

"You don't understand!" she screamed. "It's all a mistake!"

The wolf bent down to her level and snarled.

"There are no mistakes."

[greetingfromthedead]

C30: Burn

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 30/84

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Gets smutty at the end, but no relevant plot, DNF the chapter if you want.

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Mary accepted your explanation that your "husband" had started drinking again and you had locked him in the room. You also got away with both portions of food that you moved into your room on the pretext that you'd go and keep watch over the fool. Mary seemed very understanding, and you started to wonder what Harold was like behind closed doors. Either way, Vash got to eat two portions for both lunch and dinner. You even helped him to the table; he moved largely on his own, his body simply stiff and his head spinning. You offered him support and guidance. Other than to eat, Vash spent the day sleeping, his quiet snoring being a comforting sound to you. The day went by very quickly, like in a daze. You didn't have much to do, so you paced around a lot or laid in bed next to Vash, careful not to wake him.

You don't dare fall asleep; the paranoid thoughts are drumming in your head. You take comfort in both the knife and gun strapped to your legs, occasionally touching them lightly to remind yourself that they are still there. You don't wish to hurt anyone, let alone take their lives, but if you have to for the sake of Vash, you will. He wouldn't be happy with that mentality, so you keep it to yourself.

Once again, you lay on the bed next to Vash's sleeping figure. Darkness has creeped into the room, and from outside, you hear some muffled rowdiness. You assume it comes from the saloon or from the front of the inn, but there is likely no cause for concern. Still, your body tenses up, with slight tremors running through it. Vash turns around in his sleep, grunting a little as he faces you. His metal arm is feeling along the bed till it reaches you, then grabbing the small of your back and pulling you into him. His arms wrap around you, and his chin lands on your head. His scent and proximity cause you to relax again, and the tremors subside.

Vash wakes up early in the morning before the suns have risen. He places a kiss on your head and nuzzles his face into your hair. His actions wake you from your daze, and you squeeze him a bit, holding tight and pressing your forehead into his chest.

"Good morning!" you whisper into the small space between your bodies.

"Morning, Sweet Pea!" His breath ruffles your hair.

"How are you feeling?" Your legs are intertwined as his hand moves along your back.

"Almost to full health, I think," he says. "A lot less tired, at the very least. I think I'm fine strutting about on my own now!"

"Do you think you can ride? I'd like to leave. Not that anywhere is safe." You speak quietly, not lifting your face.

"What makes you say that?" He sounds surprised, and you come clean about the whole situation, including the strange "humans" in the abandoned village, someone giving a tip about your movements, the temporary $$2,000,000 reward someone put out, and the town swarming with bounty hunters when you got here.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that by yourself." He squeezes you tighter. "It couldn't have been easy, but you did so well! I'll try my best to never put you in such a situation again!"

"You better!" you say with a genuine hint of anger in your voice that makes Vash laugh.

"So, where do you want to go?" He says that as he snuggles you closer, he's like a giant snake wrapping himself around you, his long limbs engulfing you and holding you tightly.

"Where can we go? Apparently the bounty hunters scattered when they thought you didn't show up in town the first night. I think there are still many around. I doubt any settlement in the area is safe."

"I think you worry too much." He answers your pondering with amusement.

"How could you say that after you were unconscious for three days?" You sound upset.

"I slept for the last day... And it's not like it's anything new that there are bounty hunters after me; it has been like this for a little while. We know now that something is up, and we will be more careful when it comes to strange people and places, but you and I will get out of anything!"

You let out a big sigh. He would be the death of you if you weren't immortal. You run your nails gently over his back and feel him shiver under your touch, soothing the tickle with the palm of your hand.

"So, where do you suggest we go?" you ask.

"More East? Or would you rather take a steamer from Terminal?"

"I would avoid the steamer; I feel like there are too many people. Both for your sake and mine."

"Then we will stock up on some food and water and head east and perhaps north after that to September or November." His hand is tightly holding the small of your back, making your bare skin tingle. His head shifts, and you feel his breath by your ear.

"Have I told you how wonderful you are?" His voice is so low and tender. "You are beautiful, strong, and kind. You're funny and tough, and the fire burning in you is so warm." He pauses for a moment and says, "I am so glad I found you, and I will keep following you across any desert, no matter how hard you try to get rid of me! Cause you are stunning in every single way. My lovely Iris!"

His hand traces under your shirt on your back, and he hugs you again. His heart feels like it's on fire, the same flame that burns in your eyes—the untamed and wild inferno. Once again, he feels so much, like he is going crazy, with the desire to be with you, to hold you, and to keep you safe. The feelings are so overwhelming that they almost feel aggressive. But it's actually nothing but love.

Your fingers trace the curvature of his body—the high points and valleys of his muscles. You feel the different textures of his skin under your fingertips. You trace over his chest, down over his abs and belly button, creeping onto his hip, and up along his side. You take your time to truly appreciate his body for what it is, no longer having to worry about its condition. His tight hug restricts your movement, but you end up slipping your hands onto his back. At the start, you feel it with your fingertips—the augmentations, the scarring, and his skin that's still whole. You try to remember every inch of it, to burn it into your memory. With the second pass, you use your nails, scratching his back gently, and it sends shivers up his spine.

Vash lets out a little moan by your ear when you trail over an especially sensitive spot. Your face is still buried in his chest, and your nose is filled with his comforting scent. His hands touch your back, traveling gently over your skin and feeling the dip of your side, grabbing at your waist. You hear his heart beating hard and fast, and there is a certain stiffness in his arms. The breathing by your ear is deep and quick. It feels like your insides are on fire; despite the comfort, this doesn't make you feel calm and peaceful. The feeling is intense and raw; it's rough around the edges, and the flow of it is so strong that it carries your hand to the waistband of his pants, feeling the edge of it, and your fingers dig between his skin and the drawstring. Your other hand is looking to grab hold of something, traveling up and intertwining with his hair. Your body tenses, squeezing his leg between your knees, and you look up to find his face, but before you can focus on that, his lips are on yours. They seem to try to be gentle at first, but quickly turn into the mouth of someone with an unquenchable hunger. His lips force yours to open, his hand on your side pulling you up, closer to him. The other one slides down onto your ass. Your fingers are pulling on his hair as your other hand finds the front of his pants.

He holds you as he rolls onto his back, and it takes minimal adjusting for you to end up sitting on him with your legs to either side. His hands grab the back of your thighs, pulling you up a bit more before sliding over your sides, bunching up your shirt as they go. Your hands travel along his arms, moving his hands onto your breasts before leaning in, his parted lips already waiting for yours. His hands squeeze the soft tissue through your underwear, and it makes you exhale. The pressure on your chest disappears as he grabs your shirt to pull it over your head, breaking the kiss. His hands greedily move over your back onto your shoulders and neck, the straps of your bra slipping down.

He turns again, pinning you between the bed and his body. His lips move from your lips to your neck, over to the collarbone. You find yourself holding his hair again as his kisses reach your chest, trailing diagonally across before pushing the underwear out of the way to focus his lips and tongue on one of your breasts. A moan escapes you, and his hand moves down your body in between your spread legs. You feel the metal stroking you through the fabric, making both your desire and his burn out of control. It feels like nothing is enough, like you've waited for something your whole life.

His other hand travels under your curved back to undo the hooks of your bra. You want to feel him—all of him. You want to grab him, squeeze him, stroke him, and dig your nails into him. He drives you wild by moving down with his kisses, removing his weight completely as he kneels between your legs, holding both of them for a moment. You see his eyes; there's an edge to them you don't normally see—a fire much like the one you feel. He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder as he glides his hands to your thigh to undo the clasp of the gun holster and put it aside. He releases that leg and repeats this with your other one to remove the knife sheath. His hands move down your thighs over your ass and hips to undo your pants. It feels like he is teasing you as he pulls them off. He lays down again, coming closer as soon as they are removed, one of your legs between his as he kisses you again, one hand keeping him up, the other exploring your bits through the thin fabric of your underwear before pushing it to the side and playing with you. The breathy moans sounding out his name are music to his ears as his lips move onto your neck again.

One of your arms is thrown around him, your nails digging into his back; the other has untied the drawstring and is feeling him down, stroking along the length of him before pushing down his pants. The hunger is still growing in both of you, as is the desire to explore more of each other.

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[ksolars-kreative-korner]

Silver Shield - Part 1

So I saw a prompt somewhere (don't have the reference anymore) where it was like "villain gives hero a drug that paralyzes them but they're still aware and hands them over to sidekick who just thinks they're unconscious, what does sidekick do? help them? betray them?" so I took that and kinda put my own spin on it. I think it turned out pretty okay and didn't know where to post it so I thought I'd drop it here. Also if I should tag anything else let me know! Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 Part 3

“It’s in here somewhere, I’m sure of it,” Gecko said frantically, weaving their way around the boxes littering the warehouse floor.

“I trust you, Gecko,” Silver Shield reassured. “You know that, right? If you say Viktorai is hiding here, I believe you.” They continued on, and after a brief silence Silver spoke up again. “We should split up. This place is huge, and if we’re looking for a secret entrance it could take us a while. Stay in contact with the comms at all times. Viktorai could be anywhere, so be on your guard. And Gecko?” he said, grasping their shoulder and turning them to face him. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Gecko gave a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of their neck.

“I won’t,” they said. Underneath their embarrassment, Silver could see how nervous they were. That was understandable. If they were right, this might be the end of it, once and for all. He gave a confirming nod and a comforting squeeze to their shoulder.

“I’ll go left, you go right, we’ll meet at the back,” he said before slipping off between the walls of crates.

The boxes had been arranged in odd clusters and patterns, more a maze than easy rows, so it took about two seconds before Silver couldn’t see Gecko anymore. He made his way carefully, quietly, always on the lookout for trouble, whispering into his comm and listening for his sidekick’s response. A staticky, garbled voice hissed inside his ear, punctuated by heavy breaths.

“Silver, I think – I think I found it! It’s over by the – wait, it’s opening… it’s him, it’s Vik—” The comms cut off.

There was a scream from across the room.

Throwing caution out the window, Silver rushed around the crates, trying to find his way towards the sound of his sidekick in danger. He finally made it to a small clearing in the endless walls of boxes, and the sight of the limp form in the middle made his blood run cold.

“Gecko,” he gasped, lunging forwards to drop to their side. “Gecko, are you okay? Please be okay, come on, you can’t do this to me now.” He was so focused on his sidekick that he never heard the soft footsteps coming up behind him. The cold pinprick of the needle in his neck was the only warning he had that someone else was there. Silver spun around and came face to face with Viktorai. He growled and tried to leap up at the villain, but his limbs didn’t respond like they usually did. They felt heavy and awkward, and try as he might Silver couldn’t control them. Soon enough, he was lying on the floor, gasping for breath.

I’m sorry, Gecko, he thought. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I failed.

Viktorai stood above him, laughing at his feeble struggles. “I wouldn’t fight it too much, if I were you,” he said. “The sedative will put you out quickly, no matter what you do. I engineered it myself.” He suddenly grinned. “But of course, I never would have captured you if it weren’t for my loyal assistant Dagger. I suppose you’d know them better by a different name, though, wouldn’t you? What was it you called them? Oh, yes. Gecko.”  

No. No, it couldn’t be. But there they were, standing beside Viktorai, looking down at him with no emotion. Silver tried to speak, but all that came out was a groan. His eyes were closing against his will and he finally gave himself over to the sedative, head lolling to rest on the ground. Gecko worked for Viktorai. He couldn’t believe that, couldn’t believe that his sidekick of three years, three years, would do this. How could he not have seen this coming? And wasn’t he supposed to be unconscious right now? Though Silver couldn’t move, he could still feel the cold floor under him and hear the villains’ voices.

“Good work, Dagger. You did well.”

“Thank you, master.” A moment’s pause.

“I have a gift for you that I think you’ll like.” Silver could hear the smirk in Viktorai’s voice. “You get to kill him.” Another silence.

“Are you sure, master? You’ve waited a long time to get him in your power. You’re willing to let me deal the final blow?”

“Oh, yes. I think you deserve it after spending so much time with the wretch. It must’ve been torture, always having to ‘do the right thing’ and ‘stand up for the good of the people.’ Ugh. Just, do something terrible to him for me, alright? Cut his fingers off or gouge out his eyes or something. Other than that, as long as he’s dead I’m happy. He’ll wake up in about eight hours, but I’ll give you the whole day off so you can do whatever you like to him. Be back at the lab tomorrow evening. The city is almost ours, Dagger, and no one can stop us now! Now, go grab what you need and get him out of here,” Viktorai finished, chuckling a little to himself. Gecko’s – no, Dagger’s – footsteps echoed around the chamber as they left to go get who-knows-what kind of torture tools. Silver felt Viktorai still above him, and suddenly a voice hissed in his ear.

“I know you’re still aware, hero.” He spat the last word out like a curse. “I engineered the serum myself, remember? A mix of muscle relaxants, paralytics, and a few other choice ingredients. Dagger gets the pleasure of killing you, but I get the pleasure of knowing you’ll feel every last bit of pain. I wonder how they’ll go about it. Torture? Drowning? Maybe just a simple bullet to the head. Whatever they do, you’ll know you died at the hands of your most trusted friend. How does that feel?” Viktorai caressed Silver’s cheek with a cold hand. “Goodbye forever, Silver Shield. I’ll be sure to raise a statue in your honour when I rule the city.” He drew his hand back, and Silver was left alone on the floor of the warehouse, helpless, unable to move or make a sound.

