#this turned out to be something way more precious than the animation collab

[amrehmar]

SHIVERS: High against the sky, above Terminal B, two silhouettes sat on a crane. The sea wind seemed to want to tear those small figures off, carry them away from the heavy breath of the harbour and endless shipping containers -- but it couldn’t even stop them from enjoying a cigarette.

Made in collaboration with @sygneth, who does real magic is responsible for bringing dockworkers to life and all the beautiful animated objects in this scene as well! And I am responsible for sketching and colouring all that is still.

It is a pleasure to make art with you. Let’s do this again sometime? :3

[get-shiggy-with-it]

gin and tonic and bad, bad men

Collab Masterlist

✧ pairing: bartender!dabi x waitstaff!fem!reader

✧ word count: 6k

✧ warnings: misogyny, scummy dabi, noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, cat calling, toxic relationships, toxic work environment, face fucking (?), smut, semi-public sex (in an alley), alcohol, drunk reader, drunk sex, smoking mention, brief spitting, humiliation, light degradation, probably incorrect use of restaurant terminology, reader is implied female but no body parts are explicitly gendered

✧ summary: Dabi is willing to protect you from those awful, nasty men who torment you at work, but he never does anything on the house -- or the newbie at the bar catches dabi's attention and everyone else's.

✧ a/n: Heyy my first dabi, and he's scummy as hell in this. who's shocked? Not me. This is for the BNHAREM collab and it's a coworker/workplace au! Please go check out all the other works, everyone is so talented! Enjoy~

Dead men tell no tales, but drunk men’s mouths run wild.

Liquor loosens the lips like no other force of nature.

Dabi knows this to be true.

Whiskey runs hot in the blood and makes hands reach to lay claim on whatever is closest, whatever is prettiest within their grasp.

Alcohol on the tongue draws forth cravings from deep, hidden pits in men—bears their ugly truths to the world—and Dabi is the master of this liquid sorcery.

He sits, high and mighty, behind the safety of his bartop and watches the sea of bodies grow loose with vodka and gin and in turn he drinks their secrets. Sees the things they hide in sobriety and knows their nature with a removed certainty that is only found in those who have seen the darkest depths of mankind and come out the other side stinking of their filth.

The mahogany slab that separates Dabi from the waves of slobbering drunkards does nothing to stop the infection from spreading. He knows their thoughts, knows their truth, knows what their hands long to bruise, because they’re his thoughts too.

His truth.

His longing.

Kept only at bay by the simple fact that the boss doesn’t like him drinking on shift. Likes to keep his air of professionalism even if the bar is nothing more than a seedy dive in the bad part of the bad part of town.

Whatever keeps him off Dabi’s back is fine.

“The bar is over there and that door is to the kitchen…”

Toga’s voice pulls him from his stupor. The dirty rag he’d been using to halfheartedly wipe down the counters leaves his skin slick, calluses soft and plump as the water eats at them. She’s showing around one of the new hires. The turn over rate for staff here is so goddamn awful that this is a near weekly occurrence, so Dabi doesn’t pay her much mind as she wanders over.

It isn’t until her face is shoved up against his across the bar that he looks away from his task.

“Say hi to the newbie!” she cackles, smile just deranged enough to keep her safe from the crowds on packed nights.

Toga doesn’t look it but she belongs here too, in the filth and squalor of humans. But not like him. She thrives and gorges herself on their foolishness, twirling through the mob of patrons, always knowing who’s back to pat for gracious tips and who’s to stab when she needs to.

He glances up through his lashes and is both shocked and unsurprised by what he finds.

Hanging off the end of Toga’s arm, you stand out against the dingy background of the taproom. The smog of the bar clings to it’s staff, making their hair dull and their eyes red rimmed. You haven’t been poisoned yet though. The smell of the downpour raging outside still clings to you and errant raindrops drip down your chin like tears.

“Hey,” he grumbles and with another prodding look from Toga tacks on a gruff, “name’s Dabi.”

“He’s our bartender,” Toga provides after his silence and you smile. He guesses cause you don’t know any better.

You’ll learn not to do that down here soon enough.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Your name slips off your lips and onto his like top shelf tequila. There’s rain on your palm as you reach out for him, so when he takes it to shake, you can’t feel the way the grime clings to his skin—can’t feel the roughness etched into his fingers through the chill.

Can’t see him for what he is.

Meanwhile, you’re practically transparent in the dim, neon light of the bar.

The buttons of your shirt are undone too low, he notices as Toga drags you away to the back. He could warn you, should warn you. That when the late night crowd stumbles in, you’ll want those extra inches of skin covered up. That dressing like that is just asking for something to get smacked.

You must be stupid to not know it, because he doesn’t think you do.

You’re not really carrying yourself like a slut, he thinks, watching you trail along behind his boisterous coworker smiling and nodding and eager to please.

He ought to warn you.

But he knows he won’t.

You’ll be gone within a week and Dabi will swiftly forget your name and face just like the others before you. He’ll sneak shots in while his manager’s back is turned and any memory of you will be filtered out by his abused liver.

But for now, Dabi reigns himself back in to polish some of the obvious stains from his glasses and prepares himself for the show. The doors open in an hour, and he wants to be ready for the action.

The drunk antics of all the city's criminals gets old fast when you’re the one who has to clean up their shit.

Fresh meat is the only real entertainment they ever get around here.

So Dabi watches as you don one of the stained, black aprons and doesn’t tell you to cover up that sliver of your chest practically glowing in the electric red and blue light. Just looks on from the relative sanctuary of the bar as Toga instructs you on how to carry the drink trays and waits patiently to see you be devoured.

After you trip on the way back to the kitchen, Dabi pulls a twenty out of his pocket and shoves it in a jar hidden under the bartop. He makes a mental note to tell the chef he’s betting on just under a week you’ll last.

At the very least he’ll get a free performance and a neat hundred out of your inevitable failure.

He goes back to polishing, only looking up once as you breeze past the bar on your way to unlock the gates for the nocturnal animals of the city to filter in as they please.

You smile at him again as you pass.

Dabi tosses another twenty into the jar.

***

Well, he may have lost the bet, but he can’t find it in himself to mourn the forty dollars too hard.

Today would be your two week anniversary, and honestly, Dabi felt a bit of grudging respect for the determination you showed, no matter how pointless it was.

Determination and foolishness often came hand in hand.

He couldn’t help but think you looked more than a little the fool as you smiled and made unbridled eye contact with the patrons while walking your rounds from table to table. You’d learned enough to cover up a bit more, but he can’t be sure if that’s because you’ve started to notice the stares or because a spring cold front has rolled over the city. Either way, he watches you shiver under the gaze of a particularly rowdy guest and feels a chill run up his own spine as he watches the man’s eyes trail up your thighs, drinking down the slivers of bare skin like his fifth beer of the night.

Dabi is intrigued now.

Wonders how you’ve made it out of the fray every night so far.

Wonders what you’re hiding under those skimpy clothes and friendly, thoughtless smiles.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

It’s inevitable really. When you’re working nights there are certain occupational hazards to expect. So when the little clock above the bar reads just past one in the morning, and you drift out once again into the raging mass of bodies, Dabi isn’t shocked to hear the yelp and smash of glasses just a few minutes later.

The first die has been cast.

He looks up from pouring out two fingers of whiskey just in time to catch the man’s hand slipping between your thighs, dirty fingers digging into the flesh and yanking you down onto his spread legs. The tray of drinks you’d been carrying clatters to the floor, lacing the air with the sweet burn of alcohol and futile outrage.

It’s far too loud to hear what the man says to you, but the way his blackened, ragged nails press five perfect, filthy crescents onto your skin—how they mark you as a worthy target, claiming you with their muck—sends a clear enough message.

Dabi wouldn’t bother watching if it wasn’t you trying to squirm your way out of being passed from lap to lap around the booth. He’s isn’t the least bit ashamed to admit how curious he is to see which way you’ll react.

And while he expects passivity—a drawn look with wide eyes, hoping no reaction at all will leave them bored and searching for a more interesting conquest—Dabi finds himself on the wrong side of the tracks once more.

His eyebrows shoot up, quite the reaction from the generally stony bartender, as your hand cracks open palmed across the face of your captor. A strange, heavy silence falls over the bar. It lasts only a few precious seconds but it’s enough to draw the attention of your manager who pulls you, cursing and snarling like a dog without it’s muzzle, back to the kitchen.

It’s your face that does him in—seals both your fates in dripping cream and purple wax.

Working down here, in this pigsty bar with it’s air that clings and dirties and tarnishes, brightness of any kind is foreign.

Alluring.

And your eyes that shine with the glow of reckless willpower have the same draw as the fat wads of cash that slip too easily from drunk fingers into his tip jar. Defiance is a rare currency in the underworld and Dabi’s fingers itch as your secret is revealed.

You believe you’re worth something.

Even as he hears the rasp of his boss’ voice, berating and threatening from behind the swinging doors, Dabi can’t help but hold the image of your smile turned snarl. You’ll get off with a warning because you’ve lasted this long and it’s a hassle to find replacements with pretty enough faces. But only this once, do it again and you’ll be out on the street.

For his part he tries to look sympathetic when you crowd yourself behind the bar and pout with your tail between your legs.

You haven’t spoken to him since that first night and he hasn’t exactly made an attempt at conversation either.

It wasn’t like you were worth the effort before.

But now, as you sniffle and pretend the pin prick tears in your eyes are just from the bite of the liquor slicked floor, Dabi feels an old heat rise in him. Something stokes the embers that laid dying out inside the prison of his ribs, and he welcomes the familiar burn.

Like an old friend, like a knife at his throat.

The man from before approaches the bar to order another drink and his cloudy eyes don’t even seem to register the way you cower from him, back turned and sinking into the peeling wallpaper. They’ve forgotten you already. To them you are one of dozens, not worth the fight it takes when plenty of properly meek flesh hops from table to table, ripe for picking.

But Dabi see’s the flint in your hands and knows it’s you that lit this fire licking up the back of his throat.

With two rough fingers he beckons you over into the soft overhead spotlights of the bar. Like a beast to its master’s call you shuffle forward into his gravitational pull and look up at him warily.

“Wanna learn how to mix?” he asks, even to him his voice sounds harsh with disuse.

“...sure,” you say quietly, after a brief pause.

You’re warm and soft as he settles behind you, caging you in with his arms under the guise of reaching for a strainer or a jar of olives. Unlike that bastard, now long passed out from drink, Dabi’s face remains free of your claw marks when his chest brushes against you or his hand wanders to the small of your back to move you aside as he serves customers.

He even works up a little smile of his own when you stare, sunny bright over your shoulder at his attempt to distract you from the incident.

The city, the bar, the underground—all of it is an angry, storming ocean filled with angry, storming bodies that swiftly drowns its victims as they desperately tread water in the open, black abyss.

Without him, you’d learn to take the wandering hands and vulgar words or you’d be foolish enough to inhale them in lungfuls and sink to the bottom.

But as you smile and nod while he shows you how long to stir an Old Fashioned, Dabi feels his own neglected determination rise to the challenge.

By the end of the night, you already trail behind him as he does his rounds to each abandoned table. Like a stranded victim to a raft, you cling to the safety he’s dared to provide.

And if he plays his cards right.

He might not come out of this bet so empty handed.

If only you knew, he was no better than the rest of them.

You’d run straight from the trees into the wolf's den.

***

“What’s your favorite drink to make?” you ask.

Dabi glances up at you, his chest pressed against the cool surface of the bar as he surveys the empty taproom. It’s a little over an hour till opening, but the only thing waiting for him outside of this hellhole is an even deeper hellhole, so Dabi almost always finds himself lounging around the abandoned bar. The boss doesn’t care anyway as long as inventory gets taken and any dried blood from the night before is gone by the next day.

You’ve taken to drifting in early too, even sometimes on the nights you don’t work.

Normally, he’d be annoyed, but it’s better you’re here than out on the streets.

At least if you’re bugging him behind the bar, he can keep an eye on you. Dabi’s found recently that you’ve been on his mind with increasing frequency. It’s easier if you’re in his line of sight. There’s a certain reassurance in your dopey little smile and your hand fisted in the back of his shirt—your body knows where you belong even if your pretty little brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.

Pretty.

“My favorite or my best?” he grunts, pushing off the bar and wetting his lips.

“Is there a difference?”

You’re looking at him with what he assumes is meant to be a cocky grin, but he has a hard time taking you seriously with your crossed arms squishing your chest up like that.

“‘Course there is,” he turns to grab one of the highball glasses from it’s rack and sets it down on the counter. “Just because you like something, doesn’t mean you’re good to it.”

When he looks back at you over his shoulder, you’ve got this comical little furrow in your brow.

“To it?”

Dabi presses the tip of his finger into your forehead, “At it, whatever. Don’t frown so much, you’ll look old as fuck soon if you do.”

“You don’t know how old I am,” you scoff and slap his hand away.

“Bet I’m older,” he mumbles, searching the shelves of bottles idly while dropping a few cubes of ice into the glass.

It melts in his palm, slipping through the spaces between his fingers.

Dabi clenches his fist tighter.

“I don’t know about that,” you’re trotting around to the other side of the bar now, slipping into one of the worn, red topped stools and watching him start to mix.

He likes having you for an audience. Any other customer is only concerned with getting his drink as fast a possible, to numb whatever wounds need to be numbed on their insides. But you appreciate the art form of crafting this liquid destruction.

“I’m older where it counts,” he replies simply, pulling a bottle of gin down from near the top shelf and plopping it on the counter.

“Oh really? How’s that?”

Dabi measures out two ounces of sharp, clear liquor and pours it smoothly over the ice. He doesn’t bother looking at you as he works. He knows your eyes won’t leave him.

“Experience,” he offers and doesn’t elaborate.

The tonic water cracks open with a satisfying hiss and bubbles as he tips it into the glass. You trail your fingers through the condensation on the bar absentmindedly.

“I’m not as clueless as you think I am, you know that?”

He does glance at you then, senses the lack of your attention that’s focused on the fading finish of the bar top.

Dabi waits in silence.

You do elaborate.

“There’s some real fucking choice clientele here, but nothing that’s gone down on shifts is like, a new development.”

“No?” he asks because you expect him to respond and because he enjoys the way you perk up when he actually engages in a conversation with you.

He likes that you like it.

His attention.

It’s not often he finds anyone worth the effort.

“No.”

You stare at him expectantly now, eyes flicking between him and the glass as he stirs the drink a few times and grabs a lime wedge.

Dabi rolls his eyes at the clear fishing line you’re casting for more questions, but takes the bait anyway.

He hopes you know how lucky you are.

“What, got groped on the train a few times and now you think you're a seasoned member of the criminal underground?” he squeezes the fruit between two fingers lightly to spread its juice around the rim and lets it float atop the ice. “I fucking knew you were a dramatic little bitch.”

“I am not dramatic,” you pout just like you do every time the boss chews you out.

He gets the distinct feeling you’re just as much of a petulant little brat elsewhere as you are at work. Then again, that is what makes you so interesting. If you didn’t try to gnash those little baby teeth at him every now and again, he wouldn’t have bothered jumping to your rescue so often.

Dabi doesn’t partake in...partners often. People disappoint him, which isn’t shocking considering the amount of shit he’s seen them spew in his years behind the bar. People are dirty and never in the sexy way all those pop songs talk about, and that makes them boring. The allure of inviting someone else into his shoebox little life is shaping them to fit it. You can’t sculpt mud that loses its shape, slips through your fingers and back to the filthy earth where it belongs.

But you haven’t been stained yet.

You sit at his bar looking like a perfect slab of clay, ready for his hands to dip past those sweet, sweet lips and form them to fit only his fingers.

A rare find in a place like this, just like the single malt on his top shelf—unexpected, leaving behind a pleasant burn on his tongue.

He thinks back to that man on the first night he showed you some of the drinks and all the others that came after him. Here, in the bar, you can come scurrying over and hide behind the wall of his chest. You can put Dabi and the counter between you and the mass of hands and whistles.

He hadn’t really bothered to think of what might happen to you when he’s not around.

Who might touch his precious treasure he’s managed to dig out of muck.

Who might try and ruin you before he gets the chance.

His brain is working to rationalize the growing feeling of possession he feels towards the half frown half permanent smile that you fix him with. But he knows.

He knows exactly what he’d like to do to you and how he’d like to do it.

Knows it���s exactly what all those creeps on the train or drunks that stumble in one hour to call would like too.

It’s fine though. People like him wouldn’t be so attracted to people like you if you weren’t asking for it.

And you were asking.

Every time you stood by him, attached at the hip and let him chase off the assholes who tried to get in your pants or practically begged him with your eyes for some scrap of attention—you were asking for him to take control.

Even if you were too stupid to see it for yourself.

Your body knows what you want, even if you deny it with every fiber left of you.

He doesn’t offer another response, just slides the concoction across and into your outstretched hands.

Gin and tonic is simple, bare bones and hard to fuck up. He likes that. Everything else is so goddamn complicated, this type of magic doesn’t need to be.

You seem to forget the weight of the previous conversation and peer curiously down into the glass. Dabi is shameless as he watches your lips wrap around the curved edge and your throat constrict as you swallow.

He likes that more than the floral gin that hits his tongue when you pass the drink back and he sips.

“So which is it, your favorite or your best?”

There’s a pause as he considers the questions before passing the glass back to you.

“My favorite.”

He isn’t looking at the drink when he answers.

“Oh,” you respond quietly, sipping lightly on the drink he’s made and looking at him like he isn’t seconds away from taking you then and there.

“Stay awhile after your shift,” he says, not much thought behind the words. “I’ll drive you home.”

***

You look almost angelic, a beacon amongst the refuse and grime of the back alley, silhouetted by the dying orange glow of a lone street lamp. The door to the kitchen is still rattling in its frame as Dabi pulls you stumbling behind him.

He isn’t angry.

But there’s something burning in him.

In reality, he’d felt the potential of the night the instant he walked through the front doors, slipping behind the bar to clock in only to find you leaned up against the drink racks, ready and waiting.

The same sensation since the first time you’d smiled that dopey smile his way was raging to a crescendo under his skin. He’d been doing you a service all these weeks, keeping you from the prying eyes and fingers of the patrons—keeping them from soiling what was his to ruin.

Tonight he would take what he was owed.

Indulge a bit in what he’d won, the gold nugget he’d plucked from the dirty, city sewer riverbed.

After all, he needed to make sure you were a worthwhile investment.

If the boss thought the restaurant business was risky….well, Dabi knew better.

You struggled a bit as his fingernails dug into the skin on your bicep, but he just tugged harder, clicking his tongue at the jumble of slurred protests you groaned into the sweet summer air. There was a space between the two massive dumpsters out behind the kitchen Dabi used to go to smoke. It was a nice, private little spot. Didn’t smell too great but nothing here did, and that wouldn’t matter when he had you to distract him anyway.

In seconds he had your back to the wall, hidden on either side by steel containers. The brick caught on your uniform and Dabi watched the fabric tighten around your chest and throat. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, but your hands were weak as they shoved at him, easy to gather in one palm and pin down.

He wasn’t exactly sure what put this idea in his head—the urgency in his blood—but it definitely had something to do with that last customer.

It was halfway through your night shift, closing in on one in the morning. Dabi was stuck behind the bar, churning out cheap beers and lines of shots. You’d been forced to brave the sea of regulars, too busy to hide yourself away in the kitchen with Toga or watch with owl-wide eyes as Dabi doled out liquor.

The bar was unusually packed. Not that it was strange for a bar to be full on a Friday night, but he’d never seen the place without an empty seat in sight.

Maybe it was because you were so easily swallowed up by the roiling mass of bodies, or maybe it was because Dabi lost himself in the magic of the drinks—of the mixing and matching and perfecting—that he didn’t notice the man.

That the way this particular customer stared and touched and spoke to you miraculously didn’t end in a smart slap to the face and a screaming session from the manager.

No. It seemed that somewhere along the way he’d let that light in you, the matchstick spark, dwindle just a bit too much, let you sink just a bit too far into the mud of the place. Cause when this man pulled you into his lap and plied you with shot after shot, cheering all the time, calling you his ‘pretty little thing,’ you didn’t put up any fight.

No.

No you smiled that dumb, bright eyed smile at him.

Flashed this nobody asshole Dabi’s sweet little smile and drank the shots he’d poured like Dabi hadn’t wasted the nearly a month driving you home and keeping you safe from the human garbage that wandered in off the street. Like all that work had been for nothing, up in ashes the instant that man’s hand found purchase on your bare thigh and you didn’t so much as squirm in his grip.

You squirm now though.

Fight despite the alcohol blurring your vision and turning your bones to jelly. Normally the boss hates it when his employees drink on shift, but if you want to take it like the fucking slut you were well, who’s Dabi to stop you?

He kept pouring rounds for that table and watched the man tip sweet, top shelf whiskey down your throat. It didn’t take long till you were losing your balance and sinking deeper into the quicksand debris of the bar.

Gin and tonics used to be medicinal—mixed up with quinine to treat malaria. Dabi likes that. Likes the idea that he’s whipping up healing potions instead of Molotovs. Likes the freshness amidst the burn.

But Dabi wants you to burn now.

Wants your throat on fire with the betrayal.

It’s easy to force your knees. The whiskey made you pliant even as you shake your head and look up at him with bleary eyes.

“You’re looking at me now, huh?” he works his tongue across his teeth as the words leave him, spitting straight on your cheek to watch you recoil in disgust. “Didn’t seem too interested in me earlier.”

“I don’t, I’m sorry...what?” you mumble.

He thinks if you were more coherent you might be crying.

Maybe he should have cut you off sooner.

“Don’t act stupid with me,” he still has your hands held above your head and his free hand moves to grip your scalp. “You’ve been behind my bar so many times, there’s no way you don’t know I see everything.”

“Why didn’t you…” Dabi shakes your head as your eyes droop and you gasp at his nails raking your skin. “You could have helped me!”

“What? Help you get fucked by some drunk shit? I don’t think so.”

“No,” you shake your head yourself this time, face screwed up in confusion and as the grit of the alley bites into your knees. “They wouldn’t let me leave, I was scared, Dabi please—”

He is swiftly losing his patience, hand leaving your head to fumble with the clasp of his belt and pants. The look on your face—tears beginning to bead at the corners of your eyes and mouth opening up as words try but fail to find their way off your tongue—is enough to have his cock twitching with interest.

“Listen sweetheart, cause I’m not gonna fucking say this again,” he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest as his dick falls free from his boxers and your eyes go almost all white as he strokes up the ladder of piercings on his shaft. “You might think you’re cut out for this job, but you aren’t shit. Everything’s got a price down here and you’re gonna have to pay the fuck up for what you owe me.”

You look like you want to protest, even in this state—on your knees in an dirty as fuck alley with a fat cock nudging your lips—but he’s got his thumb worked between your teeth, shoving down on your tongue until your jaw pops open and he can sheath himself inside.

The half choke, half sob, half shameful moan that squeezes out past his dick only has Dabi growing harder. It’s been so long since he’s fucked someone’s throat. So long since he’s fucked anything at all, he’s nearly forgotten how goddamn good it feels to have something other than a fist wrapped around him.

His fingers migrate, moving to grip you by the cheeks, keeping your mouth open and jaw locked so you can’t bite him. Not that he thinks you really would.

Your body knows what you want.

And it seems like you really want a fucking dick in your mouth.

He pulls out, listening to the click of the little metal barbells against your teeth and the gasp of air you take before he plunges back in.

“Look at you,” he muses, daring to release your hands which flop uselessly to your sides as he holds your face still and starts to roll his hips. “Don’t know why I waited so long to collect, fucking shit.”

Your neck bulges with every stroke of his hips, and when the ring at the tip of his dick nudges the back of your throat, you gag so pretty he can hardly stand it.

He wonders idly, as you cry and choke on his cock, if you’re thinking about the man in the bar. Wishing it was his length you were lapping at like a good little hole.

Wishing Dabi had been better.

Not like the others.

And for a moment, it has him stilling—the horrid notion that there might have been something not so twisted between you if only he wasn’t scum like the rest, if he wasn’t just hiding his dirt on the inside.

Tar logged lungs and heart.

But then he remembers that if he just fucks you hard enough, you’ll forget all those nasty things until you’re fit just for him. Molded for Dabi right down to the thoughts in your head.

So instead of stopping this now and hoping you’re drunk enough to forget the filth of the alley and the salt of his cum on your tongue, he picks up his pace.

His thighs burn with the effort, not used to this kind of movement after years alone, and your face is a mess of tear tracks and spit that dribbles out in streams around the length of him slamming into your throat.

It’s quick and dirty and hard and everything Dabi has ever been and will always be. Delicious and hot and fresh. His blood is pounding in his ears, drowning out the cries and sobs and whimpers coming from you between his knees. Instead his head is alight with the thought that soon he’ll mark that mouth as his, claim you before the others could. And if the road to hell is paved with good intentions then Dabi doesn’t know where he’s going when he dies, but he’s deep in heaven now.

