#the anime is also pretty good but the studio got shut down or something

[diamondnokouzai]

hey whats the. source. pretty please for those two guys you just posted with the

ITS FROM ONE OF MY FAAAAAVORITE MANGA <3. its called "gangsta." and its about mafiosos who are fantasy oppressed. and also the dark-haired guy is deaf. but he does stuff like goofing around behind his secretary's back and pretending everythings normal. i love it more than anything. 17 year old mob boss girl and also soooooo much. and theyre sexy everyones hawt.

[mattodore]

ocs aging is my favorite thing to read about, so i wanna ask you a question - how do you see matthias and theo (and their relationship) in their fourties?

and generally for how long you have their story planned? you think only about times when they young or you have “planned” their 50s, 60s etc

ly ly ly

Oh I really love where Theo and Matthias find themselves as they age into their forties.

For Theo, he’s fully out from under his parents’ thumb by the time he reaches forty and he’s also been clean for a good handful of years. The first twenty-something years of Theo’s life were… well, they were really hard on him. He thought of himself less as a person and more as an extension of his parents’ will. He did what they said when they said it no matter how little he wanted to, but once he let go of all that appeasement and supplication… he finally got to relax. Theo’s had pretty bad identity issues his whole life, but in his thirties and beyond it’s like he’s finally found himself again. He was lost before, you know? And in his forties he’s comfortable. I’m not saying he’s magically healed and well adjusted or anything, like he has C-PTSD and he still begs off therapy appointments and taking meds but… he knows who he is and he can see the world in the same colors he saw when he was five and still playing in the garden, unafraid of all the things a child shouldn’t know about.

For Matthias, he’s settled into his forties with grace. I think he’s more grounded after having Theo in his life for two decades. I think I’ve said this before, but he was numb to pretty much everything in his twenties and totally disillusioned and nihilistic. Let me be real… Matthias’s personality hardly changes as he ages, but I think his outlook on life is a little less bleak with Theo in it. Hm… I think in his late thirties he’s finally processed a lot of the trauma he experienced in his teen years, but… I don’t think his insomnia ever goes away. I do think he can sleep a little longer, but he still has auditory hallucinations for sure. Nevertheless, Matthias is fulfilled in his forties. He has his best friend and the love of his life… it’s all he needs. I think Matthias is really just someone who desperately wanted to be loved and he didn’t know what that hunger was for until he was so full of it it got stuck in his teeth.

As for their relationship when they’re older… they’d actually defined it, first off. I think they feel like they’re too old to be calling each other ‘boyfriend’ so instead Theo calls Matthias his partner and Matthias calls Theo his lover. They’re definitely living together but they’re still not married. I think Matthias might’ve proposed sometime in their early thirties but been rejected. Not that it was a serious proposal, mind you—like, the chance that he asked during sex is pretty high I won’t lie lmao—but I think he was probably just trying to get a feel for what Theo wants and that was a good enough answer for him. Day-to-day… hm… Theo’s a working man so he’s often late to meals and Matthias has to find him in his art studio to get him to eat something. Matthias is still a layabout but he does busy himself with writing—just journaling and letters and stories he reads for Theo. Matthias is also sponsoring a few organizations that’re trying to shut down the troubled teen industry. They visit Imani and her husband often and Matthias babysits when asked—Theo is very hands-off when Matthias is babysitting since he still has a pretty emotional response to seeing happy kids... ugh. The friends of Theo’s who stuck around from his party days will have lunch with him every few weeks, but they still don’t like or want to be around Matthias, which, like… fair. Theo doesn’t really hang out with anyone on a regular basis other than Matthias, if I’m honest. Theo just… isn’t actually a people person, it turns out. Theo also does a lot of volunteer work with animals since it’s another kind of therapy for him. They’re just happy, y'know?

As for the actual extent of the planning I’ve done with the characters... well, there’s no end to their lives in my head since I can just picture them at any age. I know Theo and Matthias very well… I don't even really need to think about it (which is also why I hardly ever write anything down… they’re just living in my head). That said, the actual story they come from (which doesn’t actually have a title—echthroi is just a temporary name) only lasts for about two—maybe three—years. It’s not fully plotted out because I would first need to actually make the Big Decisions I’ve been putting off with relation to the plot for foreverrr, but I know where it starts and where it ends. So they’re both forever in their 20s in that way, but to me they’re every age they’ll ever be.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for almost getting my friends and family killed?

Ok, so I (M, 17), recently got a job at an animation studio. This had been my dream for a while now, as I love to draw and I have always wanted to be a professional artist. I think my new boss, D, wasn't really hiring anyone new at the time he hired me because everyone was confused as to why I was there at all, but I got settled pretty quickly.

Then weird stuff started happening. D apparently had put pipes in to run ink through, and one of the pipes had burst in the sheet music closet and covered the musical director, S, in ink. I didn't really think anything of it, but later S began to pester the animators for ink. This seems weird but I saw him drinking some. He also seemed to be obsessed with this...machine. I've never seen it but I know it exists.

Anyways. The thing above is important, I swear. You see, I also wanted to prove myself to D. He had a lot of faith in me. Showed me things he didn't show anyone else, like the theater he has bought out. He even took me out for dinner to tell me about his big plans. Treated me real special. So...I may have stolen some ink and paper to take home. You see, I don't have much at home and I didn't want to show D a drawing on the back of a receipt. So I took it home, and tried drawing. It didn't look good, but my granddad drew something really good! And I accidentally showed that to D the next day so I wouldn't get fired. Luckily he believed me, but this just made me work harder. Though...the picture, the drawing itself...it had moved on the paper. This is important, I swear.

I began to stay late to practice, and I practiced with my granddad too. I got much better. But one night I was working real late at the studio, and I heard a noise. I got up to investigate. It took a while to find anything, but I ended up opening a door. A door that I shouldn't have opened. I think I let something out. It scared me.

A few days later I realized something really bad. The ink was alive, somehow. It could leech off paper. You see, at this point S had gone missing. So we knew something was up. I ran home from work because I got so scared, and the ink was already trying to take over my grandad. I washed it off in time but I didn't feel good. The studio was shut down for a few days, but work started again eventually.

Now I just feel so bad. Did I do something real bad?

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Thoughts: Joel Crawford Is *Not* Directing KUNG FU PANDA 4

Not too long ago, a Swiss Universal movie slate was making the rounds... KUNG FU PANDA 4 was on there, as the movie is - and has been - scheduled for release on March 8, 2024. The slate curiously listed Crawford, who directed PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH and THE CROODS: A NEW AGE, as director.

He is not directing KUNG FU PANDA 4, per a recent interview with him and LAST WISH co-director Januel Mercado... Perhaps whoever made that slate up in Switzerland made a little mistake. It happens, we're all human.

This seemed somewhat fitting, though... Crawford took over both the CROODS and PUSS IN BOOTS sequels, and him being handed the torch for KUNG FU PANDA seemed right.

THE CROODS: A NEW AGE was originally set to be directed by Chris Sanders and Kirk DeMicco, who wrote and directed the first film that came all out the way back in 2013. We're actually inching right towards its 10th anniversary, which makes me wonder... Where does the time go? And, #2, will we get some sort of CROODS 3 announcement to commemorate? Their CROODS 2 was set for various fourth-quarter 2017 release dates for a good while, until DreamWorks had their rough week in January of 2015... When they - in response to the box office performances of several movies released over the previous few years - shut down a whole studio (Pacific Data Images), rearranged their slate, and cancelled multiple in-development movies. THE CROODS 2 managed to hang on... But then... The Comcast acquisition happened a year later. Changing heads, changing administrations, projects killed in transition... THE CROODS 2, a sequel to a movie that made nearly $600m at the worldwide box office, was *surprisingly* one of those movies... It was on the grounds that, supposedly, the crew just wasn't feeling it.

This allowed Chris and Kirk to move on to other things, namely the 20th Century-released THE CALL OF THE WILD for the former (it's actually a pretty solid old school adventure movie worth checking out, even if the dog being CGI is a bit iffy for you), and Sony Animation's VIVO for the latter. (I dug VIVO as well.) THE CROODS: A NEW AGE was confirmed to be back in development in September of 2020, with Crawford taking over directing duties, making his feature directorial debut. Crawford had no involvement with the first CROODS, but was a story artist on all three KUNG FU PANDA movies, and was also a story artist on SHREK FOREVER AFTER... So he had some SHREK in his resume when being given the PUSS IN BOOTS assignment. More on that in a few...

Crawford worked off of a story from Sanders and DeMicco, though, and it seems like it was more or less the one they were developing for their 2017 CROODS 2, just with some changes here and there. There was a pencil test for the movie done by none other than James Baxter that leaked online about a few weeks before DreamWorks announced the revised CROODS sequel was back on track, and it seems like it was more or less what we got... Just a little different. The girl in the pencil test is presumably an earlier version of Dawn Betterman, she is a lot more modern-looking. It's as if the Crood family had stumbled upon a family in the 1950s. The duo were quite involved, all things considered, but just didn't direct. If anything, Crawford kind-of semi-rebooted THE CROODS... A franchise that was only one movie and a 2D-animated Netflix TV series at the time. This gave the caveman family comedy a fresh coat of paint, if you will, and it really worked out. Crawford's approach was noticeably different from Sanders and DeMicco's. Those who were onboard with Sanders/DeMicco missed that touch, those who weren't all that fond of the first film found the sequel to be a significant improvement. I personally really like both for those reasons, they both bring something of their own to this very base-level concept.

So that brings us to PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH. Previously, that was set to be a much different film, a sequel titled PUSS IN BOOTS 2: NINE LIVES & 40 THIEVES. An Arabian Nights adventure, it was to be directed by the first PUSS IN BOOTS' director, Chris Miller. He also directed SHREK THE THIRD alongside Raman Hui. In early 2014, DreamWorks had it pegged for a holiday 2018 release, until that bad week in January happened. It got removed entirely from the release schedule, but was still in the works per Antonio Banderas in an interview months later. The Arabian Nights movie got thrown out along the way, and after the Comcast acquisition of DreamWorks, Illumination founder Chris Meledandri started to get involved with the SHREK franchise and would have a hand in determined its future. There's something kind of amusing about that, by the way. Melendandri, prior to founding Illumination in 2007, was an executive producer on the first few Blue Sky films, of course that includes ICE AGE. I was rewatching ICE AGE a little while ago, and am watching the sequels for the first time (I'm over a decade late!), and that first ICE AGE is very similar to SHREK. In that, it's a big, annoyed, cynical guy with an itch to scratch, and an annoying smaller critter being a pain in the ass for most of the journey. Even as a kid back in March 2002, sitting in the theater, I caught that right away, like "Hey, this is a lot like SHREK." There's a similar vibe in Disney Animation's BROTHER BEAR, to go off on a tangent: Big teen bear Kenai, annoying little bear cub Koda... It's also set at the end of the Ice Age. There are mammoths in it. Coincidence is such a funny thing.

Anyways, where was I going with that? Oh yeah, ICE AGE. Similar to SHREK. Chris Meledandri was exec producer of ICE AGE, and went on to exec produce the next three Blue Sky movies (ROBOTS, ICE AGE: THE MELTDOWN, HORTON HEARS A WHO!) before setting up Illumination... Chris Meledandri, after Comcast's acquisition of DreamWorks, becomes more involved with the SHREK franchise in particular and not DreamWorks as a whole. PUSS IN BOOTS Dos was announced once again in early 2019, with Bob Persichetti attached as director. This was *hot* off of SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE, which he was one of three directors on. Persichetti, appropriately, was head of story on the first PUSS IN BOOTS. Seemed liked the best choice possible, but he appears to have had no part in THE LAST WISH, only a - presumably - archival recording of him voicing the "Oooh" cat, who makes a brief cameo in Mama Luna's place. I wouldn't be surprised if the film embracing a more SPIDER-VERSE-inspired stylized look and feel was his idea, coming off of that very film.

But I sense a pattern here, of sorts. Crawford breathed, with the help of his crews, a new life and zest into both THE CROODS and SHREK. It looked like he could've done that for KUNG FU PANDA 4... But, he said in that recent interview that he's not directing, and he's interested in playing around in the world of SHREK some more, which *could* imply that he is directing the fifth SHREK movie, whatever they decide to call it. He's not working on anything at the moment, that there are original ideas to pursue (his resume is currently two feature sequels, it'd be cool if he pitched a wild and fun original movie of his own, but he was also being quite vague.

KUNG FU PANDA 4 has at least one director, but for whatever reason, we don't know who that is just yet. The movie has got to be deep in production if it is coming out next spring. Sometimes with animated movies, we know who is directing. Right off the bat. But some studios, or their distributors, just say "So-and-so, coming out sometime in 2024!" That's basically all we heard about KUNG FU PANDA 4 since last year... It was a tweet that the movie was happening, an image of Po, and a release date of March 8, 2024. Keep in mind, this date sandwiches the movie in-between ELIO (a Pixar film, 3/1/2024) and SPIDER-MAN: BEYOND THE SPIDER-VERSE. (3/29/2024)

Does Jennifer Yuh Nelson, director of KUNG FU PANDA 2 and 3, return to helm the sequel? She has been supervising director on Netflix's LOVE, DEATH & ROBOTS, so I'd imagine she's been busy. Her last feature film, as director, was a live-action flick called THE DARKEST MINDS. Without googling, I think it was a Y-A movie? Hey, you wanna know something funny about Jennifer Yuh Nelson? She got her start as an assistant animator on... Various Golden Films/Jetlag animated fare. You know, those movies based on public domain stories that were cranked out in the early '90s to capitalize on the Disney adaptations? Yeah! She's credited on things like Jetlag's 1994 CINDERELLA and their 1995 ALICE IN WONDERLAND movie. She later graduated to TV shows such as SPICY CITY and SPAWN, was a storyboard artist on the film DARK CITY, and then started her DreamWorks tenure as a storyboard artist on SPIRIT: STALLION OF THE CIMARRON. Her first assignments being in Golden Films "fool the granny at the dollar store" movies goes to show... You gotta start **somewhere**!

KUNG FU PANDA 3's co-director, Alessandro Carloni, could be a candidate. Already heavily involved with the first two films, and several other DreamWorks hits, was director of the ill-fated ME AND MY SHADOW... He'd be great, but what's he up to now? Directing THE FOURTEENTH GOLDFISH for Skydance Animation, apparently. He was supposed to direct their debut film LUCK, but John Lasseter apparently - true to form - kicked him off the movie; or changed it up so much that Carloni decided to walk away from it. But yeah, that's apparently what he's up to, so I think that rules out KUNG FU PANDA 4 for him...

Maybe, on the off chance, the directors of the first movie came back. Or at least one of them. Mark Osborne, John Stevenson... Osborne previously worked on THE LITTLE PRINCE. He was - as far as I know - directing ESCAPE FROM HAT for Netflix. Previously a Blue Sky project, it entered production in 2018. Not a peep since... Was this a casualty of Netflix's ongoing animation purge? Stevenson recently worked on a short called MIDDLE WATCH, and is helming a picture called THE ANT AND THE AARDVARK, for - apparently - a 2024 release. So he's out of the question.