[violinsxsong]

An army lieutenant neglects to file a report on a civilian killing done by his troops because he knows it was an accident. War isn't fair for anyone, but if it wasn't malicious... I guess it's okay.

Tina promises her dying mother that she'll visit her grave once a month. After the mother has passed away, Tina finds it hard to squeeze in the time, and her visits drop to about once a year. I think yearly is completely okay. In fact, I think it's the usual for most people who mourn someone after years. It's okay.

A man orders a custom-built sex doll designed to look just like his neighbor. SO WRONG!

Sarah's dog has four puppies. She can only find a home for two of them, so she kills the other two with a stone to the head. Sarah is a psychopath.

A doctor has been preforming consensual yet illegal procedures one someone in hopes of finding a cure for his ill sister. As long as it's not at the detriment of anyone else, then I guess it's okay.

A neglectful husband pushes his wife to an affair. When the affair ends, the wife's partner nearly kills her and her unborn daughter. The husband kills the affair partner. Good for him, honestly.

September has run out of food and is facing death by starvation. She begins to cannibalize her family's loyal staff. They do not fight back. I thought it was the rich who were supposed to be the ones getting eaten? No, no, I jest. If they agree to it, then I guess it's okay? I think? I don't judge those plane crash guys for what they had to do.

A mother gives birth to identical twins. One follows their ambitions and the other becomes a shut in. The family make it clear which child they prefer. I mean it's sad, but I've seen it a lot. It's not okay, per say, but it is pretty normalized.

Natalie is so focused on survival she fires a shot without thinking. She did not intend to kill her elderly neighbor, but she hides the body regardless. She denies knowing what happened to the now missing resident. Murder is murder. Not okay.

A woman is facing a lifetime of medical issues. She continues to put her family and those around her in emotional and medical debt. She lives a hollow life and continues leaching off of those who support her. I think it's a lose/lose situation no matter what. It's grey space.

Please provide a response to each of the following prompts. Leaving a prompt blank will also be considered a response, and you will be assessed for refusal to answer.

In the event of a life or death situation, would you put yourself or others first? The group. What is surviving if it's all alone?

How far would you be willing to go to ensure your own survival throughout this ordeal? I honestly don't know and I really hope to not have to find out.

Is there anyone in the building you have developed strong attachments to? Well Zach is my neighbor and my oldest friend in the building. Ria is my best friend in the entire world. Charlie is really sweet and I see her more often than anyone else because I can't live without coffee. Nat is super cool and I look up to her confidence a lot. There's definitely more but writing everyone down would take forever and this pen is hurting my fingers.

Do you think it is possible to survive infection through alternative means such as removing the infected limb? Would you be willing to undergo this procedure to ensure your own survival? I guess... if it was between life and death, I'd lose a limb. As for surviving, I don't know, but there is a vaccine for normal rabies. Maybe they'll find one for this rabies, too.

Will following the general consensus lead to improved odds of survival, or would you have a better chance following an assigned leader? I do best with someone to look to for guidance. I'm really good at follow the leader.

What is the appropriate response to the following situation?

Your daughter falls ill and needs a specific, uncommon kind of antibiotic that will be hard to find; without the full course, the pathogen will survive, regroup, and kill her anyway. You are scavenging a pharmacy, where you find another group, and manage to not shoot each other. You ask them about the antibiotic, and they have it, but they also need the antibiotic, for the wife of someone in their group. You cannot share the antibiotic because it would just kill both people, and they have the antibiotic in their pack. This is likely the only complete dose set you will find, as the other stores have been picked totally clean and there are no friendly groups in the area. I don't have kids, but I think if I did, I'd become a Mama bear. Nothing would stop me from getting it, though I might have to be sneaky. I'm not much of a fighter.

[dihydromorphinone]

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 distant river..

it just seemed that no matter how far he'd go, all roads eventually brought him to you; his river of life, overflowing with desire and unexplainable glow. in his eyes - you were a deity, and he; a mere follower. and yone was about to show you once again how you should be treated for the whole eternity.

— heartsteel yone x reader smut, established relationship, reader is afab, kinda modern au, kinda kpop related activities, a little bit of praise and teasing, missionary, kitchen counter fucking??, kinda sequel to my previous post, cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal sex, mentions of cervix fucking, sweet aftercare, sweet yone, i just love yone, not proofread.

an: this wouldn't exist if one of you anons wouldn't compliment my work!! thank you for the support and i love you so much. i hope you will like this one as much as you liked the previous one 🫶 btw i wrote this late at night before sleep lol also i kinda feel that the end is meh

"you're going on a tour? again?", you sighed, looking at your significant other with annoyed gaze. "you've already been on a few. is this really necessary?", you asked, grasping yone's hand and pulling him towards you, and he lowered his gaze. "i'm sorry, love. i have no control over it, and if it were up to me, i wouldn't go. but i cannot just ditch my work, sugar", yone said, caressing your cheek with his free hand.

"i know, i'm sorry, i just don't want you to be far away from me for such a long time", you replied, leaning into the idol'd touch. it was hard for you to accept the situation. no one would be satisfied if they had so little time with their beloved as you did with yone. you supported him, obviously, occasionally scolding him because of his training and work ethic, which made you spend less and less time with him. yone always tried to make up for the time lost, though. if he was somewhere overseas, he brought you every souvenir that he'd think you like or anything that reminded him of you. he also texted you almost all the time when he was staying longer at the studio to create a new masterpiece with his band members.

yone placed a light kiss on your forehead, stopping your train of thought. "i'm going to leave tomorrow morning and probably be back in two weeks. i feel bad about leaving you here all by yourself.", yone said, taking both of your hands into his own and placing another feather-like kiss to the tip of your nose. you sighed quietly, looking right into his eyes. "then i'd like to make as much as i can of our time together.", you whispered, letting go of his hands and closing the distance between you two.

you kissed yone. and through the kiss, both he and you could feel the yearning and longing that you've felt. the swordsman's hands travelled down your body, caressing every curve he found. he held your chin and deepened the kiss, making you release a quiet moan, which now made yone sure about your intentions. he pulled away for you for a second, his gaze meeting yours. yone placed his forehead on yours, swiftly kissed you again, and then he picked you up by your tights, squeezing then a little harshly, which made you hold your breath.

you wrapped your limbs around him, letting yone support your weight entirely. where he was heading - you didn't know, but your first good guess was any sturdy surface; and that happened to be the kitchen counter. and as soon as yone placed you on top of it, his lips found the way to yours once again. he kissed you with such a fervour that you could barely keep up with breathing. you placed your hands behind his neck, and he moved his mouth on your cheek, making a trail of kisses to your ear. "then i shall make it so remarkable that it will be the only thing on your mind for the next week.", yone whispered right into your ear, the he lighly nibbed your earlobe.

yone wasn't usually the type who would talk dirty in bed - he would praise you most of the time. but when he did, then oh boy; you'd practically feel a whole ocean flowing down from your center. and this time wasn't different - barely one sentence almost made you soaked in your own juices, and yone didn't even touch you properly.

the idol moved his kisses down your neck, unbuttoning your blouse slowly at the same time. he was so delicate - like you'd break if he pressed too hard. after he was done with the buttons, he gently took the clothing off you, and threw it onti the floor; which was unusual. yone was always proper and a perfectionist, so this action made you realise that he wants it as badly as you do.

with the new uncovered area, the swordsman was quick to get his hands all over yours, his touches getting more and more impatient. he massaged your arms, never stopping his assault of kisses down your body. his mouth stopped at your bra – a pretty, red laced piece. yone, realising that the bra is the only thing keeping you hidden away from his lusting gaze, with just a swift move, torn your bra off. "hey, that was one of my favourites, yone!", you exclaimed, which only made him chuckle. he placed his head between your breasts, his hands sliding down to your waist. "and i can buy you thousands of them. though, i definitely prefer to see you without anything keeping your beauty from me, darling." was his only reply before his tongue latched itself on one of your nipples and his teeth brushing over, which made you moan. yone didn't want to leave the second one unattended, so one of his hands started to knead gently the flesh and pinch your other nipple.

you can't deny – it felt amazing, but it wasn't enough for you now. if he was supposed to be gone for so long, you wanted him to be in each and every part of your body, until your senses and thoughts would become only yone. he seemed to realise this, too. after a while more of tending to your breasts, he pulled back to take a good look at you and your exposed upper body. and you swear that the bewildered look on yone's face was something you'd cherish forever. the swordsman could admire your beauty for hours – but he knew that he'd better start tending to the other parts of your body; for example, your pussy.

yone could tell that the cotton fabric of your panties and the jeans have been slowly becoming uncomfortable, his first instinct was to take them off you as quickly as possible – and he was just about to do that, when your hands stopped his antics. he pulled away from you, once again, worried that he'd crossed some kind of boundary. "am i moving too fast? i'm sorry, love, i-", you shut him up quickly, placing your palm over his. "no, no, absolutely not. that is not the case. it's just- i will be naked soon, and you are still fully clothed..", you said, suddenly bashful. yone felt as if a weight was lifted of his shoulders – if he'd ever hurt you, that was something he would never forgive himself for.

but yone understood your request – you wanted him to strip too. he quickly undid his top and bottom, revealing his well defined muscles. he looked just like a greek god, if not better; you've never seen anyone look as perfect as he did. a creature without flaws, he was, ready to serve you and make every of your wishes come true. "i suppose that now i can match you, right?" you whispered, still ogling his chest. in that aspect, you were no better than any of his fans.

desperate for this to move further quickly, you quickly unbuttoned your pants, taking them off very fast with yone's help, along with your socks. now all that was left on you were your laced red panties, matching with your bra. yone smirked, and teased you. "it's almost like you'd expect this to happen." he moved you to the very end of the counter and kneeled before you, placing his head between your legs. with your panties still on, he began placing butterfly kisses and a few hickeys on the delicate skin of your thighs, bringing himself closer and closer to your core, when the burning feeling was beginning to feel overwhelming. and when he finally slid the last piece of attire of your body, you took a deep breath as yone opened your legs and, as if he was testing the waters, gave your pussy one, swift lick.

"yone", you breathed, feeling the heat finally being taken care of. he sucked your clit hard, occasionally going lower and plunging his tongue into your hole. his mouth felt so good, and the way yone was keeping his eyes on you made you get lost in your own pleasure. "you taste so good, sweetheart, i could spend hours between your legs", yone groaned against your cunt, and you just moaned in response. yone seemed ti be satisfied with this. but when you thought this couldn't get any better, his tongue focused solely on your clit, while his fingers slowly started to pump into your hole. now this was just pure bliss – and it didn't take long for you to come.

you moaned his name, your fingers getting lost in his hair, pulling the loose strands into every direction. yone let you ride your orgasm on his tongue and fingers, and when you were done, he made sure to clean you up good with his mouth. the bare sight of this almost made you come once again – yone was just so effortlessly hot. and when he was satisfied with the outcome, he dragged his mouth up through your clit, tummy and chest, arriving finally on your neck, where he placed a small kiss. yone closed the distance between you again and held you close to him, his hands caressing your figure once more.

and as good as it felt – it wasn't enough for you. there was something primal, something deep inside of you that just made you realise that you want his cock buried deep inside of you. "yone, please.", you pleaded, only for him to respond teasingly. "please what, love?", he whispered into your ear, making you shiver. "please fuck me, yone. i want to feel you inside me." you whimpered – and that was all yone needed to hear.

he hoisted you up into his arms once again, this time heading to your shared bedroom. and when you arrived, yone gently put you down on the bed. he took of his boxers, revealing his hard member. it wasn't your first time together – but seeing his length always made you impressed. even his cock looked good; this man had absolutely no flaws. yone obviously noticed that you're staring, but he didn't seem to mind. he slided his hand over his dick a few times before joining you in bed, positioning himself and flicking the tip of his member a few times over your clit, making you release a few quiet moans.

"love, are you ready?", he asked, placing a kiss on your forehead, nose and lips, respectively. "always.", you replied, bringing your hips down just so you could feel his cock again. and you didn't have to wait long – soon, yone began thrusting into you with a steady pace. he was girthy enough to deliciously abuse your g-spot and lenghty enough for his tip to kiss your cervix. you couldn't stop your moans – after all, why would you? you wanted yone to know just how good he makes you feel. every time you at least breathed sharply, yone thrusted harder; that's how responsive he was to every sound you made.

all you could focus on were yone's groans and sharp breaths and your own pleasure. after a while, the swordsman's pace continued to get faster and harder, until he let out a sound close to a growl, which made you realise that he'll probably reach his own peak. but you didn't want it to end so soon – the way he was filling you up, it was like your body was just perfectly moulded for him. but the tip brushing over the cervix definitely wasn't enough for your primal urges, and those were the only one in your mind now. "yone, please, cum inside me", you whimpered. the man seemed to be in the same state as you were - nearly breaking your hips down with the force he was fucking you with.

it didn't take you long to come again. you never were a screamer – but this was just so good, you couldn't help yourself and released the sound along with your juices, covering yone's cock and clenching on it. and soon enough, he came too – deep inside of you, just as you asked. you both collapsed on the bed, feeling exhausted from the intense physical activity. after your and your significant other's breath calmed down, yone was quick to embrace you from behind, his sticky, sweat covered chest against your back.