With a bang and a whimper Dabi will pretend didn’t slip past his lips, he slams past your teeth once more before exploding in your mouth. Thick, white ropes of release coat your tongue and he doesn’t pull out, just works his fingers under your jaw until he feels you swallow around his softening cock.

Only then does he take a step back to survey his work.

Half in shadow, surrounded in trash and debris, cum stained with dirt under your nails, Dabi feels pride well in his chest.

Distantly he thinks that this burning sense of completion, of perfection, of accomplishment, is what an artist must feel—hand finally dropping the brush to gaze upon their life’s work.

A masterpiece.

His perfect, human clay creation.

Your mouth still hangs dumbly open, hands resting on the brick dust coated ground, your eyes are wide and still stare up at him—reminiscent of a peasant gazing onto a king, confused at the power before you. And with the dim burning of the streetlight, illuminating his hair and glinting off the silver piercings adorning his ears, Dabi thinks he must look just that—a king with his crown of bloody jewels.

He watches as you sway and fall forward on your hands and coughing onto the ground. Your chest heaves, your legs shake, and Dabi feels his shoulders soften. He tucks himself away slowly, refastening his belt as your sputtering subsides. With careful steps, he moves to stand in front of you once again, running his hand along the back of your head until your breaths come deeply and his mouth tastes sickly sweet at the way your hands move to grip at his boots.

“Hey,” he mumbles, feeling some strange heat in his face that brings him to his knees before you. “Look at me.”

And you do in an instant.

Dabi half expects a glare, steely and cold like the walk-in but it’s not.

Your eyes are blank and glossy, staring hooded and helpless like a stray cat desperate to be carried away and fed warm milk.

He wipes a bit of his own release from the corner of your mouth and doesn’t question the sudden, intense need to lick behind your teeth. With filthy hands he cups your face and revels in the feel of your swollen lips and the taste of himself on your tongue.

It screams ownership.

And Dabi has never had much to his name so the thought only makes him want to cling harder.

As he pulls away there’s a smear of red dust on your cheek from his thumbs stroking the skin. Marked. Claimed. Coated in a thin layer of grime just like every other poor soul that walks into this place, but that dirt is his. That filth is him, a permanent imprint on your bones.

He thinks you’d look good with his name in black ink etched into your flesh, dark and blatant so anyone who looks at you would know, would see who owns you even when the muck has been washed away.

“You did good,” he says, giving you a smile of his own—maybe his first, surely not his last.

Your voice is nothing more than a sunken ship wreckage of what it once was, interrupted with sniffles and creaks. “I..want to go home….”

“Let me drive you,” his hands reach under your arms to lift you shakily off the ground, head tucked safely into his shoulder as he helps you limp to his car. “Not safe for you to go walking at this time of night. Men can be fucking monsters you know?”

His heart pounds happily in his chest as you nod against him.

“Thanks,” you whisper into his shirt.

Dabi grins wider than he can ever recall. The kind of expression that makes his cheeks ache and his head spin.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” the words drip off his tongue, top shelf truth if he’s ever heard it. “Anytime.”

[kkodzvken]

where you let it go - hawks x g.n. reader

this is my fic for @doinmybesthere​‘s mental health collab (mlist here). thank you so much emme for hosting! 

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, unspecified mental health issues, involuntary commitment, panic attack, a bit of depersonalization

a/n: i wrote this from my own personal experiences, so it’s in no way indicative of what all treatment is like. i was also hospitalized by my parents when i was a minor so i don’t really know about involuntary commitment for adults, so i’m sorry if this was inaccurate. this was incredibly therapeutic — i wrote what i needed to hear back then. and please please please, know that your mental health is so important, and there is nothing braver than getting help. title cred: where you let it go by i the mighty

w/c: 1.7k

They’re all too loud.

The voices rise up around you. They crash against each other, echoing against the sterile white walls and ceilings. They feed off each other like carnivorous beasts, and they sink their claws into your ears, dig their teeth into your flesh and leave scratches against your marrow.

They’re too fucking loud.

You want to leave. You want to leave, but you can’t. And besides, wasn’t this supposed to help? Wasn’t this supposed to make you better? You should be reveling in all the noise, letting the voices seep into your ears and wash away the awful sounds in your brain. But they don’t cancel each other out – they just amplify each other, until it’s too loud for you to think, to breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re encased in ice. Someone’s saying something – a nurse, asking about your medication history – but his voice is washed away in the sea of noise that surrounds you. You try to breathe, but your chest is filled with sticky tar. You try to respond, to spit out whatever they want to hear so they’ll leave you alone, but the tar rises up into your windpipe and settles into your voice box.

You want to leave. You need to leave, but you can’t.

Your mind isn’t in your body anymore. You aren’t in your body anymore. The sounds are still assaulting your eardrums, and you still feel everything so vividly. But it isn’t you. This isn’t you.

Is that you? This person, is that you? You stare down at your hands in an attempt to ground yourself, but it does just the opposite. You stare at your hands, but they are not your own. You know, you know how impossible that is. But the longer you stare, the more not-yours they become.

You can feel the tar rising up in your throat, turning into acidic bile that corrodes at your cells, but they’re not your cells. You’re looking down at your body, but it belongs to someone else. That person is not you – that person, staring blankly down at their hands as they’re surrounded by a hurricane of voices and nurses – that person is not you.

This was supposed to help. It was supposed to make you better, but after only a day, you’re already spiraling into a state that’s much worse. You hate everything about this place. You hate the smell of disinfectant that burns your nose, and the harsh white lights that burn your eyes. You hate the rituals and rules. You hate feeling eyes on you at all times. The constant supervision feels like a rope around your neck. It’s fucking miserable.

“Mx. Y/N, please. We can’t make any progress if you don’t work with us.”

“I don’t want to work with you,” you spit out. “I want to go home.”

The nurse sighs. He places his pen and clipboard down on his lap. “I understand how you feel, but you know –”

“How the fuck do you understand how I feel?” Your voice is dripping with venom. All of the fear and anger of the past days – no, the past weeks, months, years – reaches a fever pitch. The steady beeping of the machines by your bedside makes your head throb, but you ignore the pain as you push yourself off the bed. “I’m going home.”

You only make it a few steps before the two other nurses in the room rush to your side. Their hands are cold, and they dig into your arms when they grab you. Bile rises up in your throat. You try and twist out of their grasps, but they’re too strong, and your head hurts too badly.

That doesn’t stop you from trying. “Let me go!” you shout. You hate how shrill your voice sounds. The nurses act as if they can’t hear you. They march you back towards the bed, but you twist and thrash and try to make for the door. “Let me go, let me go, let me GO!”

“Baby?”

Your head shoots up at the sound of his voice. “K-Kei!”

He stands in the doorway, clutching a duffel bag in one hand and your favorite stuffed animal in the other, but he quickly drops everything and rushes towards you. The nurses must loosen their grips, because you’re finally able to twist away from them. You collide against his body, and with his strong arms wrapped around you, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t know when you started crying, but tears are freely falling down your face now. You bury yourself into his chest, holding him as close and as tight as you possibly can. “Keigo,” you sob out. “Keigo, I wanna go home, please take me home.”

He pulls you impossibly closer and presses little kisses against the top of your head. “Oh, angel,” he breathes. He shifts and picks you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his hips and he wraps his wings around your body like you have a thousand times before. It should bring you comfort, but it just reminds you of how wrong this feels. You should be in your shared home, not this hospital with its overwhelming smells and sounds.

“Home,” you cry out again.

He coos softly. “Oh, angel, you know that I can’t do that.”

You ball your hands into fists and grab at his shirt, tugging at it while your sobs intensify. “I don’t wanna be here, Kei, please.”

“I don’t want this either, honey. But you need this.”

“No! I need to go home! I need them to leave me alone!”

He turns to the nurses. “Can we have a moment alone, please? I promise that I’ll keep them safe, and call if anything happens.”

The nurses look at each other doubtfully, but eventually nods their heads and file out of the room. Keigo turns his full attention back to you. “Cry it out, angel,” he says as he sways your bodies gently. “Let it all out. I’m here, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He holds you as sobs rack through your body, as you wail and scream and thump your fists against his back. When you finally retreat from the safety of his shirt, you’re sure that you look disgusting. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your face is covered in snot and tears. But he still looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He lowers himself onto the bed and holds you in his lap, your legs straddling him and your face resting against his neck.

“I know it sucks, angel,” he starts. “But don’t—”

“Please don’t lecture me,” you interrupt. You hate how small and weak your voice sounds. “I know that I have to stay here. I know they’ll help me get better. But I don’t want to, Kei. I want to go home with you. Can’t I just get better at home?”

His expression is painfully gentle as he cups your face in his big hands and smiles at you. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, baby.”

“I know, but I can do it myself–”

“No you can’t,” he says bluntly. “You can’t get better by yourself. And I can’t help you get better by myself. We need real help.”

You whine and turn your head, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “…I know. But I still don’t want to.”

“Both of those things can be true,” he says. “You can hate it, and still do it and know that you need it. It’ll suck, but hey, look at it this way. The more you cooperate, the faster you’ll get better, and the faster you’ll be able to come home to me.”

You bury your face back into his shoulder. You don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to leak out of your eyes again. “I-I’ll miss you. I couldn’t sleep last night. It was…It was wrong, not having you next to me.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, and your chest pangs at the sound of his voice breaking. “I couldn’t sleep either. But I’ll visit you every day, alright? I’ll stay as long as I can, until they kick me out. And then I’ll call you until they kick us off the phone.”

“It’s not the same.” You feel childish when you whine and complain like this, but you can’t help it. The concept of being hospitalized, of being locked up away from Keigo and everything else important in your life, is terrifying. “When…when do you think I can come home?”

“They said they’ll let you go out if you’re good, right?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention yesterday,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles and presses another kiss against your forehead. “It’s okay, angel, I was listening. I’ll double check, but I think that I’m allowed to bring you out for a few hours if you stick with your plan. Let’s look forward to that, okay? We can go home and watch a movie, or we can go on a date somewhere nice. Whatever you want.”

“Home,” you mumble. “Wanna snuggle with you on our bed.”

You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your hair, and it makes you smile a little too. “Well,” he says, repositioning himself onto his back and dragging you along with him. “It’s not the same, but we can watch a movie now! They didn’t let me bring your laptop in, but we can watch on my phone.”

You snuggle into his side and rest your head on his chest. The steady sound of his heartbeat is comforting, and it helps to cancel out all of the other horrible sounds enveloping you. You’re still terrified, but with his arms and wings wrapped around you, and the reassuring warmth of him against you, you feel a bit safer, and a bit less scared.

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say. “Please…please don’t go. I know that I’m fucked up, and I’m a hassle, and that I make things difficult for you. I’m sorry. But please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he says. He leans his forehead against yours and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I promise. I’ll stay with you forever. You’re not fucked up. Your struggles don’t make me think any less of you. They don’t make you any less lovable. I promise, baby, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, and I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝘼/𝙉: This is my piece for my very own collab 'Ice Cold Heart' and also my excuse to delve into some more canon rather than fanon Hawks, because canon Hawks has been clouding my mind lately and I needed to get this out

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Hawks/fem!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Angst, mentions of sexual themes

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

"I'm in love with you"

The precious meaning of a phrase is only defined by the weight you decide to put on it. And today you have decided that with your words you'd give birth to what's only going to give you and him pure, undefined pain. An elephant in the room if you may, an ogre of emotions that otherwise would be unwanted to stand between the two of you.

You think 'otherwise' as if it's not unwanted already. The unrequited nature of your sentence will linger in your heart more than you'd like to admit, but you're ready to lift your eyes and meet his golden ones, ready to be judged with the coldness of his gaze, ready to be treated like you've expected you will when coming into his office.

You still have that hidden truth to spill to him, and it surpasses the one you spilt already, but you hold your dry tongue in your mouth for now.

What could possibly only hurt like a kitten's scratch -his mute, his echoing silence- is rather twisting numerous sharp daggers in your chest, twirling over the wound of your feelings, ravaging any hope for salvation you had been left with. You wonder how your friends ever managed to convince you that the hardest thing about confessing was the part where you had to build up your courage.

Your courage never suffered from a hit as you walked to his office, despite being terrified for what you had to say to him. Paperwork in your hands and none of a nervous trembling in your lips, iron clad feet clashing with the tiles of the building. You've made your decision to get rid of all those feelings, not wanting to spend another night bent on his desk or sprawled under him, only for him to act like he barely knows you in the office and then to be all greedy and sweet in public events.

His games, that god awful behavior of his, the way he chooses to use you -even if you feel like you use him to, to turn him into something that he's not with your imagination- you're tired of everything. And then there's also the fact that he's a traito-

"Aha"

The answer to your confession wasn't supposed to affect you either for better or for worse, rather this confession was an egotistical act, Mirko, or any of your friends previously said, that one had to endure in order to take the next big step. Whether that was a step accompanied by your desired person, or a step to redeeming the anathema a rejection could have caused.

Frankly it wasn't that the golden orbs staring back at you were rejecting. If anything, they didn't bore into yours in a way that left you hollow, but they didn't fill your heart with dreams either. And what your original intentions begged to stand up for was that you didn't care of any significant reciprocation.

You wish you didn't care where those words you had uttered had left Hawks, or in what inner conflict they had found him in. But you know, he won't be in any conflict about what you have to say, what you've kept inside for too long, what has bled onto your morals like a run over animal on the street, left to rot and seep into the road as it disintegrates under the sun or the cold.

Unbeknownst to you, deep down in his head, Hawks doesn't know how to feel, or how to react; its all too sudden for him to process. The way you spoke of it so casually yet, so lightheartedly, your tone suggesting that you let your most vulnerable object of thought slip through your fingertips, like you let it fall out of your head and shutter on the ground.

"I-"

It isn't much, just the start of a sentence that he hopes he could compose, but the way your brows furrow at the sound of his voice does nothing other than startle him.

You should have known, he's not going to give in to such demands. Love, relationships, he doesn't have time, space, a mindset, doesn't need you to be that one for him, he wants all the stability he can get when he wants it, however he wants it and he's gone when he gets it, swift as a bird, cold as stone. That doesn't necessarily tickle a nerve inside of him, you know the rules, even if he feels bad about you suffering like this there's nothing he can do -he doesn't even know how- and he chooses to let you speak, get it out, before he has to go and be a hero for the day.

"No, no save it," You wave him off "here's my resignation"

The authority in your voice isn't the one he was used to. As his eyes blink, honey colored orbs taking in the un-glory of your posture, he's met with the sight of your hands hugging around your own form; the ultimate sign of vulnerability, uncertainty.

"You don't have to quit because you fell in love with me"

'You fell in love with me' he speaks of the words so little, as if they're dirty, as if you're in this with yourself and they're so suffocating that he can't stand them, only to softly graze your ear with vore intentions, to tell you that you don't have to quit, to urge you to not take this too serious.

Your feelings aren't serious.

"I do" You speak, trying to jab him back with some crafted poison in your tone. But you know what you're going to say next will definitely do it for him, it'll poison him we'll, whether it makes you endangered or not. "I was on patrol when I saw you doing business with Dabi, so save it."

The weight of those words is what finally serves as a huge hit to your courage. You've outed yourself greatly and now the chewing on your bottom lip is profound and painful to a great amount. Hawks' face is contorted in a terrifying darkness, thick brows clenched above his eyes and lips pushed into a thin line, nose scrunched.

"Listen-"

"I just don't want to be a part of this"

That's when he knows he has to be forgiving.

Hawks isn't used to you, a fierce warrior of a hero, clenching your jaw tensely or furrowing your brows in sorrows. He isn't used to you being so upfront with your emotions either; whatever the two of you have shared in the past has been in words of reluctance and mind states of regret, each one desperate to prevent your hearts from getting hurt.

He knows his heart won't get hurt though, it's shielded way too well inside his chest, in such way he feels hollow, driven by anything other than the stupid organ. You should have known, he tells himself, before you got involved so deeply, but he left you with no time for thoughts like these, wiggling you under his wing while biting your skin instead of pecking it.

Just as Hawks has always known that he's going to hurt you no matter you rejecting labels or bottling feelings up and absolutely forbidding the mention of them, it's obvious that things can't go his way. He isn't used to you eyeing him with pain gathering in the corners of your eyes, but he's willing to play the part you're setting up for him right on the spot. Even if he has to admit, the thought of being painted in this color jabs him just like knowing things won't go back to the way they were between the two of you.

He doesn't mind. He had to let it go because by the time you know about the truth you won't even remember his face, or the way his voice sounds, and he shouldn't think about this but he does, in a way, in the very back of his head.

His mission, he thinks, is far more important than his personal life -it's a top priority for greater good.

Once greater good is achieved he's going to be able to invest in a personal life that involves feelings and excitement and even the noble pleasure of being able to choose between priorities. Right?

So, whatever he's feeling now -the tight knot in his throat, the painful lack of oxygen in his throat, his gut twisting and churning and his limbs alternating from spasming to going numb- he has to ignore.

But for the worse part he doesn't really know how to act. The confession that has startled him is still lingering on repeat in the back of his head, fueling the small ignition of a flame that begs to put you on a pedestal, or rather, it began to make his mouth move on it own, to tell how that he too wishes he could be with you as more than this secretly exclusive arrangement you've set.

Maybe, his heart pleads, maybe he can tell you about his mission and clear up the confusion.

He wonders if that would be a part you'd want him to play for you.

"I won't give you away. So long as you don't involve me in this, I don't have ulterior motives for protecting civilians."

"I-" He starts, darkness bottling up in his gut, stomach falling after going utterly numb. Somehow he knows he's not going to utter a word if he keeps acting like that.

"Hawks-"

"You'll get over it."

It's sharp and it's short and it sends heavy, lethal daggers to your chest, so much that you can feel your heart beginning to slip from in between your ribs, out of chest and onto the floor of his office. It'd be a mess to clean, the blood if your agony and your heartache rightfully on his floor. For him to look down on, this time, physically.

"I will"

He knows his words hurt, just by the mere look your face contorts and he won't utter a word about what you just said, he'll link you to Endeavor and when the time comes you'll know. His cause is greater than your heart breaking, greater than chasing after that small arrangement he's made so he can get physical release from time to time.

It's better not to react. Not to terrorize you into anything for if you're afraid you might out the wrong truth to the heroes in your circle and his plan -the commission's plan- will fail and the heroes will lose this war. And he can't lose.

You want to look at him with menace and disgrace, not to atone him for the way he's making you feel; crashing your dreams, poisoning your morals and your thoughts, living down to your expectations so much that you don't know what to think of him.

Like he did when you saw him after closed doors, cold and unapproachable, to the point he's scary. Manipulative so much that you found your way under him without even realizing how fast it happened, what impact it had to you to get involved with him. You just want to be out, unwielded from his spider's web and latch yourself into something real and kind, to serve your purpose as a hero. As a human.

When he opens his mouth again you're not scared anymore, of what he may do to you, of what will happen next.

"Hand me your papers so I can sign them"

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[pookiepoodle]

Samples - Osamu x Reader

This is for the Bad Doctor’s Collab run by @gourmetrat. Firstly, I’d like to thank them for giving me the opportunity to participate in such a cool event! I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m excited to see all the other submissions! Now, let’s get down to buisness!

This is a piss kink fic, with dub-con. It’s written for a female reader but in the future I’m gonna try to rewrite for a male reader (no promises). 

Please enjoy, check out my masterlist and send in requests!

You were the perfect patient, to Osamu Miya. 

When he’d called out your name to the crowded waiting room, you’d timidly stood up, shyly making your way over to him. Everyone knew that he was a urologist, but he had the decency to not say it too much. After all, most of his patients were quite embarrassed to be seen in his office. You weren’t an exception to this rule with your flushed cheeks and nervous glances.

His eyes lit up, his mind racing with possibilities as he led you to his office, locking the door behind you. You were so beautiful… so sweet. You’d be easy to trick, to manipulate into his little toy. Being a Urologist meant you had to tolerate piss, but Osamu did more than tolerate it. 

“So, what brings ye here today?” Osamu exclaimed, his loud voice filling the otherwise quiet room. The only sound for a moment was his footsteps as he made his way to the desk littered with lab reports and pens. 

He could barely hear you whisper something under your breath, unable to meet your handsome doctor’s eyes as you mumbled. 

“I’ll need ya to speak up if I’m gonna help ya,” he chuckled, leaning back into his leather chair. The view was spectacular as he gazed at your chest, following the curves and lines all the way down to your shoes before meeting your eyes.

“I… I think I have a UTI,” you finally said, only slightly louder. But it was enough to have Osamu understand. It wasn’t too uncommon in his line of work and he quickly stood, the chair squeaking with the sudden motion. He began moving to the cabinets behind you, making your breath hitch. You didn’t dare to turn around as he began to hum, the sound of plastic being moved around. 

“Well, I’m gonna need a sample to send to the lab, just so we can decide if we need to give ya an antibiotic,” he explained, moving back to his seat. With a little flourish, he placed the plastic cup onto the table. 

Maybe he was being a bad doctor… but, god, he wanted to push you a little as you stood up. You’d grabbed the empty container, mumbling your thanks before turning to the bathroom attached to his office. 

But just as you rested your hand on the handle, his voice filled the room, making you jump.

“Bad news, sweetheart, that’s not gonna be an option.”

“Huh?”

“Something’s up with the bathroom, I can’t let ya in their…”

“Oh…” you mumbled, letting go of the handle and taking a step back before glancing to the door,” I could always… is their public bathrooms?”

“There are,” Osamu grinned, enjoying the brief relief on your face before he continued,” but you’d have to walk through that crowded waiting room and back.”

It took a few minutes for it to dawn on you what exactly he was implying and your face suddenly paled. Oh. 

You’d have to walk through the waiting room, with your cup of pee for everyone to see. 

“But… Do you have a bag or anything I could use?” you exclaimed softly, cringing as you asked. Osamu shook his head, closing the cabinet door which did contain brown paper bags. Better to let you think he was the good guy rather than a liar. 

“Sadly, all I’ve got are plastic ones,” he smiled, the apologetic expression the exact opposite of his true intentions.

You couldn’t help but whine, sinking back down onto the check up table with a look of despair.

“I’m going to need that sample today by the way, the lab is going to be closed this weekend and the last shipment of samples is going out tonight,” Osamu continued, lying through his teeth.

“But… I need to get the train home, there’s no way I could make it back in time!”

“That’s a pity… but I do have a small idea.”

Before you could ask what this small idea was, Osamu had rolled his chair right in front of you, his brown eyes following the dips and curves of your body.

“It’s a bit unusual but I don’t mind letting you use my office,” he drawled, his thick hand reaching out to rest on your knee. The gesture appeared to be one of comfort, but there was a far less innocent intention as he gave you a small squeeze. You could have cried for joy - this wonderful, handsome doctor was so kind…

“But I can’t let ya be in here alone, of course.”

That made you freeze, your eyes widening as you met his jaw agape. Surely, he couldn’t mean…

“Hell,” he grinned, suddenly standing up and towering over you, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear as he continued,” I’ll even help ya collect a sample. My treat.”

“Wait, I couldn’t… that has to break a rule, this isn’t right!” you squeaked, flushing as his hand began to make its way up your thigh, slipping under your skirt. 

“Not at all, I’m a doctor, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled, his fingers running along the edge of your panties,” Trust me, I’ve helped plenty of patients, though none as pretty as ya.” It was actually true. Osamu was used to this, especially with his more elderly patient who needed some assistance. Normally, though, the task was mundane - this, he felt, was going to be the complete opposite.

“So… this is normal?” you whispered, wriggling when you felt his thick fingers run along the edge of your panties.

“Mhm. Completely,” he assured you, knowing that you were so close to agreeing. You just needed a final push. 

“Besides,” he continued, meeting your eyes and giving you the smallest smirk,” you wanna be a good patient, right?”

…

That’s how you found yourself standing in the middle of his office, your skirt and panties folded neatly on the check up table and Osamu behind you, cup in hand. 

“I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whimpered, unable to look down. You’d never been in such a position before, especially when you were about to do something so taboo.

“Of course ya can, it’s easy,” he hummed, gazing down at your thighs and the little mound of curls which hid your precious holes from his sight. 

“I know, it’s just really embarrassing,” you continued, pouting slightly as you looked over at his desk. 

“I know, but remember, I’m your doctor,” he continued. His hand resting on your thigh suddenly darted between your legs, making you squeak and clench around him.

“Ah, wait!”

“Come on, Miss Y/N, we don’t have all day,” he smiled, ignoring your protests as he began to push your lips apart. Osamu wanted to groan, you were soaked.

“I know, but still, I’ve never…” you started, pausing. 

“Never what?”