Who else could it be? One look at KUNG FU PANDA 3's story credits could give one a rough idea. I see that a lot of the time in animation, folks who were involved with films on the story artist/storyboarding level get graduated to director for the sequels. Barring Crawford, it could be any of these people...

Or someone whom we would not expect whatsoever... I wonder why they're quiet on this... And also that RUBY GILLMAN: TEENAGE KRAKEN movie that's supposed to open 3 1/2 months from now... And whatnot. DreamWorks is like super-secretive with what's coming, these days, to the point where you don't officially hear a thing until... Maybe 3-4 months before the movie in question releases! I like that, though. Kinda. It's like guessing games. It reminds me of the early 2000s when you only knew what maybe the next 1-2 Pixar movies were when a new one was around the corner.

All I know is, I was quite shocked when KUNG FU PANDA 4 was announced a while ago. I know that the third movie collected over $540 million at the worldwide box office, and that in the world of American feature animation, it's never really over. SHREK 5 is coming, TOY STORY 5 is coming, FROZEN III is coming, ZOOTOPIA 2 is coming, there's a third LEGO MOVIE in the works despite the 2nd mainline movie flopping at the box office. It never ends, and if it ends in a way where a sequel absolutely *can't* be made without some serious retconning? Like HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON: THE HIDDEN WORLD? Oh, easy, do a streaming series set in the modern day that's well past Toothless' passing... Or do a goddamn live-action remake then. Anyways, yeah, these things don't end, but with the way KUNG FU PANDA 3 wrapped things up... I didn't know where it could go from there, though that new series - THE DRAGON KNIGHT - exists. I haven't watched it, I don't have Peacock. Is it any good?

I love the KUNG FU PANDA movies, personally. The first one is particularly resonant for me, because I see a lot of my autistic self and my life in Po himself, and the second film always makes me an emotional mess. I wrote extensively about that elsewhere. I was initially kind of ho-hum on KUNG FU PANDA 3, but the more the first two clicked with me, the more I found a lot to love in the third movie, even if it is a little uneven to me... But a fourth one? I love this world, the characters, the kinetic action that came with each movie, and everything else. If DreamWorks' artists really push the stylization we saw in the third film and beyond, we could be in for a real treat. Bring it on, I say!

Who do you think could direct KUNG FU PANDA 4?

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[violenceenthusiast]

ok i had a thought that makes me wanna dip my head in acid but in a soft way...

dean and claire having a father/daughter saturday of fun and low-grade mischief, going to an arcade and joke-fighting over what stuffed animal to get with their tickets and getting slushies and while they’re taking a break to grab burgers claire says “yknow i’ve been meaning to go get- wanna come with me while i get a new piercing??”

and dean pinches in the direction of her ear a little and says “what, you don’t have enough of those already?” as if he doesn’t think they’re the coolest thing.

she waves him off, eyes flicking between the burger in her hands and the table “i don’t know i just thought it’d be something else fun to do today.”

dean’s only half teasing when he asks “you want me there to hold your hand?”

claire rolls her eyes and looks to the side with half a smile, “oh shut up.” but it’s true, she does want him there to hold her hand– she may be a hardcore hunter who will take a knife cut or a monster bite in stride, but she always gets a little nervous before each piercing. maybe having dean there will make it just a little more manageable.

––

they get to the studio and claire signs the forms, picks out her jewelry, takes a seat to wait while they get ready for her. dean is pacing, looking carefully in each case, at each display. the nice person behind the counter sees him looking and asks “did you want to get something pierced today too?” claire cracks a smile at that and dean looks up at the counter clerk a little wide-eyed, eyebrows raised and mouth half open in surprise, huffs out a breath and looks down as half a nervous smile pulls at the left side of his mouth. he sticks one hand in his pocket and gives one wave with the other as he says “ha. nah, no- just here for her today” as he gestures at claire. he goes to sit with her until the piercer calls them back to the room that’s set up for them.

claire is getting a conch piercing and it’s going more easily than usual- partly because dean is there with her, partly because there are shockingly few nerve endings in the middle of the ear cartilage, and partly because the woman doing the piercing is insanely pretty and insanely good at what she does (she used to be a phlebotomist so she knows a little something about blood, needles, nervousness, and a given person’s propensity for fainting). while the piercer is busy marking the ear, claire looks over at dean in his chair and unable to contain the question any longer asks him, “you ever thought about getting a piercing?”

“me? nah.. it’s just not- i mean they would’ve gotten ripped out for sure by some- by accident.” he was about to say ‘by some monster’ but caught himself before he really weirded out the nice piercer woman. he hadn’t thought about him and piercings in a long time. he had slowly stopped wearing even rings and bracelets as much over the years in case they got caught on something during a hunt (though now he had a new ring on his left hand that he never took off). a piece of jewelry actually in the body was even more of a ridiculous idea for a hunter. but he wasn’t a hunter any more, not really. hadn’t been for about a year. after chuck and getting cas back safe and human.. with sam and eileen running their witchy little hunter hub from the bunker.. it had just seemed like his opportunity and his time to break out of it all. wow okay in that split second he trailed so far off from where he started.. where did he start? ...piercings! right. he remembers being young and not being able to take his eyes off the men in bars with the metal glinting in their ears, noses, lips.. now he knew the staring had been more about the men than the jewelry but it hadn’t not been about the jewelry either. was this one of those things he got to think about now, again, for the first time in a lifetime?

claire takes a moment to make sure she isn’t woozy any more and gets up to go look in the mirror at her new adornment. she smiles and dean snaps out of his own little world to say “you like it?” 

she looks at him through the mirror “love it.” and then, mischievous, “your turn.”

“my turn??”

“oh absolutely.” a moment of raised eyebrows and incredulous silence then, “if you decide you hate it you can just take it out. c’mon i saw your face, you want one you can’t hide from me.”

she’s right. he protests weakly, but she knows him all too well at this point and she’s right and the goading from the piercer only encourages her.

“okay okay fine. but nothing too showy.”

they decide on a rook. it’s not too prominent but it’s definitely there, definitely unique, it will look okay on it’s own if he never gets another piercing, and if he has to jump in on an odd hunt it’s far enough into the ear that it would be hard for it to get caught on anything or ripped out. dean picks a simple, stainless steel piece with a lapis lazuli setting– blue for his husband (though if you asked him he would deny that’s why he chose it. but only at first).

he can’t believe how jittery he is about the whole thing, but this time claire holds his hand. it’s over before it’s begun and he thought it might be painful like the tattoo was, or like any of the number of painful little things that have happened to him over the years but it’s not, it mostly just feels strange. it’s nice to be surprised like that.

dean hops off the bench like claire did and goes to the mirror half expecting to hate what he sees. but he’s surprised for the second time in barely a minute. the glint of the metal in his ear doesn’t just look good, it looks right. like it was meant to be there and he had been awaiting it’s arrival but didn’t know it. something hard to name, something small, something he didn’t know was missing until he found it had just found its way to him, slotted into place and settled in his ribs. he feels quieter but also on fire– like he’d be satisfied to just sit and read a book, like he could face god and win (again).

from behind him claire asks, “like it?”

he smiles. “love it.”

––

they kick around for a little while longer, each of them forgetting about their new piercings until they catch sight of the other’s or until they catch their reflection in a shop window and take a second to admire the newness. eventually claire begrudgingly admits she has to get back to campus to get some work done. dean drops her off at her dorm with a hug and a “stay out of trouble”. 

dean makes the drive home to cas, just lost enough in happy thoughts and memories from the day that he forgets to put on any music until he’s already half way home. 

he gets to the house and finds cas watering the plants in the living room. he leans in the doorframe, watching his love gently tend to each plant in turn. dean doesn’t say anything, he knows cas knows he’s there and will greet him when he’s finished seeing to his darlings. in the meantime dean gets to delight in the sight of the curve of cas’ back as he bends this way and that to reach the plants, the delicate and reverent care he shows each leaf and vine.

cas finishes his routine, sets the water down and turns to greet dean. he freezes half way to saying hello because something is.. something.. something is... he can’t put a name to it, nothing is wrong but dean is.. shifted. not different.. but different. dean is holding his head oddly turned to the side and it doesn’t help either that dean is smiling around a secret and they both know it. cas narrows his eyes but brushes off the feeling long enough to cross the room and give dean a kiss, quick but whole and familiar. dean turns his head to look at a plant and ask a question about it and “accidentally” reveal his new addition. cas, who hasn’t taken a single step backwards since coming over to kiss dean, of course sees the jewelry immediately and exclaims before dean even has a chance to start his made-up question. 

after some very amusing joke-yelling from both sides, it’s revealed that cas just absolutely loves it. and not that dean was worried cas would hate it but dean was a little worried cas would hate it. or worse, that he would judge it. but cas loves that dean tried something new, loves that he chose something blue, loves that dean seems just that little bit more at home in himself. and from the slight blush in his cheeks and ears, dean can tell cas thinks it’s a little bit sexy too. 

––

dean keeps thinking about how much he liked getting a piercing. he gets it on a fundamental level now, gets claire and her array of silver and gold. he’s got the taste for it now, the itch. he’s thinking about going back for another one. or two. but what else, what next? he cheekily wonders about picking based on what would drive cas wild. 

...dean goes back in secret a month and a half later to get his nips pierced. it doesn’t stay secret for long. not from cas, at least. 

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

congrats on 500!!! 🥳

can i request boggie (romantic or platonic) and “can i hold your hand?” 🥺

Thanks bestie!! This is my longest prompt fill so far lol, it kind of got away from me. This is my very first time writing Boggie, and my first time writing in Reggie’s POV, so have fun. Also you asked for sensory overload Bobby but I didn’t think I could do that justice so I did migraine Bobby instead. This technically takes place in my headcanon universe of my longfic, but you don’t need to have read that to understand this. Hope you like it!

--

Bobby’s gone.

Reggie doesn’t think anyone but him has noticed yet. Luke and Alex are too busy arguing with each other (good-naturedly, with no real anger or malice; Reggie can always tell the difference, without even having to pay attention to what they’re arguing about, though this time he’s pretty sure it has something to do with which color m&m is superior).

But anyway, Luke and Alex aren’t paying attention to anything but each other, and Bobby slipped out twenty minutes ago with a pained expression and a mumbled excuse and he hasn’t come back yet, and apparently only Reggie has noticed.

He’s not sure what he should do about it, though. Reggie likes Bobby—he’s a great guitar player, and his movie collection is unparalleled, and one time when Reggie showed up at school with a black eye, Bobby got suspended for two weeks because he decked a guy who tried to make fun of Reggie for it—but as much as Reggie would like him and Bobby to be friends, it can’t be denied that Bobby is… well… Luke’s. And not just because Luke is even more touchy-feely with Bobby than he is with everyone else, or because Luke spends every other night sharing Bobby’s bed because he has nightmares (something Reggie doesn’t think he’s actually supposed to know), or because whenever Luke and Bobby are in a room together, they can’t stop looking at each other. But also because the only reason Bobby joined the band in the first place was because he was there for Luke when Reggie and Alex weren’t. He was Luke’s best friend when Reggie failed to be.

And Reggie hates to take sides (especially because Luke once got really mad at him and literally accused him of taking sides), but if Luke is on Bobby’s and Alex is sorta vaguely not, Reggie feels like he’s kind of statistically obligated to balance it out. So as much as they’re all a band, and as much as Luke will always be Reggie’s first and best friend, and as much as Reggie would love to get closer to their rhythm guitarist, sometimes they just can’t help pairing off, and when they do, Sunset Curve becomes, well, Luke and Bobby—Reggie and Alex. 

But anyway. Reggie checks his watch. Bobby has now been gone twenty-five minutes, and Luke and Alex have moved on to discussing which animated m&m from the commercials they would date if given the option, and Reggie’s starting to get a little worried.

“Hey, guys?” he says, putting aside the bass he’d been sort of plucking at. “Can you shut up for a second?”

Luke and Alex immediately stop their bickering and turn to look at him, faces lit with matching concern. “Yeah, Reg?” Alex says gently.

“You okay, bro?”

Reggie manages a smile. They both know him so well. He gives a quick shake of his head to assure them he’s fine, their arguing wasn’t too much (later, once he’s sure Bobby’s okay, he might even put his two cents in, since the answer to both debates is obviously Green). “Do you know where Bobby went? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Alex frowns, and Luke looks around the studio as if he’s just then realizing that Bobby’s not still sitting on the couch next to him where he was half an hour ago.

“Where’d he go?” Luke gets up off the couch and clambers over the coffee table to cross the studio, past Reggie and Alex. He hauls open one of the doors and peers out into the driveway, then frowns back over his shoulder at them. “I don’t see him. He must’ve gone into the house.” A flash of something crosses his expression and he glances nervously from Reggie to Alex and back again. “I—I’d go look for him, but I don’t know if his parents are home, the car’s here.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie offers before it can become a thing, the fact that Bobby is Luke’s but Luke can’t even go after him when he leaves the studio because Luke is a missing person who Bobby’s parents don’t know lives in their garage.

“Thanks, Reg,” Luke says, and Reggie gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he passes.

Reggie doesn’t have to go far. He follows the path up from the driveway and catches sight of Bobby right away, sitting on his front porch with his face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his head.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls out without thinking, and then regrets it when Bobby’s head snaps up and he flinches with his whole body, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth just loud enough for Reggie to hear across the garden. Bobby’s face is so pale it’s almost green, and his eyes are hidden behind these thick dark sunglasses Reggie’s never seen him wear before.

Reggie’s heart lurches, and he hurries up the rest of the path. He sinks gently onto the porch step next to Bobby and asks as quietly as he can, “Bobby, what’s wrong?”

Bobby shoots him a shaky, unconvincing smile and whips his shades off. “Nothing, Reg, I’m—fuck.” Reggie gets half a glimpse of Bobby’s eyes—squinty and dull and full of so much pain—before Bobby goes another shade whiter, shoves his sunglasses back on, and presses his face into his lap with a groan.

Reggie’s concern spikes. He hovers a hand over Bobby’s shoulder, wanting to help but not sure if touching him when he’s like this will only make things worse. “Bobby? What—what’s going on with you, man? You’re scaring me.”

Bobby gives a miniscule shake of his head, still hidden in his folded arms. “I—it’s just… headache,” he mumbles, the words slow and slurred and muffled like even just opening his mouth too wide hurts him. He breathes heavily for a moment or two, then adds, “Really bad headache.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that’s… not what Reggie thought was happening here. Part of him relaxes some, even though his worry doesn’t lessen.

If Bobby were having a panic attack, like Alex gets sometimes, or one of those everything’s too much feelings that make it physically impossible for Luke to wear sleeves most days, then Reggie wouldn’t know what to do, how to help. Stuff like that is too personal, too individualized, and Reggie doesn’t know Bobby that well. But pain—physical pain—that, Reggie can deal with. That, Reggie knows all too well.

