#I have to exactly mimic a cat's meow

[icewindandboringhorror]

#cats #outing myself once again as someone whos not attune whatsoever to human culture but - in all honesty I do not know #what 'psspsspss' means despite loving cats my entire life hghj.. I've just seen people online describe that as how you call a cat #but I have never in my life witnessed someone call a cat by making that noise or made that noise myself. I can't even think of an example o #it so I genuinely don't even know what that's supposed to be but. Included because I've seen it so much it must be something to someone #even when I was a kid I pretty much always just meowed to cats and tried to sound exactly like them or whatever meow I associated with them #obviously not literally saying “ME OW” but doing an actual cat meow. often times a kind of 'prrrow' sort of noise where you trill your tong #ue then lead into a softer vocal tone .. maybe like 'mrrrrauh' or something? Or sometimes just a trilling chirp immitating the #cat's ''mrrrrp'' they do sometimes. I used to mimic small kittens to get the attention of cats #with their like very high pitches squeky whine with a little bit of air out the nostrils at the end to imitate the sound of them having #tiny lungs that don't hold much air so with a long loud 'mew' it's sometimes a little strained near the end #Though usually I just imitate the cat that I'm around at the time. Sometimes I have done kind of a combination kissy lip sort of noise #tongue clicking. almost like tapping on the back of your front teeth with your tongue and sucking in. almost makes kind of a squirrel noise #ANYWAY... curiouse....

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could I request hcs of how Mark and Jonah would react to having a gn S/O who mimics sounds and noises very well? Like, they could mimic the sound of a notification going off or some animal? Sometimes they just do it to be a little shit >:) I'm curious how those two would be (also they deserve more love)

Mark

One day you two are going for a walk, and while he's lost in thought and staring at a tree, you just start mimicking a stray cat's meow out of nowhere.

Mark looks around confused like "did you hear a cat, s/o??"

"I did. It sounded pretty close by." You pretend to be clueless, although you're surprised he fell for it so easily.

Then you realize how much fun this could be...so you've made it a habit to mimic different animal sounds during your walks. Like owls or crickets late at night, or mourning doves in the early morning hours.

For a while he could never tell it was you since you're just that good.

He tends to get stuck inside his own head a lot, but the sounds do bring him back to reality...so in a way, they help.

Eventually, he realizes it's been you all along, pouting at the grin plastered on your face.

"You just made me stare at that tree for nothing.."

"Sorry, haha. I guess that was a really good owl impression-"

When you both hear a hooting sound, he stares at you suspiciously....before you point to the owl that actually made that noise in a nearby tree.

Poor guy wants to hide away in his hoodie bc you tricked him yet again.

Jonah

Y'all remember this vine?

That's exactly what you do whenever you're both sitting in the same room: mimic notification sounds.

And Jonah falls for it every single time. Without fail.

He'll be chilling one moment and the next checking his phone/laptop like "wtf what's the notification?????" while you're just grinning beside him.

He's so oblivious..you wonder how long you can keep this up.

It gets to a point where he's about to go to MandelaTECH bc he thinks something is seriously wrong with his electronics.

Only for you to finally tell him about your "hidden talent", laughing your ass off when he realizes you've been messing with him for a long time.

But he's not mad. If anything he's impressed.

And it makes him love you even more tbh.

He convinces you to prank Adam by mimicking owls or ghostly sounds while investigating haunted places.

At least until he gets irritated and snaps at you for doing it and at Jonah for encouraging it.

It's still funny as hell, though. You don't plan to stop.

#that vine was my immediate thought im sorry ghdhg #clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #mark heathcliff #mark heathcliff x reader #jonah marshall #jonah marshall x reader #headcanons

[levinbolts]

we bought a zoo ass roundup under the cut (aka introducing 80% of my and my partner’s pets)

CATS

sebastian (sebby!). 10yo. the favorite and is very aware he is the favorite. shy around strangers but very sweet and clingy with people he’s familiar with. if one of us is on the bed, he has to be on or touching one of us at all times. very chatty and trills to his name being called every time. will literally let us move and toss him around without complaint he’s so chill. very mean to other cats when there’s treats or catnip involved.

sherlock (sherl!). 9yo. absolute chonker of a cat (20lbs). loves head rubs and belly scratches and WILL demand them if you’re in his sight longer than 5 seconds. announces every time he uses the litter box?? so we’ll know??? has his head in the food bowl or asleep on a pillow 99% of the time. only meows when he’s going to the litter box or wants pets.

prompto (prommy!). 3yo. MENACE. wants to play all the time and will swipe at you if you walk past him too many times in a short time span. thinks any small sudden noise is a toy and will run over to pounce on it every time. teeniest tiniest meow i have ever heard oh my god it’s so cute. likes to snuggle and suckles on patches of his own fur while he does it?? but then he falls asleep while he’s doing it and it’s real cute.

misty (mismis, ms. miss!). oldest animal in the house at 14yo. can’t see very well at all, so we think she’s going blind. very sweet and loves to be around people. comes running in to say hi when she hears us in the kitchen or living room. also loves head and belly scratches. does NOT like other cats so she doesn’t come in the bedroom even though she really wants to :(. we’re worried she’s on her way out.

DOG

rumlow (rum, rummy, rumple!) the only dog ! 3yo. clingiest dog i’ve ever met. literally has to be up someone’s ass at all times if he can see or hear them or he’ll die (whine and bark nonstop). thinks he’s a teeny tiny puppy still and not a 90lbs adult dog and tries to climb into people’s laps. has a big scary bark but is so sweet and lets the cats bully him (he’s terrified of prompto). neediest animal in the house honestly.

BIRDS (idk exactly how old any of them are so they won’t have ages)

matcha. my personal favorite of all the birds (i got to name him). chatty chatty chatty. knows how to say a lot of things but his favorites are “pretty bird” “pretty boy” and “gimme kiss”. he will actually give kisses if you put your finger up to the cage (sometimes he’ll bite instead if he’s hungry or cranky tho so you win some, you lose some). loves to be around people. WILL try to take your phone if he sees it, whether he can carry it or not. loves to splish splash take a bath.

bucky. sweetest of all the birds honestly. only has one little foot so he hops around everywhere. loves the color red and will sing to you if you have something red in front of him. knows the andy griffith theme and the addams family theme. loves head pets. the best flier of all the birds, though he doesn’t do it much. mostly just wants to be held.

pineapple. used to be in the same cage as bucky but bucky didn’t like her so we moved them. she’s still obsessed with him though and spends most of her time staring at him from across the room. pretends to be mean but mellows out after a couple head pets. terrible and landing when she flies and just smacks into shit. the only other bird that likes her is ramen noodle.

ramen noodle. hates everything but his bell toy and pineapple (who doesn’t even like him). very quietly mimics all the other birds and they hate it. usually if the other birds are screeching and we can’t tell why it’s because of him. idk he doesn’t do much else.

apple jack(lyn). i couldn’t get a good picture of her because she’s a bitch and wouldn’t be still. meanest bird of all time. yells at anyone that walks in the room. will try to bite you if you come within 8 feet of her cage. obsessed with her little bell ball toy and will get PISSED if you touch it for any reason. we thought she was a boy but when we found out she wasn’t, she became apple jacklyn instead of apple jack.

you’ve already met snapple in my last ask so i won’t put him here but he looks very similar to apple jacklyn

#lex.txt #it’s only letting me do 10 pics on mobile >:( #but the others are tarantulas. a fish. and a snake

[aria0fgold]

A spell for warmth, a spell for comfort, a blanket for silence.