“I’ve never… been touched like this,” you confessed, blushing brightly. 

“Well, lucky me,” 

You shivered when you felt his fingers slide against your holes, before the cool rim of plastic was pressed against you.

“Now piss.”

If this were a cliche fanfic or storyline, you’d have protested, still trying to cling to any dignity left. But you’d been told before the appointment to drink plenty of water so you’d be able to give a sample no problem.

So, with his crude words, the floodgates opened, much to Osamu’s surprise. He had expected you to whine and protest, begging for some privacy. But instead, you were pressed against his firm body, an expression of relief gracing your face as you quickly filled the cup. 

Perhaps you’d drunk a little too much water…

Your eyes suddenly snapped open when you heard splashing against the lino floor, making you jump back and gaze down. The cup was overflowing and you were still peeing, an embarrassing puddle forming on Osamu’s sterile office floor. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I can’t-” you whined, bright red as the stream began to taper off. Soon, only a few drops echoed in the room, but all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat. You had just peed on his floor… like an animal. God, was that a wet spot on his coat?!

But before you could say a word, a hand cupped your hot face, forcing you to meet the doctor’s eyes. 

“Do it again.”

[duskyskz]

Blueberry Claws - H.H.J

Warnings - Halloween Au, mentioned assault, choking, Hyunjin!Dom mild tones, slight violence

Word Count - 4.7K

A/N - ahaha this .. turned out way longer than I meant to ohno I'm sorry Hyunjin had my heart in a vice grip lately

Part of @nightshade-minho and @mini-meanhoe 's Halloween collab!

*********************************

Elbow deep in ruddy earth, you kneel among the undergrowth of your garden, plucking away stray roots and weeds. It’s not your favourite part of the day, but you pride yourself in the exquisite berries your growth produces, and adequate sunlight is a must in bringing the sweetest fruits. Autumnal chills creep down your spine, warning you of setting sun and cooler nights looming over the forest horizon. It is a quaint little house, settled carefully between the curve of the river and the forest border, a hat’s toss away from the village settlement, and you enjoy it that way - far away enough for privacy and undisturbed peace, yet not isolated enough to be unreachable and dreary. 

People weren't the only viable company, anyway. Your neighbors came in the form of passing badgers rummaging through your compost, squirrels and mice poking their noses through cracks in your windowsill while you bake, the sweet smell of sugar and jams luring in a furry audience you felt obliged to entertain, tossing crumbs and peels into the open yard. 

“Croak!” 

You raise your head away from the mud at the screech, glancing upward. 

“Hello.” You greet your most recent visitor. The magpie quickly climbed upon your friendlist, introducing itself with a persistent knock of its beak against your poor kitchen windowpane. It came back the next evening, and the one after that, never missing more than a day in it’s routine to rob you of your pie crusts. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Croak!” You suppose that’s a yes, considering the intensity with which the bird stares down at your precious blueberries. 

“Come on, then. Lunch wouldn’t hurt me, either.” 

***

“Can you believe that - that witch!” You stomp along the pavement to your front door, slamming it open. “The audacity to even imply my pies are anything but organic!”

Positively fuming, you don't entertain the absurdity of venting your frustrations to a corvid. At times, you think to yourself the little blackbird almost understands you - head tilting in accordance with your words, nodding when appropriate and watching your dutifully as if awaiting continuation. 

Then it’s attention switches from your wild gesticulations to the fresh batch of muffins cooling on your counter, and your suspicions of a higher intelligence disappears, leaving you to sweep cake crumbs off it’s feathers. No, plunging neck-deep into hot cake is not wise, you’d point out later. 

***

Maybe the loneliness does get to you after all. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how reliant you become on the magpie’s company. Its’ shrill croaks and glassy eyes became a comfort to you, a presence your day no longer felt complete without. Brushing your fingertips over the delicate feathers on its back, you rest your chin on your other palm. 

“It’s a dreary winter coming, birdie.” You muse, humming at the overcast sky. Masses of grey and washed out blues tumblr over the hills, warning you of approaching snows and rains. “I should fix the roof hatching tomorrow morning - be a shame to freeze my toes off before the solstice, wouldn’t it?” 

 The magpie doesn’t reply, and you don’t expect it to, but the slow blinks as you speak convince you your words don’t fall on deaf ears. 

“As long as I don’t have someone warming my bed, I better do all the warming myself.” Springin to your feet, you set to work on tidying the front yard. 

“Would you care to join me to fetch new hay for the roof tomorrow?” 

Your unconventional companion opens his beak, groaning. Then it snaps down into the ground, impaling one of your finest strawberries. 

Ah, well. 

You can only guess what a magpie must tend to in a day - you weren’t about to keep it from important bird tasks.

***

Your window panes quiver with the force of the hurricane, creaking sadly in their wooden frames. You have no idea what time it could possibly be, but judging by the time already passed since sundown, it’s way into the late night. Dismorphed figures haunt the outside, shadows passing over your bedroom like a predator, and you burrow deeper under your covers. Of course, approaching winter was harsh. In the hillside, mountain winds rolled down rocky foundations to crash into your humble home with rapid force. Turning onto your side, you press your head against the pillow to mute the whistle of the wind through your thin walls. You’d patched the roof last week - but you had yet to insulate the walls fresh, and chills made themselves known through cracks and gaps in last year’s worn overlay. 

With a soul-crushing snap, your window is thrown open as the lock gives way to hurricane, two fragile glass planes whipping open into the dead of night as you curse your luck and scramble out of bed to grasp the handles before they’re torn off entirely.

Yet something past the glass grabs your gaze before you can pull them shut, petrifying you in place. You don’t know if it’s the rain freezing your feet to the ground, or the unfiltered terror, but you can’t even scream as your eyes meet the vividly yellow ones across your garden.

Hunched above your blueberry bush, in a cloak of pitch black, stands a creature you’ve only seen in manic sketches in the village hall prior to tonight. Its’ spine seems bent, somehow, too long and too skewerd to fit precisely in its body, leaving two lumps protruding from its back. In a pale face, boxed in by wisps of black, you can only focus on two luminous eyes, zeroing in on your figure with far too much attention for your liking. 

In its knifed claws it grips a branch of your favourite plant, mangled and weeping blueberry juice onto the dirt. Maroon splatters blot the beast’s face, but you don’t gaze long enough to separate fruit from the blood of some poor soul. 

Maybe your blood will be next on its beak. 

Yanking the window shut, you tumble into your bed, curling as tight as you can into the duvet, shielding your head. Maybe it’ll go away if you don’t make noise, holding your hands to your ears. 

Maybe it’ll just go away.

***

It’s been three days since the storm, and coincidentally, three day since you’ve last seen your closest friend. Really, mayhaps this was a sign your friendship should extend elsewhere, and not the local corvid populace. Shovelling pastries into your hamper, you venture out into the open air for the first time since that night.

You’re still unable to clean the wreckage in your front yard. Somehow, the thought of laying your hands on the same branches that unknown horror touched fills you with dread, and you can’t bring yourself to rid the leftover mess. You had enough jams and preserves stockpiled to last you the whole winter if need be - if you weren’t financially obliged to sell most of them, anyway. 

Fitting yourself with a scarf to guard from temperamental weather, you wrap the wool tightly up to your nose as the first leaves fall from the oaks beside you. 

You love your town, you really do. 

The whimsy of nearby streams rolling over lustrous green fields is a wonder to wake up to every morning, and the walk into town is always a pleasant meander under centuries-old oaks and pine trees, spying on the conversations of woodpeckers and crows.

Yet, among all the commotion, you find yourself missing one particular croak. Never quite the same elegant cry as the other birds, but particular and endearing in its own right. 

And entirely missing from your life for half a week.

Passing the stone gates, you keep to the right of the road to make space for idle carts and horses wandering the streets. Carefully, you unload all your stock onto the market table - this stand has your name carved into the wooden leg, and you pride yourself on being a regular enough attendant to warrant a reserved place. 

The day flurries by you in a mess of clinking jam jars and passing coins. Afternoon had already set in a while ago, traversing into the evening by the time you begin wrapping up your last sale. Bidding goodbye to the market staff, you hoist your (significantly lighter) basket over your forearm, leaving the town square. It’s not dark yet, bare wisps of the night inking over your head as the sun lowers over the woods, letting you lose your train of thought in the scenery.

You feel the last pricks of stress leave you as your thoughts drift to the hallowing creature from nights ago. Perhaps your mind, in its hazy and exhausted stade, played up the vivid shadows and reflections in the moonlight? Yes, surely. There’s no way an animal this size and fright roamed your woods unacknowledged - The only terror you knew was the fabled warlock, but nobody has seen his face in decades. You weren’t even sure what he looked like. All tales of warlocks the library gave you marked them as haunted men, selling their soul for mastery of dark arts, giving up their limbs for a hint of inhuman power. Some had horns, you’d read. Some, a devilish tail winding between their legs, while some gave up their own eyes and replaced them with animal counterparts for better senses. 

It scared you more than you’d like to admit, the more you entertained the possibility of a being so twisted hiding in the depths of your woods - but was Hwang Hyunjin even real, or a figment of townsfolk imagination? 

Entangled in your own head, you fail to notice the arm lashing out to grab your elbow and yank you violently sideways, slamming your back into the brick wall between two buildings. 

“Ouch!” You rasp out, catching your breath, but your scream is broken by the hand quickly winding around your throat.

Great, after a shitty week you were going to get robbed, too! 

“Don't you try open your mouth again, you little bitch.” A coarse voice hissed against your cheek. You tried to reel away from the terrible stench of his breath, but with your back against the wallside, it was impossible to weasel out. “Made quite a pretty penny at the market today, didn’t ya?”

A large, cold hand snuck down your waist, over the ribbons tying your corset shut, and you were sure you’d retch when clammy fingers started tugging at the knot. 

“Where are you hiding it, then? Down your vest?” One sharp pull leaves your corset flying open, exposing your skin to freezing night air, shielded only by a thin undershirt. You try to shake your head, but the hold on your neck makes it impossible to even curse. “That’s a bit thin, isn’t it? Not much to hide under such flimsy fabric -”

“Shit!”

You heave in a breath as the tightness around your throat suddenly wanes, disappearing, and all weight lifts from you. Eyes watering from the lack of oxygen, you blink rapidly to clear your vision, stumbling back as you find focus. 

Shrill cries tear from your assailant, angry red oozing from the gash above his left eye, arms flailing maniacally to chase away the blur of feathers thrashing around his head. Slinking down to catch your breath, you pull your knees to your chest to steady your breathing, though the scene before you grows more gruesome every time you blink. 

You can’t tear your eyes away, even as the bird dives down again, embedding its razor claws in the man’s eye socket. The screams are terrifying, but you don’t have the thought to wonder how no one else came to check the commotion. 

Maybe nobody wanted to.

In muted horror, you watch as the man finally lands a hit, thrashing the tiny bird into the wall opposite with a numbing crack, spinning on his heel to face you once more, though his one eye struggles to find your face. He stumbles forward, lurching in your direction, drops of fresh blood flying at your feet.

“What are you, a witch? I should burn you alive -”

Smack!

You’re sure you’re hallucinating as he topples to the pavement, struck by a surprise force. Hunched over him, in a flurry of black feather, sits a mass you know  you’ve seen before. For a moment you think, another bird? A whole flock? But then the feathered cape shifts, raises, and you realise it’s one pair of  heavy-set wings protruding from a broad back, arms poised to strike over and over at a target long void of defense. You feel sick - everything that unravelled in the last few moments makes your stomach churn, and you vomit onto the floor between your feet. You can’t watch the blood any longer, listen to the crunching sound of tendons snapping and bone breaking, rolling over as you feel your legs give way to jelly.

***

You can feel yourself swaying, gently. You don’t feel the ground, but you know you’re moving, head balanced on something pillowy and warm, but still solid - what a weird combination. 

There’s something holding you up by your legs, and another clutching onto your back. You have half the mind to open your eyes when you’re coherent enough to, knowing you should be alarmed given the situation you just vaguely avoided. But this is nice. Your lift your eyelids barely enough to take in your position, head propped carefully on a shoulder. You can’t see much beyond the collarbone your nose is tucked into without outing yourself as awake, so you settle for breathing in deep, lulling your nerves with the scent of ash and fern. It's safe, comforting somehow, in a way you’ve never felt comforted in. Your forehead grazes his cheek, tips of his dark hair tickling your skin as you heave out a sigh and press your face deeper against the warmth. 

“I’m sorry I left you, Birdie.”

His voice is gentle, too. You let it ring in your head, soft whispers and words you can't quite decipher but appreciate nonetheless lulling you back into shallow sleep. You recognise your surroundings by the shift of light, stepping out from the tree canopy into wide hillside, catching last rays of sunlight. 

You think he’s going to wake you and ask for a key, but your front door grants him access with just a single flick of his wrist under your knee. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

Nudging his way inside, ducking to fit past the low doorframe, your saviour swiftly marches to your bedroom, confirming your suspicions. The layout of your house was entirely too familiar to him for it to be the first time he’s visited the premises. Or the second, if you count the night visit three days back. When he lowers you onto the mattress, it's with such care your heart skips in your chest, and you pray he doesn’t hear it stop entirely when you feel his fingertips brush over your shoulder to pull the blankets over you, strong arms straining under his shirt as he moves your head from his shoulder and you immediately miss the heat. There’s a cup of water by your bedside that wasn’t there before, and when satisfied with your placement, he steps away. Your eyes blink open fully when you feel his presence leave your side. 

“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounds small even to you. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me around.” He answers after a hesitant pause, kneeling by your bed. “You - You looked really scared that night. I never want you to be scared of me.” 

You sit up, reaching for the glass of water which he swiftly passes to you to soothe your throat and wash out remaining bile. Your skin still burns in the places that asshole touched you, and you hiss when your fingers rub the sore spots on your neck, before a larger hand wraps around your palm, bringing it down to glare at the bruise.

“I won’t apologize for what happened to him, though.” The venom in his voice makes you still. “That filth got what he deserved - I should have taken his other eye, too.” 

“...Is he dead?” You’re not sure you should ask.

“No. I left him breathing, but I can’t guarantee someone will find him in time.” 

“You left him blind, that’s enough Hyunjin.” His head snaps up at the name, as if he didn’t expect the confrontation. “You’re the magpie that’s been visiting my garden this summer, aren’t you? You’re the fabled terror in our woods.”

You say the last part with a smile, but the warlock  lowers his head still, glancing down at the blanket curving over your hips.

“....Yeah.” He mumbles, observing the many silver rings at his knuckles. “Is that too much for you?”

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, confused, when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“At first I just came to visit because of the garden, but every time you saw me you’d talk to me like I was a person - Like I could understand. And I know you talk to the others too, like that ugly goose -” You want to scold him for calling Truffles ugly, but he carries on without pause. “But in my head it was just, nice. Even if I couldn’t reply, whenever you speak, there’s no darkness in me. Nothing but you.”

Hyunjin frowns, not wanting to meet your eyes yet. His hand grips the edge of your duvet, straining the fabric as his wings twitch.

“I was so fucking mad at myself when you saw me. You looked so small, so petrified - and of me. And as much as I wanted to take you into my arms and reassure you I couldn’t.” 

You can’t deny it, you were scared then. But knowing the man before you now, the events of today and the large part thunder and your own exhaustion played into your fear that night, you felt none of the apprehension now, resting your hand atop his shaking ones. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, if you’d guessed what I was after that. So I let you be, watching from a distance, because I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. And today, fuck -” He runs a clawed hand through his locks, pushing hair out of his face to finally look at you, golden eyes rooting you to your spot. “I should have snapped both his legs for even thinking to touch you.”

“But maybe that’s my own vice.” You watch soft pink lips form words you’re not sure are real. They could have been your own imagination, for how quietly he speaks. “Maybe my love would be too much for you.” 

The silence that follows his confession is crushing to both of you, for entirely different reasons. 

You barely wrap your head around the idea of being loved by him before he pulls his hand away from yours, accepting rejection he knew was coming. It’s not until he stands that you breathe in, catching the edge of his jacket before he can leave you again.

“It’s not.” You state. “It’s not too much.”

You hope he doesn’t mistake the quiver in your voice for doubt, because you’ve never been so sure of something in your life. 

“Do you mean that?” The hopeful lilt to his voice sparks your heart alight, he’s at your side in seconds, long feathers sweeping the floor below his feet as he moves. “Are you sure you want me the same way I want you?”

“I do.”

You nod to reassure him, sliding further down the bed to make space for his larger frame. Hyunjin slinks in next to you, crawling over to hover above you, taking in the way you look finally beneath him. His feathers block out most light, sun long set. You can barely see, but before you can complain about missing his ethereal beauty, a candle flickers alight by your window, and another on your bedside table. Another, and yet one more afterward, until your bedroom filters in a warming glow from a dozen shy fires. 

Ah, warlock things. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin hesitates still, lips stopping millimeters away from yours as the last strings of hesitation cling to his thoughts until you urge him to move. “You can touch me.”

His lips are warmer than anything you’ve ever felt, moving over your mouth like fine malt wine. There’s a quiver in his hands when he brings a palm down to cradle your cheek, running his thumb over the smooth skin as his tongue runs over your teeth. 

You don’t notice your legs spreading open to allow him between your thighs until his knee bumps against your core, bundling your skirts in his fist to pull them down and off. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under me like that, birdie.” Hyunjin whispers. “All for me, at my mercy - you look so good like that.”

The irony of him using your own nickname for him on you is lost in the moment you arch your back into his touch, pressing your still corseted chest against his palm. Every place he touches has you needing more of him, every part you can reach. 

“Undress me, please.” 

“Gladly.” Nimble fingers pluck the bow of your shirt open, lifting it over your head. In the cocoon of his wings and candle light, you feel a love you’ve never known before. Discarding his own shirt next, you hardly have a moment to take in the exquisite expanse of his chest before your field of vision is taken up with glimmering navy feathers, Hyunjin’s head dipping to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your grip in his hair makes him keen against your chest, groaning over the sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“Are you - You’re a virgin?” The idea of him being the first to make you feel so open, the only person to see you react to such intimate touch gets him harder than Hyunjin thought possible. 

“Ah, yeah…” You nod. Were your reactions so telling? You suddenly felt even smaller, caged between his arms and the pillows, watching his tamarind eyes flicker.

“I’ll love you well, birdie. Don’t worry.” He blows cool air onto your damp bud and you feel like crying. One hand leaves the space by your head, pinching your other peak. At first gently, testing how far he could push your limits to get you melting at his touch, then harder when you moan at the slight burn. 

Your hips rise to rub against his thigh, unknowingly seeking out friction to aid the dampness gathering in your underwear. His hand meets you there, slipping a finger under the band of your panties to snap it against your skin for your impatience, and you still immediately, recognising his dominance even without prior warning. 

“Be good and wait. If I own you, I’m taking my time with you.” There’s a hard edge in his voice, something about the empty threat makes you want to push his buttons until he snaps. 

You don’t need to wait much longer.

Ridding you of the last scrap of clothing you had left, Hyunjin has you bare and displayed, every part on show and within his reach. Slower than you can take, he drags his thumb on the inside of your thigh, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin just inches away from your dripping cunt. When his thumb finally, finally rubs a circle against your clit you whine his name so loud he nearly bites down hard. Still, he holds his pace, pressing his thumb in patient patterns against your nub as his teeth mark up your thighs.

“Jinnie, go harder, please.”

You know you fucked up when he glances up at you, brows quirking in amusement. 

“I said I’ll take care of you, y/n. If you want to cum, lay there and take it.”

You’re thankful he has a shred of mercy for your sanity, because your pleas seem to have a marginal effect on his movement. 

You eat your words when Hyunjin forces two fingers inside your already wet slit, scissoring you open with harsh flicks of his wrist. His lips remain stuck to your clit, and the sudden assault on your senses has tears rushing down your cheeks.

“W-Wait! Hyun, wait, I don’t want to cum yet!” You don’t really believe he’ll listen.

“Don’t you? But I thought you wanted me to hurry, birdie?” The mockery in his voice makes you clench, and you’d flush if you weren’t so close to orgasm. “For someone not ruined before, you beg for a dick so well.”

“No...Not yet, I wanna cum on you, please.” 

Hyunjin can resist many things - spells, curses. Killing a man on multiple occasions. 

Your whimpering voice as you beg for him to take your virginity in your own bed, wrapped around his fingers and blushing from his tongue is not one of those things. 

“Fuck, okay.”

Pulling his fingers out, your lips part at the emptiness, but your nerves prickle with knowledge of what awaits you next. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, sweat dampening his forehead and eyes peering right into your heart whenever your gazes meet. You’re hypnotised by the way muscles in his back tense when he kneels between your thighs, urging you to open up for his fit. You only catch the briefest sight of his length, but it’s enough to make you gasp in anticipation at the size and thickness of his base. 

“You’re sure you want me?” Your legs wrap around his waist as he asks, not yet penetrating you, only resting his length on your slick core. 

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Hyunjin.” You channel all your love and trust into your words, daring yourself to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Feeling the stretch of him is euphoric, inch by inch, more than any discomfort could hope to reach. Your focus on the flex of his forearm propping him up beside your head, the tantalizing way his mouth curls in a moan of your name when he bottoms out, placing his seal on you completely. 

“Tell me when I can move, alright?” 

“N-Now, you can move. Please move.” You’re gonna go insane if he doesn’t ravage you right now, digging your nails into his bicep. Hyunjin starts off slowly, gentle languid strokes brushing over your walls. With every move, he feels you relax, the tension in your legs loosening into desperate longing as you pull him deeper into you, trapping him against your body.

You open your eyes only to grab his hand, wrapping it around your throat. His hips stutter, before he grips you fully, squeezing the sides of your neck until your moans turn to broken cries of his name.

“You’re such a cute little whore, love. What a dirty pussy you’ve been holding out on me.”

The smirk he looks down on you with is downright filthy, degrading every shred of dignity you had left, but you don’t take in anything but him, his hips slamming you into the mattress and the hot breath against your ear. “Are you gonna cum from that? My good girl, just like that...Let go and cum under me.”

He pulls his hand away from your neck, allowing you to heave in a breath and scream his name. Hyunjin holds you down by your wrists above your head, thrusting relentlessly as you cum around him, shaking and sobbing from the overstimulation at your centre. He allows himself to release then, as your whimpers quieten and he rides out your highs with you, filling you to the brim. 

You stay entwined for a moment as you catch your shaky breath, coming out of the headspace Hyunjin fucked you into. When he pulls out, you fight the urge to clamp your legs shut as he holds your thighs apart, admiring the way his cum spills out of your rawed hole. 

“Let me clean you first, birdie.” 

You nearly drift off in the blissed-out feeling that envelops you as he wipes your legs clean with a warm, damp cloth, stroking over tingling bruises with adoration. 

When he’s finally satisfied with your state, Jinnie allows you to tug him back into bed with you, arms immediately coiling around your middle to press you into his chest, nose nuzzling against the crown of your head to breathe in your scent. 

“I meant every word I said.” He mentions, speaking against your forehead. His lips tickle you with every word and you’re so tempted to kiss him again just because you can. “ I really do love you.”

“I know, Jinnie. I love you too.”

****

Tag list - @defsbxessi @godlyaj @palet-innie

[jjpmoans]

pleasurable temptation | cyj [m]

word counts : 2.9k+

warnings : cosplaying kink, a hint of exhibitionism, pure smut (it’s bad lmao)

summary :  What did he do to be under this kind of situation? What did he ever trigger you with? Why is he helplessly moaning while you take him in your mouth without sparing him any mercy? While he is playing with his friends even? What did Youngjae even do to deserve such a torturous pleasure? 

“Wait, baby, I can’t. Please don’t do this to me.”

a/n : sooo for october, we decided to join together for a writing collab between the members or @got7creators​! It is called All Sins Week since we are posting a week straight at the end of October. Do check other writer’s kinktober fic as well! Also I am fourth in the order and please forgive me for this absolutely no filth fic. I have no idea what I wrote and I am open for critics bcs I know it’s bad wkkwkwkkwkw and sorrryy if you feel like it’s bland. But i hope you enjoy reading and please give a lot of love to other writers of this collaboration!

[ All Sins Week Masterlist ]

“If you’re Tatsumi,” you ask, breaking Youngjae’s attention from the anime he’s watching. You’re sitting next to him, as usual as he binges watching his anime. “Who would you choose? Akame or Esdeath?”

Youngjae’s eyebrow raises, looking at you questioningly. It’s not new, you’re always asking random questions about the anime he’s watching out of nowhere but this time it’s different. You’re asking him to choose between the protagonist and the antagonist if he’s Tatsumi, the main character. “Choose as in what? As in my comrade?”

“As in your lover?” you scoop your ice cream into your mouth, waiting patiently for his answer as he’s having a breakdown over whom to choose. Youngjae always has a hard time choosing between the protagonist and the side characters, saying that of course people always like the main protagonist but the side characters are also precious.