"are you alright, sweetheart?", yone asked, playing with your hair. the only reply you could muster was a mere "mhm", though it seemed to satisfy yone enough. "i'm sorry that i'll be far away from you again. i'll try to ask and see if i can take you with me, love." he murmured against the crook of your neck. you turned to your side, facing him. "it's okay, i understand. i'll miss you, but i know you will come back to me.", you said, caressing his perfect face and then moving onto his silky white hair. "i love you. i'll get you some water and then we'll go get you all cleaned up, m'kay?", he smiled faintly, ready to get out of the bed any second, and you just nodded and smiled in response.

and this was all you wanted – for your lover to make love to you hard and take care of you before his departure. and now at least you could be sure that even if he won't remain with you physically, then at least the memory of yone hovering over you will be enough to satiate your needs at least for some time.

[dees-writing-corner]

surprises

pairing: jongho x reader

genre: fluff; college au; bad boy au

word count: 4635

warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, assault, brief mentioning of some dark themes

main masterlist

"The answer's still no, guys." 

I was currently sitting on my bedroom floor going through a pile of clothes, while San and Wooyoung were propped up on my bed, watching me. 

"But come on~" Wooyoung whined as he dangled half of his body off the bed. "You're in college! You've got to come to at least one frat party. I promise. It'll be fun." 

I shot him a sceptical look as I carried on folding the shirt in hand, "If that's the case, then we've got two very different definitions of fun." 

Placing the shirt in the wardrobe, I flopped down between the two in bed. 

"I don't really see the appeal in being surrounded by drunk, horny and sweaty people." 

The two threw their limbs over me, successfully trapping me under them. 

San tightened his hold around my shoulders as I squirmed, "Come on, just this once. We promise that at least one of us will be by your side the whole time." 

Letting out a sigh, I stilled, "Which frat is it?" 

I could see the guys share a look from above me before Wooyoung looked down at me, "Oh, well, um, it's our - " 

"Nope." 

"Oh, come on! What's wrong with our frat?!" 

Wooyoung sat up, throwing his hands in the air. 

Raising a brow, I escaped San's hold, "Do I need to list all of the questionable things you guys do? Or the reputation you have on campus?" 

"Y/N, we're not THAT bad. I swear." 

San held up three fingers as he stared at me. 

I reached a hand out to both of them, "Guys, I just – Let me just ask you a question. If you guys met me in college instead of high school, would we still be friends?" 

"I mean, no, but - " 

I cut Wooyoung off immediately, "Exactly. How we're still friends is still beyond me. You guys find going out to parties, drinking and smoking fun. I don't. I'd rather stay in, curled up in my armchair with a cup of hot tea and a book." 

They both sat there, silent for a few moments before San perked his head up, "But you're friends with the others as well?" 

"That's because you two introduced me to them, which also caused everyone on campus to keep a 5-mile radius away from me. Plus, I'm not friends with ALL of them." 

"You're not?" 

"No. Jongho and I aren't exactly friends." 

San and Wooyoung shared a confused look over my head before San turned back to me, “But he – You know what? Never mind.” 

Pushing the subject aside, Wooyoung latched onto my side, "Please? I'll buy you coffee every day for a month after." 

I contemplated for a minute, before deciding to add another, "And to never drag me to another frat party." 

"I – Okay fine." 

"Okay, don't you two have to go back to the frat? Go. I'll see you at?" 

"Nine." 

I waved my hand in the air before snuggling into my bed. 

Closing my eyes for a quick nap, I couldn't help but think, Tonight's gonna be a long night. 

With a sigh, I watched waves of people stumbling in and out of the house in front of me. 

"There you are!" 

Wooyoung weaved through the crowd with Yeosang trailing behind him. 

"We've been looking for you for the past 10 minutes!" 

Wooyoung hugged me briefly before I was pulled into Yeosang. 

"Could've found me quicker if you checked your phone." 

I watched as Wooyoung ran his hands along his jeans, only to realise that he didn’t have his phone on him. 

Yeosang squeezed me tightly before letting go, "You don't look like you want to be here." 

Making our way into the house, I shook my head, "I don't. I'm only here because Wooyoung said he would stop pestering me about parties if I came." 

Yeosang chuckled before nudging my elbow, "You do know that he's not going to stop, right?" 

"Sadly, yes." 

The journey to the backyard seemed to take forever. If Yeosang didn't keep a hand on my arm, I'd probably be between some sweaty bodies in the living room (makeshift dance floor). 

Walking through the kitchen, the entirety of the kitchen island was filled with bottles of alcohol. 

"Do you want a drink?" 

I turned, seeing Wooyoung standing there with a cup in one hand and a bottle of coke in the other. 

"I'll make it myself." 

Swiftly making my way around, I grabbed a cup and made myself a gin and tonic, ignoring the stares Yeosang and Wooyoung were giving me. 

"You're actually drinking?"  

Yeosang leaned over, watching in surprise as I poured the gin into the cup. 

"Yeah? I do enjoy drinking occasionally, ya know. Plus," I shook the bottle of gin slightly. "This is quite a good bottle of gin, and I can't say no to a gin and tonic." 

Grabbing the drinks, we made our way to the backyard. The moment we stepped out, everything was much quieter. No one else was present except for the guys, who were sitting around a fire, talking. 

Dear god, if I hadn't known better, I'd have thought we walked into a gang meeting or something. What is with them and black and leather?  

Walking closer, my eyes scanned over everyone, muttering when they landed on Jongho. 

"Ah, there's the devil's incarnation." 

San was the first one to notice us. 

"Finally! You're back!" 

All eyes turned to us as I took a seat on the log between Hongjoong and Mingi. Directly in front of Jongho. 

I saw Wooyoung put his arm around San, "SOMEONE, was standing in front of the house, not coming inside." 

"Well, if you had your phone with you, you would've been able to find me way quicker." 

I could feel someone staring at me. Turning my head to the side, I saw Mingi and Yunho staring at me or more specifically, the cup in my hand. 

"What?" 

Yunho motioned to the cup as I passed it to Mingi, "What are you drinking?" 

Mingi brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip before coughing. Bringing everyone's attention to us. 

Laughing, I took the cup before rubbing my hand up and down his back. 

"Holy – What is that!?" 

Calming down from his coughing fit, Mingi was bright red. 

"It's a gin and tonic." 

"How much gin did you put in it? The whole bottle?" 

Giggling, I took a sip, "Just wanted a stronger one today, that's all." 

"Yeah, well, just so you know. If you get drunk, you'll have to stay here for the night because we'll all be drunk." 

Waving my arm in the air, "Don't worry, I have a high tolerance for alcohol." 

Everyone went back to their conversations, and it wasn't long before they started pulling out their cigarettes. 

"You want one?" 

Hongjoong has his pack open and offered me.  

Wooyoung saw this and leant over, trying to grab his arms, "Oh, no, Y/N doesn -" 

I pulled out the cigarette, "Thanks." 

Wooyoung stared at me, "You smoke?" 

"I didn't think you'd actually take it." 

Shrugging, I plucked out the lighter from Hongjoong's hand to light my own. Bringing the cigarette to my lips, I inhaled before exhaling, arching a brow when I saw Jongho staring at me. 

"I don't smoke. If I'm offered a cigarette, I'll accept it, but I don't normally smoke." 

"Well, aren't you full of surprises." 

Feeling an arm around my shoulder, I turned only to be faced with Jongho.  

I quickly shrugged off his arm, "Can you not?" 

"Aww, is the little baby getting angsty?" 

Taking a final drag from the cigarette, I finished off my drink and stood up, "I'm gonna get another drink." 

Slipping into the kitchen, I made my way to the counter, noticing how most of the people were in the living room. 

Halfway through making the drink, I heard the door slide open. Looking up, I saw Jongho leaning against a wall, a small smirk plastered on his face. He was wearing all black. A pair of black jeans, a black shirt and a black leather jacket. An outfit he was seen wearing almost every day. 

"You might want to ease up on the amount of gin you're putting in there sweetheart." 

Sighing, I finished off the drink with a slice of lime. 

"Is there something you need? Or have you just come in to annoy me?" 

He made his way towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of beer. 

"Just needed a refill, though annoying you was also intended." 

"Of course it was, shouldn't have expected anything else." 

I grabbed the cup and walked out. Jongho following behind me. 

As I got closer to the group, I felt a hand shove me forward slightly, causing me to spill some of the drink onto the front of my shirt. 

"Jongho!" 

I turned around, glaring daggers at the guy as he raised his hands in surrender. 

"Sorry, stumbled a bit on a stone or something." 

Though the smirk he had on his face said otherwise. 

I turned back and made my way to the others, handing my drink to Hongjoong as soon as I sat down. 

"Do you need another shirt or something? I can get you one from upstairs." 

"It's fine." 

I quickly took my shirt off before it could soak through. Thanking whatever gods out there that I decided to wear a tank top underneath. 

Taking my drink back, I ignored how they were staring at the tattoos I had scattered on my upper arms and shoulders. 

Wooyoung and San scrambled over, fingers rubbing over the various tattoos I had. 

"Guys. What are you doing?" 

"These are real?" 

Wooyoung started to prod at the tattoos I had on the back of my shoulder. 

Swatting their hands away, "Yes, they're real. Now stop that, will you?" 

San looked at me in utter betrayal, "We've been best friends since high school and you didn't tell us? When the hell did you get them anyways?" 

"They're just tattoos. Nothing big. I got most of them the first couple of months after I turned 18." 

I managed to divert the conversation after that. Not really wanting to answer anymore. 

The time went by pretty quickly. The house was basically deserted by around 2 in the morning and most of the guys were pretty drunk. 

I looked over Hongjoong and shared a look with Seonghwa. 

"Let's take them to bed. Half of them look like they're about to black out." 

Standing up, I noticed how San, Yunho and Hongjoong were the only three that were still remotely steady on their feet, so with a pat on their shoulders, I urged them back into the house and into their own beds. 

Turning back with Seonghwa beside me, we let out a sigh. 

"Now it's time to get the idiots to bed." 

Seonghwa grabbed Yeosang while I went to Wooyoung. We quickly got them up on their feet and helped them into the house. Carefully avoiding any plastic cups and bottles strewn across the floor. 

After getting the guys comfortably in bed, we made our way back to the backyard for the last two. 

"Okay, Y/N, you take Jongho and I'll take Mingi. Jongho's room is the last room to the left on the third floor." 

Before I could even say a single word, Seonghwa hauled Mingi up and dragged him into the house. 

Sighing, I made my way over to where Jongho was sitting, shaking his shoulder. 

"Come on, wake up. We've got to get you back to your own bed." 

After a couple of more forceful shakes, Jongho opened his eyes, struggling to focus. 

I held onto his arm, pulling him up, "C'mon, let's get you into bed." 

Struggling to keep him upright, we trudged our way up the stair. After 10 agonising minutes filled with tripping and crashing, we reached his room. 

Lying him down on the bed, I turned around to leave only to have Jongho pull me down by the back of my tank top. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, I tried to pry his hand away. 

"Dude, let go. I want to go home." 

He shifted his face away from the pillow, "You're no-not as boring as I th-thought you were." 

I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard the comment. 

Of course he'd say that. 

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm gonna go now." 

Just as I got up, I was pulled back down again. This time straight on top of Jongho. 

"Hmm, sleep." 

He wrapped his limbs around me, before closing his eyes. 

I stared at him in disbelief, trying to get out of his hold. My head turning to the door the second I heard it creak open revealing a very confused Seonghwa. 

"Help me?" 

He was quick to make his way over, prying away the legs that were intertwined with mine. 

Grunting, he tried to pry away the arms that were around my torso. 

"How the hell did you manage to get into this position?" 

"How do you think? He yanked me down and wouldn't let go." 

Finally free, I was about to stand up when I felt something wet on the side of my neck. 

Staring up at Seonghwa in absolute horror, I didn't waste a second to jump out of the bed. 

"Please tell me that wasn't what I think it was." 

Putting a hand on my shoulder, Seonghwa let out a quiet laugh, "Unfortunately, that was Jongho mistaking your neck as an ice lolly." 

Pulling Seonghwa out of the room, I used his sleeve to wipe away the trail of saliva on my neck. 

"Hey! Use a tissue or something." 

Walking to the front door, Seonghwa saw me out. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own? It's almost 3. I can walk you back if you want me to." 

"I'll be fine. It's only a five-minute walk. I'll text you went I get back." 

Waving, I made my way back home. 

Tugging at the bottom of my hoodie, I tucked my hands into my sleeves. It was about 11 in the evening and I had just finished the closing shift at a diner near campus. As I made my way through the dark streets, I couldn't help but notice a different set of footsteps trailing behind me. Thinking nothing of it, I carried on walking, removing one of my earphones. 

I didn’t start worrying until they were still present after I took several turns. Looking into the glass of the shops, I noticed a figure in all black behind me, walking faster than they did before. 

I could hear the person call out to me but I paid no mind to it. That was until I felt someone pull on my arm. 

"Excuse me." 

Turning around, I carefully yanked my arm away. A dishevelled-looking guy stood in front of me. His eyes were bloodshot and had large bags under them. His cheeks were sunken in and his face was a pasty white.  

"I was wondering if you had a few dollars on you?" 

I shook my head slowly, knowing full well I only had money in my cards. 

"I'm sorry, I don't have any cash." 

I tried to turn away, but he held onto my arm with a death grip.  

"You have to have some on you." 

I looked at him, noticing the manic in his eyes, and how he reeked of alcohol. 

"Let go of me!" 

The guy reached a hand towards my pockets. 

"Hey!" 

I tried to smack his hands away but to no avail. 

I couldn't help but let out a small scream as I felt his hand sink into my back pocket. Thrashing around, I tried to get away from him but his grip was too strong. 

Hearing an engine, I turned my head to the side, noticing a familiar black Harley about to turn the corner. 