Morgana paced about the room, he's all alone again. Well, that's to be expected when Ren is now going about his usual schedule of hanging out with other people after school, it's always a good thing to deepen his bond with others. And quite frankly, Morgana prefers that right now, to be alone. It helps, the silence, allowing his thoughts to be loud enough for him to think everything through properly. Though now'd he think about it, even with Ren around the silence still lingers, considering how he isn't much of a talker, yet despite that, it was warm. Silence blanketing him in a warmth just by the presence of someone else he trusts and care for as a friend. One of the first friends that Morgana even had ever since he woke up in… this form. A cat… How useless.

They defeated Okumura, accomplished their mission and now all they have to do is wait, like always. But the feelings of self-doubt doesn't vanish just as easily as that, the feelings of uselessness that lingers even though a day or two had passed. He mostly had been pushing such feelings at the back of his mind the past couple of days, the air around them is still somewhat tense, with the public believing in the Phantom Thieves more and more. It isn't just them waiting on Okumura's change of heart now, but the majority of the public too. Not to mention having a new addition to the team means some readjustments in strategies and training so that Haru could get used to it all. There just hasn't been time for Morgana to focus on his feelings at all. Was there even a reason to?

He'll get over this in the future anyway. Right, he can prove to everyone just how helpful and useful he can be in the future! There will be more opportunities then! So there's really no need to linger on it… Really…

Morgana huffed, in the end, he still feels a bit heavy.

He then heard the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs, that might be Ren, so Morgana stood still, shaking his head and took a deep breath to compose himself. It'll be fine, he shouldn't worry Ren about this.

“You're bac—”

Ah. It's just Kaito.

Kaito laughed, “Whoa, I never thought I'd see a cat quickly shift expressions from excited to disappointed in seconds!”

Morgana sighed, though it only came out as a huff. Well, at least this time he didn't mimic Ren's voice.

“Heeey~ Cat got your tongue?” Kaito teased.

Ugh, Morgana doesn't have the time nor the energy to deal with this. Kaito can't even understand him so what's the point in speaking? It'll only come out as meows so Morgana can't even just tell him to shut up or leave him alone. This is the worst, he'd rather talk to Ryuji instead.

With another huff, Morgana tried his best to glare at Kaito before turning around to lay on the cough, curling his body into a ball and putting a paw on his ears, he knows it's useless with how sensitive cat's ears are but muffling even just some of Kaito's voice is enough for him and maybe, just maybe, it'll come off as a clear message that Morgana doesn't wanna listen to him at all.

Seconds pass in silence.

A moment, and then another. And yet… Morgana can still feel someone's gaze on him.

UGH! SERIOUSLY JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!

Morgana stood and quickly turned to face Kaito with the intent to hiss and bare his teeth, much like an annoyed cat would, it'd be obvious then, right?

But… he stopped midway.

Kaito still stood by the stairs, a serious expression on his face, it was rare for him to have such an expression when he's always smiles and tricks. His eyes were focused on Morgana, scanning his body from top to bottom, what is he looking for exactly?

“You—” Though Morgana knew only a meow would reach Kaito's ears, he couldn't help but try to speak anyway.

“Are you upset about something?” An attempt that was cut-off by Kaito's sudden question.

What… What is he—

Kaito's lips curled into a small smile, one that strangely feels genuine, not unlike the others he had which only felt like… a mask, “Eheheh, I don't know. It just feels like it. You're a smart kitty so I thought that maybe… … Say, can I sit next to you?”

. . .

Morgana doesn't really know what's happening anymore. Kaito is enshrouded in one too many mysteries, possibly even more than that Detective Prince. How can he figure that out when he can't even understand what Morgana's saying in the first place? Just from body language? Of a CAT? …Aren't all cats supposed to be easily irritated and annoyed?

. . .

Morgana huffed, he moved over to the other end of the couch, allowing space for Kaito to sit down on.

“Thanks!” Kaito sat down, seemingly making sure to leave out enough space between them.

“So… Hmm…” Kaito put a hand on his chin, deep in thought, most likely figuring out on how to cheer up a cat.

Morgana can't help but feel slightly moved by that.

“Uhh… I don't really know how to cheer up a cat. I don't even know what you're upset about.” He chuckled, “I doubt I can even figure that one out!”

A beat of silence pass, though strangely it wasn't as cold as before.

“How about…” He grinned, flicking his hand, a red rose appeared seemingly out of thin air, “some magic tricks?”

Morgana huffed, in his head he wore a smirk, such an expression not quite easily done on a cat's face, “What other magic tricks are there anyway?”

After all, Kaito has done at least a number of it already whenever he's around them. He seems to really enjoy doing it.

“Oh? Is that possibly doubt towards the many tricks up my sleeves?” Kaito wagged his finger while clicking his tongue, “Never doubt a magician's tricks, smart feline!”

And with a toothy grin, Kaito stood up, opening his arms wide as he announced, “Welcome to Kaito's special magic show! I'll be sure to make you smile, my furry friend.”

Morgana huffed, in a friendly mocking tone, as a means to take up Kaito's challenge, and another as a way to say “Cat's can't smile, dumbass.”

“Ehehehe! Keep your eyes peeled now! You don't wanna miss a second of this after all!”

Frankly, Morgana's problems still lingers, something he'd have to deal with in the future. But despite that, he didn't feel as heavy as before. In the comfort of the couch, Morgana watched a magician weaved spells in the form of tricks, all to cheer up a mere cat. And maybe, that's all Morgana needed today.

#ariawrites #persona 5 #morgana #magic kaito #kaito kuroba #ngl i didnt expect this one to get this long (just around 1k words) still tbf its longer than the prev ones i did thats just #around 600-700 words (was making sure to not get it too long for the tumblr post but alas... i cant cut this one any shorter) #also hmmmmmm maaaaybe i should start posting these in ao3 too??? maybe. not sure. still scary but at least #itd be more organized in ao3 than here in tumblr but also-- kinda scary... i dont want the either fandom to perceive me #through the insanity that is my lil crossover fics of kaito being in p5. just seems scary but maaaaybe in the future i can #work up the courage for it? maybe. but for now. have at thee! kaito in p5 with morgana friendship! i love their friendship... #love how easily i can get these two with moments of being alone cuz theres akiren being busy with the confidants #he'd have his moment too dw. just gotta get through some more arcs and then itll be time for actual jokid content from me

[chvoswxtch]

hi, i hope this request is under the other categories, as i read that fic request is closed now but the others are ok? so i hope this is ok. 🥰

just wondering how matt would be with an s/o who is a voice actor. like the ones who can easily do various voice ranges of man, woman, older people, and even children. maybe even mimic certain animal sounds like bird chirp or cat meows.

i feel like matt who heavily relies on his hearing will be so fascinated on this. hearing something (like a child talking) yet knowing (maybe through hearbeat or touch) that it came from an adult person would be a quirky experience for him. 😅🤭🤭

thank you and i hope this one gets picked. have a good day! 🥰

hi nonnie!

I feel like matt would absolutely be fascinated by this. I can even see his s/o doing it to mess with him, like making noises that mimic his phone, and so he instantly reaches for it, but then gives them a look of like "seriously?" when they start to giggle which only makes him shake his head and smile because he can't ever actually be mad at them.

bonus points if they copy his devil voice and use it right back on him. I could see him getting sassy about that one.

"okay, I do not sound like that."

I feel like he would also be able to tell them exactly which part of their mouth and throat they were using for different sounds/accents which might help them improve!

side note: foggy would absolutely fucking love this.

hope you're having a wonderful day!!! 🥰

#matt murdock #daredevil #court answers #court rambles

[batstorm93672]

Damian can mimic someone's voice perfectly, he doesn't do it as much, but imagine everyone's surprise when he mocks someone by copying their voice and it's literal perfection.

