#source for the text divider: cafekitsune

[wolfsbane-and-nettles]

'Chosen Horizons' Chapter 45.5 - Epithets

[Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a little overwhelmed with newfound responsibility and doesn't quite know how to process it or understand his own feelings. For once, Thorin is the one who has right right words to say...]

[word count: Source: 2,888]

[Tags: Fluff-ish, Established Relationship, Thorin is Bilbo's biggest supporter]

After much discussion, we came to the decision that this part of chapter 46, though good, was not necessary, and kinda detracted from the flow...but damn did I love writing it. So I decided to make it a little bonus chapter I'll post here for anyone who would want to read it. Can be read as a stand alone one-shot, I think...so if you've never read 'Chosen Horizons', but are curious, I think it can be read as it's own little story.

The real chapter 46 will be posted tomorrow on schedule!

Respect was something ingrained in hobbits from the time they were young faunts, 'til the day they took their last breaths. That being said, Bilbo had found his sense of respect waning as his journey to Erebor dragged onward. In the past, primarily in the Shire, Bilbo focused on saving face whenever he could, as was the respectful thing to do. Saving himself and others from embarrassment and humiliation was something understood as proper Hobbiton-hobbit respectability. In Tookburough, where things were more lighthearted and less stiff, the pinnacle of respect was when you helped your elders and strangers.

It was in Bilbo's very bones to do these things. Yet on this maddening quest, Bilbo had stopped feeling obliged to hold back his sharp wit, and chatted and bantered away with the rest of the lot. He didn't feel as if he needed to offer Balin or Oin a hand when they were getting on or off their ponies…seeing as they were just as physically capable as the rest of them.

No, this journey had changed Bilbo in many ways…and all for the better he'd like to think.

As Bilbo stared blankly at the paper on the table, the quill in his hand leaving blots of ink as he let it sit on the paper, unmoving, he contemplated the best way to express this new change in him. As a hobbit, his immediate reaction was to always relate back to nature.

Bilbo was like a butterfly experiencing a metamorphosis…except that wasn't quite right, as a caterpillar was always doomed to create its cocoon and grow their beautiful wings. Was it always Bilbo's destiny to become so…whatever he was now? He knew fate had guided him to where he was…but he was under no obligation to become less of a hobbit in the process.

It truly felt like this new side of him was all his own making.

So if not a butterfly in metamorphosis, then what?

'Like a soul transmogrified…Oh, goodness no. That sounds far too…grotesque.' The hobbit thought to himself as he scribbled and scratched his quill against the paper, feeling comforted by the familiar sensation of writing.

"Is everything alright, Master Baggins?" Called a voice to him, which despite being so near by sounded so far away, like a distant, unfamiliar thought.

'Or, perhaps it isn't as grand as all that. Perhaps I am more akin to stone being 'sculpted'…always changing until the artist deems it perfect. Oh, no I don't like that…what happens when the artist needs to continue making changes? Can you add stone to a sculpture?' He thought to himself, his brow furrowing as he continued contemplating.

"Master Baggins?" The voice called once more, and still, Bilbo stared vacantly at his paper.

'Hmmm…No, comparing a hobbit to stone doesn't suit the situation at all. Which rules out 'a soul continuously tempered'…even if I have taken quite the beating to get here….'

"Bilbo?" Came a softer, rumbling voice in his ear, followed by the gentle and warm touch of a large hand on his forearm.

"Molded! Like clay! You can always add more clay, and even if a pot breaks, you can always find a use for the scraps…plenty of people will take the scraps and makemark art, did you know that?" Bilbo asked Thorin excitedly, turning to the dwarf as he finally acknowledged Thorin and the rest.

It was then that Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Balin, as well as Bard and his son Bane, stared at Bilbo with the most perplexed expressions Bilbo's ever seen on them all at once.

Thorin took a peek at the paper in front of Bilbo, seeing how the ink blots were now smudged on the hobbit's hands . Though the words Bilbo had scratched out didn't seem to make a lick of sense regarding the current topic of discussion.

"Metamorphosis."

"Sculpted."

"Transmogrify."

"Trans…transmogrify? What does that even mean?" Thorin muttered, leaning in closer to Bilbo as he read the word aloud, and Bilbo blushed in embarrassment, aware now that he'd not been paying attention as he should have been.

Fili then leaned over closer to Balin, and began reading the words the advisor had written, trying to make sense of Bilbo's rambling.

"The exchange of coin between the Kingdoms of Erebor and Dale shall be conducted at the rate of one to one. Should any mannish or dwarven party be found to withhold, defraud, or diminish the rightful due of the other based on - by suspicion or otherwise - race, they shall be subject to the King's justice, and will be fined twice the…'molded' value? 'Transmogrified' value? I'm sorry Uncle Bilbo, but I'm not quite following." Fili spoke clearly, his cheeks red as he felt he was simply misunderstanding something, as he (like most) trusted Bilbo's skill with words.

Bilbo's entire face flushed in disbelief at himself. How impertinent! How rude! How…disrespectful! Bilbo looked out at the table, feeling mortified at his behavior.

"Is everything alright, Bilbo?" Thorin asked carefully, concern in his eyes as he worried for Bilbo's health, considering he did just wake from a coma less than a week ago.

"I…Yes, yes. Everything is quite alright…I simply…" Bilbo cleared his throat, feeling the need to stand up and stretch. Having forgotten that he was sitting in a newly reclaimed city of men, Bilbo didn't think twice about trying to slide off his chair. Instead of landing gracefully, as a gentle hobbit would…he didn't take the wooden box beneath him into consideration. It tilted forward, throwing Bilbo off balance as he tried to stop his inevitable tumble.

The box slipped out from under him and he was wedged between it and the table for a moment, which jostled him and caused him to hit his brow to the table, the force of which pushed the chair back, and caused him to become unlocked…allowing Bilbo to land on his rear on the cold, stone ground.

Silence struck the room and all eyes were still on him. Thorin had gotten to his feet to try to help his One up, only for embarrassment and frustration to fuel the hobbit's next actions.

He swatted Thorin's hand away, and glared at him and everyone else as he got to his feet, patting the dust off his jacket, and put his fists on his hips.

"You're all too big! Too big, I say! This chair is too large, and this table too wide, and you are simply too tall, King Bard!" Bilbo growled, wagging his pointer finger at the newly appointed King of Dale as if he were a child being scolded.

"Do you need a smaller chair?" Balin was the first to offer a suggestion.

"Oh! Do you need some food? Hard to feel good during a meeting if you're hungry, aye?" Fili asked next, wanting to help soothe his Uncle's frustrations.

"No, no…no…none of that. I'm sorry. I just…I need some fresh air." Bilbo mumbled to himself as he rubbed his now sore back, and shuffled his way tiredly out of their meeting, hearing Balin call a recess, and telling Ori to write the times down in his journal.

"Amralime…What is on your mind?" Thorin asked, finding Bilbo standing by a small stone wall with his elbows perched atop them, his tired eyes staring out towards the Lonely Mountain.

"I'm alright…" Bilbo sighed, his eyes glued to the mountain, tracing the path he'd taken upward until he could no longer see it…and then closed his eyes as he so vividly remembered crawling through the raven's tunnel…and then facing a dragon.

Killing a dragon.

"I'm…I'm a little…overwhelmed is all. Why…why was I even invited to this meeting, Thorin? I've got nothing to do with the financial comings and goings of men and dwarrow." He pointed out, his eyes open once more, facing Thorin's own bright blue eyes.

"I do believe that the 'Savior of Men and Dwarves' is far more than deserving to sit in on a meeting regarding them…" Thorin smirked, gently covering Bilbo's hand with his own.

"Is that what they're calling me now?" Bilbo grimaced. "I think I prefer 'Dragon Slayer' to that. Somehow it feels less…pretentious." He sighed, though felt relaxed as Thorin pulled Bilbo into a soothing embrace, and the small chuckle that Thorin gave sounded like the purring of a cat with his ear pressed against the dwarf's chest.

"Both names are fitting, I think. Once word gets out of your deeds, you'll have an epithet, I'm positive." Thorin smiled, resting his chin atop Bilbo's golden curls.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin's waist tiredly, tucking his thumbs into Thorin's belt to keep them from falling to his side as he felt so miserably exhausted, even holding his arms around his Heartsong felt like a burden on his body.

"Bilbo Dragon Slayer?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin nodded. "Oh, but that doesn't quite suit a hobbit though, now does it?" He huffed, and felt the purring-chuckle once more.

"And you think 'Oakenshield' suits a dwarf?" He snorted, and Bilbo couldn't help but let out a chuckle himself.

"I've told you before…I think the name suits you perfectly. Oaks represent strength and bravery, nobility and honor…Thorin, the name is you." Bilbo insisted, nuzzling up into Thorin's neck, enjoying the warmth of the dwarf's skin on his cold, red, wind-kissed nose, and enjoying even more how the sudden chill of his skin made Thorin shiver.

"Yes…I accept that you believe me to be all of those things…just as you yourself did, in fact, slay a dragon." Thorin insisted, and Bilbo let out a playful groan of feigned disdain.

"Yes, but at least your name can be perceived as poetic! 'Dragon Slayer' is far too blunt. Too much to the point. Besides…all things considered, I don't think I need yet another name?"

"Your family name of Baggins honors your ancestry…Your middle of Sessile name honors your Lady. Lorembaron is a name that honors your gifts and abilities…but an epithet is a name that honors you. My cousin Dain has the epithet of 'Iron Foot'…he lost part of his leg in the Battle of Azanulbizar…Though you might think the name is a reminder of what he lost…it was given to him as a way for us to honor who he is."

"He…he's an Iron Foot?" Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow, not quite following.

"He is selfless. He lost his leg…and in the process saved hundreds. His epithet is a reminder of not only his deeds…but who he is as a person. You think that Oakenshield suits me, because I am everything you listed…I accept that. I would love nothing more than for you to accept the name of Dragon Slayer…" Thorin smiled, one rough hand reaching up to cup Bilbo's chin, drawing his attention.

"And what, pray tell, could 'Dragon Slayer' ever mean if not a person who has slain a dragon?" Bilbo asked, his tone lighthearted as he felt so relaxed by Thorin's gentle voice and embrace as they swayed side by side.

"Someone who faces impossible odds and comes out victorious." Thorin spoke simply, as if it were obvious. "To our people…Iron Foot means selfless, Oakenshield means brave…and to me…Dragon Slayer means…Indomitable. Unbreakable. Unyielding and relentless…Can you accept that as poetic enough? You know I am not as good at words as you are…" Thorin spoke honestly, his smile quickly changing to a look of worry as he wiped away the tears that began falling from Bilbo's eyes.

"Bilbo…I…If my words offend you, I am sorry. I know that I should leave the word-crafting to you…I know…perhaps Ori could do a better job-"

"Stop talking…" Bilbo whispered as he stood on his toes and tilted his face up, pressing his lips to Thorin's to silence him.

It was a simple and chaste kiss, both of their lips chapped from the cold and weather, but it mattered not, as every kiss between them was always exactly what they needed in the moment.

"Is this your way of telling me I didn't choose my words poorly?" Thorin asked, both teasing and genuinely needing to make sure he understood, and Bilbo let out a short laugh, nodding.

"Your words…mean quite a bit. They didn't hurt my feelings in the slightest…Merely overwhelmed me. I don't see myself as anything you just described…but to know you see me as such things…Well, it is quite a nice feeling, I think…to have someone think such nice things about you…" The hobbit blushed, and Thorin nodded, understanding completely.

"Just as it warms my heart to hear you say such kind things about myself…" Thorin agreed. "I'm glad my choice of words was adequate for you…" He smirked, then paused, remembering why they were outside to begin with. "What does 'transmogrify' mean, exactly?" Thorin asked, remembering the odd word Bilbo had jotted down.

"Oh! It…it means for something to be altered in a rather…unusual way. Or…more so for something to be changed in a less than pleasant way. Maybe humorous…more likely grotesque." Bilbo explained simply, not following why Thorin was asking.

"Ah…and….why did you write it down? During a meeting about trade between our kingdoms?" Thorin asked next, and Bilbo blinked away his sudden embarrassment.

"I…well…I was trying to think of a good word to use to describe a transformation of sorts…" He sighed, and saw Thorin nod, urging him to continue. "It has nothing to do with trade, to be honest. Truly, I was just bored and distracted and…I began to realize just how much my hobbit sensibilities have waned. I've become…dare I say it…rather disrespectful." Bilbo explained, his voice straining as he dared utter what he saw himself become.

"In what way, shape, or form, have you become disrespectful? If you say something, anything about ridding the world of Smaug as somehow being the reason, I will be the one telling you to be quiet." Thorin spoke with a deadpan, praying his One didn't actually think that.

"Well…it may be a small part, but truly, I have become a terribly disrespectful hobbit indeed! Thorin…I am more than happy to sit in on any meeting you want me to go to…in any capacity, be it as 'Dragon Slayer' or simply as your friend…your One…" Bilbo blushed, feeling warm whenever he simply spoke the word aloud. "It was my main set of duties back in the Shire. I'd sit in on meetings as a secretary, I've told you this…a-and I also write detailed contracts as one of the heads of the Baggins family. I am perfectly suited for this position, thank you very much." Bilbo explained, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

"Then why are you so disrespectful, according to yourself?"

"Because, Thorin! Timeliness is so very important. Showing up on time and punctuality and all that is one of the most crucial ways of being polite and respectful…but even more than that is properly setting times and dates. Setting events and occasions up in such a way that allows others to be punctual…"

Thorin shook his head, searching Bilbo's eyes for an answer he seemed to be missing. "Speak plainly, Riddle Master, for I am very lost."

"Are…are things not moving too fast? Everything feels so sudden…As soon as I came to, everything has just…happened. Suddenly over half of Lake-Town is moving to Dale. Bard is a King, and Kili is married. And now, here we are, in a meeting of two kings…the first in nearly two centuries! I'm sorry, Thorin…it is simply…a lot. A lot very, very quickly. I feel as if I'm racing through everything…very important things. I…I want to just focus on one thing…at my own pace." He confessed to Thorin, and saw understanding in his Heartsong's eyes.

"It is a lot. It is very fast. And I am sorry you feel overwhelmed by it. I cannot tell you we will move slower…nor will we move in a hobbitly-manner. I will tell you, that you are free to focus on whatever this 'one thing' is, and to take it at your own pace. Need I remind you you slayed a dragon? You are allowed to do whatever it is you please. That, and you are my One. If anyone tries to argue with you, I am more than happy to be used as your excuse." Thorin smirked, and Bilbo knew that Thorin would quite like to be used as Bilbo's excuse in any capacity.

With red cheeks, Bilbo nodded dumbly as he took in Thorin's words. "Well…then, I should very much like to focus on that 'one thing' then…" Bilbo muttered under his breath, pulling Thorin back down for another kiss. "Making up for lost time does not count as moving too fast." Bilbo added as he cupped Thorin's cheeks, feeling his beard under his cold palms as he enjoyed the closeness.

"Am I the 'one thing'?" Thorin asked innocently, earning an eye roll from the hobbit, and a groan from Dwalin standing in the distance.

"Time's up ye' love birds. Meeting is back on." He called out to them, his voice filled with a playful annoyance.

"Alright, alright…Bilbo…would you like to sit out of the meeting? I'm sure she-elf…" He paused, and took a deep breath. "I'm sure Tauriel would appreciate your company." Thorin suggested, and grinned at the way Bilbo's eyes shone with gratitude before they parted ways.

[wizardships]

ok time for my… blog intro! promo? this thing

hi my name is ✫ finn! ✫ i'd love to find more mutuals, especially ones who like THE LOCKED TOMB, THE SILMARILLION/LORD OF THE RINGS, and DELICIOUS IN DUNGEON. ok i love you bye!

[mothffangs]

SCRATCH THAT ITCH

Caleb X Reader

Warning: Overstimulation, Period, AFAB!Reader, fingering, pet names (pipsqueak, gege), nipple play

Word Count: 2K

Dividers: @cafekitsune @strangergraphics-archive @chachachannah @anitalenia

Recently your chest felt itchy, super itchy. Feeling insane at the amount of times you had to restrain yourself from scratching in public. Then the root of your problem hit you, your period.

Ever since you met Caleb again and rekindled your relationship, you’ve felt at peace. Crashing over at his place when you’re bored is easy. Just press your finger to the lock and bam, you’re in! So that wasn’t a problem, and now you’re lying in your room. Period cramps are kicking your ass today.

Caleb has the bathroom stocked with all the essentials you could ask for, so that’s no problem. And once again, the itch in your chest returned tenfold. Luckily for you you’re home alone ,and are free to scratch to your heart’s content!

“Fuck this shit-“, you mumble as you unclasp your bra and scratch directly at the source. For some stupid reason your nipples are so fuckinh sensitive. Wearing a bra stops it from chaffing on your shirts, and even then it itches after a while.

The current itch has turned into a burn. It’s mind numbing, having this embarrassing pain course through your chest. The only thing you can think of doing to relieve this pain is to put lotion.

So you slather your breasts in a non scented lotion. You lay back and get on your phone to keep your mind off the pain. It starts to finally feel better, if only by a little.

The sound of the front door opening alerts you to peak at your door. Too lazy to get up you wait for Caleb to say hi. He must’ve gotten your text about you crashing at his place a while ago.

“Pipsqueak! I’m home!” He shouts down the hall. “Hey! I’m in my room!” You shout back. The sound of footsteps and the door creaking open is what you hear next.

“Hey, why’d you decide to come over?” He asked, sitting on the foot of your bed. “Just felt like it. Also cause I’m craving your cooking.” You smirk up at him.

“You freeloader…” He jokes and you laugh. Then, dreadfully, the itch returns. As if on autopilot, you scratch at your nipples. And Caleb’s eyes are soaking up every action your taking. Fuck.

“Ah- sorry,” you rip your hand way, “it’s my period, makes the dumbest parts of me feel super sensitive..” You explain awkwardly.

Caleb gulps before he speaks, “Your period? Oh- there’s stuff in the bathroom if you-“ You cut him off. “Yeah yeah, I know. It’s just- for some reason it feels super uncomfortable there y’know?” Caleb glances at your erect nipples, and then back up your face.

“Oh- I heard people get sensitive there but I never thought it would be so- uncomfortable…” He sighs. “Is there anyway I can help?” Ever the gentleman, he tries to be of assistance. “Hah, if you want to scratch it for me that’d be great.” You huff out sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah of course I can do that..” Caleb smiled at you, his gaze unwavering.

“Uhm- I was joking Caleb-“ he cuts you off, “I’m not. I don’t see why I can’t help.” You freeze, feeling a bit dumbfounded. “Well… for starters I already put lotion on and it only did so much. Really, it’s fine Caleb.” You sigh out.

“Maybe- maybe I could massage your chest for you?” Caleb’s violet eyes stare you down, unwavering. This guy… “Fucking- fine. Okay go ahead. The pain is starting to get on my nerves anyway.” You complain to him, moving to sit between his legs, back to his chest.

Caleb gulps for what feels like the thousandth time. God… you were really letting him touch you like this… Of course it’s to help you! But, you can’t blame him for feeling excited.

“Okay, now sit back and relax, your gege’s got you…” He hums out, hands cupping your breasts. He makes soft squeezing motions to each sides of your chest. Hand reaching as high as your colar bone. You hum and relax in his hold. For some reason his touch makes the pain subside. But the main issue is still around, your nipples. They itch so bad it hurts.