Which is why now you only want him to choose between the two sexy female characters but you can see smoke coming out of his head.

“Do I really need to choose?” he looks at you with a painfully desperate face, wanting a way out of the question. “I like both though!”

“Nope.” you tut, placing down your bowl on the side table. “You need to choose one. Like if Akame and Esdeath offer to have a one night stand with you, who will you choose?”

You can see Youngjae shifts uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze by keeping his eyes on the tv screen. It’s not long before you spot the growing tent under his pants that makes him shift a couple more times and whines, “Baby, you’re making it sound weird.”

“Well,” it’s not that weird but it does feel weird when your boyfriend is turned on by a 2D character. “Choose one, big boy.”

“Why would any of them wants to have sex with me?”

“I don’t know.” you laugh. You know it sounds kind of weird but who cares? “Maybe they think you’re hot.”

“Nonsense.” He inhales a deep breath, biting his lower lips in an attempt of rethinking his decision, before turning to you like he has made a decision. “Alright, background aside okay?”

You raise your shoulders, agreeing with whatever his condition is. You don’t really care about their backgrounds, you just want to see which one of the female characters that got your man hard. 

“I personally think Esdeath is sexier.” he confesses, grimacing when he sees your serious listening face. However you keep him going, no attempt to cut him off. “Her outfit is always on point, but she looks very sexy in this one episode. So-” Youngjae scrambles to shake himself out of the narration, ending his answer with a simple statement. “I’d choose Esdeath.”

Tonight is the second night of the weekend and as you both had agreed to, it’s Youngjae’s gaming slash anime night. Usually he would be watching anime up until midnight and then continue by playing games with his friends. However tonight he chose to start playing the game earlier than usual, claiming that none of the animes have uploaded a new episode.

This is where you come in.

You stare into the mirror, looking directly to the satin robe that hugs your curves nicely. It’s light but it’s thick and it’s new. You received it yesterday, just in time for you to wear it on the weekend. 

“I must be insane.” you ruffle your hair, watching it slowly turning into a mess, a beautiful mess. You almost can’t believe that it’s you in the mirror, you look insanely a hot mess. It’s crazy how simple the outfit is but absolutely sexy and alluring.

It’s nothing much. You just want to see his reaction, rile him up and see if you can have him a moaning mess under you.

“Mark, Mark.” Youngjae taps on the shift button repeatedly, moving his cursor to hide his character from the opponents. “They’re just behind the truck.”

“Jaebeom hyung, can you sit down for once?” Yugyeom whines into the microphone, annoyed by the fact that Jaebeom is going to expose their location.

Jaebeom on the other hand is hiding behind a tree, reloading his bullets into the weapon. “Shut up, Yugyeom. I’ve been playing this game longer than you’re born.”

“Shut the crap. You are still learning how to write when I was born.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does.”

“Okay I see someone moving.” Youngjae interrupts their bickering, moving out of his hideout to a safe place. He wants a chicken dinner tonight and he’s not going to let anyone ruin the fun for him. “I can see his head….”

A shot is fired and Youngjae screams in triumph, successfully eliminating the annoying opponent that has been trying to kill his teammates. As usual, Youngjae being the expert one among them and Mark comes second while Yugyeom and Jaebeom casually got killed and left both of them alone to carry the team. Youngjae had to be satisfied with the squad because at least, they know how to play. If he asked Bambam or Jinyoung to play with him, nevermind. Oh Jackson? Not even a chance. That man doesn’t know how to stop once he starts working.

“Have anyone heard from Jackson hyung?” Youngjae asks, moving his character to steal the weapons and other things from the dead bodies. “It’s been a month since I heard about him.”

“Yeah.” Jaebeom answers distractedly, still trying to load his weapon. “Last time I heard, he’s still in China.”

The door creaks open and if Youngjae doesn’t have one of his ears free from the headphone, he might not have heard the sound. It’s very discreet, very soft as if someone is sneaking into the room. Not that Youngjae knows anyone that is able to sneak into his gaming room without his permission.

Ah yes. Except this one.

“What are you-- what?” Youngjae’s jaw hangs open by the time he tears his vision from the screen to you, standing in your glory right a meter away from him. 

“Why? What happened? Is y/n there?” jaebeom.

“Not really a problem though. Can I say hi to y/n?” yugyeom.

“I can see someone coming, guys.” Mark.

Youngjae doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or to cry. You’re standing about a few feet away from him, in an attire that is foreign to his eyes but absolutely gorgeous, sexy, deathly- did he say deathly? -- and fuck you look so fucking sexy. Your satin gown is modest yet slutty, exposing your chest and only covers half of your breast, the only thing that probably holds the placket of your robe is the three little buttons on your navel which threatens to burst.

Shit.

Something comes to his mind and right when he recognises your outfit, a certain name slips through his lips. “Esdeath.”

“Es- what?” Jaebeom asks, still distracted by the incoming attack from the enemies. 

“Esdeath?” Yugyeom on the other hand, successfully shot the new incomer and went into hiding while still focusing on the topic. “Esdeath as in the Esdeath in Akame Ga Kill?”

“Esdeath visited you?” Jaebeom mutters incredulously through the microphone. Youngjae can see that he’s squinting at the screen, probably trying to see the ‘Esdeath’ he mentioned. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“What- what are you doing?” this time Youngjae totally feels like crying. He forgot that he’s video conferencing to play PUBG and the possibility of his friends watching this through their screen frightened him. Muting the microphone, he looks at you again with mixed expression. “Baby, what are you doing?”

His voice sounds desperate and you haven’t even started anything yet. Yet. 

You let Youngjae’s eyes wander from your collarbone, down to the valley of your breast and to the buttons on your navel and further until his eyes fly to meet yours again, lust clouding his mind. You can see his pupils dilate, eye blown and breathless. 

It’s fun to see him affected. It makes you feel powerful. It makes you feel extremely satisfied.

Perhaps this is what Youngjae has always been feeling whenever he dominates you during sex.

“Baby?” he calls out again, desperate to know what you had in mind. 

Your eyes zeroed on the growing tent under his pants, it’s evident that Youngjae is already half-hard.

“I just want to ruin your mind tonight.” the immediate satisfaction fuels your desire to make Youngjae bend for you after watching his reaction. Youngjae is, what you can make out right now, utterly speechless. 

“I- I don’t understand- wait-,” as Youngjae stutters with his words, you’re already kneeling on the floor, pulling his gaming chair facing the pc again, slotting yourself between the table and Youngjae’s inviting man spread. 

“There is nothing for you to understand.” you utter while the tip of your fingers play with the string of his sweatpants. Youngjae’s eyes follow your hand down, his breath hitches as you press your palm on his hardening cock, giving him a firm grip. His moan almost comes out as a whimper, grimacing at the slightest contact as he tries not to show it on his face. 

“Youngjae?” Mark calls, snapping Youngjae out of his trance. He scrambles to switch the microphone on, just in time you pull down his pants, exposing his cock to your eager eyes.

The coolness of your palm wraps around his cock and the way you grip him makes Youngjae hisses in pain and pleasure, enough to elicit a curse out of him. “Fuck.”

Yugyeom quickly detects the change in Youngjae’s mood, asking him if he is fine and able to continue the game. And in all honesty, Youngjae wanted to leave the game the moment you walk in with the outfit, the fucking sexy outfit. He can’t describe how turned on he was, seeing you almost naked with that Esdeath cosplay.

“One moment, Gyeom-ah.” Youngjae is about to reply when you tug on his shirt, wanting to say something to him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

For the third time of the night, Youngjae wants to cry out loud. You are sitting under his table in that robe, your breast threatening to burst out of the tight material and fuck- Youngjae is so fucking hard. 

“Let’s make a deal. If you can finish the game quietly while I suck you,” your aura is absolutely different tonight, Youngjae realises that. You’re more dominating and goodness gracious, Youngjae have no problem with that. You’re so hot and Youngjae would give anything for you to suck him. “I’ll let you rip this robe off me and fuck me senseless.” 

Youngjae’s eyes widen at your suggestion. You’re making a deal with him? For what?

“And what if I can’t?”

“Well, if you can’t,” you drag your nail along his shaft, sending shivers up his spine. “Then you’ll let me ride you. Let me fuck myself on your cock.” you challenge him, holding his cock towards your lips, sucking his head lightly. Saltiness of his pre-cum invades your taste bud and you’re now addicted, wanting more of his cock. 

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, shifting in his place before unmuting his microphone, resuming his attention to the game.

Oh, bring it on.

“Youngjae, why are you so slow?” Jaebeom asks, running towards the unidentified dead bodies. He starts collecting the weapon and life stock while Youngjae’s game character stops in the middle of the track as if it’s malfunctioning. Technically, the owner of that character is, indeed, malfunctioning.

Youngjae’s breath labored as you continued to bob up and down his length, fisting his cock from the base and stroking his scrotum. It’s hard not to moan. Youngjae has been enduring your teasing quite good so far, only occasional hiccups and soft whines escapes from him and went unnoticed by other members. 

Youngjae has long given up to switch his microphone from mute to unmute then to mute again, he now resorts to detaching his headphone away from his head after muting the microphone so he won’t have to hear anything.

“Baby.” he whines, hips thrusting upwards as you kitten licks his head and slots your tongue on his slit, collecting his pre-cums. Youngjae’s cock is dangerously red, as if if you try to lick him one more time, you’ll see blood. His veins pop up and paint his length angrily. “Please baby. I don’t want to play the game anymore.”

“Hm?” you ask, not quite hearing his pleas. You take him in your mouth again, going down on him until he’s deep in your throat, humming to your satisfaction. His cock isn’t exactly big but he definitely makes up for the girth with his length and his stroke. “You’re saying?”

“I just-” a loud moan escapes him after you deep throat him once again, hitting your gag reflex. Youngjae trashes in his seat, holding the back of your head gently but firmly. It’s too much pleasure for him you guess. “Fuck. fuck. Fuck. please baby. Don’t do this to me.”

You release him with a pop and watch his cock curves backward, smearing the mixture of his precums and your saliva against his shirt. You don’t care about the video conferencing at the moment, you just push him further from the table so you can stand up and straddle him on his chair. They can watch if they want to.

You tug on the string of your underwear, revealing your nicely trimmed pussy to his eyes. At the sight of your drenched core, Youngjae mutters curses under his breath, reaching a finger to your fold.

“Fuck.” he caress your fold with his middle finger, occasionally dipping it inside only to let a gush of wetness out of your pussy. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

“Mmhm.” you agree. You’re wet from all the thoughts while you suck his cock, thinking of how good it would feel when you ride him. “Can I ride you now?”

“Fuck.” Youngjae’s hand grips your hip as he guides you, slowly sheathing his cock inside you at your speed. “Ride my cock, use my cock. Do whatever you want.”

“Oh-” you let out a long moan to the stretch of your pussy is extremely good, the feeling of being filled with Youngjae’s cock takes you to another level of ecstasy. Even though you have been fucked a lot, however, riding Youngjae’s cock is always, undefeated pleasure. 

“Are you being filled well, princess?” Youngjae asks as he’s balls deep inside you. 

“So, so full, Youngjae.”

“Goodness.” Youngjae’s hands roam all over your ass, then up to your navel, pinching your nipples through the satin robe. “You dressed up like Esdeath to have sex with me?”

“I just wanted to try a new thing.” You shift in your place and Youngjae’s tip nudges a certain spot in you, causing you to throw your head back, gripping on his shoulder tightly. Your eyes shut close as you start to ride his cock, feeling the bliss of his veins against your walls. 

Youngjae on the other hand is dazed with your breast, bouncing right in front of him. He reaches down and a quick flick of his thumb, your robe is open and you’re absolutely naked to him, at least. Your robe stays on your body but the upper part of the robe has slid down and exposed your shoulder, probably a good view for the boys.

“Look at these breasts.” he tuts, sticking his tongue to graze one of your nipples. It’s not a secret that Youngjae loves your breast and he probably has a fetish for your twin peaks. He always gives extra attention and he can go on for hours, licking and sucking your nipples.

“Want me to feed you?” you ask, hips moving up and down his length but you can always multitask, cupping your breasts and bringing them together, putting the nipples close. “Suck them, please?”

“Fuck. Yes fuck. Fuck.” he holds you by your waist, sucking your peaks alternately. Whenever the tip of his tongue grazes one of your nipples, your walls tighten around his cock, causing him to hiss in return. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

You nod, impaling yourself on his cock. You’re getting tired and you don’t really feel your legs so your movement starts to falter, slowing down after a few while. “Jae…”

“Tired?” he chuckles, tapping your ass as you nod to his question. As much as you enjoy riding him, you have to admit that your stamina would never surpass Youngjae’s. 

Youngjae lifts you in his arms and just like that, his dominant side appears again. Bringing you to the bed, Youngjae manages to press his cock deeper inside you, making you moan all the way. 

“Look at you.” he tuts when you’re spread on the bed, half naked in your Esdeath cosplay. “So beautiful.”

“So fucking sexy.”

“The death of me.” Youngjae’s hand trails up your leg, past your navel and cups your breast, pinching and rolling your taut bud. You actually shiver at the change of his emotion, retracting to become the submissive partner like you always did.

“Youngjae.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.” you plead, whispering as if someone will hear you. Ironic, you thought. Youngjae’s friends have probably disconnected the video conferencing because of your lewd moans and now you dare to whisper? “Please,”

“Oh yeah, of course my Esdeath. I’d fuck you hard and raw.” he promises, lining his cock at your entrance. “Be my guest.”

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Masterlist ] |  [ All Sins Week Masterlist ]

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Don’t Forget Me

Art in banner done by me.

College Life / Mermaid / Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) inspired AU

It’s all nothing but a dream. A series of dreams that are all too real. That’s all it is. Your soul - or whatever it was - couldn’t possibly be swapping places with a Merman. One, mermaids aren’t real. Two, that’s not even possible! Is it? 

Mermaid!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Human Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Don’t Forget Me tag. 

Genre: Romance / Angst Story 

Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Interspecies Sex (merman / human), Masturbation, Alcohol, Animal death / hunting (whales, fish, sharks, etc), Cursing, Descriptions of Injuries and Blood 

A/N: This is my part for the @bnhabookclub weekly collab event Just Add Water for MerMay! I know there isn’t much going on in this, but it’s just the first chapter to a new multichapter fic. Per the rules of the collab, I used the prompt “That’s just an urban legend”. I’m excited, because I’ve wanted to do a Mer!Bakugou x reader for a LONG time and could never think of anything. But when this theme was announced, I was watching Kimi no Na wa and immediately had this idea. So, full disclosure, the theme of switching bodies in their sleep / forgetting each other is inspired by that movie, but that is all that I take away from it. 

Prologue: Stone

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing

Words:  1,855

You were doing it again. 

How many times had you caught yourself staring at the delicate necklace in your hands? More than you could probably count on all your fingers and toes, and you were sure that number had nearly doubled just in the last week. You really weren’t sure why you were drawn to it so intensely, nor why it gave you such a deep sense of loss and loneliness. 

Where had you gotten it from? 

You couldn’t remember. In truth, you couldn’t remember getting it at all. As far as you could recollect, it had been around your neck when you woke up one morning, about two months ago. Since then, you refused to go a day without it, even if it didn’t necessarily match your outfit or any particular occasion. You felt so lost without it around your neck, like a part of you was away, off in some distant land or deep within the sea. 

Why did you think that? 

Of all things, why would you assume that this missing part of you was in the ocean? Was it because of the necklace? Probably. The silver clam shaped pendant that rested in your palm was most likely the culprit to make you think of the sea. But that particular piece of the jewelry wasn’t what kept you so entranced. Set in the middle was a small, perfectly round stone, and its brilliance is what you couldn’t help but stare into. To anyone else, it would just appear to be a small marble, with brilliant deep indigo, swirling turquoise and hints of radiant purples. There were sparkles of twinkling white, like light reflecting off a water's surface, and if you gazed into it long enough, you could have sworn that the colors were mixing and twisting, as if there truly was water inside the stone. 

It was so beautiful. Had someone given it to you? Whoever did must have cared about you so deeply to give you something so special. You had asked all your friends and family if they knew anything about how you got it, but no one knew anything. You received some weird looks and uncomfortable responses when you tried to ask them, but that didn’t bother you much, not when you had been dealing with people finding you strange for almost half a year now, anyway. 

Why did they find you weird again? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that it had to do with this necklace. You had tried to find out what it was made of to try and get any hints on where it may have come from, but each jewelry store or stone expert you took it to, they all had the same response. They just didn’t know. Many offered to buy it from you at varying prices, their interest peaked and their hopes of being the first person to discover a new stone pushing them forward. But you resisted, as just even letting it out of your hands so they could look at it enough to make you nearly burst into tears. You couldn’t let it go and you wouldn’t, either. Not ever. Not for anything. 

Because it was precious. It was the only thing that you had that could help to calm this nearly unending sense of longing. 

But what was it you were longing for? 

Or who? 

Why did that always pop up in your mind? There were so many pieces of scattered thoughts that you just couldn’t put together. A person. The sea. Feeling like a piece of you was missing. You wanted these feelings to end, but you knew that they wouldn’t, not until you found what you were searching for. 

With a frustrated sigh, you put the necklace back on around your neck, clasping it in place with skilled fingers. Standing from your bed, you shuffled your way towards your desk, lightly running your fingers down along the slender metal chain. Your mind was still in a hazy grip of sleep, barely registering that the electronic clock mostly hidden by books and other stationary read 5:49 AM, though that didn’t really matter. Your mind was racing with the overbearing thoughts, and as you sat down in your squeaky office chair, you were already near breaking out into tears.

The necklace wasn’t the only clue you had. Scattered among the desk were notebooks and papers, though you had refused to touch them for the last few weeks. At first, you had meticulously looked over every page and every written note, trying to do everything you could to learn about who this person was that you were missing. But now they sat on your desk, abandoned in defeat. There were many things in the notes that didn’t make sense to you now, though according to what you had written, you had understood it all at one point. 

What you had written. 

That was what was the most odd. There were two very distinct handwritings within the notebooks and scribbled on the scrap pieces of paper or sticky notes. Yours was so proper and easy to read, clean and steady. The other was rough with some of the characters almost completely illegible, requiring you to assume what the person writing must have been trying to say. Large and scratchy, it almost resembled the handwriting of a child or what you assume would be someone new to writing on paper. The phrases. The choice of words. All of it was completely different from yours. 

It had been another person. Someone sat in your chair, in your room, and wrote these messages to you. At first, you thought that it just had to be a prank. One of your friends was fucking with you. That was the only realistic solution. But none of them talked this way, and if you were honest, they weren’t exactly clever enough to pull off such a big ordeal over months and months. 

The way they talked… It was so strange. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and if you were honest, you thought that they must have been a little crazy. Yet, you weren’t all that rattled in most of your responses, like you knew what they had been saying to be the truth. 

The conversations were so… natural. In fact, most of it was like a diary, with the scratchy handwriting cataloging what had happened that day, how they felt about it, and what they had done. 

This school shit that you humans do is so stupid and pointless. Who the fuck needs to know about… what is it called? Calculus? You’re never going to use that shit, I’m not bothering with keeping up with it, fuck that. You always catch up on your own anyway. That bitch Midoriya or whatever gave you some fucking flowers today. I thought about stomping on them and telling him to fuck off, but I just took them and left. You need to tell that prick you’re not into him or this shit will never stop. Also, the way you humans handle courtship is fucked. I didn’t do shit today otherwise. Just stayed in the room. I did find your sketchbook though. You’re getting better, but you still can’t remember us for shit. 

Pulling your eyes up from the paper, they immediately landed on the mentioned sketchbook, which was tucked up beneath some schoolbooks. Carefully, you pulled it out, setting it down on the pile of papers to thumb through it. 

It had been so long since you had even opened this thing. The feeling of the coarse paper beneath your fingertips brought a small smile to your face, as did seeing all your old sketches and doodles. Though, the smile faded as you reached near the middle of the sketchbook, your eyes tearing up immediately at the contents of the page. The page was completely covered in drawings of what looked to be mermaids, or mermen, to be more accurate. They were mostly faceless and unidentifiable, the sketches geared more towards poses and anatomy. The only thing mostly consistent was the tail. It seemed to be the same over all the drawings, with matching fins and scribbled patterns. 

“Mermaids… I’ve never cared to draw them before, why did I…?” 

After another turn of the page, you were met with similar things, only this time they had heads and hair, jewelry, pieces of clothing, and even weapons. Only one of the sketches resembled the previous drawings, and his particular features called to you. The feeling of recognition and longing grew fiercer with another turn of the page, which was all nothing but sketches of that particular merman’s head with varying expressions and positions. He was particularly attractive, with slanted piercing eyes and a mass of fluffy spiked hair on his head. He had fin-like ears that were mostly drooped, but flared out on the drawings with a more intense expression, where his mouth was open in a yell or intense fanged snarl. 

A small gasp left your lips as a drop of liquid suddenly landed onto the paper, pulling you out of your daze. Crying? Why were you crying? Why did your heart feel like it was about to be ripped from your chest? It wasn’t possible for this to be the man that you had been longing for. You had drawn him as a mermaid! They weren’t real, and there was no way that was possible. He couldn’t even get into your room, let alone sit in your chair and write you letters. 

“I’m so ridiculous…” You whispered quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. Had you been blushing? You didn’t even notice. “Mermaids… That’s just an urban legend. A myth. I must have just been in a phase… Maybe I saw a movie or an anime with them, and I got super invested? But then… they’re so…” 

Page after page, more sketches followed, some making you giggle while others made your chest ache so badly you thought you would pass out. But then, there was something scribbled onto a page that made your entire body grow cold, stomach twisting into such a tight knot you were sure that you’d vomit. 

Save me. 

“Save… Save you?” You choked out into the silent room with a trembling voice, more tears cascading down your cheeks as you reached up to grip the pendant around your neck tightly. It was in the familiar scratchy handwriting, though it was more frantic and messy than you had ever seen. Hiccupping, you brought the pendant up to your lips, pressing the stone against them as you struggled to calm yourself. 

Save you from what? What the hell happened? Did I save you? Why the hell can’t I remember!

It was then that you felt an odd pulsing against your lips, and as you pulled away in shock, your teary gaze was locked onto the pendant in your hands, which was pulsing slowly with a pale green glow. And with it came a thought, like a soft voice whispering in your ear that you couldn’t ignore. 

He’s calling to me… 

[lelenoir]

characters;; wong kunhang, wong yukhei [ft: yuna and sejun (ocs)]

word count;; 4.8k

warnings;; hallucinations, implied character death, hendery discreetly trying to kill you

part of @starryqian & @takitaro 's stephen king collab,, this is very late im so sorry :(

shoutout to @jenoir for proofreading this messy baby :')

sorry if comes off as a bit rushed :(( i was ✨struggling✨ and i wanted to get this out soon

NIGHT SEVEN

Run. Run as fast as you can. Run till your legs burn. Run till the sun dies out. Your life depends on it.

The woods were an unforgiving place. Especially at night when the lights turn off and the mind is at its all time high. The sounds you were hearing were unmistakable. The footsteps and the chunk of leaves cracking beneath them told you they were close. And they were coming in fast.

Your breaths came out in pants while your legs begged you to stop. But you couldn't, not when you came all this way. Suffered days in the harsh wrath of mother nature. No, you couldn't afford to die now. And as if things weren't worse enough, you tripped on an overarching root. A wild thorn grazing the skin of your ankle, making you hiss.

The sounds were getting closer now but your legs had already given up. Already turning to jelly as soon as you'd stopped running. You huddled yourself against a nearby tree in hopes of its protection. The low growl that erupted from whatever was out there echoed around the trees like a villain toying with its prey.

Your instincts were telling you to gather whatever you could. To pray to whatever higher being was up there for one last miracle. But you knew better. There were no gods that could hear you within these woods.

So you count to ten like Hendery taught you and braced yourself at the mercy of whatever being was on the other side of the trunk.

Five… four… three… two… one.

DAY ONE, TWO HOURS BEFORE

Friends. You love them. You care for them. And you'd do pretty much anything for them. Right now you really hated that concept. And you really hated the way you'd fallen for it.

Sitting in the backseat of a car with your friend and her boyfriend arguing in the front was not how you expected your Friday to go. You grumbled under your breath, looking out the window as you watched landmarks pass by. You were such a great friend. And in your greatness as a friend, you let yourself be strung along to what you've just declared as 'the worst weekend of your life'.

"If you want to stop then stop! I'm just saying that with all the places you want to stop by we might not get to the one place we actually want to go in time." She argued, putting air quotes on the words 'stop by' with an over the top eye roll. That's your friend, Yuna. She wasn't like that most of the time, the opposite actually. In your friend group she was considered as this huge ball of sunshine. Her current boyfriend just brings out the worst in her, which, in your book, is reason number one on why she should break up with him.