With all my strength, I let out a panicked shout. Not really knowing if he'd hear me over the engine. 

"CHOI JONGHO!" 

Before I could let out another shout, the guy put his hand over my mouth, hissing into my ear. 

"Shut up!" 

To my surprise, I saw the motorbike turn to us, headlights shining onto us. 

I don’t think I've ever been this happy to see him before. 

The guy tried to pull me into an alleyway only to be cut off by the bike. 

Jumping off the bike and taking off his helmet, Jongho quickly made his way over to us. 

"Hey! Let go!" 

He yanked me out of the guy's grasp and behind him.  

Jongho looked absolutely terrifying right now. His eyes were ablaze and he had his shoulders squared. It wasn't helping that he was only wearing a t-shirt, which showed off the sleeve he had and his muscles. 

"What do you think you're doing, huh?" 

He took a step forward causing the guy to cower away from him. 

Grabbing onto the guy's collar, Jongho pushed him against the wall. 

"If I ever see you around here again, I'm going to kill you. Am I clear?" 

When the guy didn't answer, he pushed him further into the wall. 

"Am. I. Clear." 

When he saw a nod, Jongho let go of the guy, watching as he scrambled around th corner before turning his attention to me. 

"Are you okay?" 

He looked me up and down, scanning for any obvious injuries. 

Now, I'm not one to burst into tears - and I don't know whether it's because of the adrenalin wearing off or the severity of what could've happened sinking in – but here I am, throwing my arms around Jongho's neck and burying my head into his shoulder, sobbing my heart out. 

I could feel him tense up under my touch, but I couldn't care less right now. 

Jongho hovered his arms out, not knowing what to do, before hesitantly wrapping them around me. 

He just held me as I cried, only letting go when my sobbing subsided into sniffles. 

Pulling away, I looked down at my feet, "Sorry about that." 

"You're coming back to the frat with me. Wooyoung and San will bite my head off if they knew I left you alone after that." 

He pulled me onto the back of the bike, placing a helmet over my head, before getting on himself. 

"Hold onto me. Rather not have you fall off." 

Feeling me hold onto him, he finally revved the engine and set off to the frat. 

Sitting myself on the couch, I could feel the curious glances the guys (Wooyoung and San) kept sending me. 

"Why have you kidnapped Y/N at this time of night?" 

I watched Hongjoong exit the kitchen, confused as to why I was in there at midnight. 

"Technically, I stopped Y/N from being kidnapped." 

A chorus of 'what's' echoed throughout the living room while I just stared at him. 

Really? That's how you're gonna put it? 

San and Wooyoung sat on either side of me, looking at Jongho. 

"Explain." 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jongho turned to us. 

"If I hadn't been passing by, you'll probably find your best friend in an alleyway, either dead or," Pausing, he looked at me. "Or needing therapy for the next decade or so." 

I swallowed thickly, trying not to think about what could've happened if Jongho hadn't heard my scream. 

Everyone was silent. Thinking over what he said and what was implied. 

I felt Wooyoung tighten his grip on me. Turning to him, I saw him already looking at me, fear evident in his eyes. 

"You're not doing the closing shift ever again. And if you can't get yourself out of one, call one of us." 

I tried to soothe him, "It probably won't happen again, you don't have t-" 

Before I could finish, San cut me off, "I don't care. Your safety is more important." 

I turned to face him, "San, it's fine. I could just -" 

"No! How to hell is it fine!?" I had never even heard San raise his voice, never mind him being so angry. 

"Did it ever cross that head of yours about what could've happened if Jongho didn't hear you?! What probably would've happened?!" 

Wooyoung stood up and pulled San with him, dragging him away with Hongjoong muttering something about me not needing to hear all this right now. 

Looking at my hand, I bit the inside of my cheek. Willing myself not to start crying again. 

Feeling the couch sink in beside me, I knew Jongho sat down. 

"Why do you do that?" 

Turning my head ever so slightly, "Do what?" 

"Disregard your own safety or health. It's not the first time you've done something like this." 

Shrugging, I fiddled with the ring on my finger, "I don't like bothering those around me, that’s all." 

"You're not bothering if they offered. I've never seen you accept any help unless one of them forces you to." 

Sighing, I leaned my head back, looking up at the ceiling. 

"It's just how I am. I've always been the one offering to help. And after a while of doing so, it feels weird to accept it. San and Wooyoung are really the only ones who don't abuse that fact. And the rest of you guys now, I guess, but it still feels weird." 

"We'll have to change that, but for now, off to bed. You can sleep in my room." 

Standing up, I looked at him when I saw he made no move to follow. 

"What about you?" 

"I'll take the couch." 

I eyed the size of the couch and then him, "No. We can share or something. You're not sleeping here. It's way too small." 

Tugging him up, we went upstairs. Once we entered the room, we decided to sleep away from each other. 

Lying down, I tucked the blanket under my chin and closed my eyes. 

"Thank you." 

I managed to say before I fell asleep.  

Barely hearing the 'always' Jongho muttered. 

The rest of the week passed by relatively slowly with one of the guys checking up on me every now and again. Well, except for Jongho. 

It was currently Saturday and I had nothing to do, meaning I could stay in bed for as long as I want. And while I did want to sleep my weekend away, I didn't really want to fall asleep. Ever since that night, I'd been getting nightmares every time I fell asleep. Except for the first night when I slept over at the frat. Sleeping next to Jongho felt safe. 

"Y/N~" 

I heard Wooyoung call out. 

I really regret giving him that copy of the keys. 

Groaning, I lifted my head up when I heard my bedroom door swing open. 

“We’re here~” 

WE???? 

 Sitting up, I could see multiple mops of colourful hair behind him. 

“You didn’t....” 

Cackling, Wooyoung pulled me out of bed and into the living room. 

“I did.” 

I greeted the guys before noticing the only seat left was next to Jongho. 

Sitting down next to him, I couldn’t help but groan when I heard the others start bickering over what film to watch. 

“Have you actually slept?” 

“What?” 

I looked at Jongho who just pointed at my face. 

“You look horrible.” 

Giving him a smile, I couldn’t hide the sarcasm laced in my words. 

“Gee, thanks. Just the thing I wanted to hear.” 

“No, but seriously, you don’t look good.” 

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back. 

“I haven’t really slept since... ya know.” 

“You slept fine when you were at the frat though?” 

“Probably because you were there.” 

He smiled at me teasingly, “Aww, do you need someone to hold at night.” 

Laughing, I shoved his shoulder, “Shut up.” 

Closing my eyes again, I realised what we just did. 

Okay, maybe he’s not as irritating as I thought he was. 

Maybe it was because I was surrounded by people, but I could no longer resist the urge to sleep. Closing my eyes, I allowed my head to tilt to the side as sleep took over me. 

I was probably asleep for a few hours before I felt someone shake my shoulder. 

Rubbing my eyes, I sat back up. 

“Come on, we’re going out for dinner.” 

Jongho pulled me up with him.  

I looked over at Wooyoung, who just raised a brow at us. 

We decided on going to the Thai restaurant that was just around the corner from my flat. 

The dinner went by filled with laughter. Most of it was because of San being silly and Yeosang saying stuff before it even went through his brain. 

Towards the end of dinner, we all ordered a couple of drinks. And from the corner of my eye, I could see San and Jongho talking, actually, maybe arguing because it was quite heated. Whatever it was, it ended quickly with Jongho looking defeated. 

I watched as he stood up from his seat and made his way over to where I sat. 

Confused, I watched as he stopped right by me. 

“Why don’t we go grab the drinks from the bar.” 

Making our way over to the bar, we waited as the guy behind the counter got them ready. 

“So...” 

I placed my hand on his arm, looking at him slightly worried. 

“Are you okay?” 

“No, I’m fine. I just – Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

I blinked at him a couple of times. 

“Come again?” 

“I know you probably don’t feel like it but-” 

I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to him. I’ve never seen him this nervous before. 

“So, would you like to go on a date with me? I mean, you don't have to say yes considering how I -” 

Cutting him off, I smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

I watched as a smile blossomed across his face, his eyes disappearing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like this before. He’s suddenly gone from a large and intimidating guy to a cuddly teddy bear. 

Bringing the drinks back to the table, San observed Jongho’s expression before clapping.

“He’s finally done it!” 

The rest of the guys turned to look at him before they all started cheering.  

Arching a brow, “I take it you’ve wanted to take me out on a date for a long time?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I’d do it yet. Though that thought quickly left my mind after recent events.” 

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and the guys teasing Jongho for finally making a move. 

Bonus 

“Babe,” I leaned my head on Jongho’s shoulder as I curled into him, “You said you had a crush on me since we first met, so how come you always acted so cold towards me? I always thought you hated me or something.” 

Jongho let out an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Oh, that. I just thought that we were really different. You liked to stay at home and read, while I tended to go out and party and occasionally getting into fights. I just thought you’d like someone who was more, ya know, preppy or something.” 

I lifted my head to look at him, “So what changed?” 

“The frat party. That night I saw you drink for the first time. I found out you had tattoos and that you have 10 piercings in your ears. Oh, and that you could also smoke. I realised that we weren’t all that different.” 

Chuckling, I gently cupped his jaw, “And what would’ve happened if I didn’t show you all that?”  

“Then I’d probably have taken longer to ask you out.” 

Jongho held onto my waist as I brought his face closer to mine, pressing a kiss on his. A smile present on both of our faces. 

[svpnap]

Hello! I'd like to request soft morning sex with c! Karl please :) male reader with he/him probouns if you could. If not gn reader :)

Also could I be 🪐 anon please <3

hi! so my style of writing doesn’t really use pronouns anyway, so you can just imagine what you are most comfortable with! & yes of course, welcome 🪐 anon, happy to have you here! & thanks for the request <3

soft mornings.

(karl x reader)

(cw: smut, no pronoun use. mdni)

it was the morning after a long night. both you, and your boyfriend karl knocked out as soon as the two of you got into his bed. you could’ve slept longer if the sun peeking through the window, and karl’s gentle touches on your leg didn’t wake you. you shivered at his fingertips tracing over your skin.

you hummed gently, acknowledging his touch, which caught his attention. karl looked down at you with tired eyes and messy hair.

“morning baby.” he whispered. his morning voice was still evident.

“morning.” you sweetly replied, stretching your limbs. you gazed over his features as his creeping hand worked higher and higher on your thigh, before stopping.

you pouted at the ceased movement and grabbed his hand, placing it on your crotch. you whimpered lightly at the feeling. he immediately caught onto what you were doing, gently beginning to palm you through your sweatpants, paired with soft kisses on your neck. his movements were slow and light.

you lightly squeezed your legs together at the sudden pleasure surging through you. your shaky breaths turning into soft whimpers.

“karl—“ you barely managed to croak out. “I need more.”

“so needy.” he whispered back. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, before slipping his own pants down. neither of you were bothered with the lack of foreplay, the exhaustion of yesterday still resting on your limbs. he just wanted you to relax and make you feel good.

karl pulled your sweatpants half way down your thighs, doing the same for himself. he just needed you. he lightly feathered kisses on your thighs, before pulling his cock out. he was already hard, having thought about you all night. the two of you were still laying down, as he lined himself up with you. he slowly slid himself in, and the two of you let out soft gasps, and small mutters of praise.

“fuck you feel so good just for me. I love when you’re around me like this.” he whispered between moans.

he grabbed your waist and began tiredly rutting himself into you. his thrusts were slow, but they were deep, hitting just where you wanted him every time. he dipped his head to rest in the crook of your neck, placing delicate kisses across your collarbones.

your hands made their way into his hair, tugging tightly on the strands in order to relieve some of the building tension.

with each thrust your moans grew louder and sloppier, losing yourself in the feeling. your face was buried in the pillows that laid beneath you— and karl smiled fondly at the sight.

you felt all the pleasure begin to rush to the bottom of your stomach, and your moans became choppy and shaky.

“karl mm’ gonna come.” your eyebrows pinched together, pleading for your climax.

“come for me.” he breathed, and that was all you needed to spill over the edge.

the feeling of you clenching around him, sent karl spiraling right after you. the room filled with sounds of desperate moans and pants, before falling comfortably quiet. the two of you laid in each other’s arms, coming down from your highs. he then eventually pulled out, turning his head towards you, with a soft gaze. he reached up, the pad of his thumb running over your lips before speaking.

“we should go get in the shower, then we can stay here for the rest of the day and watch a movie. I’ll let you pick.” he offered.

you were quick to perk up, the two of you spending the rest of the of your time together in other’s arms.

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •3•

I hope this ain't getting shitty. Thank you for reading, sexy people. Send me a message or an ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

warnings: hungover jaehyun, age gap, hospitals, nothing too extreme.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato @painted-hills

~

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” He groaned, all the memories from the past night hitting him like a truck. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

His eyelids finally fluttered open, frown softening at the sight of you in a messy bun and your cute pajamas.

“How come you look so fresh?” The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in the span of a few hours. Thank God he didn't have to work that day.

“I always look fresh.” You seemed to be more comfortable around him. Perhaps it was because you had to tuck him in last night. “Up.”

You tugged both of his limp hands, forcing him to sit up.

“What did you cook? It smells nice.” He scrunched up his nose like a little kid.

“Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Fast as lightning, he got up from bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed the blanket hanging from the edge of your sofa. Disappointment pinched his heart.

“Why didn't you sleep with me? You would've been more comfortable.”

You set two plates on the small table, pulling the pan out of the stove to serve them.

“You spread yourself all over the bed as soon as I laid you down.” You lied successfully. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t that comfortable yet.

You let the pan down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat in front of him.