“Caleb…” You whine. “What is it pipsqueak?” He whispers into your ear. “My- it’s my nipples… they’re what hurts…” A sad and uncomfortable whine leaves the back of your throat. Caleb feels a shiver run up his spine. God… you’ll be the death of him.

“Oh yeah..? Want me to massage there too?” He asks, voice sounding breathless. You make out a meek “mhm”, and Caleb moves to circle your areola with his index finger. You gasp and reach your hand to touch Caleb’s.

“No no no, you have to let me take care of ya pips.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your head. He removes your hand, and in turn you grip his legs. The soft touch starts to feel like it burns. You whine and try to shake his hands off.

“You want me to stop?” He asks, a bit concerned. “No, but it hurts real bad. I can’t- it’s- it’s so irritated…” You cry out, clutching his legs for support. “Aw, pips, your nipples are so mean huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got you…” He coos and runs a pad of his finger over your pliant nipples. You gasp and try to stay still. He rubs soft and gentle circles in a spiral, from the areola to the bud. It burns so good.

“H-hah Caleb- I don’t think it’s working…” You whine and squeeze your thighs together. Caleb hums and continues to gently rub your pert nipples. Taking his time to tease and coax you into embracing the sensation.

You continue to whine and squirm, begging, “Fuh- ahh- fuck!” You groan out, feeling yourself grow more desperate. For anything, everything.

“You know,” Caleb rolls your sensitive bud, “I’ve always dreamed of this. You needing me to help satisfy you. You’re so cute…” His breath grows ragged as he huffs at your sweaty neck. Inhaling your scent, licking, and sucking at it.

“Ew- that’s gross…” You pout and push his face away. That only causes him to pinch your nipple. Letting out a surprise filled sob, you shake and cry. “Caleb!” You spit out angrily, moving to push his hands off. He gently twists your nipples, “Shh… Let me have this. Your gege’s been so kind, massaging you. You should let me have this one thing…” one hand trails down your chest, stomach, and finally in between your thighs.

His hand rests right above your shorts. Caleb stares at you, “Can I…?” He asks, his voice an octave higher. “And how is this supposed to help me with my pain?” You tease. He clicks his tongue, then quickly switches to giving you puppy eyes. “Cmon pipsqueak… it’ll feel so good. And it’ll be a nice distraction…” Trailing soft kisses down your neck that cause shivers to go down your spine.

With some help he tugs your shorts off, but lets your underwear stay. He runs both hands up and down your thighs, sometimes pausing to squeeze them. Caleb helps you recline further against his back, and moves your legs to rest wide open over his own. And finally he rubs delicately against your folds.

“Ah-“ you gasp out and reach behind you to hold onto Caleb. “Shh, I got you pips..” He hums out and continues with his teasing pace. The gentleness of his touch is making you grow crazy. The pace does nothing to relieve you of the building pressure down there.

“Caleb- I thought you were helping me…” You whine out. “Oh? But I am…” He chuckles, amused at your desperation. “No! Fuck- please Caleb…” You whimper and squirm in his hold. “Alright, but you better be ready for me.” He threatens in a playful tone. You don’t even acknowledge his world since he pinches at your clit. Making you let out a sharp cry.

“Ah! You-“ Before you can even finish Caleb interrupts, “Nu uh, don’t talk right now. This is all about making her down there feel good.” Then his hand reached up and plays with a nipple, “Since this pain up here won’t let up, I’ll just have to make you feel better in another place…” He smirks.

You can feel your heart drop to your stomach in such a thrilling way. He really was gonna do what he wants to you, and you’ll let him. “Please, take care of me then…” You sniffle out. Caleb can feel his cock throb and grow impossibly harder at your words.

A sharp slap is gifted upon your cunt, making you cry out, “Fuck!” A deep and dark chuckle is heard from the man behind you. “Ahh… you don’t know what you do to me…” His hand then rubs soft circles across your whole cunt, while his other hand holds onto your thigh.

The circles then move to target your clit, as if apologizing for pinching it earlier. “Hah- ah!” Is all that leaves your mouth. He the stops and pats your thigh, “Alright, do me a favor and take this off for me, hm?” He gives you cute puppy eyes with a head tilt. You bite your lip and quickly toss your panties aside.

Caleb resumes his ministrations, each subtle movement makes you feel insane. The heat continues to build and build, then he slips a finger inside. You wince at the intrusion. Caleb slowly and gently fucks his finger in and out of your hole. He adds another and another, three fingers now fucking into you.

“Agh- fuck, I can’t-“ Your head falls back onto his shoulder, you look up at him desperately. Caleb just gives you a giddy smile, like the cat who got the cream. “You feel good?” He asks. “Mhm… yeah so good…” You hum and sigh. Caleb’s other hand moves to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

“Caleb…! I’m close..” You whimper, bucking your hips trying to chase your high. “Yeah?? Gonna cum for me?” Caleb says breathlessly into your ear, his fingers pumping in and out of you more erratically. The push and pull on your walls makes you keen and wail, you’re so fucking close…

And finally, you cum. A loud moan escapes your lips and you continue to ride out your climax. Caleb pulls out, and gives your clit some gentle touches. His touch causes you to jolt in a slight overstimulation.

“Caleb…!” You whine, pushing his hand away. But Caleb’s grip around your waist holds strong, and his fingers start to rub at your clit once again. “Ah! Ah- wait fuck- I just came!” Your hand shoots out to hold Caleb’s, trying to stop him for a second. All you manage to achieve was him continuing his delicious onslaught. Your moans rise in pitch, and you feel your entire body turn to jelly.

He’s gonna make you cum again, and you feel like crying. “I’m sorry, you’re just too cute. Let me make you cum again, please? You’ll let me have this right?” Caleb practically begs, as he mouths at your neck. You just nod dumbly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. It feels so good, it hurts so good. The next thing you know you crash into a unexpected orgasm.

“Ahh! Ohh- ooo fwuckk…” You moan pornographically, hips bucking wildly into his hand. Caleb, ever the gentleman, helps you ride it out again. Caleb moves to help you lie down, the both of you panting. He gets up and then returns with a damp towel, helping you wipe away some sweat.

“We can clean up for real later, right now I just wanna be near you…” He says, his eyes full of devotion. It makes your heart flutter. “Mhm.. me too.” You smile and reach out to play with his hair, motioning for him to lie down with you.

“Wait- why don’t I help you? I just realized I was the only one who uh… who came…” You say a bit shyly. “Mmm, nah… besides I uhm… did cum..” He mumbles out, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“Huh?” Is all you say, looking down at the dark stain on his sweatpants. Fuck, that’s so hot. You trail your hand down his abs, “Well, if you want, I’m not opposed to helping you out..” You smirk at him as he just nods his head, yes.

[kkoga]

10:36, huh yunjin x fem!reader

A valentine special collab with @ceeaann!!

Warning ! Foul words, ghosting

Disclaimer ! Every person is not an accurate portrayal of themselves. Everything written here is pure fiction. Mentions of Manon x fem!reader

Synopsis ! After Yunjin suddenly disappears, you find out she has been practicing with Source Music for the past few months, and that she had gotten into the debuting lineup of Le sserafim. Normally, you would have been proud, shouting out to the rooftops about your girlfriends debut. But you couldn't, you wouldn't.

Collab masterlist !

WC — 2.67k

Credits to @cafekitsune for the divider!!

The whole Dream Academy contestants were excited. You all were going to shoot a tiktok video in Le sserafim’s very own practice room! But you? You weren’t as ecstatic as the others. It hurt you just thinking about it. You couldn’t bear the pain, so you just shoved it down your throat.

‘’I just gotta get through this. It’s just a tiktok challenge. In and out.’’ You tried convincing yourself, but your gut told you something bad was going to happen.

You all entered the elevator, as you tried your best to manage your expression in front of the camera. Daniela felt as though your vibes were a bit off, looking at you with a slightly worried expression. You had noticed, and told her you were alright with a smile. The Latina smiled back, hoping you truly were.

All of the Dream Academy contestants, as well as you, were now standing in front of Le sserafim’s practice room. Your stomach churned, as you bit your lip to prevent your expression from going sour.

As the bulk of you all entered, you were greeted with cameras, and a camera man holding a phone. You guessed they were probably the person filming the tiktok for you all. But they were dressed in all black, a cap and mask hiding their identity. Maybe it was to keep their privacy because this was a documentation? You weren’t sure.

After some practice rounds, you all got ready for the actual filming. The performance was perfect. As perfect as it could get. And as the rest of the contestants had finished their parts, the camera man had suddenly taken off their mask and cap.

Screams erupted from around you— after The Kim Chaewon had suddenly appeared. Your face dropped… there was no way this was happening right now. You weren’t ready.

The other Le sserafim members entered their practice room, and the contestants' yells were louder— if that was even possible. 

And there she stood, the person who used to be the light of your life. A radiant smile on her face, contrasting the obvious scowl on yours.

After a split second, you remembered the cameras were still rolling. So you had carefully managed your expression.

All Le sserafim members greeted the contestants, and as Yunjin’s eyes fell on you, it felt as though the whole world had stopped. Like it was just the two of you, right here, right now.

Your breath hitched. It’s been two years. Two years since this malevolent asshole had left you— not telling you anything. You had to find out through her fucking debut.

Maybe if she had told you normally— had a talk with you, then maybe you both would have been fine. You were proud of her, yes, but utterly disappointed at the way she had dumped you.

It’s been three days since you’ve gotten a text from Yunjin. The worry on your face was evident, and your friends have started to grow concerned too. You tried contacting her family— but they said they didn’t know where she was either.

You bought it for the past two days, but three days? No, you weren’t that stupid. The only other time something like this had happened was during PD48— when she joined that damned survival show and left you in the dark about it.

She only contacted you after she had gotten eliminated. You were pissed. Your relationship was on the verge of ending— but for some reason, the girl had somehow managed to convince you to stay.

You swore, if this bitch was doing it again, then you were going to find every damn way to make her life hell. You were on your bed, trying to find any leads. When your phone suddenly started ringing.

You answered, and it was your friend.

‘’Y/n?! Oh my God, have you heard?’’ He told you to check Hybe’s youtube, and you knew what you were about to face.

And there it was. Her fucking trailer for the group named ‘’Le sserafim’’. It felt like a slap to your face— especially after giving her another chance. Was she being serious right now? The audacity to not tell you once more, irritated you beyond reason. The past few months made sense now. The constant ‘’I need to go.’’ On your dates? The way she appeared to be really busy even though she didn’t go to college? 

Yunjin had been training these past few months. And you had to find out through this.

If that’s how she wants to play, then that’s how it’s gonna be.

You began to throw everything that reminded you of her into a box, and once you had finished, you threw it right out your door. You didn’t care who the hell would pick it up. As long as it was all gone. Just like she had wanted.

You were on the verge of tears. This was your first time seeing her in so long. Aside from constant news of her group's success and whatnot, you haven’t actually looked her in the eye.

A pained expression flashed on both your faces, before masking it with fake smiles. In the midst of all this, Manon noticed your silence. She thought you’d be shouting out of happiness, considering how passionate you were about Kpop and everything. Much to her surprise, you just stood there, looking all frozen up.

As you were all greeting each other, Yunjin suddenly said she had remembered all your names. That means she knew you were in the competition.

‘’Sophia and…’’ You were last. She looked at you with a smile like there was no history between the two of you. It hurt. Hurt so bad. Good God, playing Huh Yunjin’s games was always annoying— hurtful.

Everything about Yunjin hurts.

‘’Y/n. Am I right?’’ Everyone including you yelled, happy and excited. Nobody except Yunjin knew you were faking it.

After the producers had you all perform in front of Le sserafim, and talk with Bang Si-hyuk, you all started walking towards the elevator. You managed to stay calm and keep a single tear from falling.

The producers and Missy trusted you all to make your own way down, since each of you had different plans for today. Yunjin could then be seen, running through the halls, towards you.

‘’Wait!’’ All DA contestants turned their heads, and find Yunjin out of breath.

‘’Y/n..’’ Everyone looked between you and Yunjin and instantly noticed the strong tension.

You sighed— you didn’t want to deal with this, to deal with her.

You simply looked at the girl, and said, ‘’No.’’

You coldly turned away, but Yunjin grabbed your wrist. You winced, not expecting her to do so.

‘’Don’t do this…’’ You stared at each other's eyes, and she silently pleaded to you. This was beyond embarrassing. She seriously couldn’t contain herself? She just had to do this in front of everyone?

After noticing your discomfort, Manon pried her hands away from yours.

‘’I’m so sorry, but she said no. Please don’t grab my friend's hand like that all of a sudden.’’ Yunjin was gagged, and looked around her. She bowed her head to say sorry, and gave you a piece of paper.

‘’Please, call me.’’ She walked away, and you scoffed, bewildered with her behaviour.

Everyone looked at you, curiosity in their eyes. You rolled yours, and gave their stares a response.

“Later. When we get home.’’

The van was filled with quiet chatter, but you weren’t part of it. You sat by the window, forehead resting against the cool glass, trying to steady your breathing. The encounter with Yunjin had left you shaken, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, the weight of it lingered.

Manon, sitting beside you, had noticed.

“You’ve been weird since we left,” she said, her voice low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed, fingers tightening into fists. “Nothing.”

Manon scoffed. “Liar. That wasn’t just ‘nothing’ back there with Yunjin. What the hell happened between you two?”

Your jaw clenched. You weren’t sure you wanted to explain. Not here. Not when the memories were clawing their way back to the surface, raw and suffocating. But Manon wasn’t one to drop things easily. Her concerned gaze was unwavering.

“You’re shaking,” she pointed out softly, taking your free hand and rubbing slow circles against your palm. “I don’t know what she did, but… I’m here, okay?”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the burn behind your eyes. “She ghosted me. She’s done it before— during PD48. We almost broke up.. I mean technically we did, but she talked me into getting back with her. She promised me never again… And then all of a sudden, two years ago, she disappeared.’’

A silence enveloped the area around the two of you. The chatter of your fellow contestants suddenly thinning itself out.

“I had to hear from a friend. I had to hear from the fucking HYBE youtube channel.’’

Manon’s brows furrowed. “And now she suddenly wants to talk?”

You laughed bitterly. “Apparently.”

She let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, staring at your hands like they might start trembling again. “And the worst part? She looked at me like—like she missed me.”

Manon squeezed your hand a little tighter. “And do you miss her?”

You didn’t answer right away. You weren’t sure what the answer even was.

“Look,” she continued, voice softer, “you don’t owe her anything. She hurt you. And if she wants back in your life, that’s on your terms, not hers.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You wanted to believe that. That you had control. That you weren’t still stuck in the past, holding onto something that had already crumbled.

But Yunjin had opened the wound all over again. And now, you weren’t sure how to stop the bleeding.

It’s been three weeks since you met Yunjin. You were thankful for Manon. She’s been with you since you had joined Dream Academy— the two of you joining within the same week.

You were chilling on the top bunk of you and Manon’s bunk bed, when Sophia had called your name. You took your headphones off, getting off from your bed with a confused face.

‘’Yes! Be right there!’ You hurried down as fast as you could, almost slipping on Manon’s left slipper.

As you entered the living room, there you saw Sophia, Ezrela, Daniela, and Yunjin.

Your neutral—happy expression dropped, a pained look beginning to paint your face.

Yunjin spoke before you could shoo the Korean away.

‘’Please. Hear me out.’’ The girl made her move, stepping closer to you. You stepped back before responding.

‘’I told you Yunjin, no. Get the fuck out of my dorm.’’ The girl very obviously did not get the hint, and it was starting to concern the other contestants.

‘’Just let me explain what—’’

‘’I said no Huh Yunjin! You don’t get the right to do so! You were the one who left me— so you should just save your fucking reputation and leave.’’

By now, the other girls had gotten the hint about what was happening, and just as they were about to step in to help, Yunjin got on her knees.

‘’Let me explain. That’s all I’m asking for, please.’’ You felt so conflicted, you didn’t know what to do. This all felt so overwhelming, you didn’t want to repeat the same mistake you made all those years ago.

‘’Baby please— I couldn’t— it wasn’t my choice. Please you have to understand—’’ You slapped her, hot tears streaming down your face. You hated her. The audacity to show up at your house, after ghosting you, leaving you in the dark about her audition and acceptance to the survival show called PD48. Now here she was, at your door, after getting eliminated three months into it. She made it far, you were proud, but you could never forget the way she left you— especially because the wound was still painfully flesh.

Your hand was shaking. You can’t believe you just slapped Yunjin. You two have never physically harmed each other in any way possible. But you believed the emotional and mental pain she had caused you within these past three months felt worse.

‘’You don’t get to call me baby. Just— just stop.’’

The girl persisted, and hugged you, caressing your back as you tried to pull away.

‘’I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.’’ She whispered into your ear, and eventually you gave up. 

The two of you talked that night, and the Korean had coaxed you into staying with her.

‘’Not again. Never again. Just stop.’’

‘’For closure. Please, Y/n.’’ It hurt you seeing her on her knees like this, so you came to a conclusion.

‘’I said no! Huh Yunjin, I hate you. I hate you as much as I used to love you. Don’t come into my place and think you can get away with it again. I will not and will never open my heart to you the same way I did all those years ago. You broke what we had Yunjin, so don’t start begging on me now.’’ Angry tears were flowing on your face, the other DA contestants that were currently home were with you now. Daniela held you and shielded you away from Yunjin, and they all asked her to get out.

Finally, after much pushing she saw herself out, but not before mumbling a short ‘’I’m sorry.’’

Everyone looked at you— concern on their faces. You took your phone out of your pocket and called Manon. The girl picked up after a couple rings, and heard you sob.

‘’Y/n? Are you crying? Where are you right now?’’ You gave your phone to Daniela, and walked to your room. Daniela got the signal.

‘’Manon? It’s Dani now. She gave me her phone— she’s at home. Yunjin visited.’’ The last two words made Manon enter her fight or flight mode, and Ghanian booked it home.

The door swung loudly with a bang, indicating Manon’s arrival. Daniela signalled you were in your room, and Manon ran there as fast as she could.

As she opened the door to your room, she saw you there, on the bottom bunk of the bed, her bunk. You were sobbing, your knees to your chest, hands covering your eyes.

Manon knocked on the already open door, as if telling you she had arrived. The Ghanaian closed the door shortly after knocking.

The girl sat in front of you, the bed dipping as soon as she did. She held your arms, silently asking you to remove them from your face. You obeyed, looking at her with red, and burdened eyes.

Manon frowned, and pulled you into a hug.

‘’Shh.. It’s okay now.. I’m here..’’ The girl mumbled comforting phrases to you, as you cried into her brand new shirt. But you didn’t care, because you knew she wouldn’t either.

‘’I— I don’t know what to do. A part of me wants to give her a chance, let her explain. But I don’t want to make the same mistake. I just— it’s too much.’’ The Ghanaian pulled away, cupping your cheeks with her hands.

‘’Hey. I already told you— you don’t owe her anything. Your answer doesn’t have to be now. How about we just cuddle and forget about it for a while. Think about it when you know you can handle it, yeah?’’ It sounded like a great— no, amazing idea.

‘’..Okay.’’ The two of you moved into a comfortable position, with you on top of Manon’s side. You cuddled into her, inhaling her lavender scented perfume.

For some reason, Manon just knew how to calm you down. And you were eternally thankful to the girl.