"What was that?"

"What was what Grayson?"

"Have you always been able to do that?"

"Mimic someone..? It's quite simple"

Jason raised his hand "Try to do Steph's voice then"

Damian took a deep breath in and somehow out came Steph's voice "Yes I can choose anyone's voice, the vocal range isn't exactly difficult"

"Holy crap that's awesome!"

Feeling a little smug at the praise, Damian just shrugged.

"So, have any of you wondered what happened when you walked into a room hearing someone call your name then see no one is around?"

Everyone stared at the smirking boy in front of them and shouted "IT WAS YOU!"

"It's easy to hide and much more easier to mimic you all, so doing so doesn't require much talent"

Tim looked appalled "I thought I heard Alfred the cat meowing in the vent cause he was stuck and I spent about an hour searching for him until I found him wandering around the halls..." "Yes Drake, you heard me mimicking Alfred the cat and I made you search for about an hour, it was one of the best times of my life"

"Why don't you do it often? Imagine the pranks you can pull" "I only really use it for situations that are dire, once a man set a trap that was only voice activated to disable it, needless to say I got out a few minutes after he left. Some pranks I pull for fun for myself" Everyone for the rest of the day made Damian mimic a whole bunch of the family or even other heros. Needless to say whenever a prank was being pulled, whoever got to Damian and convinced him first was in a golden place of pranking anyone.

#damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #mentioned stephanie brown

[toodrunktofindaurl]

i physically can’t NOT meow back at a cat, i’m sorry

#I have to exactly mimic a cat's meow #whenever i hear it #or else I will DIE #this is ugly because i'm in PAIN #and i don't have my own scanner w/ me #so I made-do #i spend most of my days talking to the cats #and being gay #under the sun #except today it's raining #i can be gay indoors too so it's fine #anyway lmao #vacations are going well #bye see y'all soon #MaryneArt

[theveryworstthing]

Belle Hoap started rescuing abandoned domestic mimics when he was just a a homeless teen with nothing but a slap-dash first aid kit and a battered book on monster care. He and Percy, his very old very spoiled fanny pack, rehabilitate and occasionally rehome mimics that have been abandoned or abused, and are excellent at relocating their wild cousins.

Here he is having a little fireside snack before bedtime with some of his oldest rescues. It's hard to get a bite in when 8 pieces of luggage are begging for scraps, but at least he has his tea.

Fun Facts:

Over time, domesticated mimics can lose their ability to appear flawlessly inanimate. This only happens when they're really stressed or really old. No one knows why it happens but some think they just can't be bothered at a certain point. An ambush predator who gets treats 3 times a day might get lax on the whole ambush thing once it's more trouble than it's worth.

The suitcase always has that face and emotes through its stickers. Current emotion? Head Empty.

The duffel bag and the utility belt are  a bonded pair.

The glasses case is a little shit who likes to snap closed on fingers for fun.

No one knows what happened to the big pack but it was found in a clearly long abandoned tent in a wrecked campsite when it was just a child-sized backpack and now it gets really upset when Belle tries to leave the house alone.

The treasure chest was found pretending to be a suspiciously fancy 'free-to-a-good-home' box to a litter of kittens. No one knows where the mom went, but the kittens who didn't get adopted still live with it in the mimic sanctuary. Those are...some weird cats. But then again, the chest has a tendency to meow for its dinner so ?????

The little coin satchel MUST be cuddled at all times. Refusing to give it attention is a Crime and it will jangle angrily until you acknowledge your sins!!!!

a mix of prompt inspirations from Lucky, Space Bat, and Shannon Leigh Legler over on patreon. the September prompts mostly gave me two distinct vibes for two different drawings and i chose the vibes for this one because the other one involved weird knights who are into vore cat-calling dragons who have had Enough, which is great but not exactly the fall feeling i craved.

that story idea is on the docket though.

#mimic #Mimics #goblin #Belle Hoap #small guide

[unprofessional-bard]

Cat and... Wolf?

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Request: hey! could you do a bigby wolf x shy but criminal reader? thank you!

+ shy criminal reader req anon here! i was thinking that the reader could be snooping around the office, trynna steal some High Profile folders and bigby is all 👀 gotcha now Bitch

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really- this piece is for reader's of all genders!

Summary: It's a game of cat and mouse, but between you and Bigby? It's the same, only he's no mouse.

Word Count: 1.750

Author's Note: The reader is ought to be a fable, so what better fable could there be for this scenario, if not an actual cat? I made the reader into Puss in Boots, I know that the author is Straparola and not the Grimms, but bare with me! It fits so well 😖 I hope you like this, anon! and let's pretend Bigby's office has a window...

Enjoy!

"Oh look, a cat!" Snow White kneels beside your original form, completely unsuspecting and scratches the back of your head. You headbutt her palm and purr loudly, trying to appear as normal as any other cat. "How'd you end up here...?"

"I thought stray animals weren't allowed in," Bigby comments, sensing something in your scent, but then immediately realises the mistake he's made, before Snow gets up and smirks back.

"Really? Do pigs count? Wolves?" She smiles and Bigby sighs loudly. "It's okay, it probably got in because of the cold."

It's a snowy, cold December evening. They leave chatting, but Bigby gives you a final look over his shoulder -over the sleeve of his coat- before they exit the apartment. You stay there for another few minutes for good measure and once they're out of sight, you start making your way up the stairs, to the floor where his office is.

You were being paid very well, for doing this - stealing the criminal file of the man who hired you. It was extra risky, sneaking into the sheriff's office; you could possibly get ripped apart because of this, or thrown down the Witching Well, but he was planning on paying you so well...

You hear just one person walking around the floor as you quietly trot towards Bigby's office and that someone turns out to be Flycatcher. Tsk, too easy, you smirk to yourself; stretch, yawn and meow.

"Huh?" Flycatcher turns around and notices you clawing at Bigby's door. "Hey there, little fellow. You wanna go in there?" You almost nod, then remember you're not supposed to understand him, so you meow loudly instead, then rub against his legs. "Uh, I don't think I should let you in..."

You're practically screaming at him at this point, clawing more and more at the door and jumping up toward the knob; it takes him a while, but your cries finally work their magic as he groans: "Okay, okay! Just don't take your piss in there, the sheriff will kill me if he finds out I let you in..."

You purr loudly and headbutt the sides of his calf as he twists open the lock to Bigby's office. This is going pretty smoothly, you think to yourself and as soon as he opens the door, you run into the dark, cigarette-smelling room. Flycatcher's saying some stuff to you, but you're too busy figuring out where the sheriff keeps all the files of the fables with criminal records, that you don't listen to a single word he says.

Once you're curled up on top of his desk, closing your eyes to "sleep", Flycatcher feels less guilty because you're just a harmless cat who wants to sleep in Bigby's office, what could go wrong?

Tsk.

You hear him leave, but still wait like that for another minute... for good measure. Once he enters the elevator and the floor goes quiet, you transform into your human form. You quickly light Bigby's table lamp and move in front of the sets of drawers to your right, but then turn around and notice you hadn't found a way out yet. That proves easy too, fortunately, a window on the other side of the wall- a big one. Your grin grows wider as you slide open the window and check the height for your drop: It's a long one, but the large trees in the park should allow you to land smoothly. You walk back and immediately begin digging through the messy pile of documents.

"Ugh, typical," You sigh quietly, annoyed at how unorganised Bigby was. No alphabetical order, no proper placement: Just files on top of others.