“Do you still want to visit my father?” Sparkling orbs stared at him timidly, fearing his answer would be negative.

“I mean…” You hummed, trying not to give it as much importance. “I do want to go!” He quickly corrected himself, frantically shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don't want to meet your father like this.” He pointed at his bed hair, which had only become messier since he woke up.

“You’re acting like he's gonna see you.” There was a slight bitterness in your tone, along with a fake grin.

“Alright, let's do this instead...” Yoonoh sat up straight, clearing his throat as if he were about to give a speech. “We’ll have breakfast, you'll shower quickly, and then we’ll drive to my house so I can fix myself. How does that sound?”

“So I'm finally gonna see your mansion? How exciting.” You kicked his leg teasingly under the table, his cheeks inevitably dipping as he tried to suppress a smile. “I bet you have some peacocks in your backyard.”

“And there's also a dolphin in my pool.” He let out a hearty laugh, extending his arm over the table to grab your hand.

His house was most definitely not what you expected.

It was about the size of the one you grew up in, the decoration inside minimalistic. There were no expensive paintings framed with pure gold, only pictures of him and his family. There was a small backyard you could access through the French door in the kitchen. Half of it was occupied by a greenhouse.

“I had to donate the peacocks to the zoo.” He whispered as you looked through the glass door, squeezing your shoulders with his slim fingers.

“What a shame.” Hesitantly, he wrapped both of his limbs around your torso, letting his chin rest stop of your head. Your heartbeat was thumping loudly against your chest. Yoonoh surely felt it but decided not to comment on it.

“There’s a Tv in my room in case you want to watch something while I shower.” A hint of mischief adorned his honey-like voice. “Or you can come in and watch me instead.”

“Stop!” Your elbow connected with his ribs out of pure panic, making him bend in pain with his hands covering the injured spot.

“It was a joke...” He whispered, teeth gritting together.

I made him mad, you thought. Should you escape or face the consequences of his anger? All thoughts erased from your mind as he grabbed your calves, lifting you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with closed fists, unable to see the expression on his face. “Yoonoh!”

He went up the stairs, proceeding to enter his room and throw you on his bed. Thousands of dirty scenarios crossed your mind before he threw himself on top of you, crushing your bones under his muscular body.

“My...ribs...”

“Oh, sorry, what is that?” To make matters worse, his fingers tickled your sides, provoking a fit of desperate giggles to escape your mouth. “I’m not hearing an apology.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands finally stopped, giving you time to breathe. Nonetheless, he remained laid on your chest, using his forearms to lift his weight. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“I like you.”

The confession was so sudden, so raw it took you some time to finally react. But you had no words to give him an answer, instead, you combed your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp while waiting for him to speak up again.

“I never thought I'd be feeling more than friendly affection for you. Our agreement doesn't include love, after all. But I've started feeling like a teenager all over again. I can't help but get excited whenever you call me. Do you know how sweet your voice sounds through the phone?” He sighed, discouraged at your lack of response. “I guess you're not there yet.”

Instead of verbally answering, you planted a sweet kiss on his head, right where small, grey hairs had started growing.

“I’m not good with words.”

“That’s alright.” He snuck his hands under your back, holding you tightly as a sudden need to nurture you took over him. The mature image he had of you faded in less than a second, leaving behind a young, troubled woman. “I’ll shower quickly so we can go see your pops. I bet we’ll get along just fine, maybe even go golfing when he wakes up.”

“I forgot you're almost the same age. Creepy.” He smiled, though uneasiness started steering in his guts.

“Does that bother you?” He asked without giving it a second thought.

“I don't know yet.”

(...)

The man with high cheekbones and bruised skin laid limp on the hospital bed. Yoonoh had been working on his case for about a month, yet, it only started feeling real the moment he entered the room.

“This is my dad.” All emotions had escaped your eyes as if your soul wasn't there anymore. Only an empty shell.

“You look so much like him.” he was afraid touching you wouldn't be the right thing to do, so instead, he said: “He seems like a suitable golf buddy.”

Tension finally loosened its grip around his body as you snorted, pigment returning to your cheeks. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“He will wake up, y/n.”

“He’s taking his sweet time.” You glanced back at the laying figure, skinnier with every day he spent asleep. “I want someone to pay for taking away the last person that loved me.”

The last person that loved you. Would Yoonoh be able to fill that spot? Not yet, probably. He couldn't modify the depth of his feelings, but he could surely give you the vengeance you longed.

“Do you trust me?” With your eyes still glued to your father, you nodded. “Then I can assure you we’ll win the case.”

“I know we will.”

He sat silently with you, holding your hand without saying a word. The smell of alcohol and the beeping noise of machines made him nauseous. He hated hospitals. You noticed the change in his demeanor, his hand becoming cold while holding yours with strength.

“Do you wanna go?”

“No!” He smiled through the pain, scooting his chair closer to lay your hand on his lap.

He wouldn't agree to get his ass off the plastic chair. You had to tell him you were hungry for him to finally stand up, still clutching your hand like your father did when you were still a kid. His parental behavior caused several emotions to stir inside your guts, so mixed up you couldn't quite put a finger on any of them.

“What do you want to eat?” The tension finally left his body once out of the building.

“Soup.” You smiled while swiping your thumb on top of his knuckles. “I know a place, but to be honest, it isn't good. So we can go to the store and get the ingredients to- but you can't cook.”

“I’m up for a cooking lesson if you are.” He wanted to see your pretty smile again. Maybe making a fool of himself would help. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Wow, so cool.”

“I know.”

(...)

“Can you grab that can of chicken broth?” You pointed at the high shelf, letting go of Yoonoh’s hand to allow him to move freely

“I have a better idea.” He dragged you by the arm so you were standing in front of him, trapped between his body and the shelf. “I’ll lift you so you can reach it.” Matching his words, his hands grasped your waist, ready to carry you.

“Stop!” You slapped his hands repeatedly between giggles. Ignoring your complaints, he started lifting you. “Yoonoh!”

“Yoonoh?” A feminine voice had him placing you back on your feet in less than a second.

“Seryeong, I didn't expect to see you here.” His hands remained seated on the curve of your waist.

“Neither did I. I was surprised when Sungchan told me you'd left early yesterday.” She seemed a bit older than you but still younger than the man behind you.

“I had some matters to take care of.” She eyed you from head to toes with a smug grin plastered on her lips. Just by the look of her clothes, you could tell she was as wealthy as Yoonoh. You feared the scene would turn into a tv worthy drama.

“I’ll go get the chicken breast.” You tried escaping his grip, only to be pulled closer to his warmth.

“No need to. It's already inside the cart.”

Why am I so dumb?

“Does your father know about your little girlfriend?” She asked without hesitation.

“I guess.”

“And why didn't he tell me anything?” She cocked an eyebrow, his hands finally loosening around your body and allowing you to move from your position.

“Look, this is something you should talk about with him. Now, if you excuse us...” With a hand on your shoulder, he began pushing the cart to the next aisle, the chicken broth long forgotten.

“Is this some kind of arranged marriage situation?”

“Something like that.” His hands were tense while holding the cart, knuckles turning white from the strength used. “Before you start asking, I'm not really in the mood and I don't want to direct my bad mood toward you. Let's talk about something else, alright?”

Who was that woman that had the power to turn him into a literal raging ball of fire with just a few words?

[mythicamagic]

Childhood: a Kohrin oneshot

Summary: Two teenagers sneak off one night to the beach, reflecting on their pasts. Despite the grim subject, Rin somehow always manages to make him smile. Kohaku x Rin oneshot

3,000 words

Childhood

Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over her sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping her warm. These are all the things Rin chose to remember about childhood.

She remembered and kept them close, especially at night, gliding through memories masquerading as dreams.

In the years after travelling with the stoic lord and staying with Kaede at her village, her limbs had changed- becoming gangly, form lean and growing with burgeoning maturity. She'd adapted to her environment, forming strong friendships with her mentor and the Inutachi. However, despite her days being spent in quiet happiness, she couldn't help but notice a few things. A perpetual absence. A certain searching look in Sango's eyes whenever she glanced up from monitoring her three children to stare off into the trees.

Tossing and turning beneath the covers, Rin frowned in her sleep.

One person who remained elusive in both her dreams and the waking world was-

A crooning noise startled her upright, brown eyes flying wide. Stumbling from her futon and hurrying from Kaede's hut, she peered out into the night inquisitively.

From within the forest, she could see a faint orange glow peeking out between the trees. Tightening her sleeping yukata around her, Rin's lips pursed. She then stubbornly sought out the glow, bare feet padding over cool dirt.

She found him, as predicted, watching Sango's hut.

Kohaku stood, a little further along into his maturity than her. Even the dense shadows couldn't quite hide the changes in his height and features. Rin stopped the second he caught notice of her- a telltale wariness gripping him a moment before recognition painted his face.

"Rin," he said with relief, tone soon slipping into a resigned reprimand. "What're you doing out so late? You should be asleep."

"So should you," she smiled easily, rocking on her heels. She gave a wave to Kirara, who hopped onto Kohaku's shoulder after transforming into a small version of herself and mewling. "It's a strange hour for you to come back. Sango won't be able to greet you with a lively smile-" lively chatter broke off the second she noticed the older boy direct his gaze to his feet. "Oh… unless… you don't plan on staying long?" Rin murmured. Again.

For some reason, it was always the same with him. Lord Sesshoumaru's brief visits didn't bother her in the least. He barely had a connection to the village. But Kohaku? He should've been there, stayed there. She knew Sango missed him terribly but he barely made time to visit.

However, she didn't voice any of this. She'd done so before, and Sango's assurances never seemed to help him. Guilt continued to gnaw like an infected wound at her friend.

Rin observed his freckled face in the torch light, seeing the emotions swimming within vibrant brown eyes.

"You know I would if I could. But…" the silence of the forest swallowed up the remainder of what he wanted to say. Rin shifted her bare feet, drawing closer and taking his coarse, demon-slaying hand.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Huh?"

"I want to go to the beach," she said decisively, as though he had no say in the matter. Kohaku supposed he didn't when she got like this. "Come on, Kaede says the ocean air is good for you. Hurry, before everyone wakes up," Rin tugged on his hand.

Kohaku smiled slightly, giving in far too easily.

---

Kirara touched down on sandy shores an hour later, allowing them to slide off her back. Rin stretched and sucked in a long breath of salty sea air.

"Ahh! Now isn't that better?" she grinned.

Kohaku snorted and smiled good-naturedly, looking out at the black sea with a quiet, observing look. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

"Why not?"

Kohaku wandered out, boots crunching on pebbles until they were cushioned by sand, leaving moonlit footprints. "I want to say I haven't had time, but that's not true," he chuckled. "It just hasn't occurred to me to go. That I'd enjoy it."

At 16, Rin still didn't feel old enough nor wise enough to understand everything. She wasn't a firecracker like Kagome had been around her age, and she didn't see herself as a warrior like Sango. However, there were some things Rin knew how to do.

Following, Rin took his hand in passing, tugging to ensure he'd stumble after her. She walked right up to the shoreline, drinking in the dark, hushed atmosphere only broken by the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

"Take off your boots."

Kohaku blinked, raising a brow. His lips quirked, "you sure are bossy today."

Giggling, she wriggled bare toes into the sand- squealing when the cool tide rushed in and splashed about her ankles before drawing back. "You used to walk around barefoot all the time, just like me."

"When I was a kid," he reminded her.

"Are you implying something?" Rin huffed. "I'll tell Uncle Inuyasha you said that."

"No, I wasn't trying to say-" his hasty words cut off, noting her mischievous expression. Kohaku smiled and leaned down as though to take off his boots- suddenly thrusting his hands into the surf and splashing her.

Shrieking and gasping, Rin gaped with surprise- soon grinning viciously wide and leaping towards him. Kohaku quickly dodged. He began running, hotly pursued by the petite young woman. An unexpected noise rang out into the night. Boyish, happy laughter.

Earthy brown eyes widened and even as Rin sprinted, panting, she drank in the sound of Kohaku laughing. How strange, rare and wonderful it was.

Running fast and putting all her energy into her legs, Rin leapt at his back. Catching him around the middle, she collided hard against him.

With an undignified yelp from a demon slayer, Kohaku lost his footing, toppling gracelessly to the ground, kicking up sand. Giggling breathlessly, Rin spat some from her mouth and lifted her head.

"You went down easy. Are you sure you slay demons?" she teased, nestling against the warmth of his back.

Kohaku shifted, shaking sand from his ponytail and adjusting their positions so that they were facing each other, laying on their sides. He wiped his face, expression clearly trying to remain unaffected and firm- but breaking into a tender smile.

"You always do this," he mused quietly.

"Hm? I don't think I've ever tackled you into the sand before," Rin felt fairly confident about that.

"That's not what I mean, it's just that you always make me feel... something different. Something good."

"But we had that argument about how best to stew nettles the other day," she pointed out.

A chuckle escaped him, soulful gaze sober. "Even that felt good to me."

Tilting her head against the dry, soft dune, both fell silent. Despite being a chatter-box, Rin also knew when to be quiet and let him talk. Her hand inched out naturally for his, and Kohaku accepted it, grasping her palm in a way that made her feel secure and safe. They'd known each other for many years so some things came as easy as breathing. Other things, like talking about it, came slowly, painfully.

"Why won't they go away?" Kohaku murmured in a hushed tone for only her to hear. "The nightmares. The memories," his gaze shook. "I just want to stop seeing it every time I look at Sango, but its there, in the back of my mind. I don't... feel right being around my nieces and nephew."