After a dozen minutes, you had eventually drifted into dreamland. The last thing you remember feeling was Manon’s hand pulling you closer to her, as she hummed a calm melody.

[obbystars]

Encounter Nihilism

Synopsis: “Just because they don’t have any eyes doesn’t mean they don’t have other senses. Come on, you should know that by now.” Z-13 (Sebastian Solace)

Notes: Not exactly a Sebastian Solace x Reader fic but you can read it as such / read When Light Fades before reading this / Reader deaths, nothing too angsty though / Sebastian being an asshole (and we love him for it) / Experimental deaths + cutting off limbs / Brief angst at the end / may be a tad bit shorter than my usual (it bothers me)

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Is it obvious this is self indulgent? I really love When Light Fades, super proud of it. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna take this concept and use it for an OC yet, but oh boy, it’s getting strong. Anyway, this fic’s meant to explore more on the reader featured in When Light Fades while also continuing to experiment with Sebastian’s character.)

As you swam to the next door, you hear strange noises coming from the other side. It’s not the Good People, they can’t come into the flooded rooms. It doesn’t sound like an angler either. You continued forward and the next door slid open. Your eyes widened at the sight of the creature on the other side as it looked at you.

Panicked, you try to climb into a locker. You don’t make it in time as you feel its tentacles wrap around your head to crush your diving mask, but that isn’t what kills you. The creature manages to trick the operator behind the PDG by attempting to remove it, causing immediate detonation.

You woke up with a gasp in an all too familiar room.

“I heard that,” Sebastian leans on his hand as his lure flickers on, “What’d you run into this time… Ah,”

You looked down as he slides over the document. An image of the creature you encountered is shown and beside it was another photo that was redacted. Maybe in another death you’ll see what that other photo is.

Nihilism was the codename Urbanshade had given it. A lot of the text within the first page was left redacted, and only a few lines were on the second page were visible.

“If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.”

That was the only line you were able to read. Sebastian begins to tap his finger against the desk. You sit back and he takes that as the signal you’re done, but it’s not like you read much anyway.

He sighs as he closes the document, “Think of if as Red Light, Green Light. Surely you’ve played that game before,”

“Ugh, this feels worse than Pandemonium…” you groaned, leaning on the table.

“Pretend you’re a corpse floating in the water. That should be pretty easy for you, yeah? I mean, you have died quite a lot,”

“Screw you…”

Upon your next life, you find yourself in the trench tunnels about 20 doors in. It was an area in Hadal Blacksite you despised since it showed you that the anglers can attack from the front. You stepped out of the locker once the angler passed by and turned on your flashlight. There’s no squiddles in this room so you decided to look through the drawers for anything useful.

In the corner of your eye, you swear you saw something moving in the dark water. It wasn’t the Eyefestation as you didn’t see a green glow. Instead, it was Z-8. You freeze once you finally realized it, and you clicked your flashlight off. They looked like they were just passing by, but they suddenly turned to look at your general direction. Did they somehow sense you turning it off?

“Are you alive?”

You actually freeze up this time. It was a voice inside your head, but it wasn’t like Eyefestation where it tried to mimic the voice of the person in the PA. This was its own voice.

“I can sense you there,”

You start taking shallow breaths, almost resorting to holding it.

“Don’t worry. I can’t reach you. But when I do, it’s not personal,” it continues, “We’re both fighting for what we want, right? Freedom from this place?”

You try to not listen, thinking it’s only try to persuade you into meeting up with it. Maybe even striking up some sort of deal.

“I wish this wasn’t how we met, but I owe Sebastian. This is my favor to him,” its tone suddenly changes, “We can’t let you get that crystal,”

“…they owe Sebastian?” You whispered to yourself.

The Eyefestation suddenly emerges from the dark, and Z-8 swims out of her way as her eyes turned red. A new voice cried inside your head, pleading for you to look into its eyes. The next thing you knew, you were back in the room with Sebastian who stifled a laugh as he slides over the document to you. You had questions concerning what Z-8 had said, but maybe now’s not the right time to ask.

“For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.”

Sebastian closes the document, still trying to keep himself from laughing, “A tag-team! Who would’ve thought, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that’s how I died,”

“Like a deer in headlights,” he smirks as he leans closer, “Happens to all of us, but man, I thought you’d be used to seeing that shark considering the amount of times you looked at her,”

“She just startled me! I’d love to look at her if she wasn’t able to kill me just by making me look at her,” you shrugged, “She is a beautiful shark,”

Sebastian gives you an odd look and groans, “Get out of here already,”

“Fair enough,”

The next few deaths to Z-8 were more of trial and error. In your most recent death, you learned the hard way that Z-8 does not like the flash beacon and did not hesitate to detonate your PDG. You felt like it was a strange reaction considering it took them a moment to even react when you used any other light source.

“Got grabbed again, did ya?” Sebastian laughed.

He then slides the document to you, now revealing the entire document with some text still left redacted. Some documents contained those, such as his own, and you learned to stop caring about it. At least it wasn’t like the Multi-Monster. Previously redacted photo was now uncovered. A person whose face was obscured.

Z-8 - Codename: Nihilism. Real name: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇

In early 2011, five LR-Ps were selected to be a part of an experiment to achieve immortality. Out of the five selected, only Z-8 survived the first round of tests. Z-9, Z-10, Z-11, and Z-12 all succumbed to different effects as each subject was given a different dosage. Although Z-8 survived, they were not immune to the effects their dosage brought. As a result, the experiment was left on hold until researchers found a better source to reach the desired goal.

By 2013, the experiment resumed using the immortal jellyfish as originally planned along with the mimic octopus, the ▇▇▇, and ▇▇▇▇. Z-8 was used again for the next test and hasn’t experienced any side effects on the first day. Two days later, a guardsman escorting Z-8 noticed they have been stumbling and bumping into the walls. On the seventh day, Z-8 had gone completely blind. However, it has been noted that Z-8 is capable of sensing where there is light and where someone is even if they are not moving.

Z-8 soon began to struggle walking and can’t seem to have a tight grip. It didn’t take very long for them to lose all feeling in their arms and legs. They were still able to move their torso as well as their head. They were still capable of speech, but Z-8 has been refusing to talk.

Z-8 was meant to be executed due to the state they were in, but thirty minutes after their heart seemingly stopped, it soon started to beat again. They wake up an hour later as if they had just taken a nap with all of their memories still intact, but Z-8 still cannot see and still cannot walk or move their arms. This resulted in having to move Z-8’s location into a more suitable cell for testing.

Z-8 has endured 5 deaths before changes in their body started becoming clear. Shortly after, testing and studying the regenerative properties Z-8 should have began. Due to poor execution during the procedures, Z-8 ended up enduring 7 more deaths. By the 4th death, a new side effect to Z-8’s resurrection was noted. Upon death, coral (polyps) begins to form on their body.

Their body soon takes the form of a humanoid jellyfish, leading to having to relocate them again. Z-8 no longer turns to others when they are near until they shine a light. The behavior they show gives the impression they like the light and often try to follow it, sometimes moving their head or even their entire body.

Z-8 will then be used to study the regenerative properties further until it can be refined in a way that is desirable.

Before the lockdown was in effect, Z-8 was going to be sold at The Anomalous Auctions as Z-8 had been deemed of no monetary value, nor can be used for work. 5 hours into the lockdown, camera footage caught Z-13 transporting Z-8 to an unknown location.

If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.

DO NOT move as Z-8 can sense you nearby, but they can’t differentiate between a corpse and a living person until you move.

Turn off any and all light sources in your possession as Z-8 can sense it and become curios. Your window to turn it off is narrow, but it’s still wide enough to not raise their suspicion.

There is a chance where operatives may find Z-8 roaming in a dark flooded room with S-Q. If the room prior has lights on, Z-8 will go into that room. It is safe to move in the dark room as Z-8 cannot tell the difference between you and the S-Q.

For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.

Unlike Z-13, operatives are instructed to contain Z-8 as it is impossible for the subject to stay dead.

You’re not exactly sure what to say to all of this. Sebastian is being much quieter than usual too, not even closing the document when you sat back. You look up at him, building up the courage to speak.

“So that’s what they meant when they said they owe you…”

“They don’t owe me anything,” his voice lowered into a growl, “It was their choice to stay much like that shark,”

You look down at the document again and sighed, “Kinda feels like there’s much more than that,”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You sighed again as you stood up to leave. Sebastian watches you go and looks back down at the document, then closes it without another word.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 5

Source for pic

Imperfect 5 🔞

Word Count: 4531

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: It seems like every new chapter I post from this story has a NSFW warning. Do I regret it? Not at all... But then again, and I can't stress this enough, let's just enjoy these chapters for a while!

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

Divider by @cafekitsune

Kid: Come over, Sparkles. I want to show u smth.

The text comes after lunch, at the time you usually show up at the garage. Kid must’ve realized you were a no-show and sent you the message. You don’t answer, ghosting him so he understands you’re still slightly pissed at him, but just the fact that he reached out means that he wants to move on. 

You actually consider not going because things with Kid are becoming frustratingly weird. You’ve been flirting since the first day you met, but it’s clear that all this tension needs an outlet. And if he’s not willing to let the attraction run its course, then it’s bound to explode. 

Plus, you still don’t know the exact reason he pushed you away yesterday, other than the lame explanations he provided. 

So, is it wise to be standing outside the garage in the middle of an infernal heatwave when you already know you won’t be able to control yourself near Kid? 

Probably not. 

But here you are. 

The air outside is stifling. There’s not even a hint of a breeze, and the newscaster recommended that the population remain indoors unless it was absolutely necessary to leave the coolness of your home. Is it absolutely necessary? 

Not at all. 

And yet, here you are. 

Because your reasoning is neither rational nor enlightened where Kid is involved, a heatwave would be no different matter. There’s a yearning inside you for this man that you don’t quite understand. Frankly, you don’t even want to give it too much thought, afraid of it being more real than what you’re willing to admit. 

You’re dressed in light clothes, thin material, and a lot of exposed skin, yet sweat is already dripping from your nape to your back, from your temples to your neck, and into your cleavage. It’s unbearably hot.

The garage gate and door are both closed, and you hope that inside, the air feels cool and fresh instead of damp and smothering. You quickly realize that it’s only wishful thinking when you push open the scalding hot steel door and are greeted with nothing but a waft of warm air. 

“Kid?” you try, ignoring the churning sensation in your stomach.

“Back here.”

Closing the door and taking a deep, calming breath, you walk towards Victoria, dropping your purse on the nearest workbench and reveling in the slight drop in temperature. You’re casually wiping the sweat accumulated on your neck when you see him. Kid is leaning over the open hood of Victoria, loud music blasting in the garage, and two fans blowing hot air around. 

He’s fucking shirtless. 

Denim jeans hang low on his waist, and his back muscles bend and ripple as he tweaks something inside the hood. He’s glistening with sweat, beads dripping shamelessly from his damp hair to his broad back. When he turns, the world tilts, and you stop breathing. 

You’re ogling. You know he’s going to tease you for it, but you can’t tear your eyes away. 

Most of the sleeveless shirts you’ve seen him wear allowed you to glimpse the extent of the scar that runs from his neck to his chest. What you didn’t know is that he has another one running from under his pec and across his stomach, disappearing into his jeans. 

How far does that one go?

And holy fucking shit, this shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he’s freaking ripped. All beefy, robust muscle with broad shoulders and defined everything! 

You have to swallow hard so you don’t drool, curse, or both, but Kid’s not teasing you for all the ogling you’re doing. He’s ogling you back. 

“Fuckin’ hot, eh?” he mutters, not a drop of amusement in his deep, rumbling voice. 

“Torrid.” Is he referring to the weather?

Are you?

A few charged seconds pass, but neither of you moves to alleviate the tension, so you speak. “What did you want to show me?”

That about breaks the spell, because Kid blinks twice, and then his shit-eating grin makes an appearance, making sure the kaleidoscope of freaking, stupid butterflies living in your stomach takes flight all at once. 

The hell? Why butterflies? Up until now, all the ‘stirrings’ had been located in your lower abdomen, or even lower than that. Butterflies in the stomach mean something else. Something you don’t want to face at the moment, so instead, you force your legs to walk forward when Kid moves to the side and points inside the hood. 

“We’re givin’ Victoria her heart today.” Your mouth slackens, and you let out an elated whoop before rushing the rest of the steps. Sure enough, inside the hood stands a beast of an engine. It’s so big, it looks like it barely fits. Tubes twist and turn from its sides like veins giving it life, and sure enough, it does look alive. Like a breathing, living part of Victoria. It looks powerful enough to roar on its own. 

“It looks good!” You wish you could add something, but you don’t know the first thing about engines, anyway. 

“Sweetheart, it looks better than good. It’s fuckin’ epic. This right here is a 426 HEMI V8.” You raise your brow, but the way Kid is talking about it must mean it’s a hell of an engine. “Loud as fuck, capable of makin’ the ground shake when ye start her up.”

You nod and smile, and Kid realizes he’s losing you. “It’s a powerhouse of a fuckin’ engine.”

You nod again and let out a strained chuckle. “Okay, okay, I get it.” You don’t.

Kid grunts. “Imagine this. Yer at a bar, drinkin’ a few beers–”

“Cocktails. I might be drinking cocktails if I’m at a bar. And who’s with me–”

“Don’t matter!” Kid sighs, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as you stifle a laugh at how easily you always manage to rile him up. “Yer drinkin’ a few cocktails,” he grunts, “and a guy sits beside ye. He looks nice, a smooth talker, buys ye another drink, slowly tries to win ye over.”

You nod, biting back the amusement and the witty words, just to see where he’s going with this. 

“He’s okay, basic. That’s yer base engine. Finishes the job, don’t impress, yer not gonna call him back.” Kid winks, and you snort, leaning your hip against Victoria so you can stare at him. 

“Now…” Kid’s chuckle turns devious. “This mean motherfucker right here is the one that demands yer attention. He’s not nice, not even much of a talker, let alone a smooth one. He intrigues ye, impresses ye.” Kid leans over, the musky scent of his sweat overpowering the metallic scent that usually accompanies him. You have to force your eyes to remain locked with his instead of dropping to his lips. 

“He not only finishes the job, but makes sure ye finish first.” Kid’s eyes do drop to your lips, and your breath hitches. “And second… and third. Ye’ll definitely be calling him again.”

Somehow, you find your voice amid the suffocating heat - an impossible task since his words travel straight to your core. “So, your engine is the dangerous boyfriend you don’t bring home for the holidays?”

“Aye.” Kid’s breath fans your eyelids, and you catch a glimpse of his twitching hand. “And he’ll ruin all the other engines for ye. No other will measure up.” His jaw ticks and his throat bobs. “He’ll wreck ya.”

Fuck. You’re not talking about engines anymore, are you?

“I still want to try it…” you breathe out. As soon as you see Kid flinch and something dark cross his eyes, his body language already anticipating that he’s about to put distance between the two of you, you bite your lower lip in regret. Then, instead of giving him a chance to deflect and escape, you pivot. “Let’s hear it purr, then.”

He watches you for another moment with that unreadable expression in his eyes, then nods, pulling away and breaking the spell. 

“Grab yer panties, they’re gonna wanna drop.” You can’t help but chuckle as Kid sits in the driver’s seat, the leather creaking slightly and adjusting to his weight. You can’t take your eyes off him, though. His prosthetic hand wraps around the steering wheel while the other one finds the gear stick, wiggling it to neutral as his leg muscles tighten, pressing the pedal.

Then, his hand rises to the keys in the ignition, and he makes eye contact, a cheeky grin commandeering his mouth, though something darkens his gaze as his eyes meet yours. When he flicks his wrist and Victoria awakens, the whole garage trembles. 

It’s loud. It’s powerful. She’s a beast, just like he said she’d be. 

Kid presses the gas pedal down a few times, and you can practically feel the heat bursting from the engine. Her roar envelops you and sends a shiver down your spine. Her heart is beating to life, and fuck it, yours is right there along for the ride. 

“Ye hear her purr?” Kid gloats, his eyes darkening even more as he takes you in. 

“That’s not purring, Kid. She’s a beast trying to escape its enclosure.” Your hand makes contact with Victoria, and it trembles, sending shivers up and down your spine. You’re in awe. “She’s perfect.” 

Kid is still watching you, but his grin falters, and he lets out a curse so low you barely make it out. He turns off the ignition and gets out, stopping beside you, his frame towering over yours.

You look at him with flushed cheeks. Watching Kid handle Victoria like that was way more arousing than you thought it would be. With a shaky inhale, you press your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the tension there.

Kid notices. Of course he does. 

He grins again, closes the hood, and takes one step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Told ya ye’d drop yer panties.”

You can't focus on anything else now. There’s only Kid and the smoldering intensity of his eyes. Victoria feels warm to the touch, but it's nothing compared to the raging fire that's consuming your very being. 

“Kid.” His name comes out of your lips like a prayer. A whisper of a word, a plea. 

He hesitates, his eyes piercing you as his throat bobs. His hand is on Victoria's hood, and it's inching closer to yours. There's a battle somewhere inside him; you can see it clearly. His body inches closer to yours in agonizingly slow movements as his lips form a scowl and the lines between his brows tighten.

Then your hands touch. It's electric. 

Kid closes his eyes for a brief second and exhales deeply. “Fuck it.”

Both his hands find purchase on the back of your thighs as he lifts you up and sets you down on Victoria's hood. Then his flesh hand curls around the back of your neck, fingers entwining with your hair. Your breaths mingle, and he lets out a guttural noise, trying to hold on to any semblance of restraint. 

He can't. 

His lips crash into yours with longing and desperation, drawing a whimper from your mouth. Your hands grip his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped indents on his skin. More. You need more. 

Kid slots himself in the middle of your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to your core. You both groan at the touch as it sends shivers up and down your body. His fingers curl around your hair, and he grips it, tilting your head so that he can deepen the kiss. 

A flick of his tongue and a nibble on your lower lip have you panting, allowing him to explore as he takes your tongue in his. Your palms find taut, hard muscles, firm to the touch, and hotter than a furnace. When his prosthetic hand cups your breast, you roll your hips and grind your cores together, melting into another whimper. 

“Fuck,” Kid mutters against your mouth, and you pull him back into the kiss. You don't want to give him time to think this through, too afraid he'll push you away again. 

“Let go,” you whisper between rolls of your tongue, your hands expertly unbuckling his belt. Kid hesitates, pulling back, and you inhale sharply as your fingers tremble against the button of his jeans. 

Then he breathes, closing his eyes. When he opens them back up, it's all fire and desire again. Hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and getting rid of it. His mouth sucks and bites your nipple through the fabric of the bra and you chant his name in a moan. He curses low against your skin, peppering bites and suckling on every bit of it, muttering in a voice so thick with accent so pronounced you can barely make out a sane word. 

You arch your back for a moment, melting into his touch, and then your hand slips inside his boxers. He grunts against your neck, and his hands tighten their grip on your waist when you squeeze him. He's hard as a rock, girthy and veiny, and you whimper with anticipation. “Kid, I want you.” Your words sound like a prayer again, like a hymn you want to sing over and over. 

“Aye, fuck, I want ye too.”

And any doubt you had about him pushing you away again vanishes as his hand finds its way inside the waistband of your bottoms. His breath hitches, and his words are like gravel in your ears. “Yer soaked.” You can only hum incoherently as his fingers stroke your core, pushing your panties to the side and pressing lightly against your throbbing clit. 

“Oh, God,” you moan loudly, tilting your head back and stroking him at the same rhythm as he fingers you. 