“Can I get you anything? What do you need?”

Bobby’s quiet for a moment, then: “Dark. Cold. Quiet… Maybe some medicine if I can keep it down.”

Reggie nods, even though he knows Bobby can’t see him. “We can do that. Is there a reason you were sitting out here in the first place? Probably easier to get dark and cold and quiet in your room, don’t you think?” He cranes his neck to see Bobby’s window above the porch roof. Reggie’s only been in there a handful of times, but if Bobby gets these headaches often, the blackout curtains on Bobby’s bedroom window suddenly make a lot more sense.

(Though, Reggie can’t help but wonder, if Bobby gets these headaches often, how has Reggie never noticed before?)

“Dizzy,” Bobby mumbles, and Reggie cuts his gaze sharply back to him. It takes a second to register that Bobby’s answering Reggie’s question and not necessarily describing how he feels now. “Couldn’t… stairs.” A pause thick enough for Reggie to get the sense there’s more, and then Bobby admits, his voice smaller than Reggie’s ever heard it, “Tried to ignore it too long. Been kinda coming on all day, but I didn’t wanna ruin rehearsal.”

Reggie’s heart gives a pang of sympathy. He makes a mental note to give Bobby a talk later, when he’s feeling better, about hiding stuff like this—and then maybe he’ll give Luke and Alex (and himself) a talk about whatever they did to make Bobby feel like he has to.

But all that can wait. For now, his only priority is getting Bobby settled in bed with all the lights off and an icepack on his head. “Okay, Bobby, I’m gonna get you inside so you can rest, okay? But can I try something first?”

Bobby stiffens. “Try what?”

Reggie’s heart’s beating a little too fast, though he’s not sure why. He swallows, tries to ignore the fact that he’s definitely blushing, and says, “Can I hold your hand?”

Bobby’s silent and still for so long that Reggie starts to worry he’s overstepped. But before he can figure out how to backtrack, Bobby grumbles something unintelligible into his lap and flops a hand in Reggie’s face. Reggie grabs it, hoping his own hands aren’t too sweaty, and expertly applies pressure to the point between the base of Bobby’s thumb and index finger.

The effect is almost instantaneous: Bobby shudders, and his muscles relax like a ripple going through him, and he slowly sits up and raises his head. Reggie can’t really read his expression with the sunglasses still on, but what he can see of Bobby’s face looks less pinched, less pained, and he’s gotten some of the color back in his cheeks.

He stares at Reggie, mouth hanging open, and breathes, “Whoa.”

Reggie blushes, self-conscious, but doesn’t stop gently massaging Bobby’s hand. “Better?”

Bobby nods. “How—how did you know how to do that?”

Reggie manages a sheepish smile. “My mom gets migraines. And, well, hangovers. So I’ve kinda picked up some tricks. Coffee really helps her, too, if you can stomach it.”

Bobby’s still staring at him, and Reggie swallows, his stomach giving a weird little flip that’s not exactly unpleasant. Finally, Bobby looks away and gingerly pulls his hand out of Reggie’s to rub at his temples. “Well, thanks, Reg, that really helped. I’m gonna go inside before it gets worse again. Can you, uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll—tell the guys… something.”

Bobby gives him a shy, grateful smile, and then slowly pushes himself to his feet.

When the front door closes behind Bobby, Reggie lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He feels jittery and out of breath, like he just drank seven sodas or ran a marathon or something. His hands are tingly where they’d touched Bobby’s, and he can’t get the image of that last little smile out of his head.

Bobby doesn’t smile very often, and when he does, it’s not like that.

(And if it is, it’s not at Reggie.)

Reggie mutters a curse and copies Bobby’s earlier position, his face hidden in his hands. Because he thinks he might like Bobby.

But Bobby is Luke’s.

sorry bestie

Send me a pairing and a prompt to celebrate my 500th follower!

--

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[merry-kuroo]

Top 10 2020 Anime

Hello everyone! Its the last day of 2020, and like with every year, here is my top 10 anime list. This list covers anime that aired this year only :) Hopefully you can use this list as a recommendation for something to watch. But tbh this list is for me to remember which wonderful anime made my year a little brighter :D I apologize for any typos lol.

1.) Tower of God

AHHH! I love Tower of God so much!! So, I almost dropped it at episode 1 because I was really confused. But I stuck with it and I’m glad I did. Tower of God gave me HxH vibes, but it was still different enough where I didn’t need to compare the two. The opening and ending by Stray Kids was amazing too.

Because I loved Tower of God so much, I made a Webtoon account and ever since then I’ve been hooked on Webtoons. I’m really glad they partnered with Crunchyroll to bring us this anime!

I read the TOG Webtoon and it explained things a lot better. I highly recommend going to read it after watching the anime!

I hope there is a season 2, but I won’t get my hopes up :( I’m sure this anime was just advertisement for the comic.

So, yeah, go check out Tower of God <3

2.) Great Pretender

WIT Studio has done it again. First with Attack on Titan, then Seraph of the End. They keep bringing me my favorite animes.

I love animes that feature a found family, and cons. Great Pretender brought all of that and more. Great characters, jokes, missions, and music. The music in Great Pretender is fantastic (I mean the ending song is a Queen song!)

I still stand by my opinion that Part 1 was better. I wasn’t a huge fan of season 2 and the ending as well. I think they dropped the ball. But I still won’t let that stop me from recommending it to you! It was still fun to watch :D

I’m going to miss Team Confidence <3

3.) Weathering With You

So, I have been a fan of Makoto Shinkai’s movies for a long time (5 Centimeters Per Second will always have a special place in my heart). So, when I saw that Weathering With You was coming to the movie theater, I immediately purchased a ticket. It was such a surreal experience watching in the theaters.

This was the last movie I saw in theaters before...you know >.> I’m glad this movie was my last too. It makes it even more special.

Everyone, please go see this movie. It’s beautiful. It will make you laugh and cry. I left the theater with tears in my eyes. It was such a amazing experience. I’m patiently waiting for his next movie!

4.) Kaguya Sama: Love is War Season 2

My favorite rom-com returned with a season 2. The opening is still stuck in my head. It always will be lol.

Anyway, this season was not only hilarious, but there was development between Kaguya and Miyuki <3

Miko IIno was also a interesting character. She is so different from everyone else, so I’m excited to see how being on the student council will change her. Maybe she and Ishigami will start to get long lol.

Another thing that made this season special was Ishigami’s backstory, and how Miyuki saved him. I just really love their bromance, okay?

Please go check out Kaguya Sama: Love is War if you haven’t! It’s funny and heart warming <3

5.) Jujutsu Kaisen

I’ve been hyped for this anime for like a year! When it was announced last November, I was like AFJAIOFJAOGLJMAPOGJ

I love the manga, and the adaption is doing a fantastic job so far. I definitely ended up loving Sukuna more due to the anime adaption though lmaooo.

Not a lot to say here except, go watch Jujutsu Kaisen <3 and read the manga!

6.) Moriarty the Patriot

I wasn’t sure if I was going to like this anime or not. I only started watching it because people said Sebastian Moran was Daddy! Kuroo lmaooo

But I have to say...I do like that Albert was like “Oh yes lets bring William and Albert into our home” then William was like “Haha hey Albert do you hate the upper class and nobility too? You wanna murder your brother and parents, burn down the house, and reform society?” And Albert is like “DON’T MIND IF I DO!” (The Moriarty brothers are wild af, my God.)

I liked each individual case, and it got even more intense when Sherlock and John were introduced. Super excited for season 2!

The opening and ending songs are also fantastic. Go give them a listen!

7.) Digimon Adventure 2020/Digimon Adventure Tri/Last Evolution Kizuna

Tfw you go to buy tickets Digimon Last Evolution Kizuna, but all the movie theaters shut down :(

ANYWAY

I was super hyped when Last Evolution Kizuna was announced, and then the reboot of the 1999 anime. I finished up Digimon Adventure Tri...which could’ve been better tbh. I only liked the first three movies, so at least I got some good content out of them lol.

I like the new spin on the new Digimon anime, and I’m excited to see what they’ll do next. I kinda want a reboot of 02 Digimon...and Digimon Tamers and Frontier, but that may be pushing it lmao.

Last Evolution Kizuna was absolutely phenomenal. It was the perfect 20th anniversary movie :)

8.) Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Another show I started at the beginning of the year! I read the manga in 2019, and I was happy to hear it was getting a anime adaption! I enjoyed this series a lot, and I really want there to be a second season. I feel like some stuff was left out. But the anime might have been created just to promote the manga.

The opening song, the different wonders of the school, and the art style quickly made this one of my favorites!

9.) Idolish7 Second Beat

Idolish7 is vastly underrated. It’s more than just pretty guys singing and dancing. Every character in the show has gone through their own hardships, and all the characters are fleshed out well.

The second season did not disappoint. It still served me with a good dose of angst, drama, and comedy.

And season 3 was announced!!! I wasn’t expecting that, so that surprise made me really happy <3.

I was really sad when Idolish7 stopped airing back in the spring, but I’m glad they were able to finish up the season this year :D

10.) Haikyuu!! To the Top

Alright, so my excitement deflated when Part 1 aired back in January. I hated the new art style and while Part 1 did have some good character development moments, I was really bored :/

The OVAs were really good though >.> I love Nekoma and Fukrodani so those were fun to watch.

Part 2 was a 100 times better. I accepted the fact that the art style wasn’t going to change and we wouldn’t have those cute breaks where the volleyball players would serve the ball and hit the water bottle. Once I got over that, I found myself enjoying part 2.

The two Nekoma episodes,the episodes focusing on the Miya Twins and Kita were my personal favorites. But overall, Karasuno vs. Inarizaki was fantastic and I enjoyed it a lot!

I need season 5 to be announced already!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

--------------------------------

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

--------------------------------

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

--------------------------------

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

--------------------------------

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

[zillennial97]

My All-Time Favorites | Larry Fanfic Recs

*these works are the closest to my heart and my best recommendations*

Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k | Explicit

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint | 158k | Explicit

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | Mature

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Fucking Animals by pointerbrother | 116k | Explicit

“Just, off the record,” she says, voice lower, eyes sharper, crook of her mouth quirking up a little, “don’t you ever miss it? A good knot? You must.”

Louis blinks and then swallows, thickly. “No,” he exclaims, offended that she’d even ask, “I love my husband. And anyway, how could I miss something I’ve never had?”

---

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

But, fucking hell.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | Mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

This Wicked Game by cherrystreet | 70k | Explicit

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Christmas-ing With You by dolce_piccante | 65k | Mature

Two writers from Loving Heart Television, the premiere network for holiday romance films, find that, sometimes, love is not only in their works of fiction.

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey | 24k | Explicit

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

[spicypeak]

[Drama Track] Dangerous Brothers

The drama track begins with EROSION showing up to the studio one by one. Neight is first to arrive and comments that Toxin is usually there before anyone else. Byakuya loudly enters next and starts pien-ing as he does and Neight asks him what that means. Yoru enters next in a seemingly bad mood, Byakuya comments how both Neight and Yoru are upset. Neight and Yoru argue over how loud Yoru's being when Creha shows up and asks Yoru to get out of the way.

Creha's tired and Neight asks him if he was up late playing games again and tells him he shouldn't be gaming that much. Creha says it's impossible for him and goes on a bit of a tangent about a game he's playing. Creha's tangent is quickly ended after Byakuya touches him, which startles him. At this point Byakuya only wants to mess with him further.

Toxin finally arrives, out of breath, and Yoru questions if he just got lost again. Toxin admits the weather was nice and he took a way he wasn't familiar with when he went on a jog, even though he shouldn't given his poor sense of direction.

Byakuya announces that all of EROSION has arrived and they can finally get to recording. Neight says once they finish up recording they should get something good to eat after. Toxin's agrees but Yoru starts complaining about how they've been stuck doing retakes for three months already because of someone. Toxin says he just wants to show everyone that their rock is the best and Neight tells Yoru to give it a rest because Toxin's too stubborn to be stopped. Byakuya provokes Yoru and they fight, Neight tells Yoru to stop and for Byakuya to stop provoking him or he'll die. Byakuya says he'll stop because he still wants to sing and goes off saying things no one else understands.

Anyways Toxin says it about time they actually start recording.

--

They're in the middle of recording From a Spicy Peak when Toxin tells them to stop. Toxin questions if everyone's really taking things seriously but immediately apologizes and says it's on his end and they should try again.

The boys start reminiscing about the past and how they used to copy rock bands in the forest.

Creha: That's nostalgic, we used to copy all kinds of rock bands there. Neight: And we weren't playing for anyone at all. A stage just for us. Byakuya: Right, right! And the only things that would listen to us were the birds and animals. Wait, is that right? There really wasn't anyone listening to us perform? Hey, there wasn't anyone, right?! Hey, c'mon! Someone tell me! Yoru: There wasn't. Back then we were ditching school, everyone else probably had their noses stuck in books. There's no way anyone else was there. Toxin: Now that you mention it EROSION got its name in that forest. A name that fit our rock perfectly. But, who was the first one that thought it? Yoru: Does it really matter, we all thought of the name didn't we. And it was just us then anyways? Neight: Well, people from school might have snuck around to listen. Creha: You sure? We were pretty well hidden, it would've been hard to find us. Byakuya: Is that right... Pien Creha: Byakuya, you okay? Byakuya: I'm alrighty! There's no problems so lets get onto that next take!

--

Back to recording, Toxin once again stops in the middle. Toxin freaks out because his voice isn't coming out right. Neight and Creha talk about how all five of them are crazy and Byakuya asks whether it's them that's crazy or the world around them.

Another take. Toxin, once again cuts it short, but this time he has a full blown freak out and starts breaking things. The other four are just off to the side commenting about what Toxin's breaking. Eventually Toxin comes back completely calm saying they should try again. Yoru gets mad because they have to constantly apologize and pay back the studio for everything Toxin destroys. Since Toxin and Yoru are fighting Creha starts playing a game, Byakuya decides to join him. Creha invites Toxin to join, he refuses, and Neight says it's about time for a break.

Toxin and Yoru start fighting again and Neight says this is why they've been stuck recording for three months. Neight's fed up and says he's going to sleep until they're done fighting.

Yoru tells Byakuya and Creha to tell Toxin that it's his fault they're still stuck recording and Byakuya agrees. Creha's too into his game to notice what's happening. Toxin tries to snap Creha out of his focus but only manages to wake up Neight. (wuh woh!)

Ura-Neight comments how they keep fighting over things that don't matter and how they shouldn't drag him into things. Creha's still focused on his game, Ura-Neight says everyone is stupid and starts playing the drums to snap Creha out of it. Yoru joins in on guitar and Creha finally looks up from his game. Creha says he only meant to go until the end of the raid in his game but got really into it. Byakuya says he and Creha are similar but Toxin and Yoru disagree. Ura-Neight basically asks how many times the rest of them will expect him to forgive them for testing his patience and says he'll destroy them if they keep up the useless talk. Then the door opens,

Creha: Ah, a new mic appeared. Byakuya: It's time to say bye-bye to the mic Toxin broke! Pieen~ Creha: You really... Say pien to anything. Byakuya: You should say it too Creha! Creha: Aha, no way.