"You're still scared you'll hurt them?" there was no judgment in her tone. Assuring him that Naraku was dead and gone didn't help. Kohaku was perfectly aware of that.

The young man ducked his head, lips thin. His larger, rougher hand in hers trembled. "What if it's still there?" he whispered. "The compulsion to hurt people. I could be living my life- I could marry-" his eyes avoided hers. "Have children, but then one day I hear his voice again and the memory is too strong to resist. I could do something awful."

Dark brows pulled together, heart-squeezing in her ribcage. She wanted to help so badly. However, there was nothing she could do but keep trying to assure him and listen. "Even if you hear him, I believe in you, Kohaku," Rin stroked a thumb over his scarred knuckles. "You'd fight it. You're getting stronger all the time."

He looked exhausted, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I'm so tired of being scared," he mumbled, glancing wearily at her. "You're still scared too, aren't you?"

Her face lost its girlish innocence, becoming firm as she sat up. "I've told you before- I'm not afraid of you, Kohaku!" she insisted hotly. "I haven't been since I was 8!"

Kohaku shifted his muscular body, and it was times like those she noticed how much larger and different he'd become. She blushed slightly but kept her expression serious.

"I wasn't talking about that," he chuckled, gaze becoming gentle. Careful fingers minded some dark hair from her face. "Your nightmares. You still have nightmares about your childhood too, right?"

Rin blinked, feeling cold and releasing his hand to wrap both arms around herself. The brush of cool night air gliding over her skin suddenly felt a little too chilly.

A soft croon rumbled out seconds before Kirara's large form settled down behind them. Lustrous buttercup coloured fur bumped against Rin's back, and she nestled against the nekomata's side gratefully.

"We don't have to discuss it if you don't want to," Kohaku said with concern, leaning back against the demon as well.

Forcing a cheery smile, Rin shook her head. "I'm fine- I've actually come up with something that helps me sleep most nights now, and I thought it might help you too."

"What is it?"

Tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above, she smiled a little more naturally. "I think of all the good things in my childhood. Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over my sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping me warm."

Kohaku stared at her with no short amount of amazement. He swallowed and looked down at the sand.

"You're strong," he breathed. "To be able to separate all the good things from the bad."

"You can do it too," grabbing his hand again, Rin inched closer with an encouraging nod. "Tell me some things you remember. Happy things."

Kohaku blushed a little at her proximity and cleared his throat, thinking. "Sango. She was always there for me."

"What else?"

His eyes seemed to haze slightly, "Father…"

"Push through it, Kohaku," she murmured. "There was a time before all the bad stuff. Was he kind?"

Kohaku blinked, firm fingers squeezing hers as he came back to himself, exhaling. He chuckled shyly, "he was a little strict, but he meant well."

Rin shifted closer, resting beside him shoulder to shoulder, knee bumping his. Kohaku rested his head back against Kirara's soft fur and began recounting things long since buried. Things he hadn't thought he could remember or appreciate anymore. The guilt was there, it always would be, but it felt further away, replaced with a bitter-sweet tang.

"Practicing, running, training, laughing, chasing yellow nekomatas," he scratched Kirara's ear. "Butterflies, bare-feet, hunting- freeing rabbits from traps because I didn't want to see them get killed. Father yelling. Father's hand gently resting on my h-head," the words stumbled. "Playing, flower gathering, flying on Kirara. The smell of the blacksmiths. Sweat. Forging weapons. Sango snoring."

Rin gasped and giggled, watching as his fingers slid through the gaps between her own.

"Warming my hands on the brazier. Talking. Listening. Stories around the campfire. Demon slayers, family," Kohaku murmured, voice thick with memories. He closed his eyes, falling silent.

"You did really well," cuddling against him, Rin pecked his cheek.

Kohaku glanced down at her, "I haven't talked about that stuff out loud before. I didn't think I could anymore."

Grinning, she put her nose in the air, imitating Jaken. "Humph well, I am rather good at talking. Getting other people to talk is my speciality ~"

Chuckling, he nudged his free hand against her forehead gently, brown eyes incredibly warm. "Can we do this again sometime? There's probably more we can remember."

Blinking, Rin gentled and squeezed his fingers, "of course we can. Anytime, Kohaku. But you know… Sango might want to hear some of this too- when you're ready," she added quickly.

His face became a touch more guarded, which broke her heart. He was so afraid of hurting Sango again. For a demon slayer, the young man was heavily weighed down by empathy.

Rin touched his freckled cheek, "Kohaku?"

He shook his head slightly and gave a smile to show he was alright. "Never mind that. How'd you get to be so brave talking about this stuff?"

Humming, she let her fingers linger, dragging down to his jaw. It looked and felt strong beneath her touch. "I probably couldn't talk about it out loud if you weren't here. You make me feel brave."

Before her fingers left his face, her hand was caught. Kohaku pushed it back to rest against his cheek, tilting his face into her palm.

"Likewise," he mumbled.

Cheeks warming, Rin felt her heart stutter and thrum wildly in her chest. It was weird. Kohaku was so incredibly dear to her. She loved being close to him, but lately, butterflies just wouldn't stop fluttering in her stomach.

Seeming to sense her confusion, Kohaku released her slack hand and gently returned it to her. He then turned to his boots and began tugging them off.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm doing as you bossily suggested earlier," standing, he gave a small smile, offering a hand down to her.

Rin accepted it, following as he walked to the shoreline. Stepping onto the wet sand, a noise of surprise and shook escaped the demon slayer as the tide rushed in.

Biting her lip, Rin tried and failed to suppress mirthful laughter. "Did you just squeal?"

"No. You're imagining things," Kohaku grinned.

The ocean lapped around their ankles, slowly receding, before sweeping a fresh wave of cool, dark water against their skin.

Kohaku gradually adjusted, looking out at the endless stretch of ocean brightened by the moon. Rin breathed in a lungful of the fresh air, slowly relaxing with him.

The tired lines beneath Kohaku's kind eyes seemed to soften, not entirely going away, but his face appeared young once more, gaining a healthy glow.

Rin held onto his hand throughout. He was the only one she felt so strangely at peace with. Lord Sesshoumaru and Kaede were protective presences, but neither really knew her, or her secrets. No one understood everything that had happened in her life, though she'd divulged some things.

She'd told Kohaku everything. When the boys at the village whispered among themselves that she was strange, a shape-shifter, a hanyou girl in disguise, Rin would smile. Because they didn't need to know or understand. Kohaku accepted her oddness, an outlier himself. Perhaps they were Hanyou children in a way.

Like Uncle Inuyasha, they didn't quite fit into human society. They were too strange. Too changed, different because of what they'd seen and experienced, never quite meshing despite their best efforts to.

But that was alright.

She'd asked Uncle Inuyasha about it once, Lord Sesshoumaru in their presence. Inuyasha had met Sesshoumaru's gaze, voice gruff.

"Well, there was no place for me, so I had to make one for myself, and then I realized, I had a place, but I was the only one in it."

Lord Sesshoumaru had seemed quiet and considering of his words.

Rin understood. Gazing at Kohaku right then, she felt he would too. The two humans who had died too young. Kohaku was part of her space, and she was in his.

Catching her eye, he smiled. Just as naturally as holding hands, he leaned down and rested their foreheads together. Rin let out a whoosh of hot air, lashes fluttering shut. The press of his head against hers felt intimate and sweet.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and shifted her head, lips inches from his, face burning. Kohaku's eyes cracked open wide, before gazing solemnly at her. He wrestled with something- and she thought he might pull away.

Kohaku then snuffed out the rest of the distance between them, lips pressing against hers in a chaste kiss.

White-hot feeling burst within the young woman like shooting stars. Butterflies turned into hummingbirds. Her lips burned.

They pulled away, both avoided each other's gazes a moment, reeling. They then caught one another's eye and slowly, shyly smiled. Because they were still the same, just a little different from before.

"Let's go back to the village," Kohaku murmured, noticing the first hues of sunlight brightening the horizon. "I think… I'll try talking to Sango."

Rin nodded, smiling with palpable relief.

He glanced at her, expression remaining vulnerable, fragile heart laid bare for her to see. Kohaku trusted her to handle it gently.

"And Rin?"

"Yes?"

He blushed slightly, squeezing her hand. "Let's come back to the beach sometime soon."

Rin's face burst into a wide grin, giggling a little breathlessly.

"I'd love to!"

---

End

[wildfaeworld]

Hey, are you still doing the Bad Things Bingo card? I'd like to request Hand Stomp with Keith if so! And maybe klance! Ty!!

Got a couple requests for this one! Sorry though anons, Keith gets neither Lance nor happiness in this one.   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Character(s): Keith, Zarkon

Length: 1607 words

Warnings: Blood, broken bones, explicit injury. Oh and uh, not a happy ending.

*PSST*: you can also read this on AO3.

Thank you @badthingshappenbingo for the card!

Keith knew loss. Its’ touchpreceded even his lucid memories, slipping through the door left ajar by hismother’s departure. It crept closer in the wake of the fire which took hisfather, and solidified its presence with every return to the social serviceoffices because another family hadn’t quite been able to make him fit.

It had wrapped cold, intimatefingers around his heart when Shiro had boarded the Kerberos craft, and it hadsqueezed, shredding and ripping into him, when the mission was declared afailure. Then it had settled, coiling deep into his bones and chilling himthrough the hot, dusty days in the desert.

He had driven it away when Shiroreturned, beating it back into a gentle, incessant what if by stickingto Shiro like a limpet, training long hours and throwing himself into bondingexercises with Red or formation practice with Voltron in single-mindedintensity that left no room for what if. But loss had been his bedfellowfor too long to ignore the abundant fodder of war.

So he shouldn’t have beensurprised, when Red’s touch stilled and faded to darkness as Zarkon blasted heracross the hull of his central command. He shouldn’t have ached, watching Blackbeing pushed through the wormhole by the other lions while Shiro’s screams torethrough his comms. But he was, and he did. Beyond the burn of his ribs and thescouring fire in his bones from augmenting Red’s reserves with his own spirit,Keith ached as the wormhole blinkedclosed.

And there, pinned under thewreckage of Red’s console, Keith met loss in corporeal form as Zarkon peeledRed’s hull apart. In the deeps of their bond, Red’s unconscious agony resoundedin thin and terrible counterpoint to his own at the deathly cacophony createdby Zarkon’s invasion of his lion.

“Did you see them go, RedPaladin?” The Galran emperor stalked into the cockpit, head tilted to clear theceiling. “Your team has abandoned you, little ember.”

Keith ignored him, strainingagainst the warped metal and melted glass trapping him. If he could just reachhis bayard-

Zarkon plucked the red and whiteweapon from its slot in the console and tucked it away into his armor. He rancoldly evaluating eyes over Keith, watching him struggle.

“The red lion has ever beenVoltron’s right hand,” he mused aloud. “It is the place of any leader tomeasure his subordinates. I measured Alfor, and I found him wanting. And now,little ember, I have measured you.” Abruptly, he was close too close, leaning over Keith’s pinned form to grasp his head inone gargantuan hand. Keith’s helmet cracked, shattering against his head andraining glass across his face as Zarkon squeezed. He shut his eyes against theprojectile rain, feeling the tips of Zarkon’s claws adorn his brow in a macabrediadem of blood.

“Little ember, you have beenweighed, and measured,” Zarkon crooned. “And you are not enough.” His handshifted to Keith’s chestplate, while the other wrapped around the twisted metalpinning Keith in place, and peeled it back. Keith groaned as metal slid out ofthe seat beneath him and up through the meat of his thighs. Blood, held incheck by the pressure that had immobilized him, now sheeted down his legs withmortal abandon.

“You are no right hand ofVoltron,” Zarkon finished, lifting Keith out of the pilot’s chair and dragginghim across the cockpit. “You usurp the title of Red Paladin, and will face myjudgment.”

“The black lion picked Shiro,”Keith wheezed, clawing instinctively, ineffectually, at the thick arm wrappedacross his chest. “It rejected you – Voltron measured you, and you’re the onefound wanting.”

Zarkon’s claws pierced his chestand back as the Galran emperor squeezed Keith in his grip. They stepped out ofthe mangled lion and into the central ship before the emperor replied.

“Little one,” he said finally,his tone a somber cadence to his measured tread through the halls of his ship.“Voltron was mine once and will be again. I was ancient before Voltron. I havewatched the birth of stars, and I have witnessed those same stars die. You andthe rest of your ragtag group, like those paltry few systems which still opposeme, are nothing more than children throwing a tantrum, thinking thathistrionics and drama will get them their way.”

Tall double doors slid openbefore them, and Keith flinched from the wall of noise. Galra generals of allshapes and sizes clustered in the great hall, clearing a path for Zarkon’sentrance as they cheered for him and screamed at Keith in equal measure.

Zarkon stalked up the length ofthe hall, pausing at the foot of the dais to turn and face the assembly. Thegathered generals silenced swiftly, their anticipation hanging thick andcloying in the recycled air. Blood dripped, swift and steady, to puddle atZarkon’s feet. Keith took the moment to breath through the pain of the gapingwounds in his legs, the holes in his torso, his head. This was just thebeginning, and he was determined that whatever Zarkon claimed, he would endthis as befitted a Paladin of Voltron.

Zarkon’s gaze drifted across thecrowd, gathering every scrap of their attention.

“My loyal subjects,” he began,“today we have witnessed Voltron’s latest act of chaos and defiance. They havedared attack me in my home, and though it suited my purposes to allow them toflee in cowardly defeat, I will no longer allow their posturing without a tokenof my disfavor.”