You and him had a brief history. It's not exactly romantic per se, not on your aspect anyway, you'd like to think. You liked playing around with him, he seemed to have a soft spot for you and, maybe -just maybe- you had one for him, but not as obvious and strong as his. You two followed entirely different lifestyles: You everything you did was somehow always against the law and, well, Bigby is the law. It would never work anyway...

Your brows furrow, Focus!

After a few minutes, you finally find the file and raise it up in triumph after closing the drawer. You want to take a peek, see what the man had done- his file was very thin, what could've he possibly done, that made him ask such a risky thing of you?

Just as you're debating, you suddenly hear urgent steps walk out of the elevator and immediately recognize them.

Ah, fuck...

You quickly hide the file into your coat and turn around right before he opens the door. A vague smirk appears on your lips and Bigby crosses his arms: "Should'a known that was you."

"Hi, sheriff," Your expression is calm and somewhat shy, if not a little mischievous.

"What are you doing here?" He growls by the doorway, not moving an inch from his place while you slowly make your way to the window.

"I wanted to see you," You lie, voice quiet, then bite on your bottom lip. He made you feel a little too nervous for your liking, for many reasons... and he knew every single one of them.

"You always were good at lying," He sighs in defeat, going soft at the sight of your reddening cheeks. It takes him a while to separate your emotions, whether you're actually nervous or not - why you're nervous, because of lying or because of him? Both?

You can't help but feel a little offended at his words and he sees that, which in turn makes him feel a little guilty. "Well," You say, tone giving away how you were feeling, but also giving away your urgency to get out of there: "I was about to leave anyway."

"What's the hurry?" It's his turn to smirk as he slowly rounds the table. You both make your way to the window and it's a little unsettling, but you fight to not give it away.

"I said I was here to see you," You reply quietly. "I saw you, now I'm leaving."

"Hm?" He's toying with you and you realise he might've, with very low possibility, caught you this time. You still had tricks under your sleeve, though.

"You're clearly not happy to see me, no point on waiting around-" You sit yourself on the edge of the window, but he suddenly steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes and crossing his arms again.

"Oh, I don't think so," He grins. "I didn't say I wasn't happy to see you..."

"You sure looked like it," You pout a little. Exaggerating your mimics sometimes worked with him. Sometimes.

"I-" He huffs. "It's been a long day, (Y/N)."

The way he says your name like that, softly, almost makes you purr. You offer a small smile: "It's good to see you, Bigby."

"You too," He gives you a meaningful look. You almost wanted to give yourself up, return the file and somehow 'go back to the old days', but your prize and Bigby now working for Snow put too many things at risk. If only it were as simple as that...

You had to get out of there, fast.

You look up to him with your signature smile, the one that made his heart melt when you first met: It's vague, the message behind it is unclear, but it's a sweet little gesture: "I heard Snow took over, how are you handling that?"

He lights a cigarette and you impatiently wait for his reply, formulating your plan to get out of there- an exit: "Can't say I enjoy it to the core... Used to be easier when-"

"When you played by your own rules?" You grin at him and after putting his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, he walks back over to you.

"More or less," He scratches the back of his neck and stands to your left. "Look. Knowing you, there's always more to it than just I wanted to see you." His soft expression suddenly turns into one of worry: "Are you in trouble?"

"No, no," You reassure him. "Nothing of the sorts. Not yet, anyway..." You bite your lip again. "Well, I'm going to assume you were off to some place but I'm keeping you?"

He doesn't say anything, just sighs and you know you're right. He looks like he doesn't want you to leave, but he's also on alert. After your last encounter, he knows he can't give into you - he knows he shouldn't trust you and listen to Snow's warnings about how you're just a thief who's using him.

Most of it was true, but you still -after all your time with Bigby- cared about him. There were a lot of people who wanted to hurt the sheriff, even after he caught the Crooked Man and restored justice, somewhat; you made sure to stay away from those jobs - jobs that aimed to hurt Bigby, even in the slightest.

The disappearance of an unimportant, forgotten criminal record wasn't one of them, though.

"Call me sometime, sheriff," You get up to be on his level, boldly cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb. He seems enchanted- under your magic as he leans into your touch and slowly grabs your hand in his. After a moment of peace and quiet, when you hear the familiar footsteps of Snow White approaching, you lean in further and whisper: "Don't be a stranger."

You can't tell if it was him who leaned in or you, but you placed a shy, teasing kiss on his lips. You soon realise it doesn't matter who leaned in first, as he kisses you back with a little more yearning and urgency, his hands cupping the sides of your face.

Just then, you hear his door opening and you part immediately, his hands lingering in your hair. Snow probably- no, definitely saw you two share a kiss, but before she can say anything, you jump out of the window. Bigby's heart drops in panic, reaches to catch you, but soon realises you transformed to your normal form mid-air and sighs, a faint smile on his lips.

"Who was that? What's going on?" Snow inquires, hands on her hips, looking very displeased.

But Bigby's smile only grows as his fingertips trace his cheek, where you touched him seconds ago, then he finally replies: "An old friend."

#the wolf among us #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #twau x reader #the wolf among us x reader #bigby wolf imagine #twau imagine #the wolf among us imagine #twau fanfiction #twau fanfic #bigby wolf fanfic #the wolf among us fanfiction

[hongism]

liquorice and ivories - k.hongjoong

➻ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader ➻ wc: 16.5k ➻ genre: smut, tad angsty, fluff, e2l, pianist!hongjoong, pianist!reader ➻ rating: M, 18+ ➻ warnings: public sex, semi-public sex, explicit smut, oral sex: m & f, fingering, handjobs, choking, lowkey hate sex at first, sex on a piano, degradation, praise, marking, biting, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, unprotected sex ➻ summary: you and hongjoong are competitors, of course. two people, one dream - there’s never room for two in this industry. neither of you care who you have to step on to get to the top.

​​​

Your fingers hit the ivories with a thud. The sound echoes through the practice room, reverberating against the walls and sending the sickeningly sweet sounds to the ears of all the people in the room. You sit back, satisfied with the performance, and glance over at your small audience. The professor is the first to clap, and he sends a small smile your way before standing up. Five of your classmates mimic his movements, but the sixth remains stony and cold, unmoving except for the slight curl of his lips that echoes his disgust with your performance.

Kim Hongjoong.

The two of you have never cared for each other; both are so competitive that you can’t stand to be around one another for more than five seconds. You are arrogant to a degree, but only because you think about how far you’ve come and how much you’ve developed over the years. Hongjoong, on the other hand, is just arrogant. There’s no need to beat around the bush and think harder about it. You’ve known the man for about two years now – you both joined the university at the same time and now are in your junior years together. Given the minimal size of your program though, it means that you have to share every single class with Hongjoong.

When you started your journey in the program, you didn’t notice Hongjoong. He’s a short-statured man – still taller than you yes, but small compared to your other male classmate – and he was relatively quiet during the first year of school. A fashionable student, even with the awkward uniform you’re all required to wear, but he always manages to style it in a way like no one else. Whether it’s a beret on his head or a sudden change of hair color, Hongjoong always adds a new flair to his outfits. Once he even had a mullet, which you had never seen before in person, but as much as you hate to admit it, it actually suited him quite nicely. Now, however, his hair is bright blue and parted right down the middle. His bangs frame his forehead, exposing just enough skin to entice, and if you didn’t hate his guts so much, you would understand why all the girls at this school want to get in his pants.

As you said, you didn’t notice him during your first year at university because he was so quiet and kept to himself. That all flipped during the second year though. Hongjoong became bold all of a sudden; the bright-eyed boy of freshman year was long gone and replaced by a cynical man who sought to tear everyone down. You became his primary target of attack. You weren’t sure why at first, but it became glaringly obvious once your professor admitted that you and Hongjoong were the top two students of your generation. It is a competition, in which you are his biggest competitor.