Toxin's just frustrated because he wants to create the best music. The rest try and reassure Toxin that it's ok and that they believe in him. 

Another take. But, it's Yoru this time. Toxin says they were doing good that time but Yoru disagrees and says it isn't rock. Byakuya gets upset at Yoru because Yoru's a liar that said they weren't doing anymore retakes. Then in the time it took for a short conversation between Toxin, Creha, Ura-Neight, and Yoru and Yoru telling them to do one more take, Byakuya started drawing.

Creha says he can he can do another retake but for Byakuya it'd be impossible. Toxin seeing that Byakuya's in his own world agrees with this. Ura-Neight gets fed up and goes to bed. Yoru tries to snap Byakuya out of it and grabs him; Toxin and Creha immediately decide this recording is doomed. Byakuya freaks out because Yoru touched him and now he's dirty and goes crazy with disinfectant/Febr*ze (spraying Yoru in the face). 

Creha: I tried to stop you, I said you shouldn't touch Byakuya when he's like this. Aa~ah *I dunno~

And Byakuya continues spraying Yoru

--

Yoru's wiping the disinfectant off himself and Neight wakes up. Neight notices his glasses are wet and asks why.

Byakuya: I was doing a spray spray spray! Neight: This is the worst, you got my glasses wet. Byakuya: Nyahaha~ It's starting to getting silly~ *I dunno~

Toxin asks what Byakuya drew and he reveals it's! Ero Ero Ero Ero EROSION! A smiley face with horns and five X's (NikoDevil)- Byakuya made a logo for EROSION!

Creha: Byakuya it must be nice having talents. The only thing I can do is sing. Byakuya: But singing is a talent too! And I really love your singing you know~ It's that feeling of going completely wild and ending the world! It's the ultimate rock! It's so dangerous! Crazy emotional~! Creha: Thank you Byakuya: Aha~ Let me hear your singing as thanks. I want to be showered with much much much more rock! Creha: I- do too

Toxin says they should do another recording, Neight asks if Toxin knows what time it is and Toxin says it doesn't matter, he wants to sing. Toxin asks Neight if he doesn't want to sing, Neight says that's not what he meant- Yoru says it'd be impossible for them not to want to sing, Byakuya mentions they were born to sing and live to sing, and Creha says he'd keep singing even if his throat went dry, he was coughing up blood, and had completely lost his mind.

Toxin has to stop recording again and is still frustrated over himself. Neight tells him there's no reason when it comes to rock and he should calm down. 

Creha is just belting in the background. He must've gotten into it and didn't notice they stopped.

Creha's singing made Toxin realize what he was missing and they do one more take.

Toxin is finally satisfied and says that they have something that might be able to change the world.

Toxin gets poetic and says music kept him going and that it's like a light in the darkness. Neight agrees but Yoru thinks they're going a little overboard, but does think there's some negative feeling he gets when he thinks about the past. Byakuya thinks it might be because he was dumb and hated studying, Yoru curses him out. Neight tells them to grab their stuff and they start talking about how they're going to Japan soon. Byakuya seems really excited to try tapioca milk tea and Neight shuts him down telling him they aren't there to sightsee, they're going there to do work as EROSION. Toxin adds they also have to find "that" under Carnelian's orders. Yoru doesn't care, Byakuya seems afraid, and Creha excuses himself to the bathroom. Neight mentions that Creha always gets like that when 'that person' is mentioned.

Toxin says it's about time they start heading home. 

Byakuya: HEYHEYHEYHEY! I'm hungie, pien~ Neight: I'm craving meat right now. Once we get back to the hotel let's find a restaurant to eat at. Byakuya: No-no! No way! Outside food is dirty! Heyy Yoru make something~ Yoru: Hah? Who's cooking for you, stupid. Creha: I really want to eat- Yoru's cooking~

Everyone basically pushes cooking dinner onto Yoru and the track ends.

*Creha （俺しーらない～） and Byakuya （ぼくしーらない～） say this the exact same way and I just think it's really cute and wanted to note that

[jingabitch]

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.2

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Warnings: smut | talk of ownership (reader is tae’s pet human) | (eventual) daddy long legs syndrome | masturbation (m) | tae goes into heat | dubcon because of the heat | somewhat (?) unhealthy relationship

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: Did this girl bang out 3000-odd words in one night so that she could post it before Chinese New Year so that she could reach 888 followers by CNY? Yes. Yes she did. I hope you guys enjoy this, and please share and follow for more if you liked it!!

Also, I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask. This story is cross-posted on ao3 (link to account on my blog) so you can subscribe there.

Series index

You’d learned years ago what Taehyung was like in the weeks leading up to his heat. Overly moody, grumpy, and most of all, hungry. It was probably his body trying to load up on calories before five or so days where there was intense physical exertion without much opportunity to eat.

 It had never been an awkward thing for you – after all, werewolf heat was a basic part of their biology, so no one made a big deal out of it. And since they never said anything about your own cycle, you afforded them the same courtesy, just taking it in your stride and doing your best to make it easier on them.

 So it wasn’t surprising to you when one day in the middle of winter, Taehyung wolfed down (ha) his breakfast at twice his usual speed and then started looking furtively over at your plate. Sighing, you just pushed it towards him and went to make yourself something else. You made a mental note to make more food tomorrow, and braced yourself for the coming few weeks, where he would be alternately clingy and grumpy – or, interestingly enough, both at the same time.

 His heats were never a big deal for you – if he had a heat partner, you mostly stayed out of his way, and stayed with the other boys instead. They were always more than happy to spend a whole week spoiling you and getting cute cuddles. If he didn’t, you usually ended up being the one to take care of him since the others had their own schedules and were out of the house most days. It wasn’t anything much – you just checked in on him once in a while, made sure he was eating and drinking water, and maybe wiped him down if he was too sweaty.

 You didn’t expect that anything would change this year, although obviously you’d missed his last two heats, which he’d spent in the military facility. In preparation for his heat, you went to the supermarket and stocked up on food that would be easy for him to eat, like fruit and granola bars, making sure to pick his favourite brand which was, obviously, an extremely fancy and overpriced one.

 While you continued your preparations for his heat, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, Taehyung was an absolute mess. Ever since his preheat started, he’d been racking his brains for a solution to the problem that wouldn’t arouse your suspicion, and coming up empty. There was no way he could get rid of you for a week without you figuring out something was up, since you knew he didn’t have a heat partner and it had never been a thing before for you to leave.

 Everything was, of course, made more complicated by the fact that the closer he got to his heat, the more he didn’t want you to leave. He would wake up in the middle of the night wrapped around you, his face tucked into your neck and his hands gripping your waist possessively, and he would be burning up, panting for you.

 You, of course, didn’t suspect a thing, and it truly was a testament to how comfortable you were with him that you weren’t noticing anything amiss. It really was remarkable how much could go over your head if you weren’t looking for it. If nothing else, the fact that he’d taken good enough care of you over the years that you were so complacent and comfortable around him was slight comfort. He knew your time at the shelter hadn’t been the best, and he was pleased that he’d managed to earn your trust, even if it did increase his guilt at taking advantage of it now.

 His last hope, that he was clinging on to by a thread, was that since his heat was intended for the purpose of breeding, maybe he wouldn’t fixate on you. After all, you were human – you should be incompatible with him in that way. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to go on.

 Although really, anyone could have told him that that was a stupid plan. But since he’d refused to let anyone know what was going on, there was no one around to shake some sense into him.

  His heat hit while he was at the studio. It had been a bad idea to go to work today, he knew it when he took three bites of the giant breakfast you’d cooked and turned his nose up at the rest of it, but they were starting to record their new song and he’d wanted to be there.

 Unfortunately, his enthusiasm meant that when his heat hit in the afternoon, he was in the studio instead of comfortably waiting at home. The bright lights and sheer number of scents overwhelmed his senses, and he ended up curled in a corner of the room, desperately closing his eyes and trying to shut the world out, his head between his knees. His ears flicked repeatedly, before laying flat against his head in distress.

 “Shit… we need to get him home,” Yoongi said, watching him groan pitifully, but when they tried to coax him to move, he refused, completely non-functional by this point and so uncomfortable that he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Jimin tried to sit with him, hoping that his familiar scent would block out some of the harsher scents in the room, like the floor cleaner, but Taehyung just groaned and turned his face away, burying it in his shoulder. The rest of them looked on worriedly – his heat symptoms had never been this bad before.

 Left without any other option, Namjoon called you, hoping that the familiar scent of home would soothe Taehyung enough to stop being a moaning mess on the floor of their studio long enough to go home and ride out the heat.

 You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Hearing that Taehyung was in trouble spurred you to all but fly out of your house, speeding all the way to the studio in his extra car that he never let you drive. It was lucky that you’d learned how to drive in Geochang, you thought as you zipped into the parking lot at the BigHit building and raced up to the studio.

 You burst into the room dramatically, panting from your exertion, and immediately zeroed in on Taehyung, who seemed to be feeling a little better than what you’d been led to believe, if the way he’d sat up and was looking at you was any indicator. His ears perked up too, indicating that he was no longer as distressed as he’d been just a minute ago.

 “Hey,” you said softly as you approached slowly, not wanting to freak him out since his animal instincts were closer to the surface than usual. And, if you were being honest, the way his gaze fixated on you was almost predatory, triggering your flight instincts. Reassuring yourself that Taehyung would never hurt you, you continued to inch closer to him.

 “How you doing, Tae-oppa?” you asked softly, getting on your knees next to him and pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch, and you wondered at his over-the-top reaction. Just how deep was he into his heat?

 You made to pull your hand back, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, but his hand shot up and grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…” he shuddered as he breathed your name. “You came,” he continued, looking up at you far more intensely than you thought the situation warranted, his long fingers stroking your wrist gently.

 Hesitantly, you replied, “Uhh, yeah, Namjoon-oppa called me to come get you. Come on, let’s get you home,” you urged, trying to pull your hand away, but he tightened his grip around your wrist and made that impossible. You raised your brow at him, wondering why he insisted on staying in that corner instead of going home where he had pajamas, nice soft sheets on his bed, and could draw the curtains so the light didn’t hurt his eyes, but he stood up quite easily without letting go of you and started tugging you out of the room.

 “Uh, okay then,” you mumbled, utterly confused now. When Namjoon had called you, he’d been almost panicked, describing what bad shape Taehyung was in and getting you all worried, but the man in front of you seemed completely fine. A little off-kilter, maybe, but that was only to be expected since he was going through heat, after all.

 “Bye, oppas!” you said, waving at them as Taehyung pulled on your wrist, leading you down the hall and towards the elevator.

 “Well, you look pretty good for someone in heat,” you told him as you waited for it to arrive, looking him up and down assessingly. “When Namjoon-oppa called me he was so panicked, and I freaked out too, but he must have been exaggerating,” you chattered on to fill the silence. You understood that Taehyung wasn’t really in the mood to make conversation right now, but somehow his intense gaze made the quiet feel a little uncomfortable.

 The elevator doors opened with a ding, and your attention was momentarily taken away from Taehyung, so you didn’t see the way he shuddered. It wasn’t that he was feeling better, it was that his heat had found a target, and all that shaky, general horniness and misery had turned into laser focus on you. You walked into the elevator with that little bounce in your step, and he followed after you, almost stalking you with how predatory his gait and gaze were.

 You stopped and turned around in the middle of the lift, your eyes lifting habitually to the display on top of the doors, but Taehyung didn’t stop walking, bumping against you and causing you to drop your gaze to him. You gasped at the hungry expression on his face, but it didn’t deter him from backing you up against the wall. You squeaked in surprise as your back hit the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs, and in the second that it took you to get your bearings back, he’d moved his hands from the wall on either side of your shoulders to your waist, pulling you tightly to him as he buried his nose in your neck.

 You just about jumped out of your skin when you felt his erection pressing against you, and your mind immediately leapt to work rationalizing it away. He was in heat, it was normal for him to have a boner, and it definitely had nothing to do with you, you tried to convince yourself. He was scenting you because you smelled familiar, like home, and it was comforting for him.

 Trying not to squirm away in discomfort so you could help him, you stroked his hair in what you thought was a soothing gesture. “Tae-oppa, you okay?” you asked softly.

 He groaned in response. “You smell so good,” he said, sniffing you aggressively as he pressed you into the wall. You gulped and looked up at the numbers flashing on the screen, indicating that you were close to the basement now. The moment the elevator door opened, you pulled away under the guise of leaving the elevator, and hurried to the car.

 Taehyung insisted that he wanted to take the car he’d driven here back home, as it was more comfortable, but then refused to hand you the keys so you could drive, instead forcing you to fish them out of his front pocket. He’d boxed you in with his body against the car while you’d done it, too, staring at you so intently that it made your face heat as you averted your gaze, trying to grab his keys without any accidents.

 When the keys were finally in your hands, you slipped into the driver’s seat, trying to avoid staring at Taehyung as he went around to the other side of the car and slid gracefully into the passenger seat. You didn’t know what was going on, but you weren’t prepared for any of this, and it was making you slightly uncomfortable, especially because you couldn’t be sure that you didn’t like it. As inappropriate and wrong as all of this was, as much as you knew that this was just because of his heat and to entertain any fantasies would be taking advantage of him in this vulnerable state, there was a part of you that felt a sliver of interest. That, under all the fear and discomfort, had thrilled at having

 As you started the car, you studiously ignored Taehyung. He huffed and undid the top few buttons on his shirt, then fiddled with the seat so that he was in a more comfortable reclining position. Your mind raced as you drove home – he’d never acted like this with you before, and you wondered if he was okay. The heat seemed to be worse than in previous years, and he must be really out of it by now. Was it even possible for him to get through this heat without a partner?

 At a red light, you snuck a glance over at him, relieved to see that his eyes were closed and he seemed to have fallen into a light doze. That was good, you thought, your heart warming at seeing his cute sleeping face. He should get some rest while he could, because it seemed like this heat would be hard on him. Your heart squeezed – it seemed unfair that hybrids had to go through this, and you wondered why on earth your ancestors had created hybrids this way.

 After parking the car, you looked over at him and bit your lip. You didn’t really want to wake him up now that he seemed to be sleeping rather comfortably, but unfortunately there was no way that you would be able to carry a fully grown hybrid back to his apartment, so reluctantly, you reached over to shake him awake.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called quietly. “We’re home.”

 He stirred and looked at you with half-closed eyes, before nodding listlessly, and you felt like the scum of the earth for even entertaining the thought that his earlier actions were an advance, and especially for that tiny bit of arousal that you’d experienced feeling his erection dig into your belly earlier. He was clearly in a vulnerable position, and here you were, misinterpreting his actions and taking advantage of him by enjoying what his hormones were making him do.