"You say it's okay but then you always add something like that. If you don't want to just say it! No need to act like such a saint." And on the left corner was, you guessed it, her boyfriend Sejun. As an individual, he was okay. A little douchey but everyone has a bit of douchiness inside of them in your opinion. However, pair him up with Yuna then that's a different story. They were like monsters, only acting up when close to one another. It makes you wonder why they're still holding on to each other. But, alas, humans are very complex creatures. You'd rather read a book than try to understand them.

So you do. You whip out 'Alice in Wonderland' off your bag and start reading. You didn't like butting into other people's relationships, much less going on weekend trips with them but Yuna, your sweet amazing friend, managed to convince you to go with them. How? Through bribery. Yup, after promising you that you were free for this and next month's rent, you were quick to settle your belongings. You were a simple girl with simple priorities and at the top of that list of priorities is surviving college.

You'd read at least two chapters when they'd decided to stop at some mountain. Being the sporty and outgoing couple that they were, they weren't here to take pictures nor eat at the local diner. No. They were here to hike.

You sighed in defeat when Yuna visibly beamed at you. You reluctantly placed your book down next to you before grabbing your small bag of food and water.

The two were now giving each other the silent treatment while Yuna held onto you like a leech. It was awkward to say the least, especially with the side glances they keep giving each other and you were in the middle of it. Like a small child in the middle of their parents' divorce all over again. You hated it.

You could already feel the energy getting drained away from you and you hadn't even stepped on the mountain yet. That's how intense they were. You never voiced it out. Too afraid that they might gang up on you instead of each other. They may be worse against each other but together, they're a nightmare. You much preferred them going at each other's throats rather than yours.

The mountain was as green as you expected it to be. There was a clear path set out at the foot of it with little to no people standing by. It was higher than most you'd climbed and a vast forest enveloped it. The place was quiet and it looked like one of those towns that rarely had anything bad happen to it but on the off chance that something did happen, it was bad. Really bad.

"Okay so we have like an hour here before we continue on our trip." Yuna said, looking at the map in her hands. "This should be fun."

Really? You wanted to ask. But oh you were such a good friend. You scoped the mountain once again, already dreading the experience as Yuna gestures you to come forward and Sejun already walking up the path. You sighed to yourself, opting to give yourself an internal pep talk as your legs carried you to the start of a very begrudging journey.

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

An hour had passed. And you know it had, based on the watch you'd carried on your wrist. The small diner at the bottom of the mountain had already left your vision minutes ago.

On your way up, the ground diverged into two paths. The right side leading towards a secluded resort while the other pointed towards an upward slope. The couple opted to take the left. Your frown deepened.

One hour, my ass! You screamed in your mind, throwing a mini tantrum as you glared at Yuna's back. Your feet stomping on the (thankfully) dry ground, lips pursed and brows stitched together. You hated being a good friend.

In the midst of your childish antics, you heard a chain snap off your bag. You quickly turned around to see your treasured key chain on the ground. It was a gift from your late mother, a small remembrance of the time you both went to Disneyland. The first and last time. You bent down to pick it up when a sudden flash of white tore through your line of sight.

A white rabbit stood in front of you, your keychain tucked in between its mouth as it stared at you. As if waiting for you to chase it. Its red eyes bore into yours.

They say when your eyes focus on one thing, everything around you blurs in the distance. Nothing but muffled background noises and subtle outside forces. That should've been your first warning.

"Why are you even yelling at me?" Sejun complained, snapping your attention back. They were back at it again. You hadn't even heard Yuna yell at him during your short daze. You held back for a while, watching them argue as they walked. That should've been your second warning.

Like a magnet, you felt your gaze shift back to the rabbit. Indistinct whispers emerged around you. That should've been your third. You glared at the small creature still holding on to your precious trinket before it suddenly dashed in the woods. You clenched your teeth, unable to stop yourself as you followed after it. Strike.

DAY ONE

You cheered in triumph as you retrieved your belonging, smirking at the rabbit as it looked up to you. The rabbit cocked it's head on one side, as if to question you, before hopping away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows before finally looking around where you were. Your eyes widened at your surroundings. The green scenery of the trees covered your vision as you cautiously stepped forward. The path was nowhere to be found and dead silence engulfed the air.

"Yuna?" You called out anxiously. "Sejun?" You tried once more. "Yuna!" You say louder but there was no reply. You looked up to the beating sun. It was noon. You couldn't tell which was east or west.

"Yuna!" You screamed. A flock of birds flew in the distance. The loud crows and scampers of the forest animals harmonised with your echo. "Sejun!"

You gulped. You looked in between the trees, trying to decipher even a small silhouette of a clearing. You narrowed your eyes, loosening up your shoulders and hands before taking another step. Then another. And another until you're finally walking towards god knows where. You were slow but you weren't really in a rush.

You pulled your bag closer to your body.

The slightest of sounds rang in your ears making you snap your head to every direction only to see that there was nothing there. That never eased your paranoia. You can feel its eyes trail along the fabric of your jacket. Feel its breath on the back of your neck. Hear its growls close to the shell of your ear. You clasped your shaking hands together, your nervousness evident as your legs began to turn jelly.

"Y-yuna!" You called out helplessly. Tears began to tickle the sides of your temples. "Anyone!?"

It was like that time you went to an amusement park with Yuna. The loud thundering rhythm in your chest, the strong rush of adrenaline leaving your body as soon as it entered, not to mention the growing anxiety constantly increasing as every second passed. It was almost hard to breathe. Almost difficult to take another step.

You collapsed on the ground, spent and shaking. Your hands stayed close to your chest in an attempt to keep warm as the air seemed to have gotten cold---despite being scorching a few moments ago---vision already hazy as you began to slip out of reality.

Just then, a figure emerged from the trees. His tall stature crouched down to get a better look at you. You couldn't even muster up a smile in relief at the stranger. Too tired to feel the cold hand on your cheeks, lightly slapping you back to reality.

Then you let yourself be engulfed in darkness.

DAY TWO

You jolt awake at the impact of his toes on your knee. Your eyes, still blurry from exhaustion, had a hard time adjusting to the harsh light of the afternoon sun.

"You're awake." A voice sighed in relief. You turned your attention to the sound, unsure and terrified as you drew your arms in front of you. "Woah, no need to fight there, little one."

"I'm not a child." You tell him but the stranger merely cocked his head to the side. His gaze curiously fixed on you before smiling.

"Then why are you here?" He shot back. The question seemed to hang in the air and an unsettling ominous feeling creeped up your spine as you mustered up your answer.

"I got lost." You say, face almost a breath away from his as he leaned in closer before prompting his head to nod.

"Exactly." He grinned. "Surely an adult wouldn't get lost within these woods. Especially for a silly trinket such as this." He holds out an object engulfed in his hand. There lay your keychain, dangling in the air and close to your face. You lifted your hand to take it until the stranger dropped it on the ground. It was not much of an action but it was humiliating as you tentatively picked it up from the soil.

"You must be hungry, aren't you?" The stranger lifted his body off the ground.

"Who are you?" You asked, voice still weak as you struggled to support your weight.

He smirked, staring down at you in utter confidence. "Hendery will do for now." You furrowed your eyebrows as he crouched down, once again, in front of you then putting your bag on your lap. "Eat up, little one."

Meanwhile…

"I didn't even notice. God what kind of a person doesn't notice her friend has gone missing." The girl sobbed for the nth time that day. Only a few of the officers paid her any mind while a boy, he assumed to be her boyfriend, sat next to her with his arms engulfing her in a comforting hug.

Lucas sighed at the pitiful sight, there was really nothing much he could do now. The map splayed in front of him was scribbled with a small 'x' within a large circle. He stared menacingly at the location.

"Detective," one of his subordinates came up to him. " What's our course of action?"

He sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The subordinate couldn't understand his superior's reaction. Why did he look so distressed? It's only been a day since the victim has gone missing. They could be weak or injured, but that's about it. Throughout his time here, a handful of people got lost and all of them have been found.

"Sir?" He succeeded in getting Lucas out of his reverie. The detective then moved his fingers to rub at the lines on his forehead.

"Have everyone search in pairs around the perimeter." He finally ordered.

The subordinate nodded before scurrying off to relay the command.

It was futile. Lucas wanted to say but then that would make him look lazy. He never liked the word, but it was one that described his opponent greatly. He's been lazy. It was suspicious that he managed to find those lost tourists so easily, often they were found by their companions if they searched hard enough, but somehow this search has now stretched for a day.

The missing person, L/n Y/n, was last seen by her two friends yesterday, November 15, XXXX. It has been a day since then. The longest search in five years.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at the small x located at the north east side of the map.

What are you playing at, Kunhang?

xxx

"Keep up, little one. We have a long way ahead of us." Hendery calls out, walking a few feet away from you. His strides, quick and wide, has you picking up your pace. You couldn't help but pant as you trail behind him, the food in your pack weighing you down a bit but you couldn't afford to leave them behind.

"Why are you doing this?" You askes in between heavy breaths. Relief washed over you when he paused.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Why are you helping me?" You finally caught up to him. You splayed your arm out to the nearest tree as you calmed your breathing.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He shot back as if it was stupidly obvious.

"Yes but--"

"You hear a person desperately calling out to someone for help and they sound incredibly in need. Wouldn't you help them?" You stared at him in shock, both of you quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Isn't mankind built to be rational and compassionate? Do you doubt me as a person?"

"N-no I was just curious." Hendery narrowed his eyes at you, pursing his lips as he thought deeply. Not long after, a smile stretched on his face.

"Right, curiosity does come from rationality. I can't really blame you for being human I guess… but you must understand, little one, curiosity is a double edged sword. Once you wield it recklessly, the consequences may be severe." He looked away from you, eyes focusing on whatever was ahead before assuming his previous trek. "Keep up, little one, the sun won't last forever."

"Where are we going?" He smiled at that and you noticed that he had gone at a slower pace than before, walking side by side with you.

"You've used your curiosity well I see. We are going to find shelter. It's been hours now so the police are probably already looking for you. I don't know where you started running but let's hope this area of the forest is still part of the search. Daylight is slowly dying and we need to find a safe place rather than that clearing you passed out in."

"Why are you here then?" You asked. "In the forest, I mean."

"One thing about mankind is that they don't recognize chances." He whispered under his breath. A sound of confusion escaped your lips, he either ignored it or didn't hear it. "Some things are better left a secret, little one. Use your curiosities wisely."

DAY THREE

"If an animal comes rushing at you, what do you do?" Hendery asked one morning as he sat at the edge of the small stream you'd found.

In the years you'd watched documentaries and survival movies, one thing always played a vital role in human survival: water. So when you happened to come across the stream, the both of you couldn't say no to the opportunity. During your walk yesterday, the both of you came across a small shack hidden by the trees: its wooden walls looked old and were infested by moss; however you weren't really picky. It was the only shelter you could find and you lacked the supplies and skills to even attempt making a tent. There was a small window on one side and a few empty shelves on the other.

You thought for a while about his question before telling him the first answer that comes to mind. "Dodge it, I guess."

He stood up from his seat, walking towards you before sitting next to you. In a flash, you felt his hand push against your collarbone, sending you back on the ground.

He looked down at you and hummed. "Seems pretty ineffective."

You glared. "I wasn't ready."

"And what makes you think that you'll be ready when the attack comes?" He raised an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to retort but no words came. "I thought so."

He pushed his body off the ground once again. This time, to inspect the plants behind you.

"What would you do then?" He smirked.

"Like you said, I'll dodge." He starts, swaying his body slightly for a moment before suddenly running towards you. "Then attack." He whispered, just by your ear and you felt a chill run down your spine. A small shadow rose above you and it's then that you saw a large rock in his hand, parallel to the skull of your forehead. You sensed the object pick up its pace and you barely had enough time as you moved your head away from its course.

Hendery smashed the rock to the ground. His body slanted forward and you took this chance to stand and land a hit directly at his nape with the side of your hand. He jolted forward at the force and you started to distance yourself away from him.

"What the fuck, Hendery?" You watch in slight horror as he chuckled lightly before turning to you with a smile.

"No need to worry, y/n." He picked up a piece of the rock. "It's shale," he held it up with his fingers before breaking them, "practically harmless."

You let him walk past you before making your way towards the remnants of the stone. Looking back, you see him occupy himself with some berries on a nearby bush. You gently picked up a small piece of the rock, imitating what Hendery just did with his fingers.

It wouldn't budge.

You furrowed your eyebrows, this time using both hands to break it. The sheer force of your finger tips made your skin slip. A small cut was drawn on your thumb and you narrowed your eyes on it.

You looked over to Hendery who was now picking out some berries. You glared at his back. This fucker was trying to kill you.

You decided not to voice out your concerns. It was smarter to observe him for now and run away later.

Use your curiosities wisely. The words echoed in your mind as you gripped the strap of your bag tighter.

It'd been a while since he's had this much entertainment. From a human, no less. Usually they would've been dead by now or begging for their pitiful lives. But you? You were something special.

Hendery couldn't help but smirk.

DAY FIVE

"You don't trust me." You flinched at the sound of his voice. All of the forest seemed to have stopped moving for a second as you scramble for your thoughts.

You whip around, ready to deny the accusation before he lifted one finger up to silence you. "I don't really blame you about this but then why are you still here?"

Why were you still here?

You had an answer to that of course but admitting it out loud would've exposed you further to the man in front of you. You were afraid, weak and very fragile at this point. Your body was growing unbearably hot and your head has been in pain since yesterday. You didn't want to inform him of your state.

"There's safety in numbers. I don't know what's out there and frankly, I'm not prepared to face them either." You answered curtly. The response heightened Hendery's interest and he couldn't help but wonder: why would you lie?

Fortunately, he let it go. Being as he was, he asked you another question. "If an animal stalks you while you're powerless, what would you do?"

"Another one of your hypothetical scenarios?"

He shrugged, "you'll never know."

"Guess I'll die."

Hendery blew raspberries at that, unable to contain his laughter at your blunt reply. "You really are amusing, aren't you?"

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Good point," he thinks for a moment, resting his chin on his fingers in a childish manner that made you slightly confused about the different sides he held. He sighed in defeat, "it really is a hopeless case!" He groaned, "the least you could probably do is count to ten and hope for the best."

You raised an eyebrow at him, holding back a humoured smile. "Thanks for the tip."

He grinned, "you're welcome!"

xxx

That night, a low rumbling growl awoke you from your slumber. You jumped up from your position, the thin blankets of leaves rustling below you as you looked around the dark room. The dim glow of the moon didn't help much but you could faintly see a huge silhouette of a figure standing right outside the window. Its back was turned in your view and you couldn't identify what it was.

You looked to your side to see Hendery gone. You panicked, the adrenaline spiking up to your lungs as you began to panic. The figure was still out there and it was not going anywhere.

You take a cautious step forward, the floorboards creaking as you did so. You tensed at the loud sound. Your whole body froze, keeping an eye at the window when the door of the shack suddenly opened.

"Did I wake you?" Hendery asked, rubbing his temples while he stood at the door. "I needed to pee."

"N-no?" He only nodded his head before groggily walking to his spot on the floor.

You were now wide awake. The will to sleep abandoning you as you hesitantly lay on your back.

The shadow was still there.

DAY SEVEN

"Hey y/n," you looked up from your seat to the man next to you. The slight flinch of your shoulders didn't go unnoticed by him.

You'd been exceptionally jumpy since yesterday and Hendery knew why. Fear was a cord that humans could never cut off. Once you're introduced to an unknown being, your whole body freezes as you desperately try to make sense of what you've witnessed, just to ease your irrational mind.

"We don't have any food left." Hendery says, holding out the empty wrappers of the bread you ate the night before.

You thought for a while, the image of the shadow pushed to the back of your head for a short while. "I guess we need to start looking for something to eat? I think there are some edible berries and plants we can collect."

He appeared to be considering it before nodding his head. "Okay! I'll go look for something to eat. Go start up a fire y/n to keep us warm while I go in the woods."

You nodded your head, already preoccupied with the grass, thoughts wandering back again to whatever it was that you saw.

With the way you were going, it almost felt like Hendery had only been gone for a few seconds when he came back just to see you hunched over; the same stance you had when he left. He sighed.

"You okay?" And there you were again, jumping a few good centimeters away from him. "I told you to start a fire."

Your eyes widened in shock before sputtering out multiple apologies. Hendery pressed his lips to a thin line.

"I'll start it, don't worry y/n. Just stay here." You nodded, eyes focusing on the ground that you failed to see the smirk on your companion's lips. He handed you a leaf filled with mushrooms, berries and some nuts.

"I hope they find us soon." You huffed, lifting a few of the food to your lips. Hendery watched you intently, smiling to himself before picking at the edibles on his makeshift plate.

"I hope so too. It's already been a week."

Suddenly, you felt your vision turn hazy. You furrowed your brows, concentrating on a specific tree as it morphed with its surroundings. "H-hendery?"

You lazily turned your head to your side, the weight felt light on your neck that you whipped faster than you've anticipated. Thus, your brain began to ache. You focused on Hendery's features, his expression unreadable as he, too, became a blurry mess of lights and shadows.

Once your eyes finally closed, Hendery let out the chuckle he's been holding in. He lifted your body off the ground.

Thus the game comes to end.

NIGHT SEVEN

Four… three… two… one…

You opened your eyes when you realised your limbs were still intact. The animal was nowhere in sight. Still, you couldn't shake off the overwhelming presence you felt all around you.

Looking around, it was pitch black. No shine of the moonlight peeked through the leaves of the trees, no sound of the whistles of the wind as you stood up from your terrified stance. Cautiously, you took a step forward. Your bag slumping down your shoulders before falling to the ground.

Your whole body felt weightless and you didn't find enough care in you to pick it up. Not even when the gleam of your treasures keychain sparked your vision.

You were tired.

You fell forward, a flash of bright white lights shocking your eyes as you squinted. A hum of a familiar lullaby and a chorus of footsteps neared your fragile body. You allowed your eyes to close as you finally relaxed, feeling the warmth of an embrace wrap around you. The smell of mint and chocolates killing you to sleep as gentle hands lift you up.

The soft song never faltered, vibrating across the person's chest and to your warm cheek.

You were going home.

xxx

In the shadows, Hendery watched as multiple police officers circled your body. One of them, Wong Yukhei, lifted you off the ground. He shakes his head in disappointment and regret at the state you're in: head bloodied, limbs bruised, and skin already blue.

Cold hands and feet already limp from the games he played, strumming your chords throughout the week until you eventually snapped.

Hendery hummed, a sweet lullaby in contrast to his wicked deeds. There was no shadow, no animal, nor a Hendery to begin with. It was all a byproduct of the scared, fragile and lonely human mind.

"How unfortunate, little one."

[willow-salix]

Co-written with @hedwigstalons in answer to the challenge set by @darkestwolfx. It's set as part of my "Isolation on Tracy Island" series which you can read here on Ao3. We think we did a pretty good job with this collab, TAG teaming back and forth, which was so much fun to do.

Day 40 of isolation on Tracy Island and Gordon is grumpy because his heirloom is not as special as he thought. 

It started with Jeff deciding that maybe now was the time to take up gardening. Apparently one of his friends had suggested it as a way of calming the mind and being more Zen (my words, not his) and he was now wielding a pair of hedge trimmers like the bush had offended his ancestors. Virgil was cringing and muttering about this being the reason he hadn't brought his new love of Topiary to the island. 

The bushes and shrubs put up a valiant defence but it was no match for a Tracy on the warpath. The ornamental border soon looked like it had been run over with an industrial lawnmower. So much for a little light pruning. I was quite glad Jeff hadn’t been part of the working party at my flat and vowed never to let him anywhere near my herb tubs.

The herbaceous massacre, as it came to be known, did answer one of life’s mysteries though. It revealed just what had become of Gordon’s bell. Of course now he is lording it over us all again and trying to use it to summon drinks and snacks. Virgil helpfully volunteered to break both of Gordon’s legs again so he would be deserving of waitress service which shows just how annoying the little tinkly sound could be in the hands of the squid.  

I groaned when the little jingling nightmare made its presence known for the tenth time that morning. 

“Where the hell did that thing even come from?” I demanded to know, I’d only seen it once before and wasn’t about to admit to it.

Everyone looked at it, their heads swivelling as one, like cats tracking a mouse, it was both fascinating and disturbing in equal measure.

“Parker gave it to me,” Gordon told me, “when I broke my leg. It’s very valuable you know, it belonged to his great-great-great-a few-more- greats-grandfather who was the butler to the Prince of somewhere. The Prince used it every day to call for his attendees to dress him for the day. He said that it had been in his family ever since the Prince had gifted it to his great-whatever on his retirement. That’s why I was so surprised when he threw it away, you’d think he’d be a little more careful with his family heirlooms.”

Alan snorted. “That's not even the slightest bit true.”

“Oh yeah, how would you know?” Gordon demanded. 

“I know because I found it in the kitchen cupboard and gave it to him to give to you.”

“You did not!”

“I totally did!”

“Well where did it come from then? Why was it in the kitchen?”

“I put it away when I found MAX with it,” Brains chimed in.

“Where the heck did MAX get it from?” Scott wanted to know. “I hid that thing in the drinks cabinet.”

“Why were you hiding it in the drinks cabinet?” I had to ask. My head was spinning, my simple question leading to something I could barely follow.

“I can answer that one. ”

My head swivelled round and I nearly spilled my drink. Just when had Kayo arrived? I never knew whether she was on the island or not. Heck, sometimes I didn’t even know when she was in the same room as me. I swear that woman has a cat lurking somewhere in her ancestry.

“Scott here was probably embarrassed after one of our training sessions. I found the bell in the gym cupboard and set him a challenge. It bruised his ego that he was no match for me on stealth. I expect he was hiding it to avoid a rematch.”

OK, no surprise that Kayo could best Scott on stealth but, as if pulled on by an inescapable force, I just had to ask. “So where does the bell come in?”

We all proceeded to watch open-mouthed as Kayo picked up the bell and vaulted three chairs without a single chime sounding out. Definitely part cat.

“OK, OK, ” Scott threw his hands up in resignation.  “Busted. But how did it end up in the gym cupboard?”

There were various shrugs around the room as everyone denied knowledge of how it ended up there. I subjected each of them to my patented stare. I knew as well as they did that the bell hardly classed as sporting goods. Having been forced into captivity with these untidy animals and their habit of leaving objects lying around for someone else to pick up I knew one of them was guilty.   

Slowly a hand lifted into the air. 

“John?” Alan goggled. “Why were you in the gym?”

“Hey! I work out! Probably more than you do.”

“But the gym?" Alan ignored the slur on his work out schedule. “You don’t use the gym.”

“It was when-” he paused, interrupting himself to cough sheepishly.

The power of a million eyes looked my way. I whistled innocently, the clouds in the sky suddenly very fascinating. 

“Is this going to be gross?” Alan whined, making a face that only a teenager could make. “Did you disinfect after?”

He didn't see the book coming until it was too late.

“There is nothing gross about a sit up competition. A couple that works out together...well, that has nothing to do with staying together but it helps.”

“How does a bell have anything to do with sit ups?” Gordon asked.

“If you can’t use your imagination then I’m not telling you.”

“You do need pretty strong legs though,” John added.

“And a trust that you won't get dropped on your head.”

“You said it wasn’t gross!”

“That still doesn’t explain where the bell came from before you took it to the gym for some weird stuff we don’t need to know about,” Gordon grumbled, still quite put out that his precious was now a little less special and a lot more tainted.

“I found it on the unit with Grandma’s ornament collection.”

“Grandma has an ornament collection?”

“Yes, by the book cases. You might know about it if you actually bothered to read. You know, have a go at improving that chlorine soaked brain of yours.”

Honestly, it was like living with a load of children.  Put them in a room together for five minutes and if it wasn’t books being thrown it was insults.

“So you stole one of Grandma’s ornaments?”

“Not stole, borrowed. Tracys don’t steal.”

“OK, you borrowed one of Grandma’s ornaments and then didn’t put it back. You are so going to be on dish duty for a month now she knows. It’s probably one of her favourites.”

I was feeling a little guilty at this point because to be fair I hadn't worried about where the bell ended up after our gym session either. It’s only because John is a tidy soul at heart that it made it into the gym cupboard at all rather than being left out on the mats. I had been a little...distracted to worry about such niceties. I promised myself that whatever fate befell John for his misdemeanour I would shoulder my share of the punishment.

Grandma picked up the bell and gave it a closer look.

“This thing, ” she mused, turning it over in her hands. “Oh yes, I remember where I got it from. It’s nothing special really. I found it when I was doing the laundry so put it with my knick-knacks. You boys never do remember to check your pockets before putting your uniforms in to wash. I’ve found all sorts over the years.”