“Yer gonna scream my name?” Kid pants against your ear, and you barely register it. He's taking up all the space, his scent, his body, his fingers; God, his fingers. “Use yer words.” He pinches your clit with his index finger and thumb, and you cry out in pleasure. 

“Yes, Kid, yes!”

You're nearly there. The tension has been building up so high and coiled so tight, you know you're going to fall fast. Your head lolls forward against his shoulder as you let out a lot of incoherent words and pants. 

Almost… almost. 

BANG! 

“Fuck!” 

THUD! 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” 

CLANG! 

“Jesus Christ!”

Kid stops. You bite your lower lip, horrified. Then, you both look towards the entrance of the garage and freeze. Killer is covering his eyes with one hand, and the other one is outstretched, trying to find the garage door and knocking over gallons of oil, tools, and everything in his path. 

“For crying out loud, you two! Doors have locks!” His voice is about an octave higher than it should be, and he keeps banging into stuff until he lets out another string of curses and gives up. Opening his eyes, he finds the door and leaves, flustered, embarrassed, and stressed. Curses still flying about.

Kid groans and exhales heavily while you stifle your snickers against his chest. Unfortunately, the tension of the moment has dissipated in a cloud of comedic relief, but you know it won't take much to build it back up. 

Your eyes are still glinting with mirth when you look up at Kid, cupping his cheeks in your hands so he can look at you. 

Your stomach lurches and your heart nearly skips a beat with what you find there. Kid is withdrawn again. His eyes bear a detached coldness accentuated by the downturned scowl on his lips. You're already shaking your head before he even speaks. 

“This was a mistake.” Fuck. “It was the heat, the fuckin’ tension,” Kid grunts, running a hand over his face and handing you your top with the other. “We can't do this,” he hisses. 

There it is. He’s pushing you away again. 

“Why the hell not?” you counter, crumpling the top in your hands, demanding that he look at you while all he's doing is avoiding your gaze. 

“I told ye why before!”

“It’s not good enough! Don’t push me away, Kid…” You sigh. “We don’t have to commit to anything, and it also doesn’t need to be a one-time thing if you don’t want it to be. We can just take it one step at a time, see where it goes.”

Kid shakes his head, his eyes on your legs as he tries to find his words. “I…”

“Let’s just give it a go…” You place your hand against the hard planes of his chest. You mean what you said. You might be turning the order of things around and starting something at the end, but it’s okay. Kid doesn’t strike you as the type to commit to a serious relationship anyway. One step at a time feels like the right pacing. “What do you think?”

He sighs, his flesh hand raises up and hovers over yours. He seems conflicted, and for a moment, you believe he’s about to hold your hand in his, to let you in. But then he scrunches his brows, curses, and shoves your hand away from him. “I'm all dark, aye? Yer light! Yer good! I wreck things.” Kid disentangles himself from your legs, buttons his pants and belt buckle, and heads straight for the cabinet in search of a bottle. 

“That's not true.” Your words burn your throat as you slide off the hood of Victoria, following him. 

The bottle slams against the workbench with enough strength to almost shatter it as he turns to you. “Don't pretend to know me. Ye don't know who the fuck I am. What I'm capable of.”

You stomp towards him, eyes blazing with fury, the heat of desire replaced by rage. “That's not what I was implying!” Kid's jaw clenches, and his eyes lose a bit of their edge. “I'm the one who’s not like that! I'm not all light! Don't put me on a fucking pedestal because I don't care for the fall!” You dress your top with trembling fingers and can't quite tell if the prickling behind your eyes is fury or sadness. “God!”

“We can't happen,” Kid groans, taking a sip from the scotch. “It's too fuckin’ complicated.”

“You're the one making it complicated! What happened to fun?” But as soon as the words leave your mouth, you know without a shadow of a doubt that you don't want just fun. Somewhere along those lazy afternoons working on Victoria, you really warmed up to Kid. 

You like him. 

“We're friends, Sparkles. Let's not fuck that up.” There's a finality to his words, signaling the end of the discussion. You're fucking pissed. 

“Is that really the problem?” Kid doesn't answer you, his gaze hardens, and he takes another sip. “Fine.” Turning on your heel, you head towards the door. “I just think you're too much of a coward to give whatever we have a shot.”

-*-

Kid paces the garage back and forth. He tried to work on Victoria again after you left, but he couldn't concentrate long enough to do it. Your words echoed in his head like a beacon of clarity. 

A coward. 

A fucking coward. You were right, obviously. Every one of his hook-ups had been just that, hook-ups. Nothing flashy or big, nothing that makes him think or feel. Just a way to blow off steam. 

But you… Fuck. You make him feel everything. It's like you've clawed your way inside his chest and refuse to leave. It's like you're in every single thought he has, from the moment he gets up to the moment his head hits the pillow. 

He knows you're not just a fling. He understands that you're no simple hook-up. You're real. You're something so good he knows you're not for him. He doesn't deserve goodness. 

Not after what he did. 

Kid smashes the bottle of scotch he's been nursing against the far wall, not caring about broken glass or spilled liquid. His hand flies to his pocket, and his finger hovers above Killer's contact for a few seconds. 

He could vent. Killer is the best listener. But he's also the best at delivering hard truths, and damn it… Not tonight. 

He scrolls and frowns when he finds the contact he's looking for. He picks up after the third ring. 

“Well, well. Eustass Kid. It's been a while.”

“Cut the shit, Apoo. I need a location and the time it starts,” Kid growls into the phone, his hand busy tapping the workbench. 

“Motherfucker, you haven't called in months, and you think I can get you a slot, just like that?” Apoo snickers. 

“I know ye can. People pay good money for the show I put on.” 

He fucking hates Apoo. But he needs this, he needs him for this. 

“Fine. Midnight. Abandoned warehouse near the docks. You know the place.”

Kid doesn't answer in confirmation, he just turns off the call and throws the phone into the workbench. Gripping the edge of it with both hands, he lets his head hang, his eyes closing shut as the echo of your words blurs the edges of his mind. 

“Fuck!” Kid shouts, banging the workbench with his prosthetic hand and gritting his teeth. He allows himself another five minutes of mindless self-loathing. Then he grabs the keys to his bike and leaves the garage.

-*-

The first punch shakes him up. 

The man who delivered it is scrawny but as fast as a fucking mouse. Kid smirks. The pain from the jab spreads slowly across his jaw, rattling the bones in his head. 

It’s not enough.

The acrid scent of sweat is barely noticeable over the pungent tang of the iron - blood. For a moment, the sounds from the cheers drown out the echo of your words, and all Kid can focus on is the pain. 

“Finish him off, Eustass!” someone yells.

“He’s a fucking wimp!” another voice.

The crowd rounds up the blood-splattered ring. If, to some, the gesture might feel suffocating and overwhelming, to Kid, it’s just fuel to his rage. It’s exactly what he needs. 

The little mouse hits him with another uppercut, and Kid keeps grinning. He lets him have his fun, and it’s not until Kid feels like he’s not getting what he needs from this lanky piece of shit that he finally strikes. 

One punch from Kid, and it’s over. 

The crowd cheers, and Kid scowls. It’s not enough. “Next fucker!” he roars, and the crowd roars back with him.

They come and come again, sometimes in groups of two or three. And Kid finishes them off, one after another, until his knuckles are a raw mess of flesh and bruises; until his eyes feel heavy and his mouth is sticky with blood. 

He fights dirty. Not fair or pretty. He fights like a man who’s got nothing to lose - who already lost everything. 

And as the night wears on, he realises none of this is helping. He doesn’t feel better, he doesn’t feel relieved. 

He just feels empty.

-*-

“Why is he so stubborn?” You thank the waitress for the drink and then shove the straw into the plastic cup, ignoring the screeching agony it produces, sloshing the liquid around with it. 

Killer shrugs, his straw hidden behind the Metallica bandana he wears today, and you hear him slurping his drink before he answers you. 

“That’s the million-dollar question,” he mumbles with a heavy sigh. “I’ve known him most of our lives, and that’s a quality he was born with.”

You take out the straw and continue to stab the lid of the plastic cup as if it personally offended you. 

“I just don’t get it! He keeps sending me mixed signals. He pushes me away, but then flirts back. He doesn’t want to commit, but he also doesn’t want to have a little bit of fun. What does he want?” With one last stab, the plastic lid groans and breaks. You curse and shove the drink away, not really thirsty anyway. 

Killer leans back on the red plastic bench of the diner you’re sitting in. He was the one who called, but you started to vent about Kid the moment you both sat down. It’s like he knew you needed to talk. 

“Kid…” Killer seems to be gathering his thoughts before continuing. “He’s difficult. He doesn’t like vulnerability and avoids feelings like the plague.”

You grunt in agreement, having been a witness to his actions firsthand. 

“He’ll never admit it, but you’re good for him. I see it,” he lets out a small chuckle. “Hell, I’ve told him this.”

“Whatever,” you mumble and steal a fry from Killer’s portion since you told the waitress you didn’t want any. “He didn’t seem very interested in continuing whatever it was we started. I'm not even sure where we are in our friendship since I called him a coward. I’m so pissed at him.”

“He’s going to want to move past what happened without even addressing it. Next time you see him, it’s like nothing was ever wrong.”

“Wow, that’s healthy.”

“It’s how he always dealt with things. It’s his way of escaping, of avoiding.” Killer shrugs once but then pins you with his tantalizing blue gaze, your name leaving his lips softly, demanding your attention. “Don’t give up on him.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. You don’t want to give up on Kid, but does he want you to keep pushing?

“Why is he like this? He told me he was dark… that he wrecks things. What happened to make him think that?”

Killer turns to the window, watching cars wind by for the longest time. You keep stealing his fries, waiting for his answer. 

“I can’t be the one to share that with you. It has to come from him,” he says, and there’s a finality to his words that stops you from inquiring further, so you nod. “But he’s very hard on himself and doesn’t think he deserves good things. Prove him wrong, City Girl.” The small lilt in his voice tells you he’s smiling, even though you can’t see it.

You exhale deeply and snatch another fry. Killer’s shoulders shake with mirth as he pushes the basket of food closer to you. “So, you’re telling me I should just stomp inside the garage and kick some sense into his stubborn butt?”

“Yes. And if you’re going to actually do that, please let me tag along. I’d love a video.” You snort at his words and pop another fry into your mouth. 

“Prove him wrong…” you mutter, deep into your thoughts. This could go very badly. You know you’re already feeling much more than attraction for that stubborn man. If you keep hanging out with him, laughing and flirting, you just know that he’ll insert himself deeper and deeper inside your skin. 

If you keep trying and he keeps pushing you away… how long until he pushes so far that your heart breaks?

But what if he lets you in?

What if it works?

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha

Check out @igiulss sketch of shirtless Kid and wipe the drool off your chin!

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

|Chapter 6|

[sl-vega]

Hello there again! I was the one who asked about the Hiori piece and oh. my. god I just read your continuation of it and lost my mind!! Your work continuously exceeds expectations IT WAS AMAZING!!! The way you put research in and made it like accurate to a real life scenario was such a great touch. You also wrote it so fast?? The moment I saw your post I ran to go read it and needless to say it was fantastic! The little moments between Hiori and Karasu were hilarious and them bumping into reader?? Actual gold. If you ever did feel like writing that part three I would eat that up so fast. Thank you so so much for considering my ask. Reading it seriously made my day!!! Looking forward to seeing more of your writing in the future; I seriously can’t thank you enough I’m go reread that piece in the meantime and burn it into my brain!!

[ 🪽 ] - AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - hiori yo

✮⋆˙ hiori's more or less come to terms with the fact that he's head over heels for you-thanks to karasu's top tier wingmanning (read; teasing) and the two of you have gotten pretty close! only problem is that he has zero idea whether you feel the same way. unfortunately on your end, you're having a pretty hard time figuring out your feelings as well

cw/additional notes; potentially ooc, itty bitty spoilers for season 2 if you haven't watched it, indented text is used to represent flashbacks, (this fic has two other parts prior to this, and unlike the others it's harder to read as a standalone, so i'd recommend reading the first 2 parts liked below <3)

part one // part two // part three

-> divider creds to @cafekitsune

You tossed and turned in your bed, the fluffy and soft blankets draped over your body providing no refuge from the constant whirlwind of emotions going through your head.

You flipped over to lay down on your back as you held up the small tube of lip gloss so the waning moonlight would pass through the translucent plastic encasing the cosmetic.

You had used a ridiculously large amount in the little time you had owned it...

This was so unlike you, all worked up over something as small and simple as this? It was but a simple gift from one of your classmates, and it was just a thank you present!

So why the hell was it messing with your head so much?

Why did replaying the memory of Hiori gently pulling you aside during lunch just to hand it to you make your heart race? The mere recollection of his hand brushing against your's give you butterflies? It wasn't like this all those times you had lent him a pen during class, or when you ran into him at the mall-

-Wait...you saw him at the mall, in a freakin' makeup store. Buying something. Buying a gift. A gift for someone 'special' as his friend had phrased it.

Holy shit.

Did Hiori like you?

That simple possibility - the mere idea of it - makes your face flush, and the butterflies return once more. You'd be lying if you said that you hated the idea of him having feelings for you.

"(Y/N)? Could I speak with ya' for a sec'?" You turned around to the source of the familiar voice, it was Hiori, with that same soft and polite smile on his face, the same one he always had whenever you two talked, or when you caught his gaze during class. "Hm? Oh, hey Hiori! Of course ya' can." You waved off your friend, telling her you'd meet up with her later at your usual lunch place, while waiting for Hiori to say whatever he pulled you aside for.A few seconds after your friend was out of sight Hiori extended his arm and handed you a small light pink gift bag. Eyes widening momentarily, you took the bag from his hands and offered a quick bow whilst saying your thanks. "Hiori...it's not a special occasion or anythin' so why'd ya'..?" "Oh, well yer' always doin' favours for me and lending me stuff during class, so it's the least I could do." And there it was, that same smile again, you seemed to grow fonder of it every second you spent in this moment. After noticing his expectant gaze, you realized you should probably open it, and you did, moving aside the tissue paper used to stuff the bag, you lifted out a nicely packaged tube of lip gloss with pink graphics across 'CANMAKE CANDY WRAP LIP' it read out in a cute text. "Ya' mentioned how much you hated yer' lips being dry, so I thought it would be a good gift for you." He remembered that? You honestly just mentioned it to him in passing because you wanted to make small talk, but, that was really sweet of him. "Thanks Hiori." It was a whisper, bashful and soft, like how you only wanted him to hear it, he looked like he was about to open his mouth and say something again, but before the words could fall from his lips, he was cut off by another one of your friends calling your name. "-Oh, you should probably get going now, I wouldn't wanna keep ya' here." He chuckled silently, like a soft melody that waded it's way towards your ears, he gave you a quick nod before taking a few steps away. And before he left, he gave you that same smile, once more.

Ever since that occurrence, you'd always find yourself in positions where you sought him out, always finding excuses to talk to him, finding the most obscure reasons just to be in his presence.

Hiori was headed to the front office to do some printing? Oh, what a surprise! You had to go there too! Hiori was helping with clean up duty after P.E? Well so were you! If Hiori had to do something, you found some kind of excuse to do it with him.

Occasionally, when seeking solace away from the rest of your usual friend group, you'd sometimes find Hiori sitting in a secluded staircase on his phone, sometimes playing a game, or just spacing out while listening to music.

You adored these moments.

He'd let you join him, just sitting in silence together with the occasional quip of how you've been doing, or about whatever was going on in class, but, for the most part, it was peaceful, just a shared moment of solitude between the two of you.

You learned a lot about Hiori just from spending time with him, no words needed. He didn't seem particularly close to anyone, but was on good terms with everyone. He always had yakult on him, and was more than willing to share with you. If he had ear buds or headphones in, he was always listening to a soundtrack to a video game he played.

And yet, he still seemed like an enigma.

Sure, on paper he seemed like a pretty normal boy. He did fairly well in school, played soccer (and was quite proficient at it), he spent most of his free time playing games, and he was an all around good kid.

But there were a lot of other things that added to his character. Little quirks and habits you would pick up on.

He never mentioned his home life, nor his parents - you thought it would be best not to pry. You heard from a few of your classmates that they were professional athletes, it would explain his own athletic abilities.

All the food he ate was always nicely served and portioned out in his bento box, and he had a strange habit of calorie counting that you had picked up on. Again, you thought it was best not to pry.

Hiori Yo was fascinating to you. You wanted to figure him out more than anything. You found yourself talking about him a lot, intentional or not.

"(Y/N), did ya' hear about that new convenience store by the station? Me and Mizuki are gonna check it out after school." "Oh yeah, Hiori was telling me about it!"

At first, it was simple things like; 'Hiori mentioned that!' or 'Hiori said he liked this.' and such, raised a few eye brows, but nothing that made your friends too curious - not yet at least.

"(Y/N)! Me and Ena are going to go shopping this Saturday, wanna come with?" "Oh, sorry, I promised Hiori that I'd study with him. Next time though!"

Then it was the small study dates that always happened to feature Hiori, sometimes other people would tag along as well, but the only consistent person that you always made sure was there was him. This was when everyone started picking up on your strange affection for the boy.

"Me and the others are planning to watch my brother's soccer game this weekend, are you free? Or let me guess, Hiori-" "I actually promised I'd come to his youth team's game...Another time...? Oh! Wait- isn't your brother on Bambi Osaka?" "Yeah..? Why?-" "Perfect! So is Hiori, I'll see you guys there then!"

And so, little by little, Hiori Yo began bleeding into your personal life. Dragging him into little meetings with your friends, slowly becoming your favourite conversation topic.

And now, you were wasting away in your bedroom thinking about him when you could be getting your much deserved (and needed) rest after a long week of school.

But it's not like you could hide from this. Hide from whatever was going on between you and Hiori. Or at least what could start happening between the two of you.

Maybe he did like you.

And maybe, you didn't mind that.

And maybe, just maybe, you liked him too.

🍓 TAGLIST; @shrii-kk @sharks-3

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

Just got an idea to do this trend with Sabbath boys. Specifically dedicated to @shintaru & tagging @scareeemonstaah dividers by @cafekitsune

𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐈𝐍:

You were bedrotting, having nothing better to do than scrolling through tiktok, when you suddenly came across coupletok and certain trend catched your attention. It was a trend where a boyfriend did a heart with his hair for his girlfriend.

Compared to recent trends, this one seemed decent and adorable. You looked up at the trend and saw so many results, whether it was cute due to boyfriends successing in making hearts or funny how many of them failed to shape it.

It made you wonder how Wooin would be able to do it. He doesn't have long hair after all... But still, he can do small heart, right?

Wooin usually knows trends from social medias (tiktok & etc). Though, he really hasn't tried them himself, especially couple trends that he usually watched just to smile and say "aww, I hope they break up." then scroll again.

Since you two started dating, you've been sending him videos from coupletok and with no other choice, he watched all of them and has done few trends with you. Now wasn't any exception.

You sent him the vid you specifically chose and texted him.

"Can you do it?👀" 15:02

You stared at your phone, watching the “sent” tick turn into “read,” holding your breath like you just sent a love confession instead of a TikTok trend.

Did you forget that I don't have long hair,babe....? 15:06

Of course he would say that, but with lil begging, he'd definitely give in.