Exchanged insults, glares and scowls sent in each other’s direction, attempts to outdo one another in practices and recitals and competitions. You fight each other tooth and nail. Your professor seems totally unbothered by the hatred you bear for one another; he claims that it’s a healthy way to challenge each other, even though everyone knows that it is the opposite of healthy.

All that to say – you are not surprised in the slightest to see his disdain. Your professor on the other hand cannot stop grinning after your performance.

“Fantastic job, Y/N. Really stunning. I think you’re doing better than ever with this piece. I have no doubt that you can win the next competition if you continue practicing hard and performing at this level.”

You push the piano bench back just enough to step out, bowing to your professor at his kind words.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Kim, you’re up next.” Hongjoong stands as he’s called forward. The two of you pass without sparing so much as a glance in the other’s direction. You take his now empty seat, one leg crossing over the other as you lean against the back. Hongjoong sits on the bench, fiddling with the adjustments and distance from the keys a bit. “Remind me of your piece?”

“Chopin’s Nocturne, Opus 48, number 1.”

“Ah yes. Start whenever you’re ready.”

As soon as Hongjoong’s fingers hit the keys, you’re reminded of why you hate the man so much. It’s not because he’s arrogant and egotistical for no reason. No, he’s sickenly good at playing the piano. That infuriates you even more. If he was bad and full of ungodly rage, you might be able to rectify his attitude, but no. He’s the best pianist you’ve ever met, ever heard, better than some professionals that you’ve gone and seen in concert. He plays the piano as though it’s an extension of himself. The ivories are like his muscle and bone, he treats each one like it’s a part of him, and he knows how to recreate a piece of music in a way that is so authentically original yet completely his own. Yea, you fucking despise it.

Over the years, the biggest complaint you’ve received from teachers and judges is that you cannot properly express the music. You can play it perfectly, recreate the notes as they were written, and copy them to perfection. But that’s not what the judges or teachers want. They want you to be unique and diverse. They don’t want a perfect replica. They want you to take the piece of music and make it your own, create something flawless and make it even better by putting your own heart and soul into the notes. Hongjoong does that with such ease that he makes it look effortless.

This piece he plays now gives him the perfect playing ground to do that again. The way his fingers dance across the keys, a feather-light touch that brings the slightest notes out and the hard-hitting chords that resound in your ears. His performance is as flawless as ever, he has no trouble making the song his own. You hate it. The perfection under his fingers nearly makes you sick to your stomach because the player behind the keys is nothing but a self-righteous asshole.

You honestly want to smack some sense into Hongjoong, maybe rough him up a little and try to make him less of an asshole, but you doubt that would work. You settle for glaring at the side of his head throughout the performance, despising each perfect note he plays until he finishes the song. You return the favor of not clapping when he finishes the piece, six long minutes of torture, but everyone else in the room applauds his performance with fervor. He stands up and steps around the piano bench, bowing to the professor then turning to look right at you. A smug smile spreads across his lips. He knows how well he did, and he knows how much you enjoyed the piece. You don’t give him the pleasure of returning the glare any longer and glance away to stare at the floor instead.

“Fantastic job, Mr. Kim. Near perfection, I would say. Be sure to watch the tempo as you play. Otherwise, I have no advice for you.”

“Thank you, professor.” Hongjoong’s voice mimics the sickly sweet tone of his playing, a melodious sound that grates against your ears despite how pretty it is. He rubs at his wrists as he pulls away from the piano, and his expression is blank when you look back up at his face.

“Alright, that’s all for today. You all did well with your performances. Be sure to keep practicing. I’ll see you at the competition on Saturday. Watch your emails as I’ll be sending out information about the bus ride to the concert hall. Dismissed!”

You waste no time in standing up, snatching up the bag at your feet and slinging it over your shoulder without thinking twice. You’re out the door within seconds. It would be a wise idea to drop by a practice room and work on your piece some more seeing as there are only a few days left until the competition, but too much rage boils in your gut. You want nothing more than to go home and stew in fury on the couch while watching some awful drama. So, that’s exactly what you do.

The bus ride back to your apartment is quick and easy, as is the walk up the stairs to your room. When you step inside, a small black cat darts out from under the couch to greet you. You stoop down to scratch at his chin, cooing as he rubs against you with a happy purr.

“Hi, Victor. Did you have a good day?” The response you get is a quiet meow. “Yea, I had a good day up until practice. Fucking Kim Hongjoong.”

You step around the small cat to plop down on the couch, dropping your bag to the floor with a thud. Digging around in your pockets, you pull your phone out to find a littering of texts across the screen as well as two missed calls. With a sigh, you tap the screen to return the call, immediately greeted with a loud scream in your ear.

“Y/N!”

“Yea, hi, Woo. Why’d you call?”

“I can’t just call my best friend out of nowhere?”

“No, because you never call unless you want something,” you sigh into the receiver. Wooyoung replies with a dissatisfied click of his tongue.

“Wow, I see how it is. I get absolutely no respect. None! You hear that, Seonghwa? No respect!” You hear Wooyoung’s roommate hum quietly over the phone, and Wooyoung grumbles at his nonchalant response. “Anyways, you’re right. I called because I want something.”

“I fucking knew it.” You sit straight on the couch, elbows coming to rest against your knees. “What is it this time? Calculus homework? You know I’m not a math major…”

“No! No, if I wanted help with Calculus, I would just ask Hwa.”

“Okay, so what is it?”

“I’m having a party tonight and–”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear me out!”

“The answer is no.”

“Come on, Y/N! You never go out!”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s a chill party!”

“You say that every time then the cops get called and suddenly it’s no longer a ‘chill party’.”

“Okay, but this time it really is.”

“How so?”

“It’s small. Only seven or eight people are coming. Including you, maybe?”

“More always end up showing up, Woo.”

“Not this time. I’ve limited it. Mingi and San are not allowed to bring anyone over, I’ve made it glaringly clear. So please? Pretty please? Seonghwa and I will buy you dinner for a whole week!”

“Um, when did I agree to that?” Seonghwa’s voice carries over the phone against, his tone full of protest as Wooyoung makes the offer.

“Make it two weeks and you have a deal,” you respond, voice flat.

“What? No! That’s way too much. One week.”

“One and a half.”

“I’ll give you one week and Hwa will buy a whole bag of cat food for Victor.”

“Deal.”

“What?��� Seonghwa’s shout of protest resounds again. “I did not agree to this!”

“Too bad, so sad, Hwa! She’s coming!” Wooyoung cheers, voice quieter as he pulls away from the phone for a moment. He comes back right after to talk to you again. “Okay, be here by eight. That’s when people will start showing up. Seonghwa’s getting us some good good alcohol so we’re really going to have fun. I promise!”

Wooyoung doesn’t give you the opportunity to respond; instead, he hangs up the phone and leaves you in silence again. You drop the phone to the couch with a sigh, glancing over at where Victor is now perched on the armrest.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

He meows back at you, amber eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yea, that’s what I thought.”

…

The house is already booming with music when you arrive at the front door. Wooyoung is lucky to live with Seonghwa because the man is filthy rich and can afford to rent out a whole house to live in for the school year. It allows for loud parties like these, although the house is relatively small and the other houses around it are very close, they can at least have the luxury of not sharing a whole apartment building with hundreds of other people.

You don’t bother knocking, twisting the knob and stepping into the noise. Wooyoung is there to greet you at the door, two cups in hand, and he grins when he sees you.

“Y/N! Let’s get this shit started! Rum and coke?”

“Yea, yea.” You snatch one of the cups from his hand and start sipping at it without a second thought.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Well, it’s mine now!”