Amid the cheers that erupted, twodrones clanked forward to take Keith from Zarkon’s grip and hoist him high byeach arm, until he hung suspended for all to see.

“Behold!” Zarkon announced. “TheRed Paladin, Voltron’s right hand. The red lion even now lies imprisoned in myvaults. But for its pilot, my justice will be more immediate.”

Keith reeled under the wall ofsound, straining to pull air into lungs pulled tight by his suspended position.Dimly, he watched two more drones approach, bearing thick metal cuffs. Theyattached one to each wrist, and then to Keith’s brief confusion, the first twoset him on the ground. He staggered, his shredded legs unwilling to bear hisweight, and then the cuffs activated, magnets dragging his hands topredetermined points on the floor at the foot of the dais. Keith slammedface-first into the cold metal floor, his arms stretched out spread-eagled.Zarkon’s heavy tread echoed against the shell of his ear, stopping with dread finalitynext to his right hand.

“Voltron’s right hand is aposition of honor, of trust,” he said softly. “You, little ember, are notworthy.” Raising his voice, he addressed the assembly once more. “As withVoltron, so to paladin. Voltron has lost its right hand.” He raised his boot,bringing down to thunderous acclaim upon Keith’s right hand. Keith strangledhis scream, allowing only a hoarse groan to escape as he felt bones snap andtwist, sharp ends digging into his flesh as the Galran emperor ground his heelinto the back of Keith’s hand.

“As with Voltron, so to paladin,”Zarkon repeated, removing his boot and mounting the dais to take his throne.“My loyal generals, I invite you to partake of my justice.”

The Galra needed no moreinvitation. In eager brutality, the first general stalked forward, leering downat Keith. “Death to the enemies of the Galra,” he spat, bringing his bootedheel down upon Keith’s hand. Keith sucked in a sharp gasp, feeling two fingerssnap. The general spun on his heel, leaving a parting gift of spittle onKeith’s face before rejoining his place in the ranks.

The next general leapt in the airwith a shrill battle-cry to land two-footed on Keith’s hand. Keith breathedthrough the pain, feeling his last intact fingers snap.

The next stomp broke open theskin, tearing a gash across the back of his hand from the spikes embedded inthe third general’s boot.

After the fifth stomp, his handstarted to lose shape.

After the ninth, Keith couldn’tmove his fingers. His other limbs twitched spasmodically with each stomp,garnering jeering laughter from the Galra generals, but his hand had stoppedresponding beyond a constant, white-hot scream roaring up his nerve endings andbegging his mouth for release. He clamped his lips shut, refusing to give themthe final satisfaction of hearing him beg.

Keith fixed his gaze on his hand,watching skin break and bleed, feeling bones grind and shatter as general aftergeneral brought one or both feet down upon the mangled lump of flesh that usedto be his sword hand. Blood collected in the hollows of his skin, even as moreseeped from his legs and torso.

By the fifteenth stomp, Keith’sblood had pooled underneath the entirety of his body. The generals had to stepin it to get at his hand, now, and their departing footsteps left spiralingrecord of their visitations.

By the twenty-sixth stomp, Keith’shearing and vision were greying out. The world buzzed distantly under clear andpresent pain.

By the thirty-ninth stomp, Keithcouldn’t feel anything anymore. He watched, dimly surprised that he was stillawake, as feet descended on something that had once meant something to him.

Sometime between the forty-thirdand forty-seventh stomp, Keith started to slip.

It might have been after thefifty-second stomp that he lost count, but at that point he wasn’t sure.

It might have beensixty-eight stomps when his eyes slid closed, but no one was counting anymore.

[hvlfwygod]

free advice | patrick&beck

date: may 29 / may 30 summary: an unexpected run in and some poor decisions

He didn't quite remember when he got here, or where the friendly strangers that had momentarily sucked him into their group had gone. It was packed, though, and loud, and everyone was dancing. He squeezed through the jumble of moving bodies toward the bar, which was also annoyingly crowded. He stepped around two people overtaking a the corner and spotted a single empty barstool, which he leapt toward, bumping shoulders with— "What the fuck," he said to Beck, halting mid-motion to look at the man. "Hey, dude! Can you flag down the guy? I need a drink.

Beck had been drinking at this bar for a little over an hour now. It started with the first drink, the second he started to get rid of his guilt over it, by the third Patrick was running into him. He was momentarily silenced for a second, looking at his best friend's younger brother. When Patrick swore, Beck raised his glass lightly at the other. "Yeah, I got you dude," Beck replied. Beck had a tendency to learn who the bartenders were at the bars he went to. "Ey, Julian! Can you please get us a drink over here— uh what do you want?" he asked Patrick. "It'll make it faster for him."

"Fuck, whatever he has in his hand, I don't know," Patrick replied with a laugh. He put his hand on the bar, sandwiching himself between Beck and whoever was sitting beside him. They made a disgusted noise in his direction which he ignored. "Jack Coke or whatever the fuck," he shouted to Julien. Then, he turned his attention back on Beck. "Sick of the same shit in New Athens, too?"

"Put it on my tab, Julien," he added. "There's two bars in New Athens, and I'd rather not go to either of them right now." Beck downed the rest of his Rum and Coke after he finished. "I'm guessing you had the same idea?" he asked.

"I just like to get the hell out of town," he replied with a shrug. The drink made it to his hand, and he picked it up without taking his attention off of Beck. "It's easier to do my shit, you know?" His gaze dropped slightly, then drifted back up to Beck's eyes. "If you know what I mean."

Beck picked up on Patrick's comments. Beck looked at his glass again, thinking for a moment. Beck would be lying if he said it wasn't tempting. Beck looked back at Patrick. "I think I understand what you mean," he replied.

He grinned at the response, amused at the slow, hesitant reaction. "I figured you would," he said.

————

Patrick realized that he fucked up after he woke up. The room wasn't intensely bright, but a small sliver of sunlight beamed directly into his eyeballs, yanking him out of sleep. It was morning. "Fuck," he mumbled into the pillow. Where even was he? He remembered some sort of motel entrance which— at least they hadn't wound up back at his apartment. Patrick's body felt weird and heavy and his neck protested at the weight of his skull, but he got out of bed. Beck was stirring, too, so he quickly started to dress, ignoring the protest in his limbs.

Beck's head pounded when he awoke. Gods, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this way. Beck let out a groan, his mind fuzzy with the details of the night before. Though, there was slight relief that it was the night that was fuzzy, rather than what his brain had been spinning out on for months now. Beck ran his hands over his face, then through his hair. Beck took a look at Patrick and then pieced together last nights events. He sat up. "Where are you going so fast? You don't want to cuddle," he said, an obvious tease in his voice to show that he did not want to do that.

Patrick gave Beck a sharp, disgusted face, not at all amused by the joke. "Don't," he snapped before he pulled his shirt over his head. "Don't be weird about it." Then he wandered into the bathroom to gulp down a few mouthfuls of water from the sink faucet.

Beck got up too, pulling on his pants. He rolled his eyes at Patrick. "Dude, chill out, I'm joking. You don't be weird about it. It's not like we're going to go back to New Athens and scream it to the rooftops and act all lovey or shit. This was a one night thing."

The response made him laugh, and he sucked in water a little too fast, which turned the laugh into a watery cough. Patrick eventually recovered and turned back to Beck in contempt. "No shit this was a one night thing," he said. "But joking about how not into cuddling you are is fucking weird."

"Wow, someone is a little pissy in the morning, I'm just too hungover for any of this to be a serious conversation," Beck said. "Lighten up dude." He pulled his shirt over his head. "What do you think I'm going to do if you're not so serious? Tell Koda or something?"

His expression morphed once again into disgust. "What the fuck are you bringing up my sister for? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well that answered a weird question I didn't mean to ask," he muttered. He shrugged. Beck sat back down on the motel bed, leaning back against his hands. "You're just being weird. Koda doesn't know about your whole thing outside New Athens, does she?"

"You mean am I fucking out?" Patrick sneered at Beck, crossing his arms over his chest. This line of questioning was uncomfortable and unwelcome, and it pissed Patrick off. "Dude, I was alone at a bar miles out of town, what do you think?"

Beck's mind got stuck on Patrick's first question. Beck wasn't gay... at least he didn't think he was. Having sex with a guy didn't really make you gay, it's the sexual attraction part. Right? "So then I can count that what happened last night doesn't get back to New Athens, hm?" Beck replied, he knew if what happened last night, the part that wasn't the sex with Patrick part could screw a lot of things up, and he really didn't want to bring that into Hailey's life again. Beck could handle it. He could handle it.

He groaned loudly and glared at the ceiling, cutting off Beck's question before he could finish asking it. "Can I count on that?" he asked in return, raising an eyebrow in quiet, intense expectation.

Beck let out a small laugh, scoff hidden within it. "What, don't trust that I won't tell anyone?"

Patrick rolled his eyes again. Instead of pressing the question, he turned away, this time searching for the rest of his belongings: his phone, his shoes, his jacket, his wallet stuffed inside the left pocket. He was content to leave the conversation at that, but a question nagged at the back of his mind. "What were you doing at the bar, if it wasn't for... this."

Beck rolled his eyes again in return to Patrick. Beck was starting to understand how some people could get so frustrated with the Morpheus boy. "What do you think I was doing at a bar?" He originally had been there maybe to pick a fight with someone, try and figure things out, he originally didn't plan on drinking, definitely didn't originally plan on having sex with Patrick, but his night had already changed quite a bit before it. "Getting some peace and quiet away from New Athens."

He considered this answer, the honest one, and then the one that Beck tacked on after the fact. Patrick smirked. "No need to get so defensive..." He tilted his head "You were just there to get drunk away from home?" Patrick chuckled while he pulled his jacket on. "Okay. " Patrick looked at Beck with mocking curiosity, a knowing look in his eyes. "I got some free advice, from one to another, don't set yourself up like that. Unless you were just looking for that last push to go back over the edge, in which case, good job."

"Something like that," Beck replied. "Free advice? Wasn't the point of this to be a one night stand?" His eyebrows raised in slight curiosity. "I don't usually share my feelings with my one night stands, or get some unsolicited free advice."

He couldn't help himself; Patrick rolled his eyes again. "Trust me, it's a one night stand. We're not about to open up and get all sentimental or some crap. But I can't help myself sometimes when I see that people lack basic common sense." Finally, he was fully dressed, and very ready to leave. "Hang out for another twenty minutes or something," he said as he turned toward the door.

"Yeah, whatever," Beck replied, he couldn't help but roll his own eyes again at the other's response. "You got it, get your head start. Bye Trick."

[hoodoo12]

Also, I forgot to include this in my previous ask... What do you think about a massage therapist Rick? If it's not your thing, that's totally fine. But if you think you can do something with that, I'd LOVE to read it. haha

And I loved to write it! Thanks for the idea! (NSFW)

Rub Down

You’re overdue for amassage. Your entire body aches, you feel stiff and knotted up. You imagineyou’re stooped over and looking arthritic.

Arriving at your regularmassage parlor, you greet the receptionist who rings back to the therapist. Youhead to the quieter, secondary waiting area and have a seat.

An old, tall, skinny manwalks into the waiting area. 

“You’re-you’re the seveno’clock? Come on.”

It takes you a second torealize he’s talking to you.

“Me? Uh, yeah …” yousay, reluctantly standing up. “Where’s Danielle?”

He shrugs, disinterested.“She’s not here. Come on.”

You weren’t informed youweren’t getting a session with your regular masseuse. You’re not sure you’recomfortable with a masseur … but your creaky, achy body needs it. Youfollow him.

He leads you to a privateroom, tells you to take off your clothes—allyour clothes, specifically, even though you know the policy here is that you asthe client decide how much nudity you’re comfortable with—tells you to lay onthe table face up, then exits to give you a moment to get out of all yourclothing.

All your clothing echoes in your head.

You pull off everythingand pile it in a chair. Typically you leave your panties on, but whatever.

The table is heated andcovered in a fuzzy blanket. You slip between it and the cooler top sheet andlet the heat start working into your muscles. It plus the dim light alreadystarts relaxing you.

The masseur enters again,dimming the lights even more.

Without a word—his name,where your problem areas are, what you don’t want—he starts at your head.

His fingers are long andcool. The card through your hair, tugging it to stimulate your scalp. It’srougher than what you’re used to with your regular masseuse, but it works:tension starts leaving you. You keep your eyes closed as he moves to your neckand shoulders.

He’s strong; his fingerssupport the weight of your skull to allow gravity to work the stiffness out. Heslips his hands under your shoulders and repeats that technique on the knots hefinds in the muscles there. At first the tips of his thumbs send pain in thetight areas, but after a few minutes, everything loosens and it’s much, muchbetter.

Moving to your front, hemassages under your collarbone. His hands work further down on your breaststhan you’ve typically had before, but that’s okay, whatever he’s doing, it’sworking.

His attention goes toyour limbs, with special concentration on your hands and feet.

By the time he’s donewith your front, you’re mostly melted into the table.

You’re left alone amoment as he raises the table’s face rest. In a gravelly voice, he asks you toturn over. He lifts the sheet—not quite as high as you’re used to—and you flipand settle back in. He takes a foam roll and slips it under your ankles, andtucks the sheet around you, leaving your back exposed.

You hear him rubbing hishands together. The sound is dry, then it smooths out as he pumps lotion ontothem. He runs two fingers down your spine so you don’t jump as he lays hispalms on you.