 It would do you well to remember that it was your ancestors who had made him like this. In a way, it was kind of your fault that he had to go through it, and you promised him silently that you would do whatever it took to help him through this.

 You slid out of the car, then hurried over to the other side to help him out. He seemed a little woozy and weaker than normal, but otherwise fine, and even managed to get himself back to the apartment without any difficulty. A light sheen of sweat coated him by the time you’d reached the apartment, though, and he made to go straight to the bedroom, but you managed to coax him to take a shower first since it wasn’t likely that he would get another one before his heat ended.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called as he was headed into the bathroom, already stripping his shirt off.

 He grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around or stop.

 “Do you want me to call someone to help you with your heat? Maybe Minhee-unnie, or Haeun-unnie?” you suggested some of his previous heat partners, girls he’d hooked up with regularly in the past. There were also services that provided heat partners, but you didn’t know if anyone would be available on such short notice.

 Taehyung thought about it. It would probably be smart to find a partner to ride this heat out – it was hitting far stronger than he’d anticipated and he could scarcely think straight, especially now that he was in the apartment where your scent was so incredibly intense and mixed so thoroughly in with the smell of home – but the thought of having a heat partner strangely made him feel almost sick.

 “No, it’s okay,” he responded brusquely, too out of it to temper his tone, and closed the door behind him in the bathroom.

 Shivering, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the handle to the coldest setting possible. He hissed and growled in displeasure as the ice cold water hit his skin, but he knew it was necessary. He was burning up, way too hot for a usual heat, and even in his compromised state of mind, he knew that this could be dangerous if he didn’t cool down, and quickly.

 The cold shower didn’t do much for the desire raging through him, though, and he rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall and groaned. He was completely losing it, he could tell, and probably terrorizing you. He felt like an awful owner. You were so innocent and good, coming to get him from the studio, and he’d responded by basically assaulting you in the elevator earlier.

 “Fuck!” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall. Even knowing that he was garbage wasn’t enough to stop him from recalling how amazing you’d smelled, how soft you’d felt under his hands, the way you’d melted against the press of his body in the elevator. You always smelled good to him, especially since he’d been discharged from the military, but today it seemed different. Better. The scent emanating from you was just slightly warmer, sweeter, spicier than the residual scent you’d left all over the apartment, including in the bathroom. In his heat-addled state, he couldn’t figure out why, but it was messing with his ability to keep his head on straight in a big way.

 With another growl of frustration, he wrapped his hand around his cock, knowing that there was no way he could go back out into the apartment in the state he was in. It was fast and rough, and his orgasm was unsatisfying, barely enough to take the edge off the all-consuming hunger that bordered on pain, but he felt his mind clear just enough that he remembered all the reasons why bending his pet human over was a bad idea.

 He got out of the shower and dried himself off perfunctorily, wrapping the towel around his waist because he hadn’t brought in fresh clothes. He was collecting his dirty clothes to drop into the laundry basket when, as he stood up, he caught sight of the box of tampons you’d left on top of the toilet. He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance – you were always forgetting to put them back under the sink after your period was over. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, the way you would just leave things lying around and causing clutter.

 Wait a minute. He frowned again at the box. You’d had your last period a week ago, which meant…

 Fuck.

 All the pieces fell into place in his mind then, and it took massive amounts of restraint to avoid sending his fist clear through the wall. You were ovulating, which is why you smelled so good. All his hopes of not fixating on you during this heat were dashed. In previous cycles, he’d noted your ovulation because your scent had shifted, but it had never affected him much before. Now, though, that he was in heat, the scent that indicated your fertility was overwhelming, stripping all restraint from him. The mere thought of cumming into you and getting you pregnant had his wolf instincts rising, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as his erection ached and his balls drew up, desperate to fulfil their purpose.

 This isn’t right, the part of him that was still in control screamed, but that voice was quickly being drowned out by his hormones. This was bad, he needed to lock himself in his room before he did something he couldn’t take back.

 With that thought in his mind, he wrenched the bathroom door open, and the cool air from outside the bathroom felt nice and calming on his overheated skin, helping him to maintain some sanity. Thankfully, you’d gone into your room and shut the door, and he made a beeline for his own room, thinking that as long as he didn’t see or smell you, everything would be fine.

 Unfortunately, thinking that you were being helpful, you’d gone into his room while he was in the bathroom to leave some water and snacks. He could see a few bottles neatly lined up on the bedside table, and the rest of the carton was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. You’d also arranged the energy bars and fruit on the table, within easy reach of the bed. His heart clenched at how thoughtful you were, but even the short amount of time you’d spent in his room was enough to leave traces of your scent in his room.

 Groaning, he shut the door behind him and threw himself on the bed, facedown. He landed with his face in your pillow and growled, biting down on it as he impatiently stripped the towel off and threw it into a corner. His hands clenched into fists as he swiveled his hips, pressing his painful erection into the sheets.

 In the state he was in, thoughts about how wrong it was to get himself off to your scent flew right out the window as he took deep huffs of the pillow that had become saturated with your scent from months of you sleeping on it every night. As he worked himself closer to orgasm, he imagined that instead of the residual scent you’d left in his bed, it was you, warm and soft and pliant, letting him fuck you, use your body as he needed. You’d be so sweet to him, he thought, cooing at him as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, stroking the back of his neck and letting him mark you up as he plowed into you. Even in his fantasy, he wasn’t able to be gentle with you, holding the pillow between his teeth as he imagined the tender skin of your neck and collarbone in its place. His wolf instincts running high, he shuddered as he found his release to the picture of you he held in his mind, letting him fuck a whole litter of pups into you.

 “Y/n, shit, fuck,” he groaned as he came, holding that sweet fantasy close as he rode out his orgasm. Floating high in its wake for a moment, he rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, enjoying the small aftershocks running through his body. He wished he could just stay in this moment for the rest of his heat, where the consuming need had abated somewhat, but before the clarity of mind orgasm gave him made all his guilt come flooding back.

 He was a terrible, shitty hybrid and he was definitely going to hell. The thought made his ears droop sadly, but at least you weren’t here to witness his descent into madness. You were too good to him, such a sweet pet, he mused as he grabbed one of the bottles of water you’d so kindly put within easy reach and gulping it down. He wished he at least knew why this was happening all of a sudden. He’d never heard of or read about hybrid-human relationships, even though he knew that technically he was part human as well. It was all very confusing and scary, made worse by the fact that he had to hide what he was feeling from everyone, especially you, for fear that you would see him differently. He’d worked so hard to make sure that you felt safe in his home, and all of that would go down the drain immediately if you found out how alluring he found your scent now, and how difficult a time he was having keeping his hands off you.

 In the midst of his heat, even the thought of you finding out that he was unabashedly using your scent to get off didn’t fill him with horror and shame as it should have. Instead, his mind started to conjure up fantasies of you biting your lip, cooing his name when you found what a state he’d worked himself into. Imaginary you stroked his fevered brow softly, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then slid your hand down his body to grasp his erection as real Taehyung did the same thing.

 He’d already cum twice, so he could take his time a little more, stretch out the teasing and immerse himself in his fantasy. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip in an effort to muffle the whine he could feel building in his throat, he exhaled shakily. You’d be so sweet to him, stripping out of your clothes without him asking, leaning over him to kiss him sweetly. Your soft, gentle kisses would contrast against how confidently and tightly you were gripping his cock as you jerked him off, letting him moan and whimper into your mouth.

 He wouldn’t be pliant for long – no, even in his fantasy he was needy, burning up, and you were the only thing that could save him from certain death. It would barely be a minute of you hovering over him, your hand on his cock, before he wouldn’t be able to take any more teasing. He’d grab you and flip the both of you over, so you landed on your back with him between your legs. He shuddered at the thought, turning onto his belly with his face back in your pillow, stacking his fists under him so they made a nice, deep hole for his cock to drill into.

 You’d be wet and creamy already, letting him slide through your folds without any resistance. He thought about how soft and tight you’d be as he ran his fingers down your slit, stretching you out for his cock. Even in the state he was in, he would be careful not to hurt you, to prep you well so that when he finally took his rightful place deep inside you, there would be nothing but pleasure. Biting his lip, he slowly fucked into his fists, mimicking the way he would enter you for the first time.

 Fantasy you arched into him and moaned helplessly, your walls tightening around him rhythmically as you adjusted to his length within you, and liquid heat pooled in his lower belly as he thought about the cute, breathy sounds you would make for him. Would you beg him for more, or tell him it was too much? He rather liked the idea of being too much for you, he found, enough to ruin you for any human man or hybrid who came after him. If he had his way, you’d always be his.

 He groaned and huffed as he picked up his pace, rutting into his fists as the head of his cock brushed against the sheets. Thousand thread count sheets and yet the fabric dragged almost unpleasantly against the oversensitive flesh, far rougher than he was sure your silken heat would be.

 As he jerked himself off relentlessly, he imagined that it was you he was plowing into, biting savagely into the pillow as he imagined that it was your neck he was marking up. His climax was close now, he could feel it, and he panted heavily as he strained for it. “Please,” he grunted, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Please, I need it.”

 Like a wish granted, his orgasm washed over him, and he shuddered all over as he came to your scent again. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name like a prayer on his lips as copious amounts of cum landed in a pool on the sheets. “Fuck,” he breathed, right before he collapsed into a heat nap.

  Almost two hours had passed since you’d gone into your room. You’d spent it comfortably enough, curled into your oversized armchair reading, but it was almost dark out now and you were getting hungry.

 Putting your book down and removing the noise-cancelling headphones that ensured you’d be able to look Taehyung in the eye once his heat ended, you opened your bedroom door and poked your head out slightly hesitantly. Once, when you were thirteen, you’d been careless and just waltzed right out of Yoongi’s room and run into a very naked Taehyung gulping down water in the kitchen, and it had scared the crap out of the both of you. Needless to say, ever since then you’d checked to make sure the coast was clear before going anywhere in the apartment whenever any of them had their heats.

 When all you saw was Taehyung’s closed bedroom door further down the corridor, you slipped out of your room and into the kitchen, tying your hair back into a ponytail as you gathered up ingredients. You didn’t know if Taehyung was up to have a full meal, but if he was, a nice, soothing soybean stew ought to hit the spot. Already licking your lips in anticipation, you put the earthenware port on the stove and turned it on, humming to yourself as you prepared the food.

 When it was done, you left it on the stove and went to get Taehyung. Sometimes even during his heat he would be capable of coming to eat a meal with you, and you figured it was worth a shot. If not, you could always eat alone and leave the stew for him to reheat when he felt hungry enough.

 “Tae-oppa?” you said softly, knocking on his door.

 For a second, there was no noise from inside and you assumed he was asleep, but as you were about to walk away you heard a rustle, and then he said, in a slightly slurred tone, “Come in.”

 You opened the door, and were immediately assaulted by the smell in the room, but you tried not to wrinkle your nose as you stepped in, knowing that Taehyung would be able to see it even in the dark. “Oppa, I made dinner, do you want to come join me?”

 Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the room, and you were hardly able to see anything, but you heard Taehyung moving and assumed he was coming to join you for dinner. Starting to turn around to exit the room, you were caught off guard when he instead pushed you up against the door, which in turn slammed shut. The air was knocked from your lungs and you saw stars for a moment, standing still in his grasp as you tried to figure out what just happened.

 Taehyung, however, immediately took advantage of your confusion to crowd you against the door with his body. Your frame was completely dwarfed by his, one of his hands on your hip while the other was pressed to the wood beside your ear. “You smell so goddamn good,” he groaned as he bent to press his nose to your neck.

 Now you were confused for a whole different reason, because his words, his proximity, the bare erection he was pressing into your belly, all of those things confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt what you’d earlier tried to deny to yourself. For some reason, your owner wanted you, and you didn’t know what to do.

 “Tae-oppa –” you said timidly, trying to extricate yourself from this situation, but as he dragged his tongue up the length of your neck, right to your ear, your words cut off in a choked gasp. You shuddered involuntarily, hating yourself for reacting when you knew how wrong this all was.

 “Y/n-ah, you smell so good, so ripe,” he said against your ear as he started to swivel his hips, thrusting against you. Against your will, your core clenched, and you cringed as you felt a rush of wetness escape you. Your vain hopes that he didn’t know how wet you’d become, even with his heightened hybrid senses, were dashed when he groaned again, this time a long, low sound full of agony, and pressed his lips to yours.

 You were stock still for a moment, your mind blanking out, unable to comprehend what was going on. Every instinct was screaming at you to get out of there, that this was wrong, bad, sick, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate, half stretched out but not touching him, just hovering over his body.

 “Y/n, it hurts,” he groaned, resting his head against your forehead and panting heavily. It sounded like there wasn’t enough air in the room for him, and you could empathize – the uncomfortably warm and humid atmosphere wasn’t comfortable for you, let alone a hybrid going through heat at the moment.

 “What’s wrong, oppa?” you asked, stroking your hands down his side in a bid to bring him comfort, your initial reluctance to touch him or do anything that might give him the wrong idea forgotten in your haste to do anything that might make him feel better. Even touching his bare sides confirmed to you that he was burning up, and he usually ran warmer than you did as it was. Frowning, you tried to touch his face, to see whether he was feverish enough for it to be dangerous. If there was something wrong this time – and based on his strange behavior, you were already inclined to think there was – you had to call someone to come help him immediately.

 A sob ripped through him as your hand landed on his face, and he nuzzled aggressively into your palm. “You feel okay,” you murmured, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He was warmer than usual, but not so hot that you were alarmed.

 Instead of responding to your comment, he begged again, “Please help me, Y/n-ah.” The abject misery in his tone tugged at your heartstrings, and in that moment you knew you would do anything if it prevented him from suffering any more.

 “What do you need, Tae-oppa?” you asked quietly, steeling yourself for what was pretty sure would be the reply. By this point, you weren’t even thinking about whether or not you personally wanted to do this – and you were fairly ambivalent about the whole thing, if you were being honest – and your entire paradigm shifted, with Taehyung in the center of it.

 Instead of answering with words, he bent down slightly and hoisted you up with his hands on the back of your thighs, slotting himself between them neatly as he pressed you into the door. In this position, his prominent erection rubbed against your core, like a fiery brand burning through your shorts and panties.

 You whimpered. You didn’t know which way was up – it had been so long since you’d broken up with your ex back in Geochang, and you hadn’t had any action since, and the way he was moving against you triggered every carnal instinct you possessed. At the same time, your rational mind knew that this was wrong, that he was a hybrid and you were a human. You were different species, for God’s sake, and you’d never seen him in any light other than as your owner and guardian. Somehow, though, none of that mattered when he made another pained noise.

 Hesitantly, you slipped your arms around his neck and started kissing him back. Your tentative overtures were nothing like the way he greedily devoured your mouth as a precursor to the way he wanted to eat you alive, but his reaction was dramatic enough that it didn’t seem he minded too much. Pressing you back more firmly against the door, he slipped one hand from your thigh up your camisole, his long fingers stretching up your ribcage.