"Pleasee?? Even if it's tiny heart.." 15:06

Fine, he'll give it a try. He knows you're type to love posting these kind of things anyway and he doesn't mind at all, even if his face stays blurred in your vids because yk...He got too popular in Korea - whether cuz of cycling or illegal shits, you don't know.

Wooin pressed the button for video recording, his cap taken off as he gathered few strands of his dark hair but it was a big struggle! His hairstyle isn't designed for trends like this. So, no matter how much he tried to form a heart, the group of his hear would fall apart or it didn't look like a heart at all.

Now he started getting frustrated, but his fingers still patiently and carefully worked on his hair and finally, finally he managed to form a perfect heart, the one you'd absolutely love.

He stopped recording and sent his saved video to you and god, did you love it. Watching the way he perfectly shaped heart with his hair, despite it being short as hell, you couldn't help but think how skilled his hands were, how patiently he worked on the shape to make sure it was perfect despite the obvious vein popping on back of his hand from it.

And, of course, watching him fail so many times was great source of entertainment but it also made you giddy how he actually tried for you.

Who even came up with this? 15:23

"Dunno. It's cute though!" 15:24

Annoyingly so😮‍💨 15:24

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad" 15:24

Tell that to my hair. 15:25

He texted.

"But I still love it! I'm def posting this." 15:26

"Of course only the part where you finally successed..." 15:26

He scoffed at your texts, pretending to be offended.

Little did you know that he was gonna stalk your account now.

𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑:

You were hanging out with your friend, shopping together as what she'd call it was 'girls shopping' but it suddenly started raining heavily, causing you both to abandon shopping and sprint to her house as soon as possible, since it was closest.

Now you're at your friends house, cold, wet, drying yourself with a towel your friend gave you while cursing yourself for being stupid and not calling Taxi.

But that aside, you decided to stay at your friend's house until it would stop raining but since you wouldn't be able to return to your home for a while, you texted Hajun so he wouldn't be worried.

"I'm gonna be at my friend's place until it'll stop raining:)" 16:24

The 'sent' tick immediately turned to 'read', making your breath hitch at how fast he answers. Wasn't he supposed to be working? Is he finally free now?

Alright. Do you want me to pick you up later? 16:25

"That would be nice." 16:25

After texting him bit more, your previous mood, that was ruined by rain, changed into better. You couldn't even count how many times you smiled thanks to him being sweetest human being ever, letting you rant about your day to him, complain to him as much as you wanted.

While you were texting him and smiling ear to ear, your friend nudged you to grab your attention and showed you the video. "Look, another trend is up in coupletok."

It was a trend where a boyfriend did a heart with his hair for his girlfriend. Something about this made you giddy, the vision of Hajun doing this immediately flashed before your eyes.

"Wait, send it to me." You told her.

She sent you the video and you immediately forwarded it to Hajun, excitedly typing words while wearing stupid grin.

"If you aren't busy, can you do this?" 16:54

Now, Joker definitely didn't even know this trend existed. Heck, this guy didn't even have tiktok until you made him install it but even then, he wasn't really using that app. This guys fyp was only about workouts, gym trainings and etc.

But he was also used to you sending him romantic stuff so he definitely wasn't surprised when you sent him another video from #coupletok but your text did catch him off guard.

Him? Him?! Doing this trend? Not like he's against it but it's his first time, you know. He's not the one to do trends like this, in fact, he considers trying to catch up to trends stupid and exhausting. But if it was you asking...especially after telling him about your bad luck today...Yeah, he really couldn't decline.

You nervously waited for his message, biting your nail gently while thousands of thoughts crossed your mind. What if he doesn't wanna do it? What if he thinks it's stupid? What if he thought you were being childish? What if--

The sound of notification snapped you back to reality, your eyes landing on the message.

Sure. But don't post it anywhere. 16:57

Your face lights up again. Gosh, you were truly lucky to have him.

"Nopee, dw! It's only for me." 16:57

Yeah, he clicked the button to record but...His hair wasn't as obedient as he thought it would be. He tried shaping the heart, but it wasn't good enough for him, he wanted to send you perfect heart after all, so he restarted to record it again.

Finally, he shaped the heart perfectly and gosh when you saw the video of his rough hands gently taking his hair to make cute heart, to say that you loved it was an understatement!

It's still ridiculous how soft this huge boxer gorilla can be.

"It's so cute!!!" 17:04

Your message made him smile a bit to himself. If you were happy then so was he and he loves being the reason behind your smile, even if he'd have to do stupid trends for you.

Sure thing.

❤

He texted, sitting on the couch like Japanese person sits on the floor, while Wooin just finished recording him doing stupid hearts on his hair. He was definitely sending this to Hyuk.

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐊:

It's Monday, hot weather - 40°, you'd think your beloved AC would help you but noo, it decided to stop working completely, you don't have ice or ice-cream in the freezer but also too lazy to go out in the hot ass weather to buy it.

So that's how you ended up on bad mood, in just bra and shorts, scrolling through tiktok as if wasting away your remaining years to live.

But this certain video grabbed your attention. The video where boyfriend does a thing called heart hair trend, making a heart with his own hair, for his girlfriend. Aww, so sweet.

This kind of lighten up your mood, especially because your thoughts shifted to your boyfriend, Hyuk Kwon. Then the idea of him doing this trend haunted your mind, so you couldn't resist texting him!

"Hyuk" 13:38

"Hyukkkk" 13:38

"Hyyyuuukkkk" 13:39

"Hyukk" 13:40

Then under your messages, 'read' finally showed up, before Hyuk started typing.

Yes 13:42

Yessss 13:42

Yesssssss 13:42

Yess 13:42

You smiled at the way he responded, answering every single time you called his name. He was doing to spam you back but hey, let's don't mind that!

You sent him the video.

"Can you do this??" 13:43

Yeah but I'm working now... 13:43

"On the break then?" 13:43

I'll see. 13:44

Sure, you had to wait for 10 minutes but it was worth it. Because he sent you the video of him doing the trend. His fingers gently holding his hair, hurriedly making the heart with it and even though it's not perfect, he still made it and you were satisfied with it, absolutely unaware the weird looks Hyuk was getting from his coworkers.

"I love this!!! Can I post it?🥹" 13:56

Sure but make sure I won't be recognized by fans. 13:58

"Okok" 13:59

Your mood lightened up, heat already forgotten, just the stupid smile on your face as you rewatched the video over and over again.

I'm sorry, I got lazy to write Vinny😭

Divider by @dollywons

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Measure

Chapter Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Word Count: 1866

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, band dynamics past and current, buried feelings, mild drug use, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean pocketed his keys and grabbed his coffee off the roof of the impala. Sam was already halfway to the studio entrance sipping on his green smoothie and all together being the energetic morning person that he annoyingly was. They had been at it until after midnight, but were back before their usual ten o’clock start time. Dean knew it’d be another grueling day, but at least he was just working out the final few songs and not screaming himself hoarse in the box again. Yet.

Dean followed Sam inside Trust No One Studios, a rundown building off the highway that wouldn’t look like much if the owner wasn’t a paranoid security stickler. The parking lot and the entrances were all covered by cameras. They fobbed their way into the main entrance and nodded at the day guard, Ronald, who waved them through the metal detectors. He was a fan, but had kept a lid on it since Sam had snapped on him during their third album.

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Dean muttered, voice still raw. 

“Good luck in there,” Ronald replied, but only to Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed off down the hall towards the basement steps. Dean trailed after his brother and bandmate to the largest recording room Frank had to offer. The Leviathan Level held two studios, but they were going deeper, to the bottom level, dubbed Purgatory, and its nearly grade-school-auditorium’s worth of space.

They meet another guard at the bottom of the steps, but just flashed their lanyards at him to continue on toward Ash’s domain.

Ash had been engineering their sound since the beginning. In fact, Dean wasn’t sure he had any other legit sources of income besides whatever residuals he earned off their soon-to-be five albums. But he wasn’t about to ask him either. Ash was a weird dude, wicked smart, but weird.

The control room still smelled vaguely of pot when they entered, but no one cared. Sam walked straight through to the door to the main part of the studio to start his warm ups. Dean dropped into one of the chairs at the dials and finished his coffee. He knuckled one eye as he watched the clock on the wall, wondering who would be the next to arrive. He didn’t want to call Lee and wake his ass up to get back to it, but he would if the rest of the band weren’t ready to play by ten.

As he toyed with the lip of his gas station coffee cup lid, Dean’s phone buzzed with an incoming text to one of the many group chats the band had. The name ‘Trouble’ was Dean’s hint that it was actually work talk.

>>>Don’t forget to take pictures! Or I’ll come down there and get them myself.

Which was a blatant bluff on your part and Dean knew it. Frank and Ronnie both gave you the creeps. Plus, you liked to hear the finished product in its entirety, which he kind of loved about you.

<<<Not it

Dean replied before anyone else and repocketed his phone unwilling to figure out just who would be getting the candids for your next social media blitz. He had too much to worry about as it was. He pulled out his notebook he kept in his back pocket with song ideas. The bridge to ‘Pushing Through’ was giving him problems and he wanted to rework the lyrics a bit.

This had been a hard album, both in getting the band to come together and make it happen and how much he was pouring into each song. Without Cas, Dean’s whole process was off and instead of asking the new kid or, hell, even Sam for help, he decided he needed to write most of it single handedly. Call it penance or a martyr complex, Dean had made his bed and he was going to lie in it.

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was having all this guilt that never showed

When you said I was getting frightenin’

I just pushed through

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was holding back this love I never told

Then I see your eyes filled with lightin’

You pushed me through (strike through)

You pulled me through

Dean didn’t realize Kevin had come in until he heard the keyboard join in on Sam’s scales. He looked back at what he’d adjusted and hummed to himself. This wasn’t a song he’d have written even two years ago. It was a fuckin’ love song for one and it put the spotlight on the last year and a half of his mistakes. He almost didn’t want to ruin it by putting it out there for the world to see. But they needed twelve and it was the closest to finished he had. 

For the band and this deadline, Dean could be brave.

Pamela strolled in and slumped against Dean’s shoulders, somewhere between a hug and using him as a pillow. He chuckled and patted her head as he flipped to the next song on his list. 

“Where’s your husband?” Dean asked off-handedly, knowing Lee couldn’t be far.

“Ex-husband,” Pamela grumbled.

“Sure.” Dean honestly couldn’t keep track anymore. Pam and Lee had been married to each other at least twice and shared one kid, two houses and three dogs between them.

“He’s dropping Gibson off at his mom’s, nanny needed a day off,” Pamela explained and Dean could feel the glare she was giving him.

“Well, isn’t that nice of you.” Dean gave her a fake smile.

“I know. A thoughtful employer— in this economy?” Pamela snarked and picked up Dean's coffee, frustrated when she found it empty. “Ugh! Okay, well, I’m gonna go stretch— maybe I can talk that brother of yours into some yoga before we get going.”

“You are such a creeper.”

“Sammy’s a big boy, Dean.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Pamela shook her head and slinked off to join Kevin and Sam. 

“Take some pictures— cuz I aint!”

Pamela glanced back at Dean and winked while pressing an imaginary shutter button. Dean stood suddenly and chased her into the live room until she squealed and hid behind Sam. Her tiny frame dwarfed behind Sam’s, Dean relented, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

Dean grabbed his acoustic and strummed, pacing around as he muttered his amended lyrics under his breath. Lee and Bobby made it in just after ten. Luckily, Sam and Pam already had enough of their bending competition, which kept Lee from getting pissy about it. Just as Dean and Lee were going over the chord progressions on ‘Rupture’, Ash strolled into the control room and started hooting into the intercom that it’s time to roll.

“Fucking finally,” Dean grunted and ducked out of his strap. They did things as they came, but bass and drums always were put down first, so he, Lee and Kevin hung back until they were needed.

“Alright, ya idjits. Show me what ya got,” Bobby ordered from his seat beside Ash.

So they did.

Lunch showed up just after two. And, naturally, Dean devoured his sub as quickly as he could, which was when Pamela decided to remember to take pictures for their socials. 

Dean rolled his eyes and licked his lips, chewing as the lettuce and mayo collected at the corners. If his hands weren’t full, she would have gotten the bird, but priorities, you know?

“Gross,” Sam replied, laughing.

“Don’t worry, grumpy, I’ll get your good side too,” Pamela teased.

“I’m sure you will,” Sam muttered and cracked open his bottle of water.

Lee balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Kevin who apparently had been still snapping pictures. “Save it for the session, newbie,” he grunted.

Dean glanced across the room to where Ash and Bobby were talking, both more serious than the last few hours justified. He met Bobby’s eye and held it, knowing he’d find out sooner or later what had the old man extra bristled. 

They finished their food and relaxed for another few minutes; they had a good handle on the tracks they were working out. But that still meant hours more until they were tight and Ash had everything he wanted. Even then, Dean made them do more takes, just to be sure. He was a perfectionist, like his father before him, and Phantom Traveler had gotten to where they were with that driving force leading the way.

Sam was the one to rein Dean in. “Look, man, that was it. We had it three rounds ago. I’m beat.”

“Ash?” Dean called back into the control room, not willing to be outvoted without certainty.

“It’s all gravy on my end, Dean-o.”

“Pam?” Dean asked his drummer and part-time mindreader.

“Kevin and Sam can clear out, I think we can hit that intro harder.”

Dean looked at Lee, who sighed, because he knew Pam was right and Dean was just letting her be the bad guy.

“Alright, from the top!” Dean called out and Pamela quickly counted them in.

Sam and Kevin stayed to listen, sipping water and slumped into any free space they could find behind their gear. Sam was stuck, Dean was always his ride. But the kid could duck out whenever he wanted. The fact that Kevin stayed solidified Dean’s faith that he was going to work out. Without Cas, it had been weird. Well, first it was awful, but now that they were here, back making music, what they did best, it was an adjustment. 

But Kevin had stepped up and Dean couldn’t deny he was grateful.

No one could fill Cas’ place in the band. But the kid had good hands and on top of that he sang, filling out their harmonies with a higher range. Something Cas never did. So, yeah, it was still weird. But if Dean had learned anything living in California, it was that weird didn’t mean bad.

They tackled the intro until Dean was sick of it. And Lee and Pam both were giving him the stink eye. One final check in with Bobby and Ash and Dean released them for the night.

“Alright, I don’t want to see your faces until Monday at ten,” Bobby explained. “Take the weekend off. Be stupid, but save your voices and your fingers.”

“Awww, he really does care,” Dean snarked, throwing a ball cap over his sweat-damp hair.

Bobby glared. “You’re no good to me sounding like my great aunt Ethel, jackass.”

Kevin laughed and everyone held their breath, impressed and surprised by him openly mocking Dean. But Lee couldn’t hold it in and started laughing too. And by the time Ash and Sam were in on it, Dean was crossing his arms and murdering them all with a look. Pam slinked her arm over his shoulders and patted his back condescendingly.

“I hate you all,” Dean muttered. Eventually he dropped the dramatics before looking over at Sam. “Let’s get outta here already.”

“Yeah, already,” Sam agreed, shaking his head and following Dean back out to the parking lot.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @deans-baby-momma @stoneyggirl2 @sassy-pelican

Chapter Three: Rest

[canoncallings]

Intro, Rules, Etc (TBA)

INTRO:

This is a canon calling blog, as you may have guessed.

💌 mod: he/it

🎆 mod: they/any (aka procidens)

SUBMITTING FORMS / RULES:

Please include:

the full, unabbreviated name of your source

your name in source

a general age range (adult, or minor).

Other things you could include:

who you're looking for

who is not allowed to interact

specific memories you have

what you are specifically (fictive, fictionkin, fictionflicker, copinglink, etc)

Please don't:

add in-detail nsfw (jokes are fine, specifics are not)

Also, a reminder for any minors that may use my services: please be careful, don't trust others online readily, don't tell others things like your home address, your phone number, your legal name, or any other specific information about yourself.

Problematic and/or stigmatized sources are welcome to send forms! However, I will be operating under the assumption that you do not support the problematic part of the source. If that is not true, please do not use our services.

Additionally, if you are a minor, please do not submit forms from kink/fetish or pornographic media. Please wait until you are an adult to submit forms for said media.

Any forms that violate these rules will be deleted. Thank you ^^

Here is an archive of all calls submitted: ARCHIVE (not up to date)

A list of tags used for this blog are here !!

Dividers credit goes to @/cafekitsune!! Check their blog out ^^

Please listen to the rules we have established, they're not asking too much. And enjoy our services!!

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

[starwriterulia]

Tomb of the Goshenite Stargazer Dragon - Chapter 3

SUBJECT MATERIAL WARNINGS FOR THIS FANFICTION ARE INCLUDED IN THE MASTERLIST POST OF MY BLOG AND THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS FANFICTION.

Bat dividers by @violetbudd

Scene cut and creator support banners by @cafekitsune

Latest revision: August 18, 2024. Added scene cut "Support your creators by reblogging" banner. Added ⏭️ emoji below end of chapter banner with text explaining its function as a navigational button.

Fandoms: DC Comics, Batfamily centric, no Batcest, Thalassic Space (OC; takes inspiration The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag, Silent Hill 2, Silent Hill 3, and other sci-fi, fantasy and horror titles, as well as original concepts, such as the science and lore of the galaxy.)

Chapter summary: Faith shares her full life story with Barbara, who brought soup, and with Dick and Bruce. Bruce tells his wards that he thinks Faith has a story she's withholding. Dick says he sensed that too, and they agree to wait for her to share it.

[In order of appearance] Characters: Faith Lawson (TBA; self-insert), Barbara Gordon (Batgirl), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Bruce Wayne (Batman).

Word Count: 3966 4486 (really short /still short, for something from me lol) 8165 (August 10 revision)

Content warnings: Extensive discussion about the loss of Faith's adoptive father, discussion about Faith's psychopathic ex-boyfriend Todd, brief light-hearted discussion about the difficulties of living with dwarfism, it's light-hearted because one can imagine how tiring that much talking would be for someone, especially with the flu!, discussion between Bruce, Dick and Barbara about what the story Faith might be hiding is likely about based on existing information.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

My eyes and throat were so sore, but I couldn't drink too much tea, or I'd throw it up, and my legs and arms were so chafed that I was really uncomfortable, so I couldn’t close my eyes. I wished I had a maternity pillow and a soft light source. I brought my Marley wired headphones with me, and I listened to "🏴‍☠️Pirate Tavern Terrace Ambience: Night Nature Sounds, Seashore Waves & Calm Ocean Breezes 🌌" by Sam'Relaxe - Ambiance Nature. My phone was tucked under and up to the right of my pillow, and I had another pillow between my legs. I groaned and sat up, turning from my left side with a third pillow under my chest, to my right side, facing the door. I fanned my legs out and tucked on arm under the pillow I laid my head on, and the other arm over its lower corner. The bedsheet was too hot. No, my legs were too hot, so the bedsheet was too hot.

I groaned, felt a burp, let it happen. Felt tightness in my chest, too much air, tried to burp it out. The burp came after two bumps of my left fist to my sternum. I sighed. I was too hot, and I was so incredibly uncomfortable.