“Us boys?” Accusatory looks were exchanged once again. I have no idea how they get any work done being so damn suspicious all the time. They are constantly questioning each other's motives and believing the worst of each other. Though honestly, they could be little buggers to each other whenever they indulged in one of their prank wars, which was quite often. And since they had stopped announcing the start of said wars, I guess they had a reason to constantly suspect each other of wrongdoing.

“Well if I don't know where it came from,” Scott started.

“And I found it in the kitchen,” Alan continued.

“After M...MAX found it in the drinks cabinet when he was mixing me a Cosmopolitan,” Brains admitted. My eyes widened, I was soooo not touching that bit of information with a ten foot pole.

“And Parker didn’t inherit it from a Prince,” Gordon added.

“And I found it already in the Gym cupboard,” Kayo threw in.

“And I got it from the shelf,” John confirmed.

“Where I put it after I found it clunking around in the dryer,” Grandma finished off.

“And I had never seen it before I fished it out from the shrubbery,” Jeff chimed in. “That leaves…”

Virgil hung his head.

“Virgil, where did you get that bell?” Grandma demanded to know.

His eyes were darting here and there, looking anywhere but at her.

“Speak up, young man.”

“Yeah, Virg, where did you get the bell?” Gordon grinned evilly, obviously enjoying watching Grandma’s golden boy squirm.

“Did you buy it in a pretty little antique store somewhere?” I offered helpfully.

“Was it a gift from a lady friend?”

“Did you get it as a thank you from a star struck rescuee?”

“Did you just like the sound it made?”

“Will you all shut up!” he roared, exploding from his chair.

Alan looked as if he’d die of shock. Virgil never shouted.

“Virgil, I’m waiting,” Grandma never backed down. “Where did the bell come from?”

Virgil took a deep breath and then straightened his shoulders, lifting his head defiantly.

“You know when Professor Questa called us with his yearly demand for help?”

Brains, Grandma, Scott and John all nodded.

“And then the volcano actually started to erupt?”

More nods.

“Everything got a little out of hand, the guy at the desk wasn't listening and then Brains was riding MAX and…”

“And?” seven voices demanded in unison. How had we gone from a volcano to Brains treating MAX like a fairground ride? 

“I was just trying to get his attention and...well...I kinda, accidentally...”

A collective holding of breath…

“I stole it.”

Poor Virgil, he’s never going to live this one down.

[lysandra-vanburen]

Strengthening Infatuations

The following story was written as a collab rp between @itraeis and myself. It has been edited and written in the third person.

Currently this snippet follows the events of these letters as well as ‘War of Witches’.

                                             Mood setting music.

Viewer discretion highly advised; Mature and suggestive themes below the line.

The evening had been one full of well placed anger, inner turmoil, a sprinkle of misery and a dash of the wrath of a scorned mother. Lysandra Vanburen's bitter mood and deeply rooted maternal instincts had set the entirety of Melstone Estate’s functions into a harrowing halt.

Still Lysandra buzzed with the thrill of the kill but despite the lingering knowledge of having utterly destroyed the witch responsible for her children’s current state of rest... There was still an unsteady shake to her hands, her body swaying and mind consumed with such fury that it didn’t matter that already the enemy currently at hand had not only been apprehended, but Lysandra reasserted herself as the alpha in the situation... At the end of it all she got the last hollowed laugh, so why did she continue to linger on the issue?

Try as she might it became harder to compose herself, fingers flexing and stretching out as far as they were able before curling inward toward the palms of her hands in an effort to steady herself -- though still her body shuffled around in restless pacing.

With every stretch of her fingers had the plants within her childrens’ shared medical room would grow in size, retracting in size as Lysandra’s fingers curled into fists again. She was so consumed with revenge that she hadn’t even thought long enough about anyone beyond the Vanburens -- much less her, admittedly, current interest... Itraeis Holt. The man which last she swore to meet with for a date in her last letter.

Such a letter which had been filled with apologies and promises of a day together, swearing she’d meet him at his current inn some time in the afternoon of the very day and very time she was busy pacing... Such a letter that, with her swearing and promises, carried the details of her boldly printed address: .

Unbeknownst to Lysandra... He had waited out front of the noble accommodations patient as a man could be, despite the passing minutes... Still she never showed up.

An hour went by, then two.

Had she stood him up? Itraeis wasn't sure.

Part of her seemed almost distraught when they met the other night, he acknowledged, and it was true she was startled but that was more so with her own personal feelings drudging up in the presence of such a handsome and flirty younger man...

But the letter she sent back made her seem more than interested? He was conflicted, confused, and his pride a little hurt. But he wasn't about to turn and lick his wounds like some injured dog. He was going to be a man of action!

Connections were made, a few palms greased, and Itraeis had managed to procure travel with a small entourage heading into Drustvar. The address he gave was a slight detour for the caravan, since he didn't have his bike here in Kul'Tiras, and he wasn't overly good at horse back riding, thus he had to rely on his coin and his wit to convince the party to take him on.

But now he was here, at the main door of the addressed estate Lysandra had written down.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the large door, one hand held behind his back as he did so and then waited patiently for someone... hopefully her... to answer.

Her staff were all just as sluggish as the Lady of the House, seemingly too weighed by the troubling future ahead. Often their heads hung in prayer or thought, but they all were wishing for the wealth and good tidings of the currently ailing Vanburen children regardless of their own personal state of being.

Albert and Charlette had easily wiggled their way into the lives of those responsible to care and keep the manor of Lysandra Vanburen functioning, they were the sun and moon... Two opposites that brought light and joy into every instance, they were precious as could be... To think they were currently fighting for their lives was outrageous... All within the Manor were currently miserable, trounced by their concerns.

Jennifer was of no exception, the ginger haired handmaiden carrying a look of permanent exhaustion at all times... Even as her fingers twisted and pried open the door of the Estate’s grand entrance to address who had so boldly knocked against it’s thick wooden frame.

The door would most certainly open if only to expose the droopy eyed and deeply frowning woman dressed in a simple green frock and apron, her orange hair tugged into a rushed ponytail. She stood there a moment, coming to recognize that there was already familiarity to his features... To those dark, inviting eyes. Was this the debonair Lysandra gushed so fervently about merely nights ago?

"My apologies, sir," Jennifer spoke gently, her voice lingering on the edge as tears welled in her eyes, "The Lady Vanburen has canceled all lessons and business this week on account of her ailing children,” she pushed aside the thoughts of his familiarity, clearing her throat, "If you'd like to reschedule a meeting for next week, I can make those arrangements for you?"

Itraeis was taken by surprise. He had come to expect Lysandra had simply changed her mind on their meeting, or at best got caught up some business venture. But ailing children was not something he had anticipated...

"Actually, it was more of a personal meeting myself and Lady Vanburen had arranged. A date. When she didn't appear with no letter or messenger, I thought to just come here and ensure everything was alright...” 

Jennifer's eyes lit up with glee, newfound hope standing before her in his smoldering glory. Instantly she'd open the door wide for Itraeis to enter, exposing a fairly extravagant foyer where once Jennifer was standing, now no longer blocking his view.

“If you could let her know it's me, before we commit to reschedule? Now that I know the circumstance I'd like to, at the very least, see how she fares. And hopefully brighten her day even a bit," he explained, from behind his back he pulled a bouquet of wildflowers.

Jennifer instantly recognized that many of the flowers were native of Drustvar, a beautiful bunch of colorful and extravagant dome as well as numeric shaped flowers which carried an intoxicating smell.

"Do come in," Jen encourages, a hand beckoning him forth, "I imagine her Lady would be quite thrilled to have the support of her beau in these troubling times. Please, allow me to show you to the drawing room and I'll see to it Lysandra is made aware of your being, sir."

"Thank you, you're most gracious," Itraeis praised, pulling out a small purple flower and handing it to Jennifer in thanks.

The main entrance would be closed behind him, thus snuffing out the cold winds carrying through the grounds on this particular fall evening.

He stepped beyond the threshold and immediately soaked in the wonders of the home, taking in the sights of the grand manor. It was, by en large, much more impressive than his. Then again, Itraeis didn't really have his own lands or estate. He was a glorified squatter.

Inside the foyer alone was a rush of warmth, inciting the idea that hearts and radiators were on to challenge the chilly bone nights. The foyer was decorated softly colored wooden walls accented by golden fixtures nailed into the wood, lit candles providing bright, artificial illumination for the patrons of the estate home.

There were three different open archways leading into the east, west and north of the home. From the mere sound of it the east doorway led to the kitchens with clattering of pans and chattering servants being such indication. Otherwise the other doorways were mere mysteries.

On the air was the lingering smell of a calming lavender mixed with rugged, polished leather.

The most pronounced and startling of sights in the entirety of the wide foyer, alas, were the grand staircases leading up and splitting into two, leading up to the second floor.

Near the top of the first set of stairs was the statue of a winged beauty, her hands cradling a dove before her exposed bosom, a haunting look of longing upon her features as she is allowing the winged creature to take flight -- a moment etched in cool, cold white marble which easily matched the overall elegant aesthetic of the home.

It was down the hall beside the right of the staircase that Jennifer would lead the Holt gentleman, her clammy fingers clinging to the offered flower all the while. The walk was a short one, in which Jennifer pushed the door leading into the Lady Vanburen’s drawing room, offering for Itraeis to enter whilst she held the door.

The drawing room itself was decorated by varying animal heads and stuffed bodies. From wild boars to the slinky, gorgeous stoats the room was kin to a forest in its own right, with plants lingering on any furniture that would stand, a magnificent hearth lit aflame casting a warm glow into the room.

Above the heart, too, was the head of the green scaled raptor in all its frightening glory, red eyes staring down toward its marvels with solidified hate.

Along the coffee table set between two Kul Tiran designed couches was a single crystal decanter with water -- or so that was what Jennifer said before assuring her swift return with the Lady of the house. With the decanter were there four glasses stacked upon one another.

The couches were softer than life itself, dark navy in color and providing a splash of oddity in comparison to the earthy tones of the room- from the multicolored brick fireplace to the black bookcase.

It was a butler who hustled in, providing the presumed beau an option for other drinks he might desire, ranging from juices to alcohol of wine and liquor variety, "Do you require anything sir?"

"I'll be fine with the water, thank you." he politely declined. Best not to take up a drink when he still wasn't entirely sure if his presence would be as well received by Lysandra as it was by her ward.

He made himself comfortable on one of the plush couches.

Damn was it comfortable...

He could sink right into the cushions and fall asleep quite easily if he were so inclined. But he was here with reason. So he kept his posture proper, awaiting for when Lysandra would enter so he could rise to his feet and greet her properly.

When the news reached the distraught mother of her handsome visitor, she had been stunned momentarily, meeting Jennifer’s bright features with her own doubtful frown. A bubble of guilt blossomed in her chest and weighed against her so heavily it was getting increasingly hard to breathe...

Itraeis, of course... How could she have forgotten her promise to meet him?!

Turning her eyes toward her son and then her daughter the woman carefully pressed a kiss to each child's forehead, whispering reassurance that she'd be back soon before turning to Jennifer with a more desperate expression. "Watch them?"

"Of course," Jennifer assured, sending Lysandra out of the healers ward with this confirmation.

It was a short trek from the downstairs ward to the drawing room just on the opposite side of the estate, but it was fairly lengthy as each time she'd pause in front of a hall mirror to try and smooth over her frazzled locks and brush away the dark red tear tracks on her cheeks.

Alas, there was a final embrace to her look that came out as a soft exhale of: "Tides help me."

She atleast made the effort and adjusted her frilly neck cream blouse, taking the time to smooth out the fabric and stuff it beneath her dark brown trousers.

Her return home from confronting the Heartsbane witch responsible for her children's current state had been spent worrying for her children. She hadnt taken into account how crazed she must of looked, for while she had changed into fresh clothing she had yet to shower the grime, built dirt and dried blood off her skin.

Not only was she not immediately concerned with her appearance upon returning home, but she wasnt concerned with the prospect of being visited-- especially by a gentleman.

She'd enter the room with flustered cheeks and a rush of apologies jumbled together, her hands held up in defense as she first addressed Itraeis, "Darling I am so, so sorry. Things unraveled so quickly, I forgot our meeting completely unintentionally and I.. I'm not certain how much you loathe me right now, but know that I never intended to upset you, alas my duties as a mother trump what the heart wants at times!"

Itraeis couldn't help but smile at the way she apologized so profusely. He let her ramble away with her explanation while approaching her with the bouquet in hand. Once she had finished with her winded apology, the young lord placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her forehead as he handed her the gift.

"Lysandra, don't worry so much," he said in a comforting tone, "I'll admit, I was a little distraught when you didn't show up and there was no words. But your aid explained in brief that your children were ill. I may not have kids of my own, but I more than understand a mothers duty to her children. I'm just glad to see you're okay, all things considered." His gentle, reassuring smile clung to his features as a single hand raised up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

For a moment the maiden was struck dumb in her astonishment of the gift provided. Her hands took claim of the bouquet, marveling its beauty up close whilst tilting her head forward to admire their smell. Alas, the gentle brush of lips on her skin would stir the woman from her state of excitement and silence.

Golden eyes observed the young Lord in that moment, admiring him mostly whilst the fingers of one hand clung to the stems of the tied flowers, her second hand lifting to momentarily caress the boys cheek. All the while she provided him with a genuine smile, her eyes longing, a second emotion hidden in her irises.

"I'm not okay," she'd whisper in return, honesty thicker than ichor, dripping from quivering lips whilst she slowly stumbled closer to Itraeis, the flowers hanging at the woman's side now as she aimed to nestle herself against his chest.

She felt so vulnerable, reeling back on the incident with her children. It left her shattered, her confidence was snuffed out for the time being... And the only thing keeping her from bursting into a fit of tears was the comfort and warmth Itraeis brought her. It was an explainable feeling but..

It was something she wasnt going to push down and deny when she needed it: The comfort of a friend.

“ Of course not, love, of course not." he whispered.

His arms immediately wrapped around her form-  Once his arms had enclosed around her figure the maiden paused to gesture toward her lingering butler. Instantly he moved forth to collect the flowers, assuring Lysandra they'd be placed in a vase and presented in her room. Thus she indulged in the closeness without fear of squishing her beautiful gift. One hand rested on the small of her back and gave her a squeeze. The other stroked down her hair in long, gentle caresses. He could tell she was far more shaken than even she was letting on. Even if they had only spent one night truly conversing, he appreciated her as a person. Enough so to travel across the isles just to check in on her.

"Would you like to sit for a moment?" he asked, though he still rested his head atop hers and held he close for as long as she desired, "We can talk if you wish. Or I can simply be your comforting shoulder to cry on. Either way, I'm here for you, Lysandra. You need only say the word."

"No, please, sit with me..," thus she'd dare to curl her fingers around the front of his garb as to tug him in tow as she lowered herself into the comforting cushions of the couch, her voice maintianing shaky confidence.

For a moment she’d hesitate, her hands having ultimately retracted and moved to fold atop her lap. Of course he would sit beside her. Although her hands rested in her lap, his arm still remained around her in a comforting gesture. His body turned to face her properly, as she spoke.

Lysandra soaked in the moment as she tried to wrap her head around the generous display Itraeis had put on for her... So valiantly braving unknown territory just to come and visit her. It was charming.

"I'm selfish, dear... Please, I'm but your humble host," she'd remark quietly, aiming to simply bury the pain, "Uhm.. How have you been today, b-besides my mishap in standing you up," she'd provide him a small smile, "Which I am fully prepared to make it up to you, too." 

"I'll be sure to take you up on that then," he teased with a wink in return, "But you need not apologize nor bury your burdens on my account. I'm here  for you,” he took a slight breath, looking the poor woman over as she did her best to hold herself together through it all.

If she needed to talk, he would surely listen. But if she really did just want to forget it all for a time, he'd happily oblige. "But, to answer your question, my day was fine. The ride from Boralus to your estate was quite lovely." he said with an earnest smile.

Bury her burdens... How Lysandra wished it were that simple. There were facts revolving around the story of her family that ultimately led to the disruption in routine for her children that Lys absolutely could not share with Itraeis. And try as she might to prevent it, it hurt her heart thinking of not being open with a man she'd known for only a day. Her infatuations, she came to bitterly recognize, were stronger than she liked.

Damn boyish grin.

For a moment the maiden simply brought a hand up to comb and fiddle with her own hair in an effort to busy herself, distracting her mind by focusing on making herself presentable or at least less like a forsaken.

"No easy feat, the trek from Boralus to Drustvar. I admire your resilience," Lysandra flashed him a small smile, dropping her hands to rest atop the man's torso whilst nestling herself into his side, "I know I talked up the ride quite a bit the last I saw you, though while there is immense beauty in the scenery it can be... A daunting, exhausting ride. So..," nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment the woman would push back her doubts to remark, "If you desire, I can see to it the maids might prepare the guest room for you?"

Itraeis continued to hold on to the distraught maiden as she spoke. A gentle sigh as he accepted her desire to keep quiet on the topic at hand. As was her wish, he would happily serve her as best he can.

"It was lengthy, I cannot deny. But fortunately it wasn't me alone on a steed that rode out here. I traveled with a caravan. A few gold coins and a silver tongue and I convinced them to drop me off here. The company helped. Although these Kul'Tiran common folk are rather rough around the edges, aren't they." he described with a chuckle. “But you spoke the truth the other night. Drustvar does remind me a lot of Duskwood back home. It's oddly comforting, to be in a wood so... spooky. As for the guest room, well I certainly wouldn't say no. In truth... I didn't really plan my way home from here." he admitted with a bashful smile.

Returning to the main city was... Romantic, in it's own. Infact it's what would bring the mother to lean forward and press a lingering kiss to the man's lips.  Alas the affectionate gesture was not long lived, a mere chaste kiss that was followed by Lysandra confessing: "I assure you I am fully prepared to see a carriage readied for you to return to Boralus if you wish to leave tonight or tomorrow, all in all... Your presence here, right now.. It means all of Azeroth to me. Truly, you..," the mother paused for a moment, dropping her gaze toward her hands which lingered atop Itraeis's chest, quite bashful now.

"You've made me happy in such a short amount of time during which... Nothing seemed worth being happy before besides the fact Albert's coma means there's a chance he'll come out of it alive and Charlette's trauma will be healed within months of hard work..."

She'd hesitate, her mind now lingering on her children once more. Then she'd glance up toward Itraeis, "If you'd like, I can see to it you're provided a hot meal and whatever else you desire? I.. I can't promise I will be readily available at all moments, I do not wish to be far from my children long as they heal..." A soft sigh escaped the lords nose as their lips locked for that brief moment. As Lysandra pulled away, a quick nuzzle of his nose against hers extended the intimacy of the gesture if even for a fleeting moment. "I have no where to go anytime soon, darling Lysandra. I can stay for as long, or leave as soon as you desire. Just say the word," he reassured her. His free hand gravitated towards hers that rested against his chest, enveloping them in a caring squeeze.

"Albert and Charlette, I'm sure their recovery will be smooth. I'll look forward to meeting them when the time arrives," he whispered with a smirk, doing his best to keep her mind away from their condition and focused on happier thoughts, "And you need not worry about me. Allow me to join you for breakfast in the morning at the very least and I'll count myself as blessed. Otherwise, be the strong woman I can see you are and tend to your children as you need."

For a moment Lysandra opted to bring one of Itraeis's hands to her lips, skimming across his knuckles before flickering her gaze up to meet his. Itraeis carried a similar smile, now as she wore a teeny, bemused grin, "You were so unexpected... Alas, I'll not linger and doubt what ever has sent you my way. I'll simply enjoy it." "My reasons for coming were simple. You didn't come to me, so I elected to come to you," he answered. He brought his lips to the crown of her head as they sat and conversed, a soft sigh of content escaping him.

It seemed there was a greater meaning to her words. How he'd interpret it was his to decide, all in all Lysandra would provide the man a grand smile.

"Tomorrow we'll share a breakfast and, perhaps, I can give you a tour of the estate? Bring you to see the horses?" Pointedly she was avoiding the idea of him visiting her children.

Both because the kids were in a vulnerable state as was, but to involve a gentleman who's intentions were still unclear to Lysandra herself... It seemed best to keep those thoughts far at the back of her mind rather than drag him deeper into her family life merely based on a day and some hours worth of knowing him.

"Perhaps we'll even put you to work, if you fancy a bit of labor," her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"All of that sounds lovely, Lysandra. Though I'll admit I'm terrible when it comes to labour. To be totally honest, the only calluses my hands have ever known were from that of a sword. So unless you have someone that needs cutting, I fear I will be terribly useless as a laborer," he teased back, offering her a wink in response paired with that boyish smile.

"Awh, fret not dear. Labor for houseguests on the estate grounds includes a majority of time consuming tasks. Often the guests help me with my broodmares-- Cleaning them, feeding them, providing moral support as they're all officially pregnant..." Lysandra had simply guided the fellows hand to rest on her hips, providing him a more impish smile now paired with her lashes fluttering flirtatiously.

She felt like a teenager again, basking in the warmth of her beaus presence.

"Too there is aiding in collecting dinner itself. Often that follows after helping me with my horses, and after polishing the tack for riders who will be eventing in the next week. On more pressing matters, pheasant is on tomorrows evening menu I believe. Too, there are other gathering objectives for the meal in store for us," the woman then provided the gentleman a lavish smile, "Or you could stay here in this drab home and linger in your boredom waiting for the day to drag on?"

With a slight purr the maiden leaned toward Itraeis, tilting her head thus to bring her lips to the boys ear, "If you allow me, I plan to whip you into shape, darling."

Her claim was followed by a titter of a giggle and a well placed kiss to his earlobe.. To his neck... Then to his jaw, then his cheek. Just dotting, butterfly kisses. A great show of affection and the attempt to stir a reaction from him.

A shiver shot up Itraeis's spine as her whispered breath glided across his ear. The peppering of her affectionate kisses brought goose pimples to his skin and the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

"Well..." he said with a breathy tone, "...I suppose that does all sound rather fun. And if even a fraction of it is time spent with you I have to resoundingly agree to such terms."

Thrill and gratitude mingled within her mind ince she registered his original statement of agreeance, alas that bonding kiss seemed to only further seal the deal in the older nobles mind. All in all she'd manange a smile midst the kiss, soon to bring a hand upright to rest along the boys neck, her fingers gently curling along the back of his neck, dragging her nails up through his hair and back down in slow manners.. Just allowing her nails and finger pads to gently scrape across his scalp in a comforting gesture

The way her lips glided across his skin, from his ear to his neck. From his smooth jawline to his cheeks. The young lord Itraeis couldn't help but squirm some in his seat as he felt the stirring of his nethers begin from her affections... Alas, he was not one to act as a shy boy.

A hand rose up to cup her cheek so that the next kiss she made was firm against his lips, "I'll gladly let you whip me... into shape, that is." he remarked between breaths of their kiss.

Her lips molded against his own, her second hand gripping at the front of his garb. Between kisses-- that for her were becoming just a smidgen more  passionate -- Lysandra would murmur against his lips: "Then you are mine all of tomorrow, Lord Holt." 

How she lingered in their embrace... She was a fool to cling to being loved so tenderly by a younger man... Alas, she resonated and reassured herself that she so desperately needed the release and relief a mans touch provided. Already she was smiling more genuinely, not quite as angry or grief stricken... 

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

"It's my pleasure," he whispered in response amidst their kisses.

His breath became a touch more labored as his heart beat began to quicken. Excitement ran through his veins as a new lover's lips were against his own. He dared let his tongue slip free in that lusty manner. For a moment she'd hesitate midst their lip lock, her thoughts betraying her as concerns for what would come consumed... Alas, as his tongue broke beyond her lips and mingled against her own had the maiden simply.. Melted.

As her hands curled around the nape of his neck and played with his her, so too did the arm around her shoulder begin to curl long tresses of her hair around a finger. His free hand that still cupped her face offered a slight squeeze as he continued to pull her lips back against his own between breaths and words exchanged.

"An entire day with you... tomorrow... I greatly look forward too." he whispered back.

Instantly she was upon him, rolling her hips in the effort to guid her body upward, pressing a knee atop the cushion. She was a step away from straddling the man, and it was here she would fully hesitate, breaking their kiss ti murmur: "I assure you now... I'm not seeking to romp at this moment, Itraeis."

There was no definitive declaration that she would never lay with him. Just not now.

Despite so, once it was said, the maiden boldly settled herself on the boys lap, her cheeks flustered and eyes searching his for some sign of discomfort. Something to assure her insecurities that she had been reading things wrong this whole time.

"That's good to know, Lady Vanburen. For I'll have you know it takes more to convince me to relinquish my modesty!" he proclaimed with a playful smirk and a wink of his eyes, "You won't get me free of my pants on any less than a third date!"

A devious snicker escaped Itraeis at his own quip before his lips found hers once more. Truly they both knew he was the hunter here. And although his words were filled with the assurances that he was okay with her terms.