“You little shit.” Wooyoung scrunches his nose up, then drops a hand to your back. “Okay almost everyone is here. San is in the middle of dragging Jongho over by the ear, then we’re gonna be in full party mode.”

“I can’t wait to make a speedy getaway.”

“You say that every time. Then you stay all night. Make up your mind, woman.” Wooyoung elbows you in the side. He catches sight of Seonghwa a moment later, rushing off to go stand with the older man. You watch him go with a small shake of your head. As much as Wooyoung doesn’t want to admit it, he is absolutely infatuated with his roommate. Every time they have a party like this, Wooyoung ends up in Seonghwa’s bed, and they wake up as though nothing happened. Part of you wishes you could have a relationship like that – fuck and move on without a care in the world. The two won’t admit that it’s something exclusive but you know Wooyoung wouldn’t dare sleep with anyone else, and Seonghwa doesn’t bring anyone to the house or spend the night elsewhere. They have an unspoken agreement, an undefined relationship. Still, it bothers Wooyoung that Seonghwa won’t speak up about his feelings, and you’ve had to console the man through drunk tears on occasion. The only action you get, on the other hand, is hearing Wooyoung’s stories about how they fucked and getting gross details of all the positions Seonghwa put him in throughout the night.

You shake your head at the thought, downing some more of your drink to expel the image from your mind. You glance around the living room, searching the faces of the people who are already here. Wooyoung was at least telling the truth, and there are only three people talking in a small circle. All are faces you recognize: Wooyoung’s friend Mingi, Seonghwa’s old flame and best friend Yeosang, and Yeosang’s current boyfriend Yunho. All people you know well enough to be friends with, so you approach them without any hesitation. It’s only when you step past Mingi’s outrageously tall form that you catch sight of a much smaller form, one with bright blue hair that you recognize in an instant.

“He fucking didn’t…” You mutter to yourself as you drag your gaze over the man’s form. “Jung Wooyoung, I swear…”

You spin on your heel just before going to where the group is standing. You make a beeline for Seonghwa and Wooyoung, catching the younger man by surprise when you grab hold of his shoulder and yank him back.

“Woah! What? What happened?”

“You fucking invited Kim Hongjoong?” You ask, tone incredulous as you glare at your best friend.

“I-I – oh shit. I forgot! I forgot you weren’t friends!”

“How did you fucking forget, Wooyoung? I tell you how much I had him on the daily!”

“Mingi asked if he could bring his roommate! I didn’t know that his roommate was Hongjoong, I swear. I’ve never met him before, I just assumed it was some random person. Please don’t hit me!” Wooyoung flinches away from you as you raise a hand to smack him across the back of the head.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumble as Wooyoung yelps. Seonghwa laughs at your exchange with Wooyoung, eyes forming soft crescents as he smiles. “You didn’t think to ask?”

“Why would I need to ask? We’re friends, I just assumed his roommate would be chill like he is!”

“No, it’s Kim fucking Hongjoong, the least chill person in the fucking universe. I’m leaving.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Please don’t, Y/N. You just got here, come on. Stay for just a little bit. You don’t even have to talk to him, okay? Just stay with me or Seonghwa. Or San when he gets here! I know you like him!”

“Shut up!” You turn away at the accusation, cheeks heating up as he points out your minor crush.

“I’m just stating facts,” Wooyoung huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his tongue out at you.

“I’ll stay as long as I don’t have to breathe near Hongjoong.” You send a glare at the blue-haired man’s back even though he can’t see you. You don’t even know if he’s seen you yet; he’s still glued to Mingi’s side without a care in the world.

“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Seonghwa asks as he brings his drink up to his lips.

“He’s a self-righteous fucking asshole who tears people down so he can feel better about himself,” you grumble back. Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up, and Wooyoung shakes his head.

“Competition. They’re both good at piano. Thus… they’re competition to each other.”

“Yea, yea… it would help if he wasn’t such a fuckwad.”

“Ooh, fuckwad. That’s a new one. Hey, Hwa, how kinky would it be to call you fuckwad during sex?”

“I – what?”

“Please spare me! I did not come here to hear about that again.”

“Oh, fuckwad, harder!” Wooyoung cries out, leaning closer to you. You try to swat him away with weak hands.

“Not as kinky or hot as you think,” Seonghwa chimes in, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Maybe we can try it tonight and see if I change your mind.”

“I hate it here,” you chime in, trying to hide behind your drink.

“Sure you do.”

“No, I really hate it here. This is disgusting, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I mean, you can watch if you want–”

“No! Oh my god, no. Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung cackles as he pulls away from the two of you, moving over to where the others stand with their drinks, and leaves you and Seonghwa to stand at the edge of the kitchen.

“What am I going to do with him?” Seonghwa asks as he watches the short brunette walk away.

“Marry him?”

Seonghwa releases a small laugh. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

You smile at the taller man, glancing at his love-stricken expression out the corner of your eye before downing the rest of your drink. Casting another glance over at Hongjoong’s back, you spin on your heel and enter the kitchen to make yourself another drink. The amount of rum you put in is almost shameful, and it’s a good thing that your recital is on Saturday and not tomorrow because you know you will end up absolutely wasted before the night is over. You don’t even bother to put soda in this time either, just leaving the liquor and a few cubes of ice.

The alcohol burns as it sears down your throat. Seonghwa has moved forward to join Wooyoung with the others. You know you’re going to have to go over there eventually, but Hongjoong’s lurking form is deterring you from doing so for now. Just your luck too because the doorbell rings as you step out of the kitchen.

“I’ll get it!” You call out over your shoulder, making your way over to the door. You already have an inkling as to who it might be, and that is only confirmed when you crack the door open. San and Jongho stand behind it, bright smiles on both their faces. You bite down hard on your lower lip at the sight of the former and try not to let your gaze rake over his body as he steps over the threshold.

“Oh, Y/N! I didn’t know you were going to come too. What a pleasant surprise!” San says. His hand finds your waist as he pulls you in for a warm hug. Your heart does small cartwheels as he presses against you, and you feel the need to down a whole bottle of rum to expel the feelings.

“Yea, I-I, uh, Wooyoung convinced me to come,” you stammer out, glancing away from San’s face. Jongho smiles at you but says nothing, and he looks a lot less excited to be here than San. You understand the feeling at least and pass a sympathetic smile in his direction.

“I’m glad he did. I don’t see you nearly enough.”

“Oh shut up. You’re just one building over, you can always visit me in the practice rooms.”

“And risk seeing asshole supreme? I’ll pass.” San laughs as he shuts the front door, and you know exactly who he’s talking about.

“Don’t speak too soon. He’s here with Mingi.”

“Oh fuck. Where’s the alcohol? I’m gonna need it.”

“Kitchen.”

“Bless you.”

“Mhm,” you hum over the rim of your cup. Your eyes shift back over to where the others are standing. Your heart plummets in an instant as you see Hongjoong’s gaze on your form. That familiar hatred is lingering in his stare, and you return it immediately with an equal amount of fury. Rather than staying any longer to see him, you move to follow San into the kitchen, downing a good amount of alcohol along the way.

“You know, I should’ve brought my girlfriend with me,” San says as you step into the kitchen. You freeze in your tracks, mouth falling agape as your brain processes the words. It’s almost a physical pain that spreads across your chest when you realize what he’s saying. You don’t let it show on your face though; the pain is covered with a shaky smile and laugh.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’re always the only girl at these parties. It must suck to not, I don’t know, have another girl to talk to, you know?” San brings a cup to his lips, sipping at it quietly as he looks at you. You swallow roughly.

“Right, yea. Of course. I… Honestly, I barely notice. I have Wooyoung.”