 You shivered at his touch, although you weren’t sure whether it was in arousal or revulsion. Nevertheless, you steeled yourself and let him grope you, kiss you, do whatever he wanted. You were quickly realizing that you would do anything to help Taehyung, even give up your own body. After all, he was the person who had saved you all those years ago. It was the least you could do for him, no matter what your personal thoughts on the matter were.

 Still, there was something about how enthusiastically he was kissing and touching you that was incredibly persuasive, stirring something deep within you that wanted to respond in kind. Slowly, your kisses became bolder, and when you tentatively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip, his whole body shuddered in a way that made you feel powerful.

 “Fuck,” he growled, and still holding on to you, he turned and strode over to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously down on it. You’d barely landed when his hands were at work again, hooking his fingers in your waistband and pulling down your shorts and panties at the same time.

 “Fuck,” he repeated more softly this time as he dropped the discarded clothing carelessly. He levelled his body over yours, an elbow planted into the bed beside you to help balance himself as he slid his other hand down your soft belly to your pussy. You widened your legs accommodatingly to his touch, biting your lip to stay quiet when his hand slid over you, just a little too hard to be pleasurable over the sensitive flesh.

 “Shit, this heat is going to be the death of me,” he huffed, sounding more lucid now that you were under him than he had at any point before. He settled between your legs and bent his head back down to rub his nose against your neck again, but that one throwaway comment stuck in your mind, causing you to stiffen under him uncomfortably. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly in panic as you realized what you’d almost done. He was in heat, unable to think straight, and instead of protecting him from making a hormone-fueled decision that he would definitely have regretted as soon as his heat passed, you’d been about to enable it.

 Whatever arousal you might have been feeling evaporated in an instant, shame and horror filling you instead. Taehyung was so out of it that he didn’t notice the chance in your body language, but he sure as hell noticed when you tried to scramble away from him, though you weren’t very successful since his entire weight was pressing down on you, pinning you in place.

 Still, you made a little headway squirming away from him before his eyes opened wide again and he frowned down at you, pressing his hips more firmly down into you to pin you down. “Stop,” he protested. “What are you doing?”

 “Oppa, we can’t do this,” you cried out, distressed, as you continued to struggle away from him. But he was bigger and stronger than you were, and pinned you down easily.

 “Why not,” he whined, his breath ruffling the hair by your temple. He was still panting heavily as you squirmed under him, and you stopped, realizing that your movement was making the situation worse. In your despair, tears began to prick at your eyes, and the scent of your distress, cutting sharply through the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, gave him pause.

 “Baby, are you okay?” he asked with some concern, lifting himself off you slightly so that he could peer down at your face. The moment you felt his weight leave you, you used your newfound leverage to push him so hard he lost his balance, falling to the mattress next to you. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if he’d been expecting it and bracing against it, you knew, because he was just so much stronger than you naturally.

 In a flash, you were up and running for your life, sprinting for his bedroom door. You didn’t bother grabbing the rest of your clothes, knowing there was no time. Even with the head start you’d gotten on Taehyung, you knew that it would be close when he snarled and pushed himself off the bed, chasing after you.

 Shit, you swore to yourself as you ran for your bedroom. It loomed ahead of you, seeming to get further away as your vision narrowed in your panic. You could hear Taehyung thundering down the hallway after you, and with his longer stride and superior hybrid strength, he was gaining on you at an alarming pace. Even though you knew this was probably nothing for him, he was panting loudly enough for you to hear it, and you cringed as you remembered how alluring the chase was to wolves. Did Taehyung have that in common with them? You were starting to realise that despite being with him for so long, there were enormous gaps in your knowledge about him. Of course, you’d never expected that you would need to know such intimate details about him, but here you were.

 You ducked into your room and slammed the door shut just in time, wincing as you heard Taehyung crash into the solid oak with a furious snarl. You flipped the lock into place right before he started abusing the door handle, banging loudly and pulling way too hard on the handle as he yelled for you. “Y/n-ie? Baby, please unlock the door. Just talk to me, baby, I just wanna talk, I won’t do anything else, please.” He continued to beg and wheedle, his voice turning into a whine.

 Oh, God. You had no clue how to handle this, and it was turning into a nightmare. You backed away from the door, trying to give yourself as much distance as possible to think. You had to call for reinforcements, you knew. There was no way in hell you were going out there, and Taehyung was out of his mind right now.

 Running your hands through your hair in stress, you picked up the phone that you’d thankfully left on your bedside table instead of on the kitchen counter. There was only one person who could help you, you knew. Namjoon.

  You sat on the floor with your back against the door the entire time you waited for him to arrive, trying to offer Taehyung comfort and companionship without actually opening the door, which you knew would lead to something you couldn’t take back given the state he was in. He’d given up on yelling and trying to break into your room, since the door was sturdy enough to withstand his efforts to knock it down. In utter despair and misery now, he was on the floor whimpering and whining, and your heart broke with every sad, pathetic noise he made. It took everything in you not to open the door and give him what he so desperately wanted, and it was only the knowledge that he would hate himself, and you, once the heat passed that gave you the strength to resist.

 Thankfully, Namjoon had a key to the apartment, because you didn’t know how you would have gotten all the way to the front door to let him in with Taehyung still camped outside your bedroom. You knew when he arrived because Taehyung’s sad, soft whines transformed into angry growls. He was infuriated at another hybrid encroaching on what he considered to be his territory during his heat, with his bitch in the vicinity, and you were terrified that he would actually attack the older man, yet another thing that he would hate himself for when he was back in his right frame of mind.

 Grateful that you’d thought to dress yourself once you were back in your room, you opened the door, distracting Taehyung from Namjoon as he immediately attached himself to you. Patting his back while trying to keep his hands from straying to inappropriate places, it took you a moment to realize that Namjoon had brought Yoongi with him, and you squinted in confusion at the snow leopard hybrid.

 “You should stay with Yoongi until Tae’s heat passes,” Namjoon explained. “I’ll keep an eye on Taehyung.”

 That sounded like a good idea in theory, but how poorly Taehyung had reacted to having them in his apartment during his heat made you skeptical of how it would play out. Even now, Taehyung’s distraction was fading away, and he was standing protectively in front of you as he growled threateningly at the intruders.

 “His instincts are amped up because of you, for some reason. If you aren’t here anymore, he should calm down.”

 You chewed on your lip indecisively. The doubt in Namjoon’s voice made you want to protest, to reject his proposal. How could you endanger both Taehyung and Namjoon on a hunch?

 Really, though, what was the alternative? You couldn’t possibly give in to Taehyung; he would be filled with regret and self-loathing once he returned to normal, and you needed to protect him from that.

 “Okay,” you acquiesced finally. You tried to step around Taehyung to go to Yoongi, but he whipped around, alarmed.

 “Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, panicked, his arms wrapping around you immediately.

 “Oppa, let me go, please?” you begged softly, hoping futilely that Namjoon and Yoongi wouldn’t hear your conversation with him. Somehow, this felt too intimate for anyone else to witness.

 Taehyung brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, wiping away the stray tear in what had to be the most tender gesture he’d made towards you since his heat started. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

 “Tae-oppa, I’ll see you after your heat, okay?” you managed, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “Be nice to Namjoon-oppa. I love you.” You’d said it to him so many times before, but it carried a different weight this time that you didn’t want to examine too closely.

 “Y/n-ie…” He didn’t let you go, but his grip loosened ever so slightly, and you took the opportunity to twist yourself out of his embrace, and hurried over to Yoongi. He gave you a small smile as he held his hand out to you.

 As you left the apartment with Yoongi, you heard Taehyung give a heart-rending roar, and almost said to hell with it and ran back to him. As if sensing your internal conflict, Yoongi’s hand tightened on yours, making it impossible for you to leave his side.

 You sobbed in the car all the way to Yoongi’s apartment, the reality of everything setting into you only after you’d left the situation, and the adrenaline that had kept you going left your system. You didn’t understand what was going on, but the pure misery you’d heard in Taehyung’s voice as he called out for you stayed with you. It was your fault somehow, you knew. Taehyung was suffering because of you, because of your ancestors, cruel people who’d made him the way he was for their own selfish purposes. Everything was your fault.

  For the next four days, you barely left Yoongi's guest bedroom. He gave up trying to coax you to watch Netflix with him or come to the studio to interact with the other members. Instead, he left you alone for the most part, only coming to get you when it was meal time or when he had an update from Namjoon.

 Apparently, after you'd left he'd barricaded himself in his own bedroom and hadn't left. Namjoon was trying to get him to eat a proper meal, but it was tough - thankfully, there was still the stew you'd cooked and hadn't gotten a chance to eat on the stove, because it wasn't like Namjoon was capable of cooking a nutritious homemade meal from scratch. After several attempts, Taehyung had finally allowed Namjoon to hand him the meal on a tray, which he ate in his room and left the empty dishes outside the door after.

 Apart from that, you didn't know much because he wasn't interacting with Namjoon, so your secondhand information was limited at best. It didn't really help your anxiety about the whole situation, but at least you knew he was alive, and you'd really left enough food and water in his bedroom for several heats, so there wasn't a problem on that front.

 You used the time, instead, to think about what had happened during the first day of Taehyung's heat. For the entire four days you were at Yoongi's, you basically thought about nothing else. He'd wanted you. Now that you were thinking about it in that light, a lot of the other strange things he'd been doing made a lot more sense. He wasn't just reacting to your familiar scent, or pack bond, or whatever bullshit it was that he'd been feeding you. You realised with a start that he'd been attracted to you.

 That realisation didn't make you feel better - in fact, you had more questions than before. How long had this been going on? How could this happen? Was this normal? Was he normal? And, most importantly, how did you feel about it all?

 With so much time on your hands all of a sudden, you thought about it obsessively, and cycled through almost every possible emotion.

 First came the knee-jerk reaction of disgust and horror, of course. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? You sobbed as you thought about how wrong all of this was, how weird, how inappropriate it was that Taehyung was attracted to you, a human and his pet, for God's sake. And he'd fucking lied about it too, feeding you that bullshit about his pack bond and lulling you into a false sense of security so you'd continue to stay with him, when he should have told you what was happening and let you move away as soon as he started feeling this way.

 But then - and almost against your will, because you did not want to start empathizing with him and trying to justify the shitty things he'd done to you in your mind - you started to see things his way. If it was so wrong to you, it must have been a million times worse for him, the one who'd been caught so off-guard by these new, entirely unexpected emotions. He must have been blindsided, felt so lost and scared, when he realised what was going on. Your traitorous heart felt a pang of sympathy for him. Of course he hadn't wanted to tell you; he'd probably not even been ready to admit it to himself.

 Lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you tried to sort out your thoughts. Whether you liked it or not, you were programmed to want to please your owner, and that included understanding them. Your psyche had done its job and let you understand, with very little information and no help, Taehyung's motivations and frame of mind.

 What it wouldn't help with, however, was understanding how you felt about all of this. You sighed and rolled onto your belly, burying your face in the pillows, stifling the urge to scream in frustration.

 You knew you cared about Taehyung. Despite everything else, that hadn't changed. You couldn't forget the way he'd taken you in, given you a loving home and everything a human could possibly ask for, and asked for nothing in return. He'd even done his best to hide his growing desire from you when - let's be real - he could have acted on it whenever he wanted. It's not like anyone would believe you over him. You loved him, and you were so grateful to him for taking you in when nobody else would, and saving you from a miserable childhood in the shelter. Everything you had - everything you were - was because of him.

 Still, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was wrong, that it was immoral and inappropriate and sick to be in a human-hybrid relationship. Not after everything that had happened between the two species. Not when you were literally different species.

 With a groan of despair that was muffled by the pillows, you flailed a little in frustration. What were you to do? You were still no closer to an answer than you'd been when you'd first started thinking about all of this literal days ago.

  Namjoon didn't know - and, God willing, would never know - that Taehyung had found your discarded shorts and underwear on his bedroom floor after you'd left, and had been using that to help him get off ever since. In the state he was in, he wasn't even capable of feeling shame or remorse at what he was doing, and was just ecstatic that he finally had something better than your residual scent on his sheets to get off to.

 He sniffed at the crotch of your panties - buried his face in them, really - licked and sucked at the stains that your arousal had left in them, and tried to memorise the scent as he masturbated furiously throughout the entire four days of his heat. By the end of it, there was barely any trace of you left on the scrap of fabric, something he bemoaned as he worked himself to the final unsatisfying orgasm of his heat.

 His whole room was a mess - it stank of sex and debauchery, and there was cum all over the place - the floor, the pillows from when he'd rutted them, all over the sheets. As he fell into a deep sleep, he wondered if you'd be able to smell it, even with your weak human nose, when you came back.

 He kind of hoped you would. His heat-addled mind wanted you to know what he'd done for you.

  When Taehyung woke up, finally lucid after running through his heat, the first thing he did was remove your panties from his mouth. He grimaced in disgust - how had he literally fallen asleep with them there? God, he was truly awful - and tossed them aside, grabbing a half-finished bottle of water from between the pillows and downing it. He was parched, and the the water in the bottle wasn't enough for him.

 As he got up on shaky legs to grab another bottle from the corner, he recognized for the first time how ravenous he was, and after picking up his water, brought it with him while he left his bedroom for the first time in days to find some food.

 Thinking that he was alone, he didn't bother getting dressed, so when he reached the end of the hallway and entered the common area of the apartment, he screamed like a little girl and ran all the way back to his room in embarrassment when Namjoon, sitting on the couch with his Kindle, turned around to see him in his full naked glory. It was nothing the older man hadn't seen before, of course - you see all sorts of things when you live together for as long as they had - but it was still embarrassing, especially after so long being apart.

 By the time he re-emerged sheepishly, fully dressed, Namjoon was waiting for him with a smirk. "You didn't need to react like that, you know," he teased.

 "Yeah, yeah," Taehyung grumped. "I'm starving, is there anything to eat?"

 Namjoon rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is, Masterchef?" he quipped. "I just called for delivery, it should be here soon," he continued.

 Taehyung, on hearing that, gave his leader his best boxy smile. "Thanks, hyung! You're the best!" he cheered, going to sit on the other end of the couch to wait.

 Namjoon, figuring that he would leave the questions till after the other man had eaten, went back to his Kindle. Taehyung, though, seemed to have other ideas.

 "Hyung, have you been here all this while?" he asked curiously.

 "Uh, yeah," Namjoon replied. "Somebody had to take care of you."

 "Where's Y/n?" came the next question.

 Namjoon hesitated then. "How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to say anything that might startle or upset Taehyung.

 "Uhh..." Taehyung frowned, thinking hard. "I remember Y/n smelling real good," he said, shivering at just the memory of it. "Then she was in my room, under me... then..." he trailed off, his eyes widening in horror as he started remembering in detail what had happened.

 "Oh, my God," he groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I'm awful," he said, beginning to sob.