It wasn’t lotion he usedon his hands; it was oil. Slicker and warmer than what you’re used to, it feelslike liquid heat soaking into your skin with the long, sweeping motions of hishands. He dips down to the swell of your ass, then back up, using a combinationof pressure from the heels of his palm and just the hint of fingernails on theway back down.

Again, differenttechnique, but it sets your nerves on fire.

Finished with your back,he moves to your legs. He does not re-drape your top with the sheet. That’sfine; you’re too warm now anyway.

He pulls the top sheetoff your legs, leaving only your ass mostly covered. He applies more oil to hishands, and starts on your legs with the same long motions, from hip to toe.

His hands are warm.They’re large too, wrapping easily around your ankles and even covering most ofyour calves and thighs.

Speaking of which …

The prolonged contact hasrelaxed you, but turned you on as well. This masseur’s touch is sinful; the oilhas made your skin smooth and you’re warmed to your core. You wiggle a bit onthe table, wanting to close your legs for a hint of friction. You hope hedoesn’t think you’re suddenly ticklish.

He doesn’t say a wordabout your movement, but does take his hands off you. You barely stifle agroan.

The foam roll is tuggedout from under your ankles. Your hour is up already?

He’s back at your side.

“Lift your hips,” hetells you.

Once again, like so manyother things this session, you do as he says even if it’s not typical orexpected.

You scoot up a little,using your elbows and knees to raise yourself. The sheet slides haphazardly,its bunched weight pulling most of it to the ground. He positions the foam rollunder your pelvis and you ease back down.

This is an odd butsurprisingly comfortable position, with your ass slightly elevated. You stillwant to close your thighs, but as if reading your mind he places a hand on one,slipping his fingers between them, keeping them parted.

“This sheet is in theway,” he says. “Okay to remove it?”

It’s the first questionfor your permission he’s asked.

“Yes,” you agree, hopingit’s not too muffled with your face still in the rest.

The sheet is pulled awayfrom you.

Fully exposed, with hishand still between your legs, you feel a rush of heat flood you.

Gently, he works his oiledfingers over your gluts. The muscles there are large and he uses force to getthe tension out. It works, and although you’re still aroused, you relax more.Despite your arousal, your legs drift further apart.

In this position, asrelaxed as you are, you can feel the air on your pussy.

Once his attention toyour ass is complete, his fingers ghost your inner thighs.

Your first reaction is tosnap your legs shut. It’s a vulnerable position to be in, but that warmth inyour gut hasn’t dissipated. Instead of going with your initial, startledresponse, you moan a little.

There’s a sound from him,a kind of pleased rumble.

He takes his hand off youand you almost moan in a disappointed way, this time, but he only takes anotherhandful of oil before running his fingers between your upper thighs again.

Slowly, smoothly, he moveshis fingers on the delicate skin there. You can’t help but strain upward just ateensy bit more when his hand moves closer to the junction at your groin.

Then his fingertips slip upagainst your pussy.

You’re already wet,primed by your earlier arousal. His fingers, coated in oil, glide easily on yoursmooth, shaved lips. One, his middle finger from the feel of it, dips furtherin, making you gasp a little.

His hand is warm from thework he’s done, but still cooler than where he’s stroking, making for anincredible contrast in temperature. He pauses for a moment—to give you a chanceto be outraged, or kick him, or something, you imagine—and when you don’t doany of those things he takes it as approval and caresses you with a little moredeliberation.

He slips his hand furtherunderneath you and finds your clit. The immediate, intense pleasure that spikedthrough you made you jerk and cry out.

His free hand found yourass and gave it a moderate slap. You understood he meant you to be quiet.

You turn your head to theside, towards him, and made an effort to quell your sounds.

When he sees that you’retrying, he ran his hand over the slightly painful mark he’d made. His otherhand continues, creating tiny circles on your clit. You lift your hips up alittle, and bite your lips to keep from making too much noise.

He draws his hand awayfrom your clit, sliding his long fingers back and forth along your pussy in aparody of the lengthy strokes he’d done down your legs. You tremble andcontinue to strain towards him, towards those pleasure-inducing miracleworkers. He pauses once again, and you worry that you’ve seemed too eager, toodesperate—

No. He’d only paused todetermine exactly where he needed to be, and two fingers slip up your cunt.

Try as you might, yougasp.

You get another slap,harder than the last one.

In response, you bite atthe blanket below you, gathering enough in your mouth to muffle yourself.

That seems to satisfyhim, and he begins a steady pace of finger-fucking you. You push against him,wanting more: wanting faster, wanting deeper, wanting harder. He intuits your desires,bringing you more quickly to the edge of climax than people you’d been inrelationships with had done with months of practice.

But just as you’re almostthere, shamelessly rutting against him, tears leaking from the corners of youreyes in the effort to keep quiet, he stops.

His fingers leave you.You’re left empty and needy and a thin, sad moan worms out around the blanketbetween your teeth.

You twist a little tolook at him. He squeezes your ass, and through blurry vision you see a smirklift one side of his mouth.

Then, without warning, herepositions his hand and shoves three digits inside you. The remaining two bumpup and apply heavy pressure to your clit.

How?—Which?—before youcan even begin to work the logistics of what he’s done the white heat of blissoverrides any higher brain function. That orgasm you were so close to comescrashing back, lighting up your nerve endings, your pussy spasming tightlyaround his fingers. The free hand he used to slap and squeeze your ass pushesyour face into the blanket and table to help deaden the howl you make.

You don’t know how muchtime passes; he keeps his fingers in your pussy and weight on your clit untilyou the waves of ecstasy crest to this side of painful.

When he lets you comedown, it’s easy and slow, removing his hand from your in increments. Ablessing, that.

The blanket under yourface is damp with drool and tears. It’ll be the same under your groin; you werealways a wet lay.

He bends and finds thesheet again, paying no heed to the dazed state you’re in. He drapes you andonce you’re covered, puts a hand on your hip, ignores the fact that yourautomatic reaction to his hand is to push into it, and asks you to lift yourpelvis again.

You obey. As you do, hetugs the foam roll out from under you.

He tells you your time isup, and he’ll be waiting for you out in the hallway. Then he leaves.

Once the door is shutbehind him, you take your time getting off the table. Sometimes a massage makesyou unsteady on your feet, but you know for a fact your weak knees have nothingto do with the relaxed state of your muscles.

You put on your clothesand make your way into the hall too. You’re sure you look a mess, but can’teven find the energy to care. You’re completely relaxed, and nothing hurts.

The masseur is waitinglike he said, leaning against the wall. He offers you a cup of water. 

“Better?” he asks. “You-youhad a lot of tension stored up. I hope I worked out some of those kinks.”

It’s on the tip of yourtongue to tell him you may have discovered a new kink, but from the smirk onhis face, you’re pretty sure he already knows it.

“Here’s my card,” hesays, handing it over. 

It reads, ‘Rick Sanchez,professional masseur. Deep tissue treatments a specialty.’

You smile back and handhim several folded bills as a tip. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Reception canschedule any future appointments you may need, or-or want. But I-I’m booked outpretty far.”

“I’ll stop on my wayout.”

He nods again, gives youa grin that isn’t a smirk, and heads off back down the hallway.

You make sure you put hiscard in a safe place in your purse. Danielle just lost a client.

fin.

[littlespoonevan]

If you are taking prompts (and feel so inspired...) I would love to hear your thoughts on how Isak and Even have evolved over the past 3 months. Does Even have a key to kollektivet yet? Has Isak introduced Even to his parents? How has living in the "now" and not being fake anymore changed Isak? I miss watching them learn and evolve together and I'd love to hear your thoughts on how things have changed!

oh yes i love this idea, let’s talk about this!!! (i have already written about isak meeting even’s parents so i didn’t include it but you can read it here)

december is a lesson in learning to be

with the circumstances of how they got together and the resulting pain that came from misunderstandings and even’s episode, their relationship had hurtled forward into something very serious very fast

and it’s not necessarily easy to go back from that

when you’re put in such a situation that makes you realise you would go to the ends of the earth for someone you can’t suddenly forget that just because things are settled again

but isak had meant it when he said minute by minute

so they make a fresh start of sorts

they focus on dating and tentatively becoming boyfriends

it’s offset somewhat by the fact that even still spends most nights in isak’s bed and the fact that beneath the excitement of starting a relationship there’s the undeniable warmth of unwavering love to cushion them

but they have their first date the week before christmas: a simple dinner and a movie type scenario

and this would seem boring and cliche, maybe, to someone else

but not to isak

because even loves movies and isak can’t think of a better date idea than getting to watch him bounce excitedly on his heels as they wait in line in the lobby, to hear his little intake of breath when the lights go down inside the theatre, to watch the way he stares at the screen with rapt attention for the entire film, to listen to him ramble all the way home on the tram and then for another hour while they’re getting ready for bed and then in bed about all the camera work and the themes of the story

eventually even seems to realise their conversation has been fairly one sided and he cuts himself off with a sheepish expression. “i’ve been rambling, haven’t I?” he asks, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment

but isak just smiles fondly, expression half-buried in the pillow. “I don’t mind,” he whispers. “i like listening to you talk about this stuff.”

and even is just so- floored. bc he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have this boy in his arms

he kisses his smile into isak’s mouth before asking, “so do i get a second date?”

isak hums as he pretends to think about it and murmurs a soft, “i think so.”

they go on seven more dates throughout december

they still see each other almost every day, still hang out with their friends and kollektivet together, but their dates - those are the times reserved just for themselves

dedicated to making steps in their relationship and telling each other stories about their families and their pasts that aren’t always serious, that are sometimes just tidbits and anecdotes to make each other smile because they’re nice memories and they feel like sharing them

by the time they reach new year’s eve isak feels like they’re stable 

they’re on the right track 

they’ve managed just over four weeks of being boyfriends and it’s working

they’ve found their footing now; they can keep moving forward

january and the return to school poses an entirely new challenge

things have settled between them now and isak had spent most of christmas break getting used to being affectionate with even around his friends

not overly so, but the small touches - leaning into each other, an arm around a shoulder, a kiss on the cheek - they’ve done them all and isak feels okay

feels good

because by some unspoken rule his friends seem to be able to tell that making a big deal out of it would make him uncomfortable, they know he’s not ready for playful teasing yet

so instead they don’t react at all except to perhaps offer a smile

but now they’re going back to school and even is feeling so much better than he was before they broke for christmas and they’re settled 

and isak needs to learn how he wants to act with even in public

the first day back to school is terrifying and isak hesitates at the gate with even by his side because he wants his life to be real and he wants to live in the now but his old insecurities are still very much real and the thought of people staring at him, at them, makes his stomach churn

even waits patiently beside him while he decides what to do

(the truth is even is nervous too, he hasn’t been to school since his episode and he’s still unsure of how people are going to treat him)

it’s this knowledge, that even is also afraid, that makes isak react

“hold my hand,” he says, eyes still trained anxiously on the crowded school yard

even blinks at him in surprise, “what?”

“hold my hand,” he repeats. “i’m not brave enough to hold yours but if you take mine i won’t let go.”

even watches him a moment longer, the words ticking over in his head

but then isak looks at him and whispers, “we both need it,” and even’s taking a deep breath and sliding their palms together, fingers interlocking and gripping tight

they walk in together and isak holds his breath until they reach the boys but when no one seems to be paying them any attention he feels his hold on even’s hand relax slightly

even squeezes his hand once in acknowledgement

the first week is made up of little touches: knees knocking under the table in the cafeteria, shoulders brushing as they walk down the hall together, private smiles and hands lingering when they say goodbye in the morning

and by the end of the week isak feels- better

no one really bothered to look at them besides the odd glance on the first day back 

he figures most people saw them at parties over christmas break so the shock must have worn off by now

that doesn’t magically make him comfortable because his insecurities are still rooted deep inside the depths of his mind but when they walk into school the following monday he takes even’s hand and his heart is pounding in his chest but he feels proud

slowly he learns how to sit with even during lunch how he sits with him when they’re at his kitchen table having pre-drinks with the boys  - casual touches, limbs overlapping here and there, comfy

by the second week back even starts kissing his cheek as a hello or a goodbye and isak is surprised at the fact his only reaction is the same giddy fizziness he gets in his tummy whenever even does anything sweet

the day he kisses even’s cheek when they’re saying goodbye at the lockers he blushes to the high heavens and even is grinning like an idiot when he steps back

kisses on the lips are reserved for secluded hallways and empty classrooms but on one of the last days of january even kisses him goodbye when there are still a few people lingering in the hallway and isak doesn’t flinch away

he leans into it, just a little, and smiles shyly when even murmurs a goodbye

and the world keeps on turning

february is routine

it’s dinner with even’s parents every wednesday night

it’s even being given a key to kollektivet and his name being written next to isak’s on a shelf in the cabinet and being added to kollektivet group chat because “i know you don’t live here but you live here”

(”oh my gOD eskild shut up”)

it’s saturday night date nights because parties are always on fridays and they’re usually too tired on sundays to do anything

it’s after school coffee dates 

it’s designated friend time because it’s important that they don’t get lost in each other and forget the rest of the world

it’s the two of them desperately trying to cling to “minute by minute” when their heads are already thinking about weeks, months, and years from now

they’ve been together long enough to know they’re in this

they’re in love and they don’t plan on stopping any time soon

plans are made taking one another into account

and when they think about the future they undeniably see one another in it

and it’s not always easy

isak is still learning about even’s mental illness and even’s still trying to help isak work through his own self-acceptance and there are bad days

and days where it’s fucking hard

but they take care of each other and they stand by each other and they hold each other

because it’s been three months and isak is now sure of two things:

life is now

and they’re an us