“Good point, good point. I’ll be sure to bring her to the next one though. I think the two of you would get along! Hell, you might even know her. She’s in the piano program.”

“O-Oh, wow! Wow. Wow. What a coincidence!”

“I know right? Her name is Minnie if you talk to her at all.”

You nearly choke on your drink as San says the name. Not only do you know the girl in question, she is one of your closest friends – if not your closest friend in the piano program. Not once did she ever let it slip that she was dating your crush. The crush you have mentioned to her on multiple occasions. Nice. Fuck, this nice just keeps getting better and better.

“I-I, no. No, uh, I’ve not talked to her too much!” You lie with another weak smile. “But I’ll be sure to introduce myself soon. I’d love to chat with her about music and stuff.”

“Yea, absolutely. I can give you her number if you’d like?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I’ll see her tomorrow in class. You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh yea, I forgot you guys have practice together every day. She speaks highly of your playing, by the way.”

Your smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks as you strain to keep it going.

“Oh please, I’m not that good. Nothing special.”

“Humble words for the best in the program,” San replies with a lilt to his tone. Your cheeks feel like they might collapse if you maintain the grin any longer. Thankfully, San steps away from the counter and motions towards the living room a moment later.

“I’m gonna go say hi to the others.”

“Yea, go ahead. I’m just gonna get a refill on my drink!” You don’t need another refill, you still have half a cup left. You throw it back when San disappears though in the hopes that it’ll take the sting in the corners of your eyes away. It wasn’t even a straight-up rejection. Still, you’ve spent months pining after San and trying to get close to him, only for this to happen. One of your closest friends to up and date him behind your back? Yea, that hurts a lot more than you’d like to admit. Once the alcohol is fully down, you drop your cup to the counter and begin to pour another glass of straight rum. You don’t even notice when someone else steps into the kitchen with a drink in hand.

“Even at a random party, you manage to annoy me.”

Hongjoong. As though your night couldn’t get any worse, he decides to come and bother you. How perfect. You should’ve said no to Wooyoung.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” You slam the bottle of rum against the counter and bring your cup back to your lips. Hongjoong comes closer to the counter, shaking his head at your behavior.

“Such a model student you are.”

“You’re one to fucking talk.”

“The mouth on you is absolutely foul.”

“I didn’t realize we weren’t allowed to cuss.”

“It’s not pretty for a lady to cuss.”

You nearly toss your drink in his face but somehow you manage to hold back from doing so.

“My patience is already minimal.”

“Rejection ruin your night?” Hongjoong reaches across the counter to pick up the bottle of alcohol. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you think you’ll draw blood. “Everyone in class knows that Minnie’s dating San. How did you manage to miss that? Especially seeing as you’re the one who talks with her the most?”

���She neglected to tell me.”

“Probably didn’t want to crush your dreams.”

Your grip on the cup in your hand tightens. Hongjoong’s words shouldn’t get to you – they normally don’t, but right now you’re already in a bit of a fragile mindstate, so the stinging in the corners of your eyes returns in a rush. You inhale sharply. Hongjoong glances up at you as he hears the sound. His fingers pause on the bottle of rum.

“Are you crying?” He asks. You squeeze your eyes shut as though it will hide the evidence of your tears, but it only serves to cause them to run down your cheeks. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I di-didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hongjoong’s apology is quite the shocker. You half-expected him to laugh in your face and call you all sorts of names. When you glance over at him again, his expression is one full of regret and guilt. You wipe furiously at your cheeks with one hand, keeping the other on your cup of alcohol.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say again, albeit with a much shakier tone this time. All the remorse on Hongjoong’s expression melts away in an instant. He glares at you in response and returns to pouring himself another cup of alcohol. You turn away and move towards one of the counters, hopping up on it and mulling over your drink in silence.

“You’re really going to sit there and mope all night? I should’ve known you were boring as fuck just from hearing your performance quality.”

It didn’t even take a minute for Hongjoong to return to insulting you. The temptation of chucking your drink at him returns, but once again you manage not to do that.

“What do you get out of being mean to me? Does it make you feel better? Is that it?”

“No. You’re just so easy to rile up. Makes you worse at playing the piano too, which means it makes me that much better than you. Eliminating the competition, love. That’s all.”

“Don’t fucking call me ‘love’.”

“Why? Does it get you going?”

“I hate you so much, I swear. Don’t you have a line of girls you can fuck around with whenever you’re bored?” You hiss the question at Hongjoong. He laughs a little, one corner of his lips curling up as he takes in your questions. He hums and pushes the bottle of alcohol away again, then brings his cup up to his lips. After a long and slow drag of the drink, he pushes it back down to the counter. You watch his movements with wary eyes as he steps around the counter and moves closer to where you’re perched.

“What’s the fun in that?” He asks, head tilting to the side as he draws closer to you. “Why not play a little game of cat and mouse? Tease, poke fun, see how much it takes for someone to give in. That’s real fun.”

“So I’m a game to you?” You spit out as Hongjoong closes in on you. He pauses in his tracks, only a few feet away from you now.

“A game? You aren’t the game itself. You’re just a piece in the game. The true game is getting under your skin.”

Hongjoong continues to move forward until he hits your knees. Despite his short stature, he’s just tall enough to be eye level with you at this angle. You lean back, head thudding against the cabinet behind you. There’s nowhere for you to go, and you stare back at Hongjoong with narrowed eyes. You bring your cup up, effectively blocking him from coming any closer, and down some more alcohol in the hopes that it’ll drive away the sudden warmth in your gut that arises when Hongjoong grins at you.

“Cat got your tongue all of a sudden, princess?”

“No,” you rush to answer. Hongjoong’s smile persists, and he places his hands down on the counter. They close you in, dropped on either side of your form. He’s putting an awful amount of trust that you won’t knee him in the balls like this, because you’re at the perfect angle to do so.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Hongjoong says. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear his words, and you panic, shoulders tensing up in an instant. Hongjoong hesitates, watching your movements with careful eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“N-No, I… I…” You can’t finish the sentence. Your gaze travels down the slope of Hongjoong’s nose to his plush lips, their dark red color enticing you to lean forward. It’s the alcohol in your system, it really must be, because otherwise you wouldn’t even dream of kissing him. Hongjoong leans even closer, his breath mixing with yours. It smells like alcohol, and as he gets closer, you can see a faint blush across his nose and cheeks. He must be feeling the effects of the drinks as well, which should be a sign for you to stop and know that you’ll regret this in the morning. Hell, you aren’t even drunk yet. You’re barely tipsy. So why the fuck do you want to Hongjoong to pin you to the bed and fuck you senseless?

You don’t think any longer than that. You drape your arms around Hongjoong’s neck and close the distance between your lips. His lips are soft and warm when they hit yours, slotting together like puzzle pieces. He sighs into the kiss. He pushes against you as his hands shift to grip your hips. Despite the smell of alcohol on his breath, his lips taste sickenly sweet, almost like liquorice candy. Strangely, you can’t get enough of you. His tongue prods at your lower lips, swiping across the skin in a way that causes shivers to run down your spine.

A slight gasp escapes you, and Hongjoong uses that to his advantage. He presses his tongue between your lips with ease. It hits yours in an instant battle for dominance, and that sweet liquorice taste is on his tongue as well as though he’s been eating the candy for hours.

He pulls back for a moment, letting the two of you catch your breath. Your eyelids flutter as he moves, and your head falls back against the cabinet behind you. Hongjoong takes advantage of the motion. He leans forward and presses his lips to the column of your throat, tongue dragging over the skin there. Small gasps of air leave you as he sucks gently at the skin as well, and you know you should stop him because he’ll leave marks. Marks that won’t be gone within two days for the competition. Yet you don’t mind it too much ask his tongue lavishes your neck. What you do mind is the fact that the two of you are still in the kitchen. Which has no doors. So anyone could walk in and see the two of you going at it like this at any second.