I couldn't focus on the sound of the waves and birds, couldn't picture myself asleep on the sheltered upper balcony of the tavern, couldn't imagine the sounds of pirates, merfolk, anthros, elves and mages mingling, gambling, singing and dancing below. I couldn't keep my little grip of a peaceful night, and so I let go of it with my gaze to the floor as the bedroom door opened. I painfully looked up and saw Bruce in the glow of the hallway, wearing a charcoal blue shirt and black slacks. I smiled a little. "That's a nice colour on you." I croaked, then coughed, and it hurt. "Ow. May I ask you for a maternity pillow for my back, 'cause scoliosis sucks, and my legs, so they don’t chafe so much, and a soft light source? My brain goes nuts in the dark, and I know we're gonna work on that, but…"

"Yes, I'll get you both of those things, Faith. You're allowed to have a nightlight." His voice was nice. I felt my eyes flutter, caught in emotion.

"Thank you."

Bruce entered the room and sat on the floor, our eyes never breaking contact. "Do you get sick often?"

"No. I think I got this from a customer."

"You don't wear a mask at work?"

"Most people don't. I know, as a Liberal who gives a crap, that I should. But I'm from a small, country town that's still learning to accept queer people. We have Pride, and it's a pretty good turnout, but you get what I mean."

"Mhm."

"You really think people are going to look at me kindly if I wear a mask in 2024?"

"That's the thing, isn't it? You learn that COVID is here to stay, about its long term affects,"

"Mhm." I nodded a little.

"And it makes you want to mask-up. I get your concern. Have you ever had COVID?"

"Nope. As you can imagine, me being a writer with physical disability and a personality disorder, I don't have much reason to go outside. But I need to, and when the snow is gone, I try to go out for walks to one of the parks that are both, like, really close to my apartment."

"Good."

"Ferland Park is the smaller one. It's got a water park, a playground that gets updated every so often, and a nice area for the Farmer's Market, every Thursday in the summer and early fall. Riverside Park has the big loop, a playground, and a sheltered picnic area, and I hear its beach and water is quite nice."

"That sounds nice. Do you like to go to the market or river often?"

"Oh, I go to the market, but I can't swim, I-I've always had anxiety in pools, so I'm like, what's the point of wading?"

Bruce hummed. "Another thing we'll have to teach you."

"Oh yeeeah. The vendors are varied enough, the food vendors are good, and there's even an open mic, if you bring an instrument or just want to sing."

"Nice."

"Yeah, it’s a nice little town."

"You haven’t told me what town it is." He probably already knows which town.

"Oh! Vanderhoof."

"Oh, I love Vanderhoof." Bruce said. I giggled. "I haven't been there in a while."

"Well, swing by some time on a Thursday in summer, and I'll take you to Fields to meet my boss, if she's there! Please buy our socks." I laughed. Bruce chuckled.

"Too many socks?"

I used the cutesy, voice my co-workers and I used. "Oh, so many socks, please help us!" I used my normal voice. "Then again, bringing Bruce Wayne on this Earth, they'll be like, "Oh wow, how did you me-et?"," Bruce chuckled. "If it's on my Earth, they'll be like, "Oh my God, that's so cool! You're gonna be Batgirl!"" Bruce chuckled more. ""And you made a perfect copy of yourself so you could be in both worlds at once? Wow!"" I said, deadpanned, "My boss will want to meet Green Arrow." Bruce laughed in his chest.

"So, along with your goals for your physical health, we've now got two other things to cover."

"Yeah. I'd really like my legs back. I forgot how to run and jump, after I broke my knee."

"Fear."

"Yep. I watch people do it, and I can't figure it out in my head."

"We can help you with that."

"Mhm!"

"And Faith?"

"Mhm?"

"It's OK if you get hurt. We'll all be there to help."

I nodded. "Thanks."

"You also look very uncomfortable and overheated."

"I aaaam. I don't sleep with clothes on. Our bodies sweat, so it's healthier and more comfortable to sleep nude. The first part of that, my mom taught me."

"Hm, well, it's true. You can take your clothes off to sleep, if you want."

"Thank you." I sat up, removed my shirt, "Ugh, ew." And threw it behind me, heard it collide with the wall, and took off my pants and underwear, and threw them in that direction too. I bent my arms in and stretched my shoulders. "Guh." Then rolled my shoulders a little.

"Your muscles sound very tense."

"They usually are." I said, and laid back down, sighing with content.

"Better?"

"Yes. Actually, there's a thin blanket, right?"

"Yep, right here." Bruce stood up and reached over me for a thin fleece blanket. His arm brushed against my lower thigh, and I failed to cover a soft exhale. "Sorry."

"You’re uh-OK." I stifled laughter in my throat and looked down at the bed.

"Faith Indianna." A light redness was in Bruce’s cheeks.

"Oh, of course you know my first middle name, without me telling you." I had three, total. The first one was given to me by my birth mom, and the other two after I was adopted.

"I am Batman."

"You are Batman. Blanket, please." I said. Bruce draped the blanket over my body from the shoulders down. "Oh, perfect. Actually, a little below the shoulders."

"Don’t wanna be too hot under there."

"Nope." I said, as Bruce took hold of the blanket and moved it to the middle of my back, briefly touching my skin and hair. His fingers were large and coarse, but the sensation of a masculine person's skin was lovely, and I didn't care this time when I let out a sigh.

"How about there?"

"That's even better."

"Good." He said, softly. I blushed. Bruce chuckled through his nose, and rose from the bed, walking to the door. "I'll leave you to sleep. Maybe you'll have better luck now."

"Thank you." I closed my eyes, and heard the door close.

Faith stirred from her light sleep as the early morning sun shone through the curtains of the guest room. She said, "Why did I have to submit to the horny thoughts just a little bit when Bruce Wayne is like the gayest bisexual man to ever be a gay-leaning bisexual man?" She giggled and groaned to cringe at herself.

"Like, I’m sure it’s fine, but in retrospect, that was just disrespectful enough that I’m sorry." She looked up at her nightstand, sat up, and grabbed her tea. It was cold, but Faith didn’t care. It helped a little bit. “Oh, how long…?”

She turned on the bedside lamp to check the time. It was 4:53 AM. “Eh, I got a little bit.” There was knocking at the door. Faith scrambled to cover her chest with the blanket. “Hello?”

“Can I come in?” It was a woman’s voice.

‘Barbara?’ Faith thought, her mouth opening all the way. “Uh, yeah girl!”

The door opened, and when Faith saw that it was Barbara, she gasped and lifted her upper lip to smile. “You knew it was me right away, huh?”

“Eh, it was more of a guess. Actually, it was all a guess.” Faith said, as Barbara entered carrying a tray with a steaming bowl and a bun, with a spoon and a little plate with butter on it, a butter knife beside the plate.

“How are ya feeling?” Barbara said, setting the tray down on the bed, at Faith’s feet.

“A little better. I probably wouldn’t have slept much better at home.”

“No?”

“No, I’d have to step outside for some fresh air. It’s still winter, so I can’t have a window open.”

“True. You don’t have a fan?”

“I do, but I didn’t think that would help.”

“Oh, it would, believe me. You can’t be hot all the time when your sick, even though that’s what your body does to fight infection.”

“Oh yeah, right. Could you grab me my shirt from the floor?” Faith pointed to the pile of clothes against the wall. “I don’t wanna get soup droplets on the blankets.”

“Sure.” Barbara went, picked up the black T-shirt, and offered it to Faith. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Faith dropped the blanket and put on the shirt.

“Oh, you had a breast reduction?” Barbara said, sitting on the bed as Faith lifted the tray into her lap.

Faith blew on what she scooped up in her spoon. “Yeah, I used to be an F cup.” She ate what was on her spoon, filled it again, and continued eating at that decent pace.

“Ooh, yeah, I get why you got rid of them. What are you, now?”

“C cup.”

“Nice. Bet your back feels better.” Barbara said. Faith nodded while blowing on her spoon. “You said you have scoliosis, but I’m assuming it’s minor.”

“Yeah. I’ve got it in two places at the small of my back, and surprisingly my adoptive mom has it in three places, at the same area.”

“Oh, OK. Is your dad doing all right?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right. Huh, I didn’t tell you guys in the group chat?”

“Nope.”

“Eh, well, I’ve had a rough life, lots to talk about.”

“Does Bruce know?”

“Yeah, he knows.”

“How did he pass?”

“Aortic dissection.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Faith inhaled and exhaled through her nose and stopped eating. Barbara shifted her lips. “When was the last time you saw him?”

 “Early November. Mom, Dad and I went to the Co-op Hardware Store to buy new Christmas trees. Mom found the fully-frothed tree she’d always wanted, and I got a small tree that’s actually about my height.” Faith lifted a spoonful and blew.

“Oh nice. Did you not have one, before?”

“I had one a little shorter than me, and it was kind of skinny, and in a pot, with the lights already in it. Grandma gave it to me.” Faith blew on the spoon again and ate its contents.

“Cute.”

“Dad wasn’t feeling well. He was pale and sweaty.”

“Why hadn’t he seen a doctor?”

Faith set her spoon on the tray. “He thought his blood pressure medications weren’t being paid for, and he had to go to camp for his new job. He left his old job because of his boss, I think. When Dad’s doctor found out, he said that if Dad had called, he could have helped.”

Barbara clicked her tongue. “Oh.”

Faith picked up her spoon and filled it. “He stayed in the car as Mom and I went into the Independent Grocer that I used to work at, trying to get back into his Facebook.” She blew on the spoon. “And he kept trying, even after I failed to help, as Mom and I decorated my new tree with the decorations Grandma gave me. November 27th, I was watching YouTube, and I remember having a dream, though I don’t remember it anymore, and waking up knowing something wasn’t right.” Barbara hummed. Faith ate what was on her spoon. “At 1 PM, my brother, Tanner, texted me that Dad had fallen at his new job. We don’t know how long he was unconscious before the girl who worked at the office found him and took him to the Burns Lake hospital.”

“Are you from Burns Lake?”

Faith shook her head, filling her spoon again. “No, Vanderhoof. He was an hour and a half away. And it was 2021.”

“Oh, so you couldn’t even see him!”

“Doctor didn’t get there until four.”

“Oh no.”

“He woke up twice.” Faith blew on her spoon. “Once in Brie’s truck, once at the hospital. The nurse was pumping a dead man’s chest.” Faith moved her bottom lip with her teeth, eyes watering. “Tanner texted me just before four o’clock, offering to drive me to our grandparents, where Mom was with auntie Penny, her older sister. Auntie Melanie is the little sister.” Faith ate the soup on her spoon. She held the empty spoon in the air as she continued.

“When we got there, Grandma and Grandpa met us at the door. They had just found out that Dad was gone. Tanner softly said, “No.”, and I softly said, “Fuck, why?” as our grandparents hugged us and walked with us to the living room. I sat on mom’s right, Tanner on her other side. We cried for forty-five minutes.” Faith sighed. Barbara sighed sympathetically and rubbed Faith’s back a little. Faith lowered the spoon to the tray.

“Tanner called Dad’s brother and step-mom, Grandma Edie. She’s having a tough battle with cancer. Tanner’s girlfriend, Melanie, came over, and uncle Dale and uncle Daren, auntie Penny and auntie Melanie’s husbands. My grandpa and uncles drank beer for Dad while we all talked and cried. Auntie Ruth and uncle Russ came over when it was dark out. They live on the same street as my grandparents, and they brought pizza and sparkling water.” Faith repleted her spoon, blew once, and ate.

“I forgot my meds, so my brother drove me back to my apartment with Melanie, and a deer ran across the driveway. When I got back, I told Mom about the deer, and that it was Dad, but she shook her head. I wasn’t going to tell her, but as a pagan, I genuinely was shocked and touched that mother nature had sent a sign.”

Barbara hummed. “I like that you remember that.”

Faith sniffled and smiled a little. It sank into a frown as she continued. “We didn’t sleep well. Mom didn’t sleep at all. That morning, older cousins in town came to visit, and brought flowers and cookies. I learned that my dad not only gave money to family and friends in need, but would take time out of his day to help with mechanical problems, if he was able to. He was very much a good example of a family man, a redneck with a heart. He was from Texas, too.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, a small town called Gilmer that’s I think five hours away from Houston?”

“Oh, OK.”

“And, uh. Oh. I know it was November 27th because SNL was doing a Thanksgiving skit.” Barbara gave a hum of intrigue. “Grandpa changed it to fishing, after a while. We watched for Dad. Most of our family loves hunting, fishing and camping. We used to do it every fall, but it takes time and money to go camping.”

“True, you need lots of supplies. What lakes did you usually go to?”

“Mm, Grizzly Lake a few times, but we stopped ‘cause it’s so cramped, so fast. Frank Lake, I remember, uh… there’s a couple I’m not remembering. I liked to play with my toys and the Internet as a kid, but I was only allowed to take books, paper and writing supplies, and my brother and I used to take our bikes, when we had them. I remember the rocky shore of Frank Lake, it was nice. I love rocks.” Faith said with a funny accent and smiled.

“You love rocks, eh?”

“I love rocks. Gimme a rock that’s got some shine, or a cool colour or pattern, or transparent agate, and I will literally be so happy.”

Barbara giggled. “OK, I’ll remember that.”

“I mean, thanks to my Dragon Persona, I can grant you a wish if you give me a rock, gem, flower, plant seeds and saplings, or art of any kind, but you can also just give ‘em to me for fun.” Faith giggled.

Barbara laughed with her. “All right then! You like to garden?”

“I love plants, but I’ve never grown one on my own.” Barbara hummed. “Um.” Faith sighed. “We didn’t see Dad until two weeks later. Or was it three? No, two. I think.”

“They did a good job on him. Mom picked out a nice green and blue flannel for him.” She held up her hands. “But his hands. They were purple.” Faith laid her hands on her lap. “And I just wanted him to hold a cup of coffee, or even just a beer, again.” Barbara gently held Faith’s left hand. “I remember Mom sitting on the chair, her, Tanner, my grandparents and I about six feet away. Mom said, “I love you”, Tanner said, “Goodbye, Dad.”, and I said, “Thank you.”.”

Faith sighed. “We walked out of the room, and Mom had to sit on the bench and cry. Auntie Melanie came in, and then auntie Penny, auntie Ruth and uncle Russ, and they comforted her. We went out while my aunts and uncles saw my dad. I had to stop after I descended the stairs to cry. But when I looked at my brother, I stopped. I just… he was so close with my dad. He lost the most important man in his life, just like my mom. They were married for twenty-four years.”

“Were you close with your dad?” Barbara gingerly asked.

Faith sighed again. “Maybe? In our hearts, we were. I never spent much time with either of my parents because of my personality disorder, and j-just how difficult it was and how long it took for me to feel at home, like I had a family, after how my foster parents treated me. But I know he loved me,” Faith bowed her head and tears began to fall, her voice becoming murky. “And I know I loved him because I miss him every time I see something he liked, every time I don’t know what to make for dinner and I think of his favourite meals that I’m able to make without a barbeque, and whenever I see or hear or think of something that’s just him, and then I see him in my dreams sometimes, and it’s so surreal to almost see his face, but not quite, and hear him, but it’s not quite right either, and I just want to hug him again.” Faith sobbed.

“On Thanksgiving, C-Canadian Thanksgiving, apparently I ignored him? I didn’t even say hello or hug him! He thought he had done something wrong, and I told Mom ‘no’, and Dad dropped something off a few days later, and I hugged him, and told him I loved him, and he said it back. And before then, I missed my mom’s message about there being a barbeque on the weekend near my birthday, so I could have had his food one more time.” Faith cried, wiping her tears with the back of her hands.

“I’m sorry, Faith.” Barbara whispered, rubbing her back.

“My mom was the type of mourner who got rid of most of his stuff, and she regrets that. And she had a hard time finding love, again. Roger treats her OK, but she’s had times where I’ve had to offer my ten cents, and she’s always in awe, and the reason I know what words to say is because I read! And I like video games, and other media. I read people’s comments and watch videos of people talking about stories and characters, and how realistic and compelling they are or are not. Dad was so loved, and when we had his memorial, on his birthday that year, I think? Family, friends, and even strangers came by, and I remember hugging and crying to my mom as I looked at the pictures on the table, ‘cause there was this one of me and Tanner on the beach when we were driving down to Texas in Easter of 2008 or ‘9, and I told her I just wanted to travel and come back with stories, and now Dad would never hear them.” Faith sobbed.

“Thalassic Space exists because I lost him. Sorcery on Grace, planet Grace, was its own thing, I was just gonna do a slightly unique fantasy story, and then I made a whole galaxy so I could have Santa, and if you lost your dad and were close with him, or you just miss him like I do, then he sounds like him. Otherwise, he sounds like a German man, ha ha ha!” Barbara chuckled. “My parents saved me from my foster home. I was trying to take my time with adjusting to adult life after finally getting therapy and going to a group home in Terrace in May and June of 2019 for mental health work, which I only took advantage of during the second and last month I was there because, well, free Internet and food,” Barbara snickered. “But it worked, and I even saw a stop the violence councillor, and talked with her about my feelings and memories about my life as a foster kid, and she helped me realise I needed to talk with my mom about it. So, I did, when I came home, and I have the full picture now. The group home forgot to book my seat, but a kind Christian lady paid for me,”

“Aw.”

“And when the bus pulled up to St. John’s Hospital, and I saw Mom standing at the curb, I gasped, and I got off and hugged her and cried.” Faith sniffled, eyes still watering. “And I chatted with her as we drove to the homestead that my parents, auntie Melanie and uncle Daren bought in 2019, it’s almost seven acres out on Highway 27.”

“Ooh, nice.”

“Yeah, they’ve really made it homely. My parents had a small house built, and my aunt and uncle had a trailer home moved in. Mom started crying and reached over to touch my hair because she missed me talking.” Faith laughed through her tears. “Of the Mr. Men, I have always been Miss Chatterbox.”

“Aw.” Barbara giggled.

“I moved out the next month, in July, and then COVID got serious. It was an interesting first winter, as an adult. I-I hadn’t moved out before because of my anxiety and depression, and my one boyfriend I had, Todd, he was still in town. He’s not anymore.”

“Oh, good.”

“He was a real psycho. Tried to kill his parents and younger brother with poisonous berries from the woods outside their house.”

“Oh!”

“He hid them in his room until his mom found them, and he would’ve gone to juvey had he not cried ‘child abuse’. I think that’s why he was put in the safe home. Either that, or I only remember that because that’s how Todd put it. He said it was ‘cause his parents wouldn’t buy him the Lord of the Rings books.”

“And you were willingly friends with him?”

“Well, both of us were desperate for friends, and in our own ways, social outcasts. It was all fine, or as fine as a friendship with someone like Todd could be. On Halloween, we needed volunteer hours, and handed out candy at the Pumpkin Walk our town has almost every year. The only reason we had a Halloween without one was COVID.”

“Mhm.”

“So, we held hands in the car as our teacher drove me home first, which, if they didn’t want him to know where I lived, he should’ve been dropped off first, but I dunno. The teacher insisted I go home first.” Faith sighed. “He came over like, a week later, on a Saturday.”

“You had him at your house?” Barbara and a young man outside the door said.

“Oops.” Said the young man.

Faith gasped and smiled. “Is that you, Dick Grayson?”

“Yeah.” Dick opened the door, exposing himself.

Faith noticed a figure at the side of the door. ‘That’s definitely Bruce.’

“Sorry for eavesdropping.”

“Eh, it’s kind of a Batkid thing, ain’t it?”

“Yeeeeah.” Dick and Barbara laughed.

“You can sit on the floor if you want. Storytime is gonna take like, fifteen more minutes, if y’all wanna hear everything I remember. Maybe ten, if I continue to try to time-crunch.”

Dick and Barbara laughed more. “Sure.” Dick sat on the floor near the bed.