 "Hey, don't say that about yourself," Namjoon said, alarmed, drawing closer as he patted the younger man on the back comfortingly. "You're not awful, you were just caught up in your heat, that's all."

 "No, you don't understand!" Taehyung cried out, obviously distressed. "I'm the worst; I'm a disgusting hybrid and pet owner, and I should be put behind bars for Y/n's safety, and probably the rest of society, too," he finished miserably, his ears drooping.

 Namjoon tried to calm Taehyung down to explain what he meant by that, but before he succeeded, the food arrived, and with that distraction readily available, the younger man clammed up as he stuffed his face full of japchae and kimchi stew to avoid talking.

 Eventually, when everything had been finished - even the weird sweetcorn banchan that no one ever finished - Taehyung couldn't put it off any longer.

 "You'll hate me," he protested dejectedly when Namjoon tried again to coax him to spill the beans.

 "Bro, if I didn't hate you after you threw up all over me when you had food poisoning, how could anything make me hate you now?" Namjoon countered reasonably.

 That made sense, so with a heavy sigh, Taehyung told Namjoon the entire sordid tale. The words came out stiltedly at first, then started pouring out, as Taehyung started speaking faster and faster, until it sounded like he was the rapper in the group. The more he spilled, the lighter the weight on his shoulders became, as if by telling someone else, he was transferring the burden. Namjoon, to his credit, listened quietly, his expression remaining open and neutral as he took in Taehyung's story, interjecting only to ask clarifying questions but never to pass any judgement.

 When Taehyung was finally done - he left out the bit about him using your dirty underwear to get him through his heat, because hyung or not, there were some things that should be kept to himself - he leaned back against the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. This was it, he knew. No matter how accepting his hyung was, there were some things that were just too much, and this was one of those. As he'd been telling the story from the beginning, starting from the day you'd come to pick him up from his army base, how awful it all was hit him again, amplified by revising the entirety of how he'd abused you and your trust.

 "So you see," he concluded his story with a small sigh, "I'm a disgusting pervert who should probably die for the sake of society."

 To his shock, Namjoon leaned in and squeezed his knee. "Don't say that about yourself," he castigated. "I'll do some reading and see if I can find out more about this, but you shouldn't panic, okay? I'm sure I'll be able to find an explanation and solution for you. Trust your hyung."

 The way he said that, so sure and steady, made Taehyung relax, almost against his will. Namjoon had been there for him for almost half of his life now, and he knew, from the determined set of his jaw, that he would come through for him again.

 "Okay."

  After their conversation, Namjoon texted Yoongi to let him know that the coast was clear and quickly made himself scarce, not wanting to get in the way of whatever emotional reunion you were going to have, knowing Taehyung.

 Yoongi, for his part, tried his best to get you back home as quickly as possible, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that you would actually have appreciated a little more time away from Taehyung. You felt bad, but you were still so unsure about everything that was happening, and you were, if you were being completely honest, a little afraid to go home and face him.

 Which led to you, standing outside your front door like an idiot, your fist raised to knock, but unable to actually do it. There would be no going back from this, you knew. Nothing would ever be the same again, one way or another. Was it so wrong of you to want to keep things the way they were, just for a second?

 With a heavy sigh, you dropped your fist against the solid wood of the door, wincing at the loud sound it made. Almost too quickly, you heard the patter of footsteps as Taehyung raced to the door and opened it.

 "Hi," you breathed awkwardly, standing like an idiot with no clue of what to say or do all of a sudden.

 Taehyung, it seemed, had no such problems as he pulled you into a hug and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Y/n, you came back," he breathed into your hair as he squeezed the life out of you.

 Even though you'd been so nervous just a second earlier, being in his warm, familiar embrace made it feel like everything would be okay again, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. "Of course I came back, oppa," you said quietly into his chest.

 "I thought... I thought..." Taehyung choked up and he couldn't continue as he dissolved into sobs. "I'm so sorry!" he cried instead, over and over again as you soothed him, telling him that everything would be okay, that you would always be here for him, that you were never going to leave him no matter what, as you stroked his ears comfortingly, the way you knew he liked.

 "Hey, it's okay," you repeated as you patted his back, leaning up on tiptoe to press kisses to as much of his face as you could reach. And it was. Just being with Taehyung, in that moment, gave you a clarity that you hadn't been able to find after days of agonizing over it. Taehyung had saved you, and you loved him. It was as simple as that. And listening to him blubber about how sorry he was, how he'd work on it, he promised, how he'd never do anything like that again if you would just forgive him, you knew that whatever Taehyung wanted, you'd give to him, no matter how you felt about it.

 "It's okay," you said one last time as his sobs petered out. "Whatever you want, it's okay."

 Taehyung didn't fully register at the time how much you meant what you'd said to him that day, but he would soon.

  It was weeks later that Namjoon finally made a breakthrough on his research. Weeks of obsessively searching, trawling through endless pages on the dark web and the dregs of reddit, before he finally found something. It was an old research paper, hundreds of years old, published by a now-defunct, of course, company that had manufactured hybrids. The paper was titled "Research advancements in imprinting technology in hybrids".

 "Oh my God," Namjoon breathed in shock and horror as he skimmed the paper. This was way more serious than either he or Taehyung had initially thought.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Ugh...

Here we go again with this... Something something, "It's not my fault Disney is making these sequels! I avoided their latest original movies because they sucked! I shouldn't be to blame for that!"

A) These Disney Animation and Pixar sequels were likely always going to be made regardless of how the recent original movies performed financially. In the biz, if a movie makes a shit-ton of money, it's likely getting a sequel. It ain't 1997 anymore.

B) There is no blame or punishment, per se... The system in the world of mainstream American feature animation is working as intended. It's capitalism 101. It sucks, yes, but that's how it is. The performance of one movie dramatically affects the slate, or even the studio's survival. Must we dredge up what happened to Blue Sky after The Walt Disney Company bought them and their first movie released by them lost money at the box office? Better yet, all the times Disney Animation faced shutdown for many decades.

C) What if... Hear me out... These sequels are all pretty good? Better than the recent original stuff, even? Impossible! Something can be a critically-acclaimed audience favorite, and you'd still have gaggles of people online insisting the thing in question is garbage. Just look at TURNING RED, for example. It's all fuckin' subjective at the end of the day.

D) It's never gonna be good enough anyways, so why bother? I don't think I can name a *single* Disney animated movie where almost everyone was on the same page, praising it... Since THE LION KING? The latter-years Renaissance movies all had their detractors, as did the early 2000s movies, as did all the "Revival" movies (why don't they do 2D anymore? Because a lot of people avoided PRINCESS AND THE FROG and WINNIE THE POOH). I remember there were at least a few people who didn't like TANGLED, WRECK-IT RALPH, etc. etc. Were very vocal about that or didn't think they were "Disney enough" or whatever. Hell, even LION KING used to get flack for the KIMBA similarities. Plenty of the now-beloved films overseen by Walt Disney himself were largely greeted with mixed or negative reviews upon initial release. It'll never be perfect, it's just the nature of the beast. How the movies live on, is the more important part. Not the opinions of self-appointed "experts" on the Internet. Again, it's all personal preference.

The thing is, the movies Disney chooses to make is kind out of our control. No one should be obliged to pay for a product so that you get the next one like it ("vote with your wallet!"), but unfortunately, that's how the biz works. If you're not game on the latest films from the studio, you're also not to blame for what they do next, but they're gonna do what they're gonna do. That's just that about that. Hell, the thing can be a big success... And they'll still do the opposite of what people want! Off the top of my head, not an animated movie, but WORLD WAR Z 2 not moving forward despite how well the first one did. Again, it sucks. But... If WDAS ever got to a point where they were making things that I just did not want to see whatsoever? Then I'd go watch something else. It's ultimately the higher-ups' decisions that are at fault.

Very rarely are financial failures looked at logically, very rarely do executives ever try to pick up the pieces from there. Instead it's "never make this kind of thing again" or "shut this place down". It happened to Blue Sky. It happened at DreamWorks, projects cancelled (B.O.O., MONKEYS OF MUMBAI, etc.), staff laid off, a whole animation unit closed down (Pacific Data Images), etc. Disney Animation threw 2D features out twice, cancelled many movies, laid off tons of people multiple times, they faced complete shutdown multiple times. Animated movies are expensive and require lots of people and resources, they're fragile as is. COVID-19 really cut into their box office, and it doesn't help that going to the movies costs a fortune.

I'm not saying this is all a good, it's not. I've just made peace with it, and can only hope films keep getting made, staff still have work and roofs to keep over their heads, and maybe... Just maybe, I'll like the movies, too?

Anyways, I hope I like MOANA 2. I'm curious to see what the director and writers and artists and musical talents all bring to this world that was created by the first film.

[kpop-cakepops]

Hii, I hope you are doing great!

First I wanted to say that I love all of your works, I'm so in love with the damaged and snuggle donation series! You melted my heart with those😭

Well, I was wondering if I can ask for a similar concept but with johnny or junhui, pure fluff to melt my heart

Thank you and have a nice week ❤

Hi! Since I've never written about Jun before, I'm gonna go for it this time! Thank you for requesting and hope you enjoy ♡ (ALSO I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER BUT IT WAS DELETED AND THEN I WAS ALL UPSET THAT I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE WILL TO RE-WRITE IT UNTIL TODAY)

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,229

On The Dancefloor// Moon Junhui X Fem!Reader

"... and over there we keep the towels because, you know, we're some sweaty boys " Vernon, your younger best friend, told you as you stepped inside the dance practice room.

You had never been there before. Being a science major yourself, you didn't exactly have a reason to, but Vernon had been asking you to drop by since the start of the semester. Especially since you'd be graduating soon.

"Well... that is very nice, Vernon." You mentioned as you looked around the place trying to hold in a grimace at the mention of sweat.

Loud laughs interrupted from behind you two as two young guys entered the room. "Oh! You guys came!"

"Vernonie!" One of them, the one that had been loudly laughing pounced on the younger boy and ruffled his hair. "We had no idea you'd be here."

"Oh, I promised Y/N a tour of the performing arts facility" he grinned. You waved your hand out at them in shy greeting. "Y/N, this is Soonyoung, Soonyoung this is Y/N, and that's Junhui, Junhui this is Y/N, she's my best friend."

"Nice to meet you! Any friend of Vernon's is our friend, am I right, Jun?"

Junhui quietly nodded, his big catlike eyes avoiding Y/N's curious ones. "I'll have to agree with that... you guys also dancers?"

"They're my seniors. They graduated last year, Soonyoung was our club's president and Junhui was one of the officers..."

Your gaze dropped upon the taller man and suddenly the thought of sweaty dancers didn't seem to appear as disgusting as it had just moments before. "You guys still dance?"

The question was meant to be aimed at the two men but your eyes seemed to be trained on Junhui alone. His face flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I volunteer as a dance instructor on the weekends at an arts center for kids of low income" the tall man replied making your heart nearly burst with admiration. A part of you was convinced he was an angel.

"I run a dance academy, but I don't think you care too much about that" added Soonyoung with a little smirk. His mischievous eyes bouncing between Jun and yourself.

"Oh, that's really cool. What do you do during the week?" you asked curiously.

"He helps run his-"

"I HAVE A REGULAR OFFICE JOB" Jun cut his friend off loudly your brows jumping in confusion. "I um, I just, have a regular office job, at a regular office place."

"That's cool. Have you two had dinner yet?" you asked.

"I did, but Jun hasn't. Weren't you saying you were really hungry Jun?" Soonyoung nudged his friend with his elbow and wiggled his brows.

"I- yeah, but you said you'd come with me-"

"I actually just remembered I have to drop something off with Dino, you know, since he's starting his run as the club's president next semester, now that Minghao is graduating... anyways, don't worry about me and Vernon. I drove here, so I can get the both of us back home safely." Soonyoung quickly grabbed the clueless Vernon and started to walk him out of the room, leaving both you and Jun alone and awkwardly standing in the silent studio.

"What... just happened?" You asked.

Jun was internally freaking out. Soonyoung, better than anyone, knew how socially awkward he could get around people he didn't know, BUT LEAVING HIM ALONE WITH A GIRL?! A PRETTY ONE AT THAT?!

"Welcome to Top 10 anime betrayals" he blurted in a daze.

"Huh?"

Junhui snapped out of it and looked over at you. "Huh?"

You wanted to laugh, but the anguish in Jun's face seemed pretty real. "So, do you feel comfortable having dinner with me or would you rather just go off by yourself? I'm absolutely fine either way" You assured not wanting him to feel pressured into doing something he wasn't comfortable with.

Jun stared at you as he weighed down his options. He could go to dinner with you, oh so pretty you, and fight through his awkwardness. Or he could go eat alone and look like a sad, friendless idiot... which he wasn't because he had friends... but everyone watching him wouldn't know that. "Uh, we can go have dinner together," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I just don't know what I want to eat" he admitted.

"I know a place if you're up for it."

The man nodded shyly and stuck his hands deep in his pockets. "Okay... my car's out front, come on"

The car wasn't exactly what you'd expected from a simple office worker that volunteered at a dance center for kids. Did you expect a Honda at best? Yes. But an expensive, brand new Audi? NO. "I'm scared of even stepping foot in this thing. Oh my god... is it yours?"

Jun's face was flushed as he became flustered. "Yeah" that's all he was willing to offer at the moment. The last thing he wanted to talk about was how rich his family was and how he was running the Korean branch of his father's Chinese company. That would only serve to either push you far far away or have you chasing him down for his money.

"Damn... well that's pretty cool." You told him as you fixed your seatbelt on. "I guess I'll show you the way to my friend's restaurant. I promise he's a really good cook."

He was also a very nosy cook because the moment you stepped into the small restaurant, Mingyu's eyes were wide and on the tall man that walked in with you. Jun was oblivious as he took in the small place, almost as if he had never seen such a place.

"Welcome!" The small part-timer he had hired greeted, but your friend was quick to snatch the menus from her hands and walked over to you and Jun.

"Hi there, table for two? I'll have you seated" he greeted politely making you snort as he really only had 3 tables in total and one was already being occupied by another couple.

"Oh, thank you. You have great service" Jun complimented making you want to squish his cheeks.

"We're often told that! Chaeyoung, bring in some dumplings for the couple, it's on the house!" Mingyu called out. The tiny girl huffing something under her breath as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"I thought this was your friend's restaurant," Jun said.

"It is, this is my friend Mingyu. He just likes to pretend he doesn't know me sometimes" you clarified.

"I have no idea what she's talking about. I'm not her friend, matter of fact, she has no guy friends, so if you want to shoot your shot as the cool kids like to say, you're totally free to do so" he said.

Jun cleared his throat and you swore if he wasn't there you would have kicked Mingyu's ass in a heartbeat. "Where is your restroom?" Asked Jun.

God bless his soul.

Mingyu showed him there before coming back over to the table with a loud smirk. "You, where the hell did you get THAT man? He's wearing Armani slacks, Y/N!"