They could both feel his biology betray his words. He meant what he said, but that did not change that his body was flooded with desire. With the Lady Lysandra on his lap so, there was no way she wouldn't be very aware as well.

"Of course I won't pressure you, my dear Lysandra. My interest in you does not simply lie in your body."

With a little giggle the woman provided the fellow another kiss, whispering here: "It seems you've provided me with a goal, Lord Holt," before she'd knowingly roll her hips into his-- disguising the gesture as her attempt to draw herself to her feet.

"Oh have I now, My lady Lysandra?" he asked with a knowing smirk, "Well I'm always happy to indulge a challenge."

Of course, immediately his hands would wrap around her waist. Holding her down to stop her from rising to her feet, or so he believed her to be doing.

The instant she was anchored back down into his lap was the moment Lysnadras lips twisted into a massive grin, simply putty in his hand, sinking into his arms and against his body. Her arms carefully curled around the boy's shoulders, her nails of one hand curling and combing comfortingly through his hair.

"I assure you, Itraeis, I'm ever the competitive woman. The mere idea of a challenge thrills me," she'd muse, her lips delicately kissing along from the edge of his mouth down toward his neck, a trail of butterfly kisses left in the wake of her plush, soft lips.

Alas, as her lips came to his neck, she'd begin to nip and nibble at the flesh, careful so as not to harm him.

The poor boy was really no match for this woman. She knew exactly where and when to kiss, nibble, or deny him. He may have been the young buck seducing the cougar, but she was the one who could play him like a violin when she pleased.

Perhaps... he was actually out matched. But he'd never admit that, to her or himself.

"Well then..." he said in a quivering tone as her teeth grazed against the soft flesh of his neck. Once more his skin was dotted with goosebumps and a tingling sensation traveled through his left butt cheek. She had found one of his greater weaknesses. "...you're welcome to try... but I won't... concede so easily." he tried his best to speak the part.

But for every word he said in playful defiance, his body told a different story.

His one hand traveled up the length of her back. One tangled with her hair as if to humbly request she continue her efforts. The other traveled southward along her spine until it dared to take a grip upon her derrière.  And, of course, betwix his legs laid the hard shaft that surely, and unintentionally, prodded at the older lady.

He was no longer a boy, she was no longer his senior. Now Itraeis was only her current fixation, a thing - nay... A man which she so desired to touch... To feel.

Truthfully she wasn't seeking to wake the next morning intimately embraced with the boy, with naked limbs tangled and her bedroom a haphazard tornado being evidence of a romp bred from sexual frustration and genuine desire. No... She simply wished to feel his kisses and exploring hands making a map of her every curve. And quietly she'd express this to him, her words coaxing, suggestive:

"Touch me however... Familiarize yourself," her encouragement was followed by her teeth biting down on the tender spot she had found on his neck, alittle more aggressive in her kisses and suckling, aiming to apply a vicious red love mark in this place.

Too, she made it a point now to tease him so mercilessly, her hips shimmying in his lap, 'unintentionally' and innocently brushing against the stiffened portion of his trousers. A sleek, sly minx in this game of love that liked to play dirty.

"As you wish, Darling Lysandra," he whispered in response, for explore he did.

His hands traveled everywhere. Immediately following her words, his hands stopped what they were doing and found purchase on her ankles as she straddled, and teased, him. In unison they traveled up, along the length of her calves. Meeting the junction of her knee, he then traveled up farther along her thighs.

A firm pressure from each fingertip to feel and experience the tone of her legs. Clearly, a woman who rode horses as much as she, had legs as hard as stone. Once more his grip found her rear, as tight and as toned as any youth. Perhaps even more so.

From her rear, his hands traveled north along the the wide set of her hips down to her waist. His fingertips gave her a slight squeeze at the waist in a ticklish manner, testing to see if she were the sort to fall victim to such playfully torturous methods.

The backs of her knees, the patch of flesh beneath the ankle and before the foot itself...on both legs this caused violent tremors to rock throughout the woman's lithe figure. Too, the small area above her crotch and below her belly button proved especially sensitive, the curves of her sides, as well...

Even the hands clinging to his hair would tense and pull at the dark tresses, whimpering heard from her lips as she fought to compose herself.

Truthfully these shudders were that of a neglected woman, having gone long without a lover she was susceptible to being turn into jelly with the most casual of brushes.

She'd ultimately release his neck from her mouth, opting instead to reclaim his own lips for hers in a tongue twisting, deep lip lock. 

Her kiss caught him off guard for a brief second. The intensity of her desire pleased him, however. It played to both his sexuality and his ego. Each time her body shuddered from his touch, he'd make a note of the spot. A place for him to exploit in the future, if it ever got that far of course.

From her waist his hands traveled further upwards. His fingers touched each rib as though playing the ivory keys of a piano.

Eventually, his hands came to rest just underneath her bosom. His advance halted there for a moment, though he never stopped indulging in her passionate kiss, the pause alone a question in and of itself. Any further and he dared taking this exploration to a more intimate level than it had yet reached.

For a moment even Lysandra hesitated, breaking the kiss momentarily to unravel her hands from his hair and around his neck. Her hands would then collect his before applying a gentle kiss to his lips, murmuring against them,

"And that is second date constellation prize."

As she pulled away and denied him that ample bosom, Itraeis suddenly found himself a bit a flounder as he came back to more conscious senses. That primal lust no longer clouding his mind. He gave his head a quick shake and looked back up at her as she spoke. A tender smile now gracing his features as she spoke.

"Of course, Lysandra," he agreed, his hands returning to her waist.

Now that she was no longer locked at the lips was the moment she was able to freely marvel and admire the younger man.

A hand would reach across to caress one of Itraeis's cheeks, her eyes soft and carrying an expression of genuine mirth.

"Damn you for being so enticing. I've completely negated all sense of manners and proper etiquette.. I'm simply ashamed of myself," she'd chuckle halfheartedly.

"I promise, I won't tell if you don't," he replied with a wink, "No one shall know of how uncouth we act behind closed doors. That is something I'd keep close to the chest anyway. I'm not the type to kiss and tell."

Despite how the heat of the moment began to cool, Itraeis wasn't make any inclination as to willingly let her leave his lap just yet. Looking up at the woman as she looked back at him, he couldn't help but appreciate her beauty. Such refined grace and loveliness was still captivating to the young lord. He wanted nothing more than to let this moment continue indefinitely.

With a small smile the woman leaned forward, resting her forehead against Itraeis's, soaking in the closeness whilst her hands dropped to lay on his chest. "Are you the type to find, bed and disappear?"

Now she had leaned back once again, court trained eyes peering intently toward the fellow, awaiting his reaction and his words... Trying to find hesitation, a lie. As desperately as she desired to... She wasn't willing to get her hopes up with this wonderfully talented and enticing man.

"I've had a share of brief encounters, I won't lie," he admitted to her. It was a rather risky move on his end, to be so bold as to admit to his indiscretion.

"But I also can say with all honesty, I've never traveled across foreign countryside just to bed a fair maiden. You are worth more than cheap wine and easy tricks. You, Lady Lysandra Vanburen..." he spoke, a pause as a hand rose to stroke her cheek, "... you are a women I seek to hold close. Not just bed and vanish before the dawn. Yours is the face I would look forward to seeing in the morning many dawns over."

"Ever the charmer," she'd accuse gently, biting back the urge to jump his bone right then and there. Instead she'd nuzzle her nose against his own before brushing her lips over his, remarking in a hushed voice, "You'll have to forgive me overall... affections, alas, I'm overwhelmed. Essentially it's not a well enough excuse--," she'd quirk the corner of her lips up into a small smirk, nervously beginning to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, "But I... Well when you say things like that," she'd gently jab at his chest, "It gets me all riled up! So shame on you."

Awh, ever the one strong with the words.

"Does that paint me the villain? To manipulate you so. Shall I stop using such a silver tongue to tempt you, my darling Lysandra?" he asked with a playful mirth, "If that's the case. I can certainly stop such honeyed words in your ear. Perhaps my silver tongue could find a better use instead." he added with a wink.

Oh he was a daring one.

Though his hands remained on her hips, his lips now sought to pepper his own kisses against the soft skin of her neck. Even a few nips to return the gesture she offered moments prior.

"Perish the thought," she'd mewl sweetly, beginning to roll her hips into his once again, alas the gesture would simply be followed by the older woman aiming to lift herself from his lap, "If anything I'd prefer more for I am a vain little lady... Though there's alot more I'd desire from you," and with this she'd pause in her standing to remark, "Such as you just laying me flat out on this couch and ravishing me. Alas," smiling for a moment she'd draw off after murmuring, "Tides, what was I saying before..."

It seems his harmless little kisses and nibbles had caused a short spout of loss of memory, triggering a state of thoughtlessness -- unless her thoughts were how she could live in this moment forever.

He did his best to hide his frown, for he didn't want the moment to end either. But despite such devilish words, he did truly wish to earn her trust and genuine affections. Not simply play the seducer and leave her feeling regretful in the morning.

“You know, darling Lysandra, I could lay you down and ravish you whilst also singing your praises. If I were to take you so, you'd deserve everything your heart desires." he paused, leaning in to steal one last kiss, "and I aim to give you exactly that."

Mindfully the mother rose after indulging in final kisses from the fellow. Alas, she'd find it an appropriate time to part, taking a moment to adjust her blouse whilst wearing a small smile: "If you need anything, darling, the servants are prepared to wait on you-- My bed chambers are simply down the hall from your guestroom if during the night you require--," hesitating the woman remarks whilst smiling wrly, "Anything simply seek me out or inquire a servant."

"But of course, Lysandra," he accepted with a charming smile, flashing those pearly whites, "I'll try not to wake you unless absolutely necessary. Rest well."

With a bashful smile the woman promptly excused herself, turning atop her heels to exit the drawing room, instantly acquiring a servant and sending them in to collect Itraeis to locate his designated bedroom. After such, she quickly returned to sit with her babies. 

Itraeis watched her walk away the whole time.

“She has... A great ass..." he said wistfully to himself before letting out a great sigh and following the guide to his chambers for the night.

[jaeminlore]

vampire!donghyuck

right! so donghyuck was turned not to long ago like maybe?? one or two weeks?

he was walking home from school one night when a vampire attacked him and sucked his blood

donghyuck thought he was going to die right there but he woke up the next morning on the side of the road w fangs and extraordinarily sharp senses

and he’s freaking out like he has no idea what to tell his parents or how to tell his parents

like hey mom and dad!! i’m a vampire now!!

so he takes his precious time walking to his house, even tho his new vampire strength is begging him to pick up speed

and when he gets inside,,, his mom can see how his skin is washed out and his eyes are surrounded by subtle purple rings

her son’s eyes aren’t his anymore, they’re now amber and predatorial

donghyuck is like “mom… pls help me…”

but she doesn’t. she calls in her husband. it takes him one glance at donghyuck to decide he no longer has a son

they give him an hour to get his stuff

then donghyuck is officially a homeless vampire fledgling, who had no idea how to deal with his newfound powers

after three nights of sleeping on benches and being awoken to the sun burning his skin and forcing him to hide in the local bookstore all day,,,, he finally gets noticed by vampire!taeil,,, who asks him if he needs a place to live

and so donghyuck becomes the new resident of the nct household

he’s nervous,, but when he enters,,, no one seems fazed

in fact the entire house is pretty weird and strange,,, there are frozen animal brains in the freezer,,, and donghyuck once sat on a cushion that yelled at him and turned into a boy

but becoming a vampire isn’t easy,,,, and donghyuck is rather bitter at everything in general

he just wants to be human again

he doesn’t even like blood and when taeil makes him these wierd blood milkshakes he nearly gags at how much his body seems to crave the disgusting substance

eventually he has enough. he’s going to eat a burger if it kills him

(and it might. he doesn’t know vampire physiology)

so he picks a convient day ,,, when the house is out of blood ,,, and tells taeil that he’s heading out to get some

instead, he heads straight to the closest mcdonalds and orders a big mac and a large coke

but :( it doesn’t taste good at all :(

donghyuck didn’t even expect his body to reject human food like this,,,, maybe since he doesn’t need it anymore his body views it as waste??

he doesn’t know,,,, but it makes him even more bitter tbh

on his way back home he realizes that he was here to get blood,,, but he has no idea where taeil gets those large sacks of sheep’s blood from

so he heads to the closest shopping plaza and sees party city ,,,, he gets the idea that if taeil sees that he has blood ,,,, he probably won’t question donghyuck where he got it from ,,,, or taste test it like a weirdo

so donghyuck figures he’ll get a bag of fake blood and just trick taeil into thinking he picked up a small bag for a snack

he heads into the party store and goes immediately to the scary section,,,, there on the shelf is only one fake sack of blood ,,,, a bit lighter than the actual fluid ,,,, but it’s all they have

donghyuck reaches for it just as another hand does,,,,, a clearly human hand from the healthy-looking skin

donghyuck looks down to see you, who is lowkey super cute, trying to take his fake blood

“what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his hand still gripping the bag

you struggle to pull the bag towards you “i’ve been looking for fake blood all day for my school play,,,, there’s no way you’re going to take it from me,,,,”

but donghyuck isn’t backing down either,,,, so the two of you play a lame game of tug of war before donghyuck has finally had enough,,, and he bares his fangs at you

you release immediately,,,,, and your eyes are wide and terrified,,, donghyuck sees something in your eyes,,,, and he realizes that he made a mistake. he shouldn’t have done that.

“i’m s—” before he can apologize, you’re out the door, rushing to your car

donghyuck feels lousy,,,,, and when he tells taeil what happened he feels even lousier,,, bc taeil tells him that vampires get a lot scarier right before they’re going to bite

“i wasn’t going to bite!” donghyuck argued

“but you bared your teeth,, what’s a human supposed to think?”

the next few days donghyuck feels horrible,,, he wants to find you again somehow and apologize,,, he wants to clear the air and make everything okay with you ,,,, he’ll even give you the bag of fake blood he bought

he has no idea how to do it,,, until one day witch!mark mentions that his school is putting on a romeo and juliet play

mark and donghyuck go to different schools,,, since mark goes to a more private school and donghyuck is in the public school of their town

didn’t you mention needing the blood for a play?

he knows his school isn’t doing a play so this must be the one,,,, this is where he can go apologize to you

he just hopes you’ll accept it

donghyuck gets there early, with his hair almost in his eyes as he walks into the school’s auditorium

“excuse me, rehearsals are still going on. you can’t be here,” someone, perhaps the drama teacher, tells donghyuck

“i’m here for my friend. she, uh, asked me to find her some fake blood. i’ve got it.”

“oh, you’re a friend of y/n! everyone’s backstage, go on ahead.”

donghyuck nods and walks backstage,,, a bit nervous bc he’s afraid of what you’ll do when you see him again,,,, he’s also afraid that you’ll look at him like you did at the store ,,,, as if he rlly was a terrifying monster

he finally spots you in jeans and a t-shirt, applying makeup onto who he assumed was the juliet of the play

“uhh… y/n?”

you turn around and jump, startled that the vampire from the shop had found you. you pull him away from curious ears. “h-hi? how did you find me?”

donghyuck shrugs, “you mentioned a play and this was the only one in town. i, uh, brought your fake blood.”

“oh. thanks.” you gingerly take it out of his hands and look at it. “you really came all this way just to give me fake blood?”

“no. i came to apologize for scaring you. i’m a recently turned vampire and i still don’t know all of my abilities yet. i don’t want you to think i was ever even thinking about hurting you,,, because i wasn’t.”

you smile brightly then, and donghyuck can feel himself calming down “i accept your apology. i shouldn’t have overreacted about the blood. technically you did see it first.”

donghyuck detects a blush on your cheeks as you continue, “maybe you’d like to stay and watch the play with me? i have an extra ticket.”

donghyuck smiles widely,, and you can see his fangs again, but they aren’t scary or ferocious or anything. they’re just cute. “i’d love to.”

so after you finish up your backstage work and all the actors are called to the stage, donghyuck and you walk towards your seats

“wait… what were you, a vampire, doing with fake blood anyway?”

“… don’t ask”

part of the monster!nct collab w @trickortaeil

[sootemptation]

OBLIVION (Part 1) | DISMISSAL (Part 3)

(You can read the synopsis in the Masterpost below)

Masterpost  |  Part 2

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x reader (AU)

Warnings: None yet.

Words: 3924.

A/N: So here it is guys!The third part of Dismissal! My collab with @oh-beyond and @messyscriptorium Don’t forget to read the previous parts they wrote. The next one will be Yixing again! Are you curious? 

Also, thanks to these two for beta-reading <3

(banner credits to @messyscriptorium ) 

You walked down the street carrying your grocery bags and mentally patting your back for all the offers you had taken advantage of. It seemed like you’d be having a proper meal for the next few days instead of the instant noodles that you had grown tired of munching. Yes, being broke did suck. A lot. But it could be worse, right? If you wanted to have money, you just needed to get a job. Easy.

You snorted. Finding a new job would be anything but easy after you had left the last one the way you did, but you had to. How would you not leave after catching one of your students giving a blow job to your boyfriend in your own living room?

Mrs. Jeon had almost begged for you to keep tutoring and assisting her daughter with her English lessons, but every time you looked at her the only thing you could see were her lips around Chulmoo’s dick. Of course you couldn’t teach her anymore, so you refused her plea without giving any particular reason. What would you say? Sorry madame but I can’t keep teaching your daughter because she is an early slut and my boyfriend is a son of a bitch? Well, it was an accurate statement, but... not an option. Maybe, if you had known back then that she would spread fake rumors about you being really capricious and unprofessional, you would have given it a second thought.

You shook your head expecting that all those memories would fade away, but once that Chulmoo found his way into your mind, you couldn’t kick him out, specially when you had to see the rest of his stuff while packing them.

A mellow meow brought you back to reality. The same grey stray cat that had been wandering up and down your street the last two weeks greeted you rubbing her fur against your legs.

“Hey there!”  you saluted happily, appreciating the distraction. “Did you smell that I bought cat food for you?”

She meowed again, like she had understood what you said and kept walking right beside you. Tough you looked kind of ridiculous talking to a cat that was not even yours, you didn’t really care. For the last weeks she had been the only company you had had so… you owed her more than any other human being around.

You reached your gate while still talking to the cat when two figures standing in front of your door attracted your attention, one of them already walking towards you.

“You, girl! I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour! Who do you think you are to keep me waiting like that, huh?” cursed the big old man.

“Mr. Kang!” You faked surprise. “I had no idea you would be here, I’m sorry.”

You bowed politely, but it didn’t placate him at all. Mr. Kang was your landlord. He had been calling since the beginning of the month, probably to demand for you to pay the rent of his house. You imagined that was the reason, but you had never answered the phone so, you couldn’t be sure. But why would he call you if that wasn’t it?

“When will you pay me!? You didn’t pay the rent nor the bills of this current month or the last one! I want you to pay me now!” he stormed.

The pressure in your chest became a little too heavy when he listed all the things that you had to pay for. You had spent your last savings in the grocery shop. How would you pay for all that?

“Mr. Kang, please be patient with me…” you begged in a low voice, unable to look at him in the eye, “I don’t have the money yet…”

“Of course you don’t! Two months! I’ve been waiting two months for you to pay me, and you can’t even find a job!”

There it was again. Chulmoo and the reason why you couldn’t find any job as an English teacher. That fake rumor. Jiwha sucking your boyfriend’s dick…

You bowed and apologized again, hoping that he would take pity on you and give you more time, but mostly because you wanted to hide your watery eyes. You were ashamed.

“If you hadn’t left your boyfriend and your job at the same time you wouldn’t be in such a delicate situation. You’ve asked for it!”

His statement felt into your stomach like a punch, your tears were harder to hold back and you gave him a supplicat gaze. You understood that he had reasons to be angry, yet he had no right to torment you like that.

“Please, sir… give me until the end of this month… I’ll have the money. I promise…”

“I’ve heard that enough times already!” He was ruthless, and for a second you could almost feel the cold air of the night in your skin, while you were living in the street.

The second figure that was waiting in your door walked towards you slowly, unfazed by the situation, just looking at both of you like you were some kind of live show that he was not interested in.

“Excuse me,” he finally interrupted, getting your attention, “I don’t mean to interfere in your animated conversation but I’m in a rush and-”

“And who’s this guy?” roared the man in front of you. “Is he your new boyfriend? Is he going to pay all the money that you owe me?”

Your eyes were wide open. How would he assume something like that? Where, in the context of that guy’s sentence, could he find a hint to think he was your boyfriend?

“I....I… don’t know him…” you stuttered.

“No, she doesn’t,” he continued, maintaining his straight face, bored of the situation, “and I’m certainly not going to pay anything she owes you. I just need to have a couple of words with her so if you could-”

“Excuse me, kid,” mocked your landlord, “but you should learn manners and shut your mouth while your elders are talking so why don’t you-”

“Excuse me, sir!” grumbled the mysterious new guy next to you. “My name is Do Kyungsoo and I’m here sent by Mr. Kim Junseong. I need a minute with her before leaving and you’re making me, and my boss, lose our precious time. I don’t think he would appreciate something like that. Because you know who I’m talking about, right?”

A lump formed in your throat. Kim Junseong had sent someone to your house? One of the most important CEOs in Seoul needed something from you? Was that even possible?

As you could see, you were not the only one who recognized that name, because the angry man in front of you backed up a little and bowed apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea-” he was babbling.

“Well, you know now, so please, leave.” His gaze was fierce, and though he was younger and probably not as important as to make him leave your house, he still managed to impose his order.

Mr. Kang was leaving the place, still muttering something about being back soon when he made him stop in his tracks and stated in a serious tone,

“And don’t you ever dare to talk to me about manners when you were the one nagging a woman on the verge of tears!”

Your stomach flipped and you turned to look at him. Though you didn’t have any idea of who he was or what was he doing there you felt like you would always be thankful to him. You bowed and thanked him again, letting relief wash all over you.

“Thank you so much for what you did right now. If I can do anything for you just say it.”

When your eyes met his your heart skipped a beat. He was breathtakingly handsome. He was not really tall, but definitely taller than you. His skin was tanned and his features were huge. You could appreciate it since you were incapable of looking away from his lips, pillowy, tempting, inviting… you wondered how it would feel like being kissed by them.

He seemed to realize that you were staring because he readjusted the sleeves of the perfect black suit that hugged his body and coughed,

“Don’t thank me so fervently. He will be back. I didn’t fix your problem.”

Suddenly, the magic that surrounded him and kept you in awe disappeared and the tension and that annoying burden that you had felt a moment ago were back. Why did he say something like that? You knew he would be back, it wasn’t necessary for him to remind you so coldly that you were in trouble.

His big dark eyes were digging holes in yours since you didn’t know what to do. He was staring at you now, internally asking himself if you were going to say or do something.

“Well, if you’re not going to say anything I’ll say why I’m here.”

You looked everywhere, your hands still carrying the grocery bags, the cat, your bag, the door, his eyes, his lips…

He sighed.

“I’m looking for a tutor, an English tutor. Kim Junseong’s son will be having a break of his busy live in Seoul but he still wants to do something with his free time,” he lied, “so he wants to improve his English skills.”

You nodded vigorously and started to walk towards your front door, trying to reach your keys and telling him how much you would love to help him and what an honour it would be for you to tutor Kim Junmyeon, because you knew him. Because everyone, everywhere, did know who Kim Junmyeon was. Specially if you were a woman.

“No,” he cut immediately your enthusiasm, “I just came here because you are the first contact that I found when I looked for an English teacher in Namwon. I trusted that you would direct me to someone else.”

You were speechless. Why someone else? What was wrong with you?

“But… I’m an English teacher, I can do that…” you gulped seeing how the best option you had had in months was fading away.

“I need a man. A male teacher,” he stated cold as ice, as he wasn’t listening to your hidden plea.

“There’s…” you started, almost refusing to give away that chance, “there’s just another English teacher in this town.”

He nodded, waiting for you to keep going.

“He works in the primary school at the end of this street. He should be there if you go now but… he’s too busy already to accept another job. I know him.”

He half smiled and a shiver ran up and down your spine.

“I’m sure I will find a way to tempt him,” he stated.

He turned to leave but you spoke again before he went further away.

“Did I mention that I’m an English teacher, too?”

He revolved and looked at you, well, he checked you out, shamelessly, from head to toe, twice.

“You did, but it wouldn’t work.”

SEXIST! yelled your mind. You frowned and, this time, you let him go.

What an idiot.

---

He held the wheel tightly, trying to hide his anger. He couldn’t remember when was the last time that he hadn’t gotten whatever he wanted from someone. If he didn’t find in him the power to make people bow in front of him he would just mention the name of his boss and everything was settle down and ready for him to take whatever he wished. But not this time. This time a fucking school teacher from a town smaller than a thumb had rejected him, his boss and his check full of zeros that he was so sure would work.