“Anyway, yeah, I had him over for dinner, and we played video games with my brother. Our house had two sections, a mancave above the garage connected to the other part of the house via a breezeway to the basement and a bridge to the kitchen.”

“Ooh, that’s unique.” Barbara said.

“Yeah, it was a nice house. Surrounded by a fence of tall fir trees. Or were they spruce? We lived there for two years. Then we bought the homestead. Um, over dinner, Todd did mention that he got in trouble as a kid, but didn’t elaborate, so my parents were suspicious. Mom had already been told that I should be careful around him by a teacher, who couldn’t say more,”

“Because it was confidential,” Dick said with Faith. “Right.”

“Mom asked me if he told me anything. I’m not a good liar, and I always get in trouble when I try, so she knew that I knew something, when I told her I didn’t. He was supposed to come over the following Friday, but six o’clock came and went, and I kept trying to call the safe home. He finally picked up at 6:15 saying something had come up.” Faith patted the bed. “He had a black eye on Monday.”

“He punched himself.” Said Dick.

“He first told me that the Bible-thumping ex-friend he told me about at the library, which we frequented, gave him a ‘hello’ present. That day, I went outside with him, and watched him go into an insurance building as I went to the store I now work at for candy.”

“He was paying off a felony, wasn’t he?” Dick said.

“Bet you he was.” Said Barbara.

“When I told my mom this story, she basically said it was bullshit and to ask him what really happened. The next day, he said that a staff lady had punched him, and then he went to the police.”

“Still doesn’t explain the felony.” Said Dick.

“Dick, she’s trying to say all of this as quick as possible.” Barbara said.

“Sorry. Sorry, Faith.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Faith said, exhaling. “Gives me time to breathe.” Barbara giggled. “Mom didn’t believe that either, of course. OK, I usually don’t say this when I’m telling this story, but I’m missing a day in my memory.”

“You are?” Said Dick.

“I know the last time we went to the library was Thursday, and we hugged goodbye on Friday. So, either Mom found out about Todd’s black eye on Tuesday, not Monday, or I forgot what happened on Wednesday because nothing happened.”

“Hm, OK. Just something to note?”

“Yeah, just a little gap in my usually really good memory.”

Bruce poked his head through the doorway. “Sorry.”

“Hi, no, you’re fine.”

“That���s not important to why Ra’s brought you here, is it?”

“No, it’s just my brain not remembering.”

“OK.” Bruce occupied the doorway.

“Anyway, Thursday,” Bruce came into the room, sitting beside Dick. “Wow, what a nice little story time circle we have going on, here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Barbara said. She, Dick and Faith laughed. Bruce’s body moved.

“We knew we were going to be broken up, and we sat on the couch at the kids’ section. We didn’t kiss, thank God,”

“No kidding, yeesh!” Barbara said.

“But we did kiss each other’s hair, which was just as awkward and dread-filled as the entire forty-five minutes we sat there. In hindsight, I feel a different kind of dread than I did.”

“Oh yeah.” Said Dick.

“Todd sounds like he was scary.” Bruce said.

“Yeah, and now I can’t read or hear that name without panicking a little, and I don’t like men with particularly triangular faces. Extra red flags if he has blue eyes and curly dark blonde hair. He was cute, but now I realise he looked like an abusive pretty blond who thinks Andrew Tate is all the shit, and I just get the ick.”

Barbara hummed. “Yeah.”

“So, that day, while we were at Valhalla, I think in the morning, he told me the truth. Because none of the staff would drive him to my house, because he’s dangerous, he went outside, where there were cameras, gave himself the black eye, and went to the police, saying that a staff lady did it,”

“Hence the felony.” All four said.

“Yep.” Faith said.

“Knew it.” Said Dick.

“I remember looking at him as we were in the little computer room, asking him why. And he said he just wanted to see me. And my mom knew that was true, he did actually like me, and I felt the same. He just was not a safe person.”

“You can say that again, yeesh.” Said Barbara.

“We weren’t allowed to go outside together on Friday, and before we hugged goodbye, he gave me his favourite necklace: a silver Triforce on a black string.”

Barbara asked, “Do you still have it?”

“No. Some time earlier in that semester, Todd had given me a bunch of his stuff. A couple of D&D books by a famous author, and some banned, older Yu-Gi-Oh! and MTG cards. It was pretty cool stuff. He’d also given me a green bandana that smelled like him to me, but it just smelled like his wool jacket, and rain. When I got home on Friday, my parents had, of course, been asking around, trying to find out what Todd did. His uncle drove a truck for the logging company my dad was the shop foreman of, and that’s how Dad found out.”

“Ahhh.” Said Dick.

“My memory of the lecture is kinda hazy, but I think that’s just because I was so dazed that I had been manipulated so easily by my first close friend since Lisa, and before her, Fenna, both a year, or maybe it was two, after the other. Lisa was a Jehovah’s Witness who was using anime and yaoi to rebel, and Fenna was a wolf girl. Both of them loved writing and reading, like me, and were social outcasts who couldn’t even hang with the punk kids. Lisa stopped rebelling near the end of my tenth-grade year, and I know that because I broke my knee after she dropped out, but that was because she was being bullied. She didn’t tell me, her friend, that she was being bullied. Not my friend.”

“Not your friend, all right.” Barbara said, nodding.

“Fenna and I had an argument. Don’t remember what about, but I said something, as I tended to do, and it hurt her, but I didn’t understand why because I was probably being brutally honest. I haven’t talked to Lisa in years, though she did dye my hair brown the summer I moved out of the homestead. Fenna, I see now and then, and they’re now non-binary and pansexual, so it’s cool to have that in common.”

“Nice.”

“And we get along better. She doesn’t remember what the argument was about, either.”

“Oh, good.”

“Anyway, I remember doing the dishes that night, it was usually my chore, and I’m always mumbling or singing to myself ‘cause my brain is busy and there’s imaginary people in my head, always stirring up some kind of scenario. I don’t think I was, that night. I must have been so quiet that my parents noticed, ‘cause they came in to hug me and tell me they were sorry. Mom kissed me for the first time. The next time was a few weeks after we lost Dad, and we were sitting in her truck after doing something in town together.”

“When I came back from the group home, we finally connected, but I really got to see how emotional and special my mom is, when Dad died. Uh, Mom helped me write a letter to Todd, and she brought his stuff to Valhalla and brought back the rest of my schoolwork for the semester. I kept his bandana, but couldn’t for the night, the day she returned the stuff. I came out of my room crying, and told my mom to hide it, ‘cause I couldn’t have it. And she said, ‘Oh-Kay!’, in a very baffled way, and put it in the master bedroom. I think I remember finding it, later. I just left it there. I think I remember giving it a stank face.”

“Like the one you’re making right now?”

“Yeah.” Faith laughed. “I was so depressed when school started again that I had no energy or desire to do my schoolwork. I handed in the last of it, and a few pages related to poetry weren’t done because I hated it, which is funny because I’m a writer and I write songs, and that was just enough to pass. I was one of the kids whose yearbook picture was taken in the media arts room, instead of the auditorium. I had a blackheads issue on my nose, and I’ve always been a skin picker, and to that extent, a scab picker.”

“Todd’s yearbook quote was about him being excited to travel to Japan and Korea with me. I don’t remember my quote, exactly, but it was about me wanting to publish and something else I wanted to do at the time. And my name isn’t on the back of the book, because they didn’t think I would graduate. Didn’t do prom or grad. I probably would’ve hated both.”

“The one school dance I went to in early tenth grade, I danced alone for most of the time. It was exhausting, boring, and depressing.” Barbara clicked her tongue. “I wanted to see what they were like, is all. I danced with a sort-of friend, a girl who was nice to me, probably because she had seen the little bit of light that my disorder shadowed. But she remembered the shadow again because I probably reminded her of it, so our friendship ended.” Barbara and Dick hummed.

“And grad just sounds boring. I would’ve been looking at the audience, observing people’s hair, clothes, faces and accessories, trying to learn something, and been brought out of la-la land by my name being read aloud.”

“Ah, so you literally zone-out while studying people.” Said Dick.

“Yeah! It’s part of my disorder.”

“What were you trying to learn?” Barbara said.

“How friendship worked.”

“Oh.”

“My books, toys, digital media, the Internet, that was all I had. Because I wasn’t nice to my brother, I didn’t learn from him, and our personalities and interests clashed. He wanted to play racing games on the Wii, and I wanted to play LEGO games because they were telling a story without using words, and I could look up the story online and even ask Mom and Dad if we could watch the movie. Tanner had LEGOs, by the way. It and the video games were supposed to help with his hand-eye coordination and his nystagmus.” Barbara hummed.

“Anyway, if I had done grad, Mom probably would have told me she thought I was going to miss my call, and I would have told her ‘No, I wouldn’t have’, and she would have said, ‘Yes, you would have, Faith’, probably condescendingly. Did I use the right tone, when I said that?”

“Yeah, that sounded right.” Said Dick.

“OK good, I get vocal tones wrong sometimes, when I’m not using my customer service voice. Even that breaks, sometimes. Yeesh. Dad would have been smiling, just glad that I got through it, and Tanner would’ve been awkwardly glad, too. Like I said, I was really mean to him. Then my mom literally slapped me, pulled my hair and called me a cow, some time in tenth grade.”

“Ow.” Said Barbara.”

“Or was it would-have-been-eleventh? Did I tell you I tried homeschooling?”

“Yes, in the group chat.”

“OK, good. Did I tell you that being on QuoteV while I tried homeschooling is how I assumed the title of pansexual?”

“No, you did not.” Said Dick.

“Uh, painful story short. I told you I’m an Internet addict, right?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, Homestuck was popping off in 2015. That’s how, but I was also discovering how awesome American horror movies, Creepypasta and SCP are, and I made a friend.”

“Yay, Faith!” Barbara cheered.

Faith and Barbara giggled. Faith said, “I lost touch with my Homestuck friends, and I even remembering hurting and apologising to one of them that I was pretty close with. But this genderfluid friend, who is now Michael, they weren’t particularly cute or handsome. Buckteeth, big eyes, ovular face. But I trusted them, and we had a lot of good times together.”

“So much that we tried being a couple. For one day. No, five minutes. See, part of my disorder is that I say things out of the blue. I’m an impulsive speaker, and when I was younger, even up to the end of high school, I was an impulsive actor. My mom had a friend over when I came out, and it didn’t go well.”

“Well, of course it wouldn’t, what did you expect, hon?” Said Barbara.

“I was just so excited to give my mom a new word to explain why I was so weird! And she had already suggested I might be autistic, but that made me cry ‘cause 2012-2017 was even less of a friendly time for neurodivergent kids. Not that I had any friends to worry about, I just felt like it made me even more of an ugly duckling.”

“But that means you’re a swan.” Bruce said.

“Oh yeah. Thanks. I’m too used to being mean to myself.”

“Time for that to change, Faith.” Faith lifted her cheeks to smile. Bruce mirrored the motion.

Dick said, “So, how did you react, when you got diagnosed with your disorder?”

“Everything made sense! I felt better! For the record, now that I’m more familiar with how autistic people actually live, how most of them are just friendly people who literally see and interact with the world differently, I-I just feel less stressed, and I think they’re cool! It’s always neat to learn from the person themselves, or whoever is assigned to help them, what their experience is like.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Barbara said, “Would you feel those good thoughts towards yourself, if you were to be diagnosed, today?”

“Yeah. It’d make sense. I think there’s a bit of overlap. I’m probably Level 1, or borderline, and both would be good.”

“Good.”

“Uhhhh, where the heck was I…? Oh! Michael. He commented on one of my K-pop album unboxing videos that I made in 2019, and it was nice to hear he was doing all right. But I turned off the comments of the videos because I was trying to obey my mom’s insistence that I was not gay.”

“For four years, I was vaguely transphobic. Trying to convince myself that my mom was right, but something just felt off, when I tried to look at them meanly. It’s because I loved them. I love queer people, and while I don’t know any neo-pronouns or xeno-genders, if a person with them were to be comfortable around me to share, I would use the heck out of them. Because it’s right, and it’s who they are.”

“Damn right, girl!” Barbara said.

“Damn right!” Faith repeated. She, Barbara and Dick laughed. “All of that, just to please my mom. Just to make her shut up and like me.” Faith was quiet for a few seconds.

“My dream world mom is like that. We argue. I try to kill her, lots of the time, and she tries to kill me back. It’s just like our arguments we had when I was a kid and teen, but without the violence. The same reddened face, the same raised voice, and my tears and stammering. She’s still transphobic.” Faith’s phone vibrated and jingled.

'I believe Chandra just gave Faith an update from the future about that issue.' Bruce thought.

“But I finally stopped giving a shit, when I moved out and reconnected with the community after I turned off the comments. I wish I hadn’t, so I could read the little conversation I had with Michael. But I’ve got my Homestuck friends now, even though I don’t interact with them often ‘cause I’m either at work, doing house work or other things. I’ve always played by myself, and playing with other people is a challenge. I have times where I have to keep my mouth shut so I’m not narcissistic, but sometimes I fail to do that, and I want to apologize, but instead I try to focus, but by then, the topic or joke has changed. All of this because my foster parents didn’t give a damn.”

“That’s rough, Faith.” Said Dick.

“Yeah, that sucks.” Barbara said.

“Thanks. Geez, that’s not even talking about my physical struggles! Basically!” Faith clapped once. Barbara giggled, and Dick snickered. A breath came from Bruce. “Being a dwarf sucks! It’s hard!”

“Short arms! Almost long enough to reach what I need to, but nope! Scoliosis! Mine ain’t debilitating, and it doesn’t affect my posture that much, but I can’t sit or stand for too long, and I can’t sleep on my back, even with smaller boobs! Except for when they were healing after my surgery, but my back did hurt in the morning. I toss and turn about eight times, sometimes less, or much less if I’m exhausted and in pain already, and I sleep on my stomach with my arms tucked under my chest like a penguin.” Faith put her arms straight down over her boobs and giggled. Barbara and Dick laughed. “And no, this doesn’t make them numb! The left one can be, if I sleep with it under a pillow, though.”

“Huh.” Said Barbara.

“Interesting.” Dick said.

“Oh God, my feet. Did I tell you about them, in the group chat?”

“Yep.”

“You did.” Said Barbara.

“Oh, good. ‘Cause they suck, too. Last but not least, my knees. Did I tell you the story?”

“Yes.” Said Barbara, Dick and Bruce.

“And the story of your foster care life, and adoption.” Said Dick.

“Oh wow, I actually told you that, before now? Nice.” Barbara giggled. Faith sighed. “OK! I think that’s all the details you need to know that I didn’t tell y’all, yesterday.”

“Thank you, Faith.” Said Bruce.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dick said. “That was really helpful.”

“And interesting!” Barbara said. “You’ve had such a detailed life, in twenty-four years!”

“I’m going to eat my soup, now.” Faith picked up the spoon and ate.

“Is it cold, now?”

"It's warm, but it’s fine. I’ll puke it up later, and that’ll be fine too. I’ll just keep stuffing my face with soup until my stomach stops being angry, and then the moon will be like IT’S TIME.” Barbara laughed loudly.

“Yep, all right.” Dick said, standing up. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Three hours, give or take.”

“Well, that’s all right, I guess.”

“I’ll get more.”

“Yep.” He said to Barbara, “I’ll be downstairs.”

“OK, babe.”

Dick said to Faith, “See you when you’re not sick, Faith.”

“OK, bye! Thanks for visiting.”

“Bye.” Dick exited the room.

“Got everything you need, hon?” Barbara said.

“I think so. Oh, no. Actually, yeah.”

“Hm?”

“My tea can stay cold for now.”

“Oh, your tea!” Barbara dismounted the bed, stepped around and grabbed the cup. “Sure, I can heat that up for you. I’ll even throw it in a little thermos, so it’ll stay warm.”

“Oh, that’d be great, thank you.”

“Mhm! Back in a sec.” Barbara left the bedroom.

“Do you tell your story often?” Bruce asked.

Faith nodded. “I make friends easily, now. I just don’t talk to them often, er, well, my Homestuck friends, because, like I said,”

“I make myself busy.” “You make yourself busy.”

Bruce said, “That’s OK. It’s good that you don’t have issues making friends, now. Maybe we can help you with your time management, too.”

“Oh, that’d be nice. A real challenge, but I’d like to try that, too.”

“It’s hard to break a habit you’ve had all your life.”

“Yeah. It’s possible, though.”

“Oh yes.” Bruce inhaled and got to his feet. “I’ll be off, too. I was just checking on you when I heard you talking with Barbara, and then Dick was standing there, so I joined him.” Faith giggled. “Oh, and don’t worry about that.”

Faith furrowed her eyebrows. One second later, she inhaled. ‘OH, the skin-grazing thing I was panicking about.’ “Oh, oh good. Thanks.” She chuckled. She furrowed her brow again. ‘Wait, I said that before Barbara came in.’ “There’s a spyhole to this room, isn’t there?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your parents’ bedroom is to the left of this one. You never go in there. Ooh, no! It’s a spying room.”

Bruce said nothing for two seconds. “The Internet has my house plans.”

“Someone on DeviantArt made them.”

“Well, they’ve got a creative mind.”

“Apparently, it took them a lot of time and research to make it work.”

“I bet it did.” Bruce approached the bed, took the crown of Faith’s head into his hand, and kissed her head. “Have a good rest of your sleep, Faith.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Faith said. Bruce exited the room, leaving the door cracked open. Dick knew the small head movement Bruce made to pull him aside. Barbara tailed along, out of curiosity.

"There's a story she hasn't told us yet." Bruce said, quietly.

"You think so too?" Said Dick.

"I dunno, I think she got it all out." Barbara said.

Bruce shook his head. "There's a memory she's ashamed of. One that she feels will offend us too greatly."

"Gee, what could that be?" Dick said.

Barbara said. "I guess all there is to do is wait for her to share with us."

"We could also try to coax it out of her." Said Bruce.

"No." Said Dick.

"No!" Barbara said, hushed.

"Bruce, she could probably use Platonia to leave us whenever she wants to. Then it'd be her, without any help or training, against Ra's, and she'd be doomed."

"Exactly." Said Barbara.

Bruce said, "She wouldn't leave out of fear of our reaction. I think it's a story she's been wanting to tell someone who will understand why it wasn't her fault. That it was just another mistake she made as a child, that, I'm guessing, she was disciplined for immediately. This is a story she has likely only told to her closest friends, who she doesn't talk to because of lifestyle and socialisation habits." Dick and Barbara hummed, each nodding.

"She needs a new close friend to share this with." Barbara said.

"Yes."

"She doesn't share it because she was dicisplined without an explanation."

"People with Reactive Attachment Disorder know right from wrong, just like any other child. What matters is how, and how frequently, their guardian corrects their behaviour. Faith was likely disciplined many, many times by her adoptive parents, but it didn't make any difference because they never explained in extensive detail why her actions were wrong, or perhaps did once, but never did again. She'll share her story. And she'll need a hug instead of a scolding."

"Right." Said Dick.

"She's been so willing to share her life story because she was left behind by the people who were supposed to never do so. When I reached over to grab that light blanket for her, my arm brushed her leg, and she made a small lewd gasp, and blushed, and apologised, though I let her know it was fine. I think the story she's afraid to tell us is related to why her hormones are so bottled up, and maybe why she found asexuality to make sense for her identity. It might not be sexual assault, it might just be Internet exposure."

"Mhm." Barbara nodded.