"First of all shut up you're embarrassing me, and second of all, he's Vernon's friend so don't even try to mess this up between us. I just want to be his friend." You said as you stuffed a dumpling in your mouth.

"Yeah and I'm the queen of England. I am not blind, ma'am, I saw the sexual tension between you two-"

"Are you sure that wasn't the raging social anxiety between us?" You questioned with a little eye roll. Mingyu loved to think he was some sort of love expert when his love life was deader than the dead sea.

Mingyu grabbed the plate of dumplings and moved it out of your reach, "I said drop the act"

"Okay so he's cute and I wouldn't mind him breaking my back on the dancefloor... but I don't think he's interested in a boring biology major like me." You snatched the plate away from Mingyu again. "Plus. I'm pretty sure I've seen him on the news. He's like rich RICH, so he's probably got an arranged marriage going or something"

Jun was listening. He had been standing behind the wall listening into the conversation and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that you knew who he was.

"You watch too much TV. Plus, isn't it a good thing that he's rich? Secure that bag!" Mingyu patted you on the shoulder.

"Do I look like a gold digger to you?" You asked. "Do you actually want to get your ass kicked? Jun's a nice guy... Vernon wouldn't be friends with him if he wasn't, so I'm just looking to be his friend"

"For now?" He asked.

"Kim Mingyu..." your tone was direct and your eyes alone told him it was time to drop the conversation.

Unbeknownst to you, Junhui was still standing behind the wall of the hallway that led to the bathroom. He was torn on what to make of the conversation. He wasn't sure if he liked Mingyu, but there was probably a reason both you and Vernon kept him around, right? Then there was that whole other issue... you knew who he was but for some reason, you weren't running away but neither were you chasing after him for his money. It made his heart flutter a bit, and yes, he was aware that the bar was set very low. After a few deep breaths, he stepped back out, causing Mingyu to jump out of his seat and smile at Junhui with a knowing smile.

"I'll go ahead and bring you today's special. Excuse me"

You watched as your crazy friend walked back into the kitchen, you could see Chaeyoung snapping at him for leaving her to do the work alone. She sometimes made you wonder who was the boss among the two of them.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Asked Junhui as he looked at the drinks the small part-timer had brought over.

"Just stuff" you smiled. "He's an idiot, but he's a good guy, I guess."

"Are you guys close?"

You nodded in response, "we met through Vernon. They used to be under the same modeling agency as kids."

"Ah, no wonder he's so handsome." He mumbled looking over at the man at the counter. Jun couldn't help but compare himself to him.

"Don't worry, you have a nicer nose than him" you joked and leaned back on your chair, your hair dropping back, leaving your new friend to admire you.

She still hasn't asked.

"I think it's funny" he finally built up the courage to say. "That you know who I am but haven't asked about it yet"

His words came to you as a surprise but you shrugged your shoulders, "It's only my business if you want it to be. You seemed to not want to talk about it earlier, so why should I put you in a tough spot?"

"Are you always this nice?" He asked with a little smile.

"Only around people that I like" you grinned in response. Your lips pursing around your straw.

It seemed that Jun was now hyper-aware of every movement you were making. From the way your eyes impatiently dropped on Mingyu, urging him to hurry with your food, to the way you tapped your fingernails on the tabletop.

"My parents aren't arranging a marriage for me" he broke the silence suddenly.

The news making you choke on your drink. "Sorry?"

Crap. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, it was a habit Jun had been working on ridding himself of. "I- I mean-"

Your ear burned in embarrassment and you dropped your gaze, "please tell me you didn't hear all that?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Oh my god, Junhui, I'm so sorry! I promise you we weren't gossiping about you-" you were cut off by Mingyu placing your food down on the table.

"Yeah, we were." He stated nonchalantly. "She also thinks you're good-looking and would really love for you to, and I quote, 'break her back on the dancefloor' just in case you missed it."

"Kim ming-"

The bell of the front door jingled giving your friend the perfect excuse to leave you both alone again. "Welcome!" And he was gone.

"Oh my god, I swear I just-" you didn't even know what to say. All you could do was wish that all of it were a nightmare and that you'd jostle awake any second.

"I mean, I won't break your back, but I could teach you some dancing if you want" Junhui, who was just as embarrassed as you were, was avoiding your eyes entirely as he spoke.

"What?" You squeaked.

"At the center with the kids, this Saturday. I can pick you up" he managed to speak the full sentence without choking.

You couldn't believe that was how you scored your very first date with the Wen Junhui. Over hotpot at your idiot friend's tiny restaurant. IN THE MOST EMBARRASSING WAY POSSIBLE.

"By the way... I think smart girls that like biology are cute" there he went again, blurting the first thing that came to his mind.

I really need to stop doing that.

[plumoh]

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

[violetarks]

Just A Game: Nope

Anime: My Hero Academia (SMAU)

LEVEL DOWN | MENU | LEVEL UP

A few hours later, he came around with some sushi.

Kaminari went to the bathroom and as he passed the hallway window, he noticed Shinso getting out of his car. So he raced back to warn Y/N.

She stood there for a few moments before taking a deep breath in. She said she would talk to him. It stunned everyone.

Judging by the last time she faced a conflict like this, the way she acted now was way different. She didn't want to ignore the problem, she wanted to face it. It was unusual for her to do so.

Kaminari offered to come. He was worried for Y/N. Everyone there was. But he felt his heart heave the most when she said she wanted to talk to him. Although, Y/N still insisted on going alone.

"What are you doing here, Shinso?" Y/N asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Shinsos stopped on his tracks. He wasn't even inside yet and she was in front of him. "I... was gonna' drop off some lunch because you seemed a little out of it during our texts." He claimed, holding a bento box, "Are you okay?"

Y/N tilted her head to the side and mumbled out, "I'm fine. Although I was wondering when your part in Uraraka's video comes up." She watched as he stiffened in his shoes. "Because I watched the full 45 minute thing, and you were nowhere to be found."

"My parts were probably cut out." He told her, shrugging his shoulders, "Don't worry about it, I don't do much."

Y/N squinted at him before clenching the fabric of her shirt. "That's a lie, Shinso." She stated, "I talked to Uraraka. She said you had nothing to do with the video. And that you weren't even filming with them."

Shinso froze. He didn't think she'd go so far. But she did and now he was found out. "Okay..." He sighed out, dropping his shoulders into a slouch, "I'm... I wasn't in the video and I didn't help... I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why did you lie to me?" She asked, lofting her head up to stare him in the eyes.

"Because I..." He started, but found himself struggling to finish. Todoroki's words rang in his head. 'You have to tell the truth to some of us'. Why did that stop him now?

"Because I didn't want you to know why I really missed out on our date."

"And why did you miss out on our date?"

A part of them wanted to be thrilled for announcing that it was officially a date, to the both of them. But they couldn't right now.

"I... drank too much coffee the night before because I wanted to make sure which one I liked before going out with you." Shinso stated. It felt like a weight off of his chest, but he knew just admitting this wouldn't make things any better.

No matter what, that little part of him wanted for Y/N to never know the real reason he don't make it to their date. Or maybe for her to forget now that she knows. Maybe it was his pride or his insecurity.

She only grit her teeth and pinched the bridge of her nose. On the inside, she found it kind of cute that he was going so far. But that doesn't mean lying was okay for that.

"Shinso, why are you keeping secrets from me?" She huffed out.

"Why not?" He retorts, his defenses pulling up, "Why should I always tell you the truth?"

This was his barrier. He'd become snarky and sarcastic in times when he was freaking the Hell out, like now. His mind was screaming at him for doing this whilst his mouth kept ratting off whatever bullshit he thought of. It was horrible and he knew full well that it was.

She was shocked. She took a step forward to him. "I thought we were finally getting somewhere, Shinso..." She mumbled out to him, blinking her eyes, "I really wanted to get to know you. Maybe we could've been friends or—..."

Shinso's heart was beating so fast at what she was saying. It's been weeks since they met. Shinso would be lying if he said his YouTube history wasn't filled of her videos and best stream moments. He adored her. Even from the start. His first 'research' task was when they went to the shops together. He liked how she seemed like a normal person and not some big time streamer. She was amazing and he knew that from the start.

Getting to know Y/N was like a very hard game that only few dare to play. You have to get passed her jokes and Daisuke talk to see that she's actually very caring and wants to please everyone. Under that, she was hard-working and driven. And beneath that, she was insecure of letting people in.

He could tell by the fact that she became so wary and walled in after he didn't show for their date. It took a while to break those walls down.

They had texted for weeks after that and he simply made it back to his respawn point where Y/N would make jokes about Daisuke being her child. He could go in with another life.

"I don't know if this is just a game to you, but this is my life, Shinso." Y/N stated, pulling Shinso out of his gaming thoughts, "I... really wanted to let you in. But not anymore."

Shinso could feel his embarrassed anger piling up. He didn't want the dam to break but it most definitely did. "You only wanted me in my life because you think I'm pretty, Y/N." He told her.

"That's not true!" She called out, feeling even more offended now.

"You don't know anything about me." He claimed, waving a hand in the air, "You only like me because you think I'm hot. Name one thing about me. Go on."

She looked angered by his statement, like she wanted to pound his face in. But when Y/N relaxed a little, she released her fists at her sides. She looked up to Shinso, furrowed brows.

"No. I don't want to name the things I know about you." She said lowly. She stepped forward, jabbing a finger into Shinso's chest harshly.

"Because fuck you, Shinso. I thought I knew you enough to say you were a good person, but now I see that I really don't know who the Hell you are. And if this is you, then I don't want to."

With that, she turned away and shut the door behind her. Looking up, she saw Jirou, Kaminari, Kirishima and Bakugou standing there. They most definitely were eavesdropping.

They didn't say a word, only making their way back up to the studio.

"Get off your phone, Y/N."

She looked up from her screen, seeing Bakugou standing in front of her. He had his hands on his hips, one of them with his drum sticks encased inside. He looked irritated and strict, making Y/N sigh and place her device back on the couch. She was going through her silly text messages with Shinso.

It had been two hours since he left, Y/N declaring that she didn't want anything to do with someone who wouldn't tell her the truth.

"Right, right, I gotta' focus." She said, rummaging through the piles of papers that had lyrics written on them, "I can't get distracted anymore!"

They were all pre-written, half of them Jirou's and a quarter each for both Y/N and Kaminari. Some of them were absolute shit, written at 4 AM with alcohol running through their systems. Others were well-written but only half done, abandoned as soon as another idea popped into their head. Only few were great and finished.

"Still mad about Shinso?" Kaminari asks from apposite her, sitting on the floor with his electric guitar on his lap.

Y/N nodded her head slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." She responded quietly back, trying to re-read the sentence over again, "But that doesn't matter anymore. We're working on a video. I can't let you guys take all the work."

They all exchanged looks before Y/N grabbed her drink from the table. As she sipped, Bakugou clicked his tongue and stood up from his spot on the couch, moving to the drum set.

"That bastard doesn't deserve it." He claims, twirling the drum sticks in between his fingers, "He should've just told you the fucking truth from the start."

Y/N had reached out to Uraraka as soon as she realised that Shinso had lied. She asked the brunette if he was in the video at all, and she asked for the truth. Uraraka did tell her the truth. That Shinso wasn't a part of the video. At all. She also apologised for the things he did. Y/N said it wasn't her fault and that she didn't need to apologise.

"What's so great about him anyway?" Jirou questioned, tuning her bass guitar.

Y/N blinked a fee times at her. "He's just... so calm and I felt loose around him, like with you guys." She admitted, playing with the corner of the paper in her hand, "It was like he went out of his way just to talk to me. It was nice."

The smile she wore soon fell. Because she realised she was smiling. And needed to stop.

"I guess not anymore." She mumbled out, placing her hand on the table, "If he has to lie about filming a video as an excuse."

Everyone noticed how down she was. Usually when she was upset, they'd play games and stuff to help her. She would even play Minecraft, it was relaxing. Kaminari once deleted a whole lot of footage for an upcoming video and got Y/N to calm down by building her a flower garden in her world.

But she refused this time. She didn't want anyone to see how badly Shinso affected her. It was horrible. But she wanted to work.

"Maybe if we liked each other some more, then this wouldn't have happened." She whispers to herself.

Kirishima eyes a stack of papers. "Hey, what about this one?" He asked, trying to pull her out of her thoughts, "Have you done this one yet?"

Y/N plucked the paper out of his hands. She then shook her head upon reading it. "Nope. I haven't." She informed them, passing around the paper to Jirou, "Me and Jirou worked on it but we can't get the third verse right."

Once Kaminari got the paper, he gasped and searched for another one. "Wait, wait, wait!" He shouted out, waving the lyrics in the air, "I've got something perfect for this!"

He shoved the stack of papers into Y/N's lap. She chuckled, reading through them, "Wow, Denki, these are great. I bet we can use them for this song." She stood up and walked over to the other electric guitar. "Katsuki, can you follow along? Jirou has bass line and I have main plucking."

Bakugou nodded his head, ready to play.

The air seemed better now that she was distracted. Everyone silently cheered for Kirishima, thanking him for finding a solution to this unspoken problem.

They started playing, Bakugou falling in line with the drumming and Jirou teaching Kaminari the base chords.

Kaminari said the lyrics he wrote didn't quite suit his voice, which is why he dropped the song after getting to the chorus. He has asked Bakugou to sing it and he refused. He said he'd kill him if he asked again. So Kaminari asked Kirishima, who sheepishly accepted after the blonde assured him that his voice fit perfectly.

"Y/N, you doing okay?" Kaminari asked, hand on his hip, "You seem more tired than usual."

She waved her hand. "I keep messing up the plucking. It's freaking hard to keep it in line while singing." She sighed out, stretching her fingers out.

"Why don't I play the plucking while you sing?" Kirishima offered, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood by Bakugou, "You sing the chorus' and the first and second verse. So I can play the rest to take it off your hands. Easy."

Y/N smiled, looking at him with a grateful gaze. "That'd be great, Eijiro. Thank you." She said, handing him the electric guitar. As she began teaching him the chords and the plucking, Jirou, Kaminari and Bakugou stood by.

"Really brings you back, huh?" Kaminari said, staring at them. They all looked so happy.

"Yeah. Back in high school, when all this was just a pipe dream." Jirou laughed quietly, shaking her head. She would've never dreamed of having her own studio.

Bakugou hardened his glance at Y/N. "Should've kept her safe." He told them.

Jirou and Kaminari shared a look.

"There's only so much we can do for her. She's bound to fight for herself at some point. Y/N's strong."

Fun Fact: Y/N and Jirou have a bunch of things they've worked on. Jirou's played alongside her in many video games, sometimes with Mina too. And Y/N's featured in many of Jirou's songs. 'On Board Bebop' is Y/N's most recent project that her fans begged her to make with Jirou featured, which is a pile of songs she wrote with her passion and emotions. That's because the way 'Cowboy Bebop' ended made Y/N feel different than she was before she watched it.

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