When he parked his car again he took a couple of deep breaths before going out, ran his hand through his hair and checked his jacket. Perfect. Now or never.

He jumped out of the car, open the gate, as he has already done earlier that morning and walked towards the door, taking another deep breath before knocking.

When you finally opened the door he could read the surprise in your face, but it turned into a smile when he assumed you guessed why he was knocking on your door again. You had changed your clothes and your hair was down now. It made you look younger. Beautiful. In the back of his mind he still knew it was a bad idea.

“How can I help you?” you sang.

“You were right,” he admitted still furious but trying to keep his mind cold, “he turned down my offer.”

Your smile grew bigger. His hands itched in his pockets, he wanted to erase that smile. A good spank would show you where your limits were. He would show you manners.

“Ok… so?”

His eyes met yours. He didn’t have time for your games. He was not one to play with so he went straight to the heart of the problem.

“So I’m now offering you that job.”

There it was. That annoying smile again.

“Well… I don’t know if I’m interested…” you probed.

He scoffed. He was waiting for this moment. He would erase that stupid smile from your face,

“I don’t think you’re in the position to afford rejecting this offer. As far as I know you’re about to be homeless.”

The reality of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t like you didn’t know that already, but hearing someone else saying it out loud made it feel… real. Your smile died instantly, but for some reason, it didn’t feel as good as he expected.

You opened the door, defeated, and offered him to come in.

“I’m in a rush, I can’t lose my time chattering with you,” he looked for something in the inner pocket of his jacket and showed you a paper with a pretty high number written on it. The paper that he had used previously to allure the asshole who rejected him.

Your mouth fell open and, despite, you turned around quickly trying to conceal your reaction, he had already seen it. He smiled. You were sold.

“It’s a nice salary for a month, I have to admit it…” you voiced, still weak.

When you turned around again, still holding the paper, he was grinning, but there was something hidden in his eyes. It made your legs weak.

“That’s not a monthly salary. Is a weekly salary.”

This time you didn’t bother to hide your shock. He chuckled. You looked like an anime character with your eyes almost as big as your face.

“There’s a couple of conditions,” he started going back to his straight businessman face. “First: absolute discretion. Second: full availability, every hour of the day and every day of the week.”

Your voice seemed to had just gone away so you just nodded. If one of the conditions had been to walk on burning coals you would have still said yes. With that amount of money for a week of work you would be able to pay everything you owe to Mr. Kang in two weeks, and by the end of the month you would have enough to send some money to your parents. It was perfect.

“Perfect. Come with me then…” He instructed.

You stood frozen in the middle of your messy hall. Where were you going? Would you start teaching him immediately? You had nothing to work with.

He turned around and didn’t even look at you when he spoke again,

“Did you hear me?”

“But… But I can’t start working right no-”

“You’re not starting yet. I’m going to show you the way there. You’ll be tutoring him in his house. He won’t come here. Come on.”

“Wait, I’ll change my cloth-”

“You’re wasting my time,” he interrupted again.

What was wrong with him? Always interrupting you. And his obsession with time? Damn it!

“But-”

“You look perfect. Take your keys, close the door and come with me. Now!”

His expression looked the same. Emotionless. But there was something in his eyes, like a warning, telling you that you should not argue with him, so you did as he said and followed him to his car.

He owned a black elegant Maserati. You didn’t know a lot about cars but it looked expensive. He opened the passenger door for you. The car seat was comfortable and you fastened your seat belt while he seated right beside you. He drove easily through the streets of Namwon, and you paid attention to the itinerary, hoping that you would remember it for the next time. The car stopped in front of a place you knew well. It was an old hanok that had been recently reformed. Everyone in town knew about it. A long time ago a rumour had been spread telling that that house had been bought by a wealthy billionaire who didn’t know what to do with his money. Once it was reformed some meddlers had come around to see how it looked, but people had soon forgotten about it. It was easy to forget it existed since it was secluded. You had to admit that you had been one of those who wanted to see the result of the changes and had been tempted to come around a couple of times, but it was worthless since you wouldn’t be able to see the inside. You couldn’t believe that you were going to finally see how it looked. You were excited.

“Hey,” he called, “before we go in, I want you to remember about the conditions that we talked about.”

You nodded, understanding that he was worried about discretion. You were about to reach your belt but he stopped you holding your hand. The warmth of it contrasted with your cold one. You looked at your hands and then his eyes, waiting for him to say whatever he had to.

“There’s another condition for you.”

For you? What did he mean for you?

“You will have to dress a bit more modestly.”

He freed your hand and got out of the car. Modestly? He didn’t give you time to change your clothes and he expected modesty? What was wrong with him? Of course that shorts and a tank top were not the best choice to go meet your new student, but who’s fault was that?

He opened your door again and you wondered how could he act like a gentleman and a dickhead at the same time.

The duality of Do Kyungsoo, ladies and gentleman. Sexist!

The door opened and another man that you didn’t recognize came out and hurried to a car that was parked near Kyungsoo’s. They barely saluted each other since he knew that Yixing had an important meeting and he was heading to Seoul, so he kept walking expecting that you would follow him.

Right after entering the house he noticed a young woman walking downstairs in a rush. His first thought was that she had something to do with Junmyeon, and he wasn’t going to allow whatever that was happening. He placed himself in front of the lady and focused on her face. She was beautiful. Junmyeon’s type, for sure.

“Who are you?” demanded him in a non-friendly tone.

The woman gave him a skeptic look and spread her arms, showing him her uniform.

“The Postman,” she retorted.

You snorted. Sassy...

“Excuse me!?” roared Kyungsoo.

“Can I get you two a soda?” yelled from the door the man you had seen before with an annoyed expression, “I need to be in Seoul at four! What part of AT FOUR did you not understand?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zhang…” she begged, but her face looked more tired than mortified because of him yelling at her. She walked around the man in front of her and disappeared through the door with the one she had just called Mr. Zhang.

Two new faces came to the door, a man and a woman, and though you were feeling lost because of all those events happening so suddenly, you could tell who they were.

She was wearing a maid uniform, so she had to be the maid, and he was the man you had read about and seen on TV multiple times. Kim Junmyeon. They both walked downstairs and welcomed you,

"Hello!" greeted the maid with a huge smile on her face. She was cute. Really cute. You couldn't calculate her age, but judging by her innocent smile and the light in her eyes... she was young.

Kyungsoo didn't have time for her. He took Junmyeon's arm and dragged him inside to have a couple of words with him.

"Hey," protested his friend, "What's wrong with you? I wanted to talk with that beauty you brought with you. Is she some kind of present for me or something?"

Kyungsoo gave him a serious look to let him know that he wasn't joking.

"Who was the woman leaving a minute ago?" he demanded.

"God, Kyungsoo... Chill... She's Yixing's chauffeur, so get used to her being around."

He didn't trust his friend. First, there was this maid, then Yixing's chauffeur that he knew nothing about, and to put the cherry on top, he had just arrived with another young and beautiful woman to be his teacher. He wondered if he was cursed or it was Junmyeon who was the luckiest fucker ever.

"So, who's that? Did you find her jogging or something? Those clothes...." he bit his lower lip and checked you out, while you were talking with his maid.

"Dude," Kyungsoo punched his arm, "she's your new English teacher... but it's just temporary, till I find someone else."

His friend looked at him with an enquiring gaze but Kyungsoo spoke again, "If your father finds out that I'm letting, not one, but three women stay around you I'll never hear the end of it. Rightly."

“I’m gonna hug you!” smiled Junmyeon crushing his arms around him knowing how much it would annoy his friend.

---

When he walked away holding Junmyeon’s arm and forgetting about you, you couldn’t feel more uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long.

“Hi! I’m Oh Jangmi and I’m working here as a maid, as you can see,” she smiled while bowing.

You introduced yourself, bowing in her direction, and told her that you were supposed to be the new English teacher.

“So you’re going to work here, too?”

You nodded.

“That’s great! The girl who just left is Go Hayun, and she works as Mr. Zhang Yixing’s personal driver,”

“The Chinese man…” you assumed, and she nodded with a reassuring smile, like congratulating you for connecting the information.

“That man,” she pointed at Kim Junmyeon, “is Kim Junmyeon, but I’m sure you already know him. Of course, I’m not going to introduce Do Kyungsoo…” she giggled and you wondered what was so funny. She came a little closer and whispered, “but I can tell you that I heard the other two talking about him and they have an interesting nickname for him.”

She giggled again. You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, waiting for her to tell you.

“They call him Satansoo.”

Your blood ran cold and you stood still. Great news. They didn’t call him Angelsoo or Squishysoo. No. His friends called him Satansoo. His-Friends.

Your eyes were locked on him, watching his friend hug him, but when he returned your gaze you got goosebumps and swallowed the lump in your throat.

What the hell had you gotten into?

Dismissal Part 2  |  Dismissal Masterpost  |  Masterlist  |  Let me know what you think

[antomec]

Spook-a-boo

Collab fic with the amazing @cheschire-kaat/ @mystify-iing/ @kaatastroph-e ! you have too many blogs girl This is our first Colu fic and quite honestly, we had so much fun writing it!

Without further ado, here is Spook-a-boo!

This is also up on AO3 and FFnet.

Words: 1962

Rating: T for swearing

Summary: It’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost

Late Sunday nights (or early Monday mornings) were not meant to be spent at the library, no matter how much Lucy loved being in them.

It was nearing 3 am, and Lucy could not find it within herself to give a fuck. She’d been up since 7 and in the library since 10, trying to cram a whole semester’s worth of notes inside her tiny brain in roughly eighteen hours.

Someone kill her, please.

If it weren’t for Natsu and his stupid ass, she wouldn’t have lost precious sleep like this. She could have been sound asleep in her very comfy bed, thank you very much.

But no, Natsu just had to get himself arrested.

And of course, he just had to appeal to her conscience to pick him up from the station, which also happened to be in another fucking district. So now Lucy was cursing every deity she had ever prayed to in the hopes that one of them would inevitably take offense and would just destroy her.

Lucy swears colourfully under her breath as she remembers the pale-faced boy – or was that just his makeup? – Natsu had apparently fought with just after he had also set fire to a fucking curtain.

“But Lucy, it was an accident!”

“I’m about ten seconds away from making your death look like an accident.”

It had been a very wild night for the both of them, Lucy figures – Natsu with his fight, and Lucy miserably failing to memorize her notes on the car ride over. Bailing out her pink-haired friend ended up being a lot more complicated than she anticipated – then again, with her luck, it wasn’t surprising – but she had finally, finally achieved to leave the police station with a whining and hungry Natsu after, what, three hours? Or was it four?

With the way the shadows in the corners of the room and by the bookshelves seemed to grow larger with every passing second, Lucy concludes that she should probably take a break from the hot-tempered fool she had grown to consider her best friend over the years. After all, he was nothing but a magnet for trouble, and the extra stress was honestly the last thing she needed in her life.

When she finally notices how she’s been reading the same paragraph for the fifth time, she groans out loud in exhaustion and stretches her back, accidentally knocking her pencil case off the table, which falls on the floor with a dull thud.

The sound takes Lucy by surprise, causing her to jump. “I-is someone there?” Logically thinking, she was supposed to be the only one here, but that thought was shot to hell when she started hearing things.

Her hackles rise when she hears scratching. It sounds like someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard.

And when she sees a shadow out of place on the floor, the fear is back in full force.

Because the shadow has fucking horns.

All the horror movies Natsu had put her through goes hurtling through her mind, replaying each gruesome scene with frightening clarity. This is it, this was how she was going to die – she could already see the headlines: SMASHING, HOT COLLEGE KID MYSTERIOUSLY MURDERED IN SCHOOL LIBRARY

But fuck if she was going down without a fight.

(Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realises that it’s probably nothing, and that she was making a mountain out of a molehill, but Lucy refuses to acknowledge that little part.)

Lucy takes in a single deep breath, recollects everything that Natsu had ever taught her in case of a serial killer, and lets loose a scream that he would’ve been proud of and bolts like Naruto toward the exit, zigzagging between the shelves.

It would have worked had she not crashed headfirst into something very solid.

The impact would have made her fall on her ass, but a pair of strong arms catches her just in time. “Oi, what the fuck?” asks a bodiless, gravelly voice, and Lucy’s instincts kick into overdrive. After all, the one thing that Lucy’s learned over the years with Natsu, it’s that questions come after punches. And with that, Lucy blindly punches as hard as she can.

The stranger doubles down gasping as her fist makes contact with his solar plexus, the air whooshing out of him. He drops her abruptly, and Lucy falls on her ass.

She sits frozen in fear, as she finally takes in her assailant. She stares at a guy her age breathlessly clutching his chest, pain clearly depicted on his roguish features.

“Yo,” he breathes out, “what is your problem?”

She wants to answer, she really does. But she keeps staring at him, speechless, analysing him from head to toe.

Unfortunately for Lucy, she might've just punched the most gorgeous guy she's ever seen.

Her eyes take in his unruly burgundy hair and dark skin as they wander from his calloused hands to his slightly pointed ears, pausing on his lips for a very brief second before being inevitably attracted to the very prominent scar that runs across his face. Whatever happened to him hadn’t seemed to spare his right eye, which looks as though it's permanently sewn shut.

"You done looking at me, Blondie?" he asks in an annoyed tone.

"How do I know you're not a figment of my imagination?" She snaps back. Of all the stupid things Lucy has ever said, she feels like this one takes the cake.

The boy doesn’t answer, just stares at her in silence, and she can tell from his expression that he was quite clearly judging her. Though the gods had blessed him with incredible attractive looks, Lucy notes, it certainly wasn’t the case for his attitude.

“What?” Lucy asks, affronted. “You could very well be something that my too-exhausted brain cooked up in order to make me go home. It does that sometimes, “ she adds hastily.

The boy mumbles something under his breath. “Yes, Spirit-boy?” Lucy asks again.

“Spirit-boy?” he groans. “I ain’t dead, thank you very much. Now, what the fuck did you punch me for?”

Her cheeks flush at being reminded of what she did to him. Dear Mavis, was she embarrassed. “Well”, she begins, breathing deeply, “I’m in the library because I have to study for my finals ‘cause my idiot friend decided to start a fucking fight and also set fire to a curtain which also got the cops involved, and which also ultimately forced me to bail him out from another fucking district. Also it’s extremely late and maybe I’m losing my grip on reality because I think I just saw a ghost. Or a demon. Yep, probably a demon."

He doesn’t speak for a minute, and when he does, his tone is slightly amused. “For fuck’s sake”, he says, “it’s too late for this shit.” Spirit-boy – she would call him as such until she learned his real name – proceeds to take her hand in his and, ignoring her cries of protest, drags her to that cursed, haunted spot of the library.

Her protests die soon when she realises that if she does somehow get murdered by something supernatural, she could skip her finals.

"Oh," Lucy says, giggling, "I could haunt Natsu from beyond the grave."

Spirit-boy looks at her in worry. "Did you hit your head somewhere? Maybe you have a concussion. It would explain all this."

Lucy giggles again. "No, but I might've busted a vein yelling at my friend."

Spirit-boy stops them and looks at her as though she'd reminded him of something. "Speaking of your friend," he starts, “would he be named Natsu Dragneel by any chance?”

Lucy blinks in astonishment. Once. Twice. “...Yes?” How the fuck does he know?

As if he had heard her silent question, he shrugs. "I figured as much. You see, I too had an idiot to bail out. In another district.”

Lucy gasps. Could it have been...make-up boy?

“Yeah, he gets that a lot. I always tell him to lay off the makeup, but he never listens.”

She looks at Spirit-boy in awe. Is he fucking psychic or something?

The look on her face must have been priceless, because Spirit-boy starts cackling and pulls them along.

“So. What exactly happened?” he asks, and she shivers at the memory.

“I was sitting over there, studying. And suddenly, I heard a loud sound, as if someone threw...” she trails off as she sees him bend – what a nice butt – and pick up something from the floor. She glances down to see her school material strewn across the ground. She must have knocked her bag over when she ran for her life.

Spirit-boy straightens and holds out her pencil case, and suddenly Lucy wants to sink into the earth and be done with her life.

He’s smirking. She’s embarrassed. But Lucy quickly gets ahold of herself once again. “Okay, okay, all right. But I also saw a shadow! With horns! And something scratching by the windows! It was terrifying, I’m telling you!”

“Are you sure?" He was skeptical, and Lucy couldn't fault him for it.

"Not completely, no. But I was in shock!" She adds at his expression.

"Alright, alright, now where'd you see the freaky shadow?"

“Over by that bookshelf,” Lucy says, pointing. Spirit-boy starts his inspection methodically, and Lucy suddenly wonders why he too is at the library.

She asks him, and he answers with his head under her table. "Same as you. Had to bail out my friend while also simultaneously study for my finals." He grunts and clambers up on the table. "Man, finals can go fuck themselves."

Lucy nods in agreement.

Spirit-boy looks above the bookshelf, extending his arms as if he’s grabbing something…which he is, because he jumps down from the table with a cat in his arms.

He drops the animal ungracefully on the table, the feline crying in protest. “There you go, blondie. Here’s ya' malevolent ghost.”

Mortified. That’s how she feels. She stutters something between a defense and an apology, cheeks turning redder and redder by the second. The strange boy is laughing, and it’s irritating but perhaps she deserves it.

Embarrassment still written all over her face, Lucy gingerly picks up the stray kitten. It purrs, and she laughs. “You might have scared me to death, but I gotta admit –you are one adorable little bastard.”

She turns toward the boy. "I'm taking this furball home; perhaps it would do Natsu some good to learn how to take care of a cat." Lucy pauses for a second and adds, "Who knows, maybe he’ll start being more responsible."

Like that could happen.

Lucy plasters a manic grin on her face and continues. "Now then, time for me to go home, crash into a mini-coma and fail tomorrow's final.”

She picks up her bag and notebooks – unconsciously leaving her pencil case behind – and starts to walk away.

“Oi! Blondie!”

She turns around and sees Spirit-boy running toward her. “Yes, Spirit-boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps before taking ahold of her hand. Her heart skips a beat as he takes out a pen and from his pocket and – oh my god – starts writing random numbers.

“Name’s Erik.” he claims, letting her hand drop. “Call me. And good luck."

And just like that, he’s gone. Leaving her with a stray kitten, a pounding heart and his number scribbled on her hand.

What a night.

Back in the school’s library, empty once again, Lucy’s pencil case still lies on the table, its contents spread on the floor. That is, until the pencils, pens and erasers start, one by one, to float and fly back into the case.

[couturecandigirl]

Today going out to the mailbox and to see that beautiful black MAC box and my Younique package made my heart flutter like a million butterflies!  As you know from my post yesterday and my favorite MUA’s is Patrick Starrr. He did a holiday collab with MAC Cosmetics and it was simply beautiful! Today I got a Patrick Starrr lip liner in Brick and it is so pretty and sort of a deep deep red. As you know I love me a red bold lip and this liner fits right into my make up regime.  As you can see in this picture I also got a the MAC ‘Look In A Box Girl Band Glam’ kit as well. It had a lippy Dark Twist, mascara, lip pencil in Heroine, and Pro Eye Make Up  Remover. I will play these tomorrow when I take my kids to the library. I also got a package from Younique where I got the Royalty Rose Water and two of there new perfume. There are three in total.

The scents are very subtle, sensuous, sexy and affordable.  This is something new for Younique to market and it is based off the romance of CFO and co-owner Melanie and her husband’s  love story. The perfume that I received today are Passionately Yours, Me and Yours and Yours Only, Me. Passionately Yours, Me has a warm, sensuous fragrance that awakens your infinite capacity for love, passion and life. The ingredients are Ripe pear Purple magnolia Velvety woods, Top Notes Ripe nashi pear, juicy cantaloupe, enticing passion flower, Heart Notes Sheer tuberose, purple magnolia, pink dandelion don’t these scents just make you think of Spring and young love? And the Yours and Only Yours, Me is a bright , woody floral that echoes the optimism and warmth of an innocent heart. The key ingredients are Crisp leaves Brilliant white flowers Luminous vetiver. Top notes are Crisp leaves, vibrant tagete, exquisite black currant and the heart notes are Charismatic ylang-ylang, brilliant white flowers, blonde woods (it really does tug at the heart strings) and the base notes are Warm ambrofix, precious sandalwood, luminous vetiver. These perfumes are clean and clear of parabens and animal testing. When I smelled these two fragrances I was in awe and in love. My favorite perfume has always been White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor (still is), but I can not really wear it now with my chronic migraines. Being that I have smelt both of these fragrances and it did not set off any headaches. Just so you guys know if you buy 2 fragrances ($109) you will get exclusive Younique pen  click here bit.ly/CANDIMUA and  if you buy all 3 fragrances ($159) you will get an exclusive Younique scarf and pen. These exclusive gifts are only for a the month of April and until supplies run out. So that means its LIMITED are double clicking on the link? No, well get to clicking ya’ll LOL..

Uggg now to talk about the “curse”! I won’t go overboard like  Blanche Devereaux was going through menopause. I will admit that  going through perimenopause (stage before menopause) is literally killing me slowly! The hot flashes first off  when you are sitting in front of three fans and your still sweating that just icky and gross plus I have the ceiling fan on high.  Now, ladies I have not had a period in a while because of a surgery I had due to me bleeding to heavy every month.  Now, I eat way more than I used too and therefore I have gained weight and that pisses me off to no end. My shoulders,neck and upper back are consistently sore and hurts. Sleep? What sleep? I spend all night going between hot and cold. Blankets on blanket off! Wax on wax off young grasshopper LOL.  I did some research on this topic after I could not take the hot flashes and sleepless nights.  The average length of perimenopause is 4 years, but for some women this stage may last only a few months or continue for 10 years. Perimenopause ends when a woman has gone 12 months without having her period.

Perimenopause can start in a woman in her 30’s (or younger), but typically starts in her 40’s and lasts up until menopause, the point when the ovaries stop releasing eggs. In the last 1 to 2 years of perimenopause, this drop in estrogen speeds up. At this stage, many women have menopause symptoms.  I have listed a few of the symptoms, but here are the rest of what I could go through talk about having a blast… NOT! Some other symptoms are hot flashes, breast tenderness, worse premenstrual syndrome, lower sex drive (try none at all), fatigue (I am always sleepy), irregular periods, vaginal dryness; discomfort during sex (what sex?), Urine leakage when coughing or sneezing (not yet or hopefully ever), urinary urgency (an urgent need to urinate more frequently) *yes indeed*, mood swings (top that with my migraines my house is ball of fun), trouble sleeping (every damn night) it is blanket dancing. According to WebMD there is a 50/50 chance that birth control pills can either help or not help with heat flashes. Even on a low dose of birth control, but I am not sure this is right for me considering some of the medication I take now. I remember a teen/young adult taking birth control made me sick so there is that too. I am trying to get back into doing Yoga to see if that will help with the heat flashes and weight gain. Now, the only thing that I eat more of now is chocolate and ice cream. I mainly eat spicy noodles, apples and drink Matcha tea or water. WebMD says one should give up or cut back on alcohol, but I don’t really drink. My spouse came home and made me a rum and coke or a Jack and coke (I am not sure which) and I took a sip and it was too strong so I poured in an empty water bottle and threw it out. In my hay day I could drink a Russian under the table with his own vodka, but not today!  I already take a multivitamin and drink milk for calcium. 

I don’t mind getting older and going through these changes in life, but I am the beginning  of  life. I am on the path to find out who I am for myself then BAM I get the curse and have an office in a raggedy misbuilt home where the office roof leaks in a several places. I am waiting for the roof to cave in so that the land lady can replace everything I own! But that is neither here nor there – ladies if you are at this stage in life we will suffer through the hot flashes together till the end. I got your back ladies and for you fellas just hang in there this will eventually pass and you will have your lady love back to “normal”. Men you have to help us get this change in our lives by not stressing us out, let us bitch and moan just listen to us, turn the a/c unit down to freezing so that she is comfy you can bundle up for a bit, offer to do Yoga or workout with her at her pace NOT yours. Tell her you love her daily and give her massages most of all give her – her space. P.S. if she want to shop more than usual let her because this is (besides giving birth) the biggest thing to happen to her body in her life. 

God made you unique and special. There is only one you in this world and you are meant to live boldly and loudly. You are meant to stand out NOT blend in with the crowd. God loves you and so do I! Thank you for reading my blog and if you love/like it then please comment, share and like. Until next time my loves!

xoxo~

#perimenopause #Younique #MACcosmetics #PatrickStarrr #perfume #hotflashes #nightsweats #leakyroof #nosexdrive #womenshealth #estrogen #sleeplessnights #thecurse #MUA

MAC and Younique Haul plus Perimenopause Oh My! Today going out to the mailbox and to see that beautiful black MAC box and my Younique package made my heart flutter like a million butterflies!