"We should try not to judge if she intitated the act with her Internet addiction and lack of meaningful parental guidance in mind, and tell her that what happened is in the past."

"Absolutely." Said Dick.

"She is obviously very affected by the memory. We have to try to help her move on, as well as conquer her fears. Then we can properly train her body."

"Yeah." Dick nodded.

Barbara bobbed her head, too. "OK."

"I'll be in the cave. Thank you for coming to visit her, Dick, Barbara."

"Our pleasure." Said Dick. Faith finished her soup, put the tray on the nightstand, and laid on the right side of her ribs. Her eyes felt heavy, and her throat was sore from talking. Barbara knocked on the door, making Faith jolt.

“Oops! Sorry, hon!”

“No, you’re fine. Come in.” Faith said. Barbara entered with a small two-tone grey thermos cup.

“Here you are.” Barbara said, switching the places of the cup and the tray.

“Oh, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. You going straight to sleep?”

“I think so.” Faith yawned, then nodded, Barbara giggling.

“You’re welcome to text me or Dick anytime you need to get something out, or have a question you don’t wanna ask Bruce for some reason, or anything else, OK? You can even call us, if we’re available. I think you, as a person from Earth-33, know as well as we do, that he’s not exactly the best at extending his emotions.” Faith sleepily bobbed her head in agreement against the pillow. “OK. And we are taking you of the house when you’re done being sick!”

“Yay! Yes, I remember from the group chat.”

“Good. All right, my girl. Have a good rest and get well real soon.” Barbara smiled. Faith mimicked her. Barbara left the bedroom with the tray and closed the door. Faith relaxed her body and fell asleep right away.

Click emoji to navigate to next chapter. ⏭️

[introjectuserboxes]

Hello, may we request "This Carnage introject is nothing like source, and feels disgusted looking at their source actions"

Just for 100% clarification: Carnage from the Spider-Man comics

Also can the text be in sans serif? Thanks!

Request: carnage Introject who hates source actions

Dividers by cafekitsune

[pariahsden]

welcome to my hazbin quarantine zone, where i screech and rattle the bars of my enclosure whenever i see a silly deer man or elegant cannibal lady. you can expect to see qpr radiorose here because i'm feral for their silly little relationship 🖤

fair warning, this sideblog contains adult content and some possibly disturbing themes, including but not limited to: suggestive/nsfw text and art, gore, blood and violence, body horror, demonic/dark imagery.

i do not tag for these. enter at your own risk.

twitter (18+): pariahsden

my edits (do not repost without some link back to my originals)

main blog

pfp source: thatsaltybobcat

banner source: BeastRedAsh

📌'd dividers source: cafekitsune

[veneralice]

art credit to @0309Miaa on X ! all credit to the artist!

divider by @cafekitsune ! all credit to the original creator of the divider!

afternoon delights / rafayel

after a long day of wanderer-hunting, all you want to do is unwind and relax for a bit. luckily enough, your boyfriend rafayel, king of sloth, knows just how to achieve that. (2.5k words)

content warnings: some suggestive jokes, some very little making out, in general just some tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship with raf :)

“My daaaarling.” The sing-songy voice of one particular fish-boyfriend rings throughout the apartment. He manages to overpower even the sound of the show you’ve put on, the TV losing its battle to one noisy Rafayel almost immediately. You bow forwards, almost falling face-first into the coffee table, but you manage to regain your balance and grasp the remote as you intended to. The show clicks off in the same moment as your beautiful boyfriend pokes his head into the living room. “My beloved bodyguard, I’ve been texting you all day! Why haven’t you answered?”

You made a non-committal gesture to the scene around you. There were blankets everywhere, hastily pulled out off the cabinet they were usually stored in, and the coffee table was littered with the traces of snacks and drinks. This is your first weekend off in a really long time, and your revenge procrastination had hit you like a train. You’d spent the day doing absolutely nothing, detaching from the world like a monk in meditation. “Been busy,” comes your non-descriptive answer. “So you’ve decided to break in my home just because I didn’t answer my phone?”

Rafayel dramatically throws his hands up, his features twitched into an expression of mock-distress. It makes you smile, the kind of smile only he can coax out of you. “Well, you could have died. I don’t know that. I can’t read minds, you know.”

“Sure, Raf. I missed you, too.”

That was the right answer. Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, moving through the chaos of your living room to plop down beside you on your trusty couch. It was the nicest piece of furniture you owned, a real treasure you had managed to scavenge on a vintage hunt with Rafayel. As Rafayel is a painter who always looked for a new source of inspiration, you’ve undertaken lots of adventures together, with most of them unearthing some of the best secret spots the world had to offer. It’s not the couch that entices Rafayel, though. He drops himself into your lap and curls into your there, his pretty mouth dropping open into a yawn. For someone who claimed to hate cats, he sure loved to act like one. “Well, fear not,” he proclaims, a silly smile of his own stretching out on his lips as he makes himself comfortable. “Your savior is here. I, Rafayel, have come to rescue you from the tangles of boredom.”

You swipe your hands over the curls of Rafayel’s seablue-hair, the softness of it always reminding you over the expensive silk he likes to wear so much. He leans into it, chasing your touch as always. “How grateful I am,” you quip, playing into the joke. You let him wrap his arms around your middle, jumping only a little when he buries his face in your tummy. He tends to do that a lot. “And how exactly do you mean to do that? By joining me in my boredom? I’m on season three of Yellowjackets, if that’s of any interest to you.”

“No cannibalism today, beloved.” The rumbling of the spoken words makes you laugh involuntarily, turning away from his tickling mouth. “Not if you intend to eat to me, which I definitely wouldn’t argue against. I’d make a mean sushi boat.”

“Christ.” Your tone is mildly alarmed. “Let’s maybe not talk about turning my beautiful boyfriend into food.”

“Noooo? Why not?” Rafayel angles his face upwards, jutting his lower lip out in faux offense. As if your answer had been an insult. He’s always quick to ignore a compliment if it means getting his way. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be tasty?”

You put your hand to his forehead and shake him, as if that can loosen the stupidity from his brain and make it tumble outside his elf-like ears. He makes an indignant noise, leaning away to escape you, then drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Typical.

After some light-hearted banter and a series of kisses that stops Rafayel’s wailing of the oh, so agonizing pain the fall had inflicted on him, you’ve managed to tuck Rafayel into a matching pyjama you’d bought for him. It was one of those couple things you’d never have thought you’d indulge in. But ever since you saw how the simple act of having matching toothbrushes had managed to paint the most beautiful happy smile onto his face, you’ve quickly been mixed up in his soppiness.

Listen. It’s not like you can look into those cotton-candy eyes and not immediately have the urge to fulfill every wish Rafayel could ever think of. He’s deadly, I’m telling you.

Which is how you end up barefoot in the kitchen, Rafayel’s lanky frame draped over your own as you prepare some mocha for you both to enjoy. Since Rafayel has a sweet tooth, and you’re obsessed with caffeine, turkish coffee was a sort of common ground for you both. It’s almost become tradition to put on the kettle to prepare it whenever Rafayel comes over, since you tend to stay in his ginormous house. Rafayel nuzzles his face into your throat, sighing into the vulnerable flesh there. “Did you take a bath without me?” he questions, his accusatory tone making you shake with laughter.

“Course not, fishie. Do you think me a traitor?”

“Hmm. Sometimes you are.” He flicks a stray curl of hair from your face aside, then changes his mind and instead gently tucks it behind your ear. Although unwillingly, Rafayel then unwraps himself from you, choosing to lean against the counter so he can look in your face while you prepare the coffee. He once told you that staring at you was his second favorite pastime of the day.

When you had asked him what his favorite pastime was, he’d looked at you as if you had just admitted to being an idiot. Kissing you, of course, he had said.

There was a certain rhythm to your free days, to the point where it feels distressing not to go through the motions with Rafayel. There was a quiet kind of joy of being at the point of a relationship with him where even the simple moments are the most treasured part of your day. Bath time was one of those things. Of course, it was impossible to share all your baths with Rafayel, since the merman in your kitchen seemed to never leave his bathroom. But bath time on your free days were holy. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” you scoff at him, your deft fingers transferring the prepared mocha into two sets of delicate tea cups. “I really should just go back and drain the bath I already prepared, since you looooove to doubt me.”

“No!” Rafayel straightens up immediately. It was like telling him he wasn’t allowed to paint. The man was impossible. “I take it all back, my love, my kind-hearted darling. Of course I never doubted you.”

“No takebacksies. You suck.”

“You usually like it when I do that.”

You deadpan at him, straining not to laugh at the joke. He does not deserve it. “Hello.”

Rafayel only grins, placing the two cups of coffee on a tray so that he may carry them back to the living room. Thankfully, the coffee table had already been cleaned up by you during the time he had changed into the pyjamas. Your boyfriend leans forward, carefully angling the tray so nothing spills, then drops a soft but earnest kiss on your lips. “Hi,” he dumbly says back, and this time you laugh.

Thankfully, the aforementioned bath hasn’t turned tepid in the time you had spent goofing around on the couch and stealing kisses from each other like two stupid teenagers in love. Even though you’d been in a committed relationship for quite a while now, Rafayel and you were still making up for lost time, for every year Rafayel had to carve out on his own while waiting for you. In the beginning, it had almost been like a job interview, the way you had devoured information about the other, the endless questioning. And at the same time, you two weren’t the same people anymore as when you fell in love many civilizations ago. Not only because of the fact that you’d been separated, but also what the other had to experience. You knew this love was old as time, and yet it was also so exciting to fall in love anew, to rediscover what has been foretold.

Your fingers gently disentangle the few knots you can find in Rafayel’s curls, tugging at the strands in an effort to tease him. It’s a fruitless endeavor, since he’s so deeply relaxed he takes no notice. Rafayel is deeply entranced in the warmth of both your body and the water sloshing around in your meager tub. He’s so tall that he almost doesn’t fit in it as he lays in your arms, and his feet are arranged on the edge of the tub, crossed like a beach-goer splayed out in the sun. His head is pillowed against your collarbone, the soft puffs of breath indicating that he’s nearing sleep.

Only Rafayel could fall asleep in an uncomfortable bath tub like this.

“Raf,” you coo at him, squishing his soft cheek. He murmurs, but otherwise doesn’t react. Being the little spoon often does that to him. He likes a good nap everywhere, but especially when you hug him like this. It’s the safety of the embrace, the certainty that you’ll hold on to him and never let go. As someone who’s had to hold himself up for a very long time, you are eager at the chance of lessening him from that burden. “Raaaaaf. Rafayel.”

“Hmmmmm.” Rafayel only groans, turning his face to hide it. The water slops over, and you hear the confirming splash of it hitting the ground, but you don’t mind. A little mess is okay, if it means you get to enjoy these languorous hours with your boyfriend. As you snicker at the sight of him hiding himself away, he entangles his long limbs with your own, folding around you like a strait jacket. He likes to be as close as inhumanely possible, like the two of you could meld together to be one person. “Sleepy. Stop.”

You blow into his ear, and Rafayel only shudders. His arms tighten around your neck. Although Rafayel looks like a lanky kind of guy, you know there’s a sleeper build hiding beneath those muscles that could choke you out in a few seconds. Not that you’d mind that, but maybe more so in the bedroom than in a bath tub where you could drown. “Evil,” he mumbles into your skin, his warm lips causing goosebumps to flower on it. “Gonna bite you.”

“What if I bite back?”

“Got sharper teeth.”

“Point taken.” You lean back again, sinking further into the comfort of the water. Rafayel’s breath evens out. He loosens his hold on you so he can turn over and lay next to you, angling his head so that you’re face to face. He looks sleepy, but not annoyed. “You look very pretty,” you tell him then. You are rewarded with the lightest of blushes dusting across his moonlight-kissed cheeks.

Despite that shy reaction, he only answers, “Of course I am.”

You roll your eyes at him, but grin. You lean forward to pepper his pretty face with kisses, littering them everywhere your lips can reach. Rafayel’s hands engulf your waist, guiding you closer to him until you are chest to chest, and you both quieten to listen to the sound of your heartbeats syncing up. “My favorite song,” Rafayel whispers into the silence, leaning his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the lullaby.

After you’ve both toweled off, and you’ve allowed Rafayel to comb through your hair (he likes the domesticity of the act), you finally crawl under the covers with him. The moon has already reached its peak in the sky, the fullness of it making the room seem like all the lights are still turned on. Rafayel stretches out in the bed, his pyjama shirt riding up to reveal a delicious peek at his soft tummy. You place your hand on it, curving around to cup his waist, then lower your head to pillow it on his chest. Rafayel’s own hands find your hair, and he begins to run his fingers through it, separating each strand to comb it anew. “How’s that for entertainment?” he yawns out, settling deeper into the comfort of the mattress.

“It’s lovely. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hmmmmmm. Stop flattering me.” But his tone sounds self-satisfied, as if he’s proud of himself. His hands wander, massaging your tense shoulders, swiping up and down your back to illicit some warmth. “You should get under the blankets. Don’t want you to get sick. S’cold.”

You only hum in response, but do as you’re told. The bed dips beneath you as you sit up again, grabbing the soft blanket at the foot of the bed. Rafayel scoots up, pulling you backwards with him until the back of your head hits the pillows. When you’re both covered, Rafayel’s arms wind around your body and squeeze you against him like his very own teddybear. “Waited all day for this,” he sighs out, perfectly content.

“Had an exhausting day?”

“Well, we can’t all take the day off. Some of us have some pretty important contracts and commissions that we have to oblige to.”

“Raf, you’re literally horrible with deadlines. You laze around all the time.”

“Shut up, mortal.” Rafayel pokes you into the ribs, and you hiss in response. “Kiss me instead.”

“You didn’t even ask nicely!” Your answer is a complaint, and yet you immediately angle your face up to meet him in the dark. It always feels like the first time, that electric spark that jumpstarts your heart anew. You melt into the kiss, hands reaching to cup his face as he kisses you. His lips are slow and warm against yours, gently prying away all resistance until you meet in the middle, that heart-stopping tangle of tongues that makes you feel like you’re gonna explode. When he leans away, you’re glad to know it’s too dark for him to see your blushing cheeks. There’s no reason for shame, though. Rafayel’s fingers carefully caress the sides of your face, and he leans forward to peck your forehead, then your nose. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, slumping against you. “This is the favorite part of my day.”

“The kissing part? Or the being in bed part?”

“You have to ruin everything, don’t you?”

You can’t help yourself. You giggle quietly, wrapping yourself around Rafayel until you fold up like a package against him. He leans into the hold, cuddling you against him. “Good night, savior from my boredom,” you whisper. “Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

Rafayel’s gentle laughter follows you into your dreams, giving way to the hopes of the future, where you and Rafayel get to do this forever.

[sevenmelodies]

#SEVENMELODIES  .ᐟ  an   independent,   selective   writing   account   for   the   𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓭   𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼   from   mermaid   melody   pichi   pichi   pitch.   based   on   the   ‘02   -   ’05   anime   &   manga,   with   some   canon-divergence.   brought   to   life   by   𝙢𝙚𝙜   (   she/her,   29,   est   ).   mature   and   dark   themes   present.   minors   do   not   interact.   21+   only. 

psd on all icons / gifs by shinjirx. heart dividers by cafekitsune.

blogroll / princess aurora ( main), princess odette, mmpp edits blog

current muse list is as follows / lucia, aged 18, pink mermaid princess of the north pacific, future aqua regina. hanon, aged 18, aquamarine mermaid princess of the south atlantic. rina, aged 18, green mermaid princess of the north atlantic. caren, aged 22, purple mermaid princess of the antarctic, twin to noel. noel, aged 22, indigo mermaid princess of the arctic, twin to caren. coco, aged 24, yellow mermaid princess of the south pacific. sara, aged 26, orange mermaid princess of the indian ocean, predecessor to seira. & seira, aged 18, orange mermaid princess of the indian ocean, successor to sara.

𝟎𝟏. the gifs i use in replies were made by me. i just don't make them for general use. i format with small/medium gifs or static icons and small text. you do not have to match this, it is just my preference! static icon border by jessource.

𝟎𝟐. please don’t reblog memes, musings or visages posts from me. i do not like it clogging up my notifications, thinking i got a reply. it takes one click to go to the source or whoever I reblogged it from. i will softblock if i must.

𝟎𝟑. i have no interest in ooc drama. i am here to write. this is a hobby and i'm not here to partake in anything other then that.

𝟎𝟒. this blog is a multi ship with all mermaids.

𝟎𝟓. this blog will be a low activity, highly selective muse. please keep in mind that i do work overnights, in the est timezone. i may make replies during the day on my days off, but i may not answer private messages until late into the night.

𝟎𝟔. as of right now and until further notice, i only have animated faceclaims. if this bothers you, i can use no icons.

𝟎𝟕. when the muse is strong, i tend to ramble. in no way do you ever need to match my length! however, i rarely do one-liners. i prefer even just short paragraphs.

𝟎𝟖. i personally do not like to portray minors, so all mermaids have been aged up accordingly, the story remaining the same. i will happily write in the timeline of pichi pichi pitch and pure, but the mermaids will be their aged up ages. ie, instead of luchia turning fourteen in episode 13, she turned eighteen.

[neonvvaves]

NOTHING'S GONNA STOP US NOW .°˖✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ✧ . ݁ looking in YOUR EYES i see a paradise. this world that i've found is too good to be true. ( standing here beside you ) want so much to give you. THIS LOVE IN MY HEART that i'm feeling for you ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

#neonvvaves ─ ─────── HEIST / STREET RACING TEAM. inspired  by  the  Fa.st  &  Furii.ous  series,  heist  +  crime  genres,  80's  music,  synth  /  vaporwave  vibes, early 2000's tech,  revenge  horror  and  more  !

RULES (see below) / MUSES / OPENS / MEMES / DYNAMICS + STARTER CALL / WISHLIST : PLOTS ─ SHIP INSPO. ─ IMGS / WANTED OPP. / + muses i'd love more threads with ♡ !

RULES : ─ ─────────

. ݁✧         independent  rp.  selective.  multiverse / ship / muse.  slow  writer.  using  beta  editor.  only  interacting  with  21+  muns and muses.  not  mutuals  only.  please  reblog  from  the  source.  i  don't  interact on  di.sc*rd. . ݁✧         all  characterizations,  headcanons,  original wishlist  plots,  and  more  are  created  by  me.  do  not  steal  my  content  ( or  anyone's  content  for  that  matter ).  this  includes  rules,  formatting,  rp  content,  muse  content,  etc. . ݁✧         prefer winging it. you can reply to any open starter or send memes! i  answer  memes  as  starters  for  a  thread.  i'll  create  a  new  thread  for  open  starter  replies,  so  that  it's  easier  to  track ✌️ i can write in different styles: para, script, text / chatroom messages, columns. with longer threads,  i may take  a  while  to  reply, or write a little less.    . ݁✧         i  write  only  M  muses,  and  romantically  ship  M/M.  platonic dynamics are open to all genders. no  dynamics involving cheating, abuse,  tab*c or anything in this banned list.  . ݁✧         this blog is a safe space, so no  drama  or  hate of any kind.  not  krp. resource credits + resource sideblog + dividers by cafekitsune. triggers will be tagged. here's a list of cws that  may  be  present.  mun  30+,  he/his, gay, east  asian  (KOR).  thanks  for  reading!   ����🌈🏎️✨

° activity update : [ 2025 ] slower  activity, since i'm  a  lot  busier.  thank you for being patient and understanding!