You nudge Hongjoong’s shoulder, and he pulls off within an instant.

“What’s up?” He asks in the most nonchalant and casual tone ever.

“Upstairs bedroom. First door on the left. I’ll meet you up there in five minutes,” you say through a series of gasps. Hongjoong arches a brow, your confident tone catching him off-guard as well as the confirmation that the two of you are taking this further. He pulls away from you. His hands slide down your thighs as he moves in a teasing manner, and the gleam in his eyes tells you that he knows exactly what he is doing. You wait until he’s completely gone from the kitchen to release the breath you were holding, eyes falling shut. You take another chug of alcohol and finish off the rest of your glass. It’s just enough liquid courage for you to hop off the counter and pace around the kitchen, hands pressed together as though in prayer.

Now that Hongjoong is gone, you’re suddenly second-guessing this whole… situation. The two of you hate each other, that fact hasn’t changed in the slightest, you know that he still hates you as much as you hate him. It’s just the alcohol. It’s just the alcohol, it has to be. You’re still thinking straight and clearly though. It’s the arousal in your gut then. That was not there before Hongjoong kissed you or when you pulled him into said kiss. Then… perhaps the rejection that wasn’t really rejection from San. Maybe it’s that. Surely it’s that. Or maybe the two of you just need to fuck this out of your systems and carry on with hating each other.

Thinking is getting you nowhere. You don’t wait any longer, dipping out of the kitchen and taking the stairs up to the second floor without a second thought. The door you mentioned to Hongjoong belongs to Wooyoung, and he may not be happy about you using his bedroom to fuck your sworn enemy, but he’ll be wasted and distracted with Seonghwa within an hour anyway. You push into the bedroom with a sudden burst of confidence, but that dissipates the second you step in and lay your eyes on Hongjoong.

He’s stripped the leather jacket he was wearing off, leaving him in black pants that are far too tight, and a tucked-in tee that looks so effortlessly good on him that you hate it. You hate how damn perfect he is without even trying. He barely gives you time to shut the door before he’s approaching you, pressing you up against the wood. Your lips find each other again, and you moan out of surprise. The sound spurs Hongjoong on; he grabs hold of one of your legs and hikes it around his waist. The show of strength sends a surge of arousal to your core. He presses his tongue between your lips again, and you eat that sickly sweet taste of liquorice up as though starved.

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asks, pulling away for a brief moment to look you in the eye.

“Yes,” you respond without any hesitation. “Yes, so fuck me.”

“Fuck…” Hongjoong mutters. He pulls you off the wall, and you press your other leg around his waist as he moves for the bed. You’re glad Wooyoung at least didn’t leave his room a complete mess otherwise Hongjoong would be tripping over clothes and shoes. He makes it to the bed with ease, however, dropping you to the mattress. The air leaves your lungs in a huff. You sit up on your elbows. Hongjoong stays back for a few moments, tugging at his belt until it’s completely gone, then his shirt follows quickly. You barely noticed the obvious tent in his pants prior to this but in all honesty, your eyes were looking anywhere except for his groin. His stripping encourages you to do the same, pulling at your own t-shirt and discarding of it on Wooyoung’s floor. Your shorts are harder to inch off, but as you tug at the zipper, Hongjoong’s hands land on your hips.

He doesn’t say a word, yanking your pants down with such ease that you nearly melt at the sight. Now he’s the one overdressed though, tight pants still clinging to his form, while you’re left in the black set of lingerie that you wore without thinking you were going to end up like this. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to mind one bit, bending down over you and dropping his hands on either side of your body. You welcome him with a kiss full of teeth and saliva.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Hongjoong says as he pulls off your lips for a second. He reaches around your torso and unhooks your bra, yanking it off you. Cold air hits your chest, and you suddenly feel very embarrassed at the exposure. Hongjoong’s eyes rake over you. He brings a hand to drag over your chest, pinching your nipple without warning. You gasp at the sensation, and your back arches off the bed under his fingers. Your reaction encourages him to repeat the motion, and he dips down to latch around your other nipple with his lips. You cry out from the sudden stimulation, Hongjoong’s teeth grazing over your breast lightly, and your hands reach down to find purchase in his bright blue hair.

He doesn’t waste much time though, lips quickly leaving your breast and trailing wet kisses down your bare abdomen until he reaches the band of your underwear. A grin spreads across his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief as he snags the material with his fingers and pulls it down with ease. You don’t even have time to think before he reaches between your folds and flattens his tongue against your clit. Another startled yelp escapes your, legs jerking, and Hongjoong hooks his arm around your leg and grasps at your opposite hip with the same hand. The other hand lingers at your core, teasing your dripping folds while his tongue goes to work at your clit.

“Fuck, you taste so good, princess,” Hongjoong purrs against your lower lips. You glance down at him, making eye contact as he drags his tongue through your arousal. You can see your juices on his lips. The dirty sight causes you to writhe against him. He stills you by pressing two fingers into your heat.

“Ah! Ho-Hongjoong, oh my god,” you stammer out as he immediately curls those two fingers inside you and nips gently at your sensitive bud. “F-Fuck, fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth for a dirty little slut, huh?” You can’t respond with words this time, but his statement draws a high-pitched whine out of you and your walls tighten around his fingers. Hongjoong teases the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Dirty talk then? Or degradation?”

You answer by squeezing around his fingers again, and the sensation is so tight that Hongjoong grits his teeth.

“You’re gonna be so good around my cock,” he hisses out. He squeezes a third finger into your heat, scissoring you open with relative ease. That damn tongue continues to tease your clit. He flicks over the small bead and draws small circles around it. It edges you closer and closer to an orgasm, but Hongjoong senses that and pulls away within an instant. He drags his tongue lower instead and pushes the wet muscle into your heat with his fingers. The added stimulation makes you cry out, and your hand grips Hongjoong’s hair and tugs at the strands. He nearly growls, the vibrations of the sound reverberating through your core in just the right way. It causes your orgasm to hit all of a sudden, back arching off the bed and body going slack as the intense waves wash over you.

Hongjoong guides you through the orgasm, fingers still curled inside you as he pulls his tongue back to lick the juices off his lips.

“Ready to take my cock in that dirty little cunt?”

“Yes, fuck – fuck, yes. Please fuck me.”

“Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can do that.”

Hongjoong pulls back from your core, hands going straight to his pants. He has to stand up to tug them down, and he yanks his underwear down in the same motion. You’re surprised by his size in all honesty. He’s rather short compared to the other men you’ve been with so you weren’t expecting much in that department, but he’s much larger than you expected him to be. He doesn’t give you time to gape any longer though, kneeling back on the bed and pulling your legs up around his waist. He guides his member to your entrance. You swallow in anticipation and watch him slowly enter you. He continues moving forward until he bottoms out, a low groan leaving his lips when you instinctively clench around his cock.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he grunts out, leaning down over you again.

“Just fuck me already,” you say in response. You curl your fingers around his neck and bring his head down to yours. Your lips connect as he pulls out, and the sharp thrust of his hips against the back of your thighs breaks the kiss. You throw your head back at the sensation, the curve of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot at just the right angle. You can’t keep the moans from slipping out; the feeling is far too good for you to keep quiet, and it spurs Hongjoong to thrust faster. He picks up a relentless pace, hips slamming against your thighs at an almost bruising pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. You tilt your head to the side and press your lips against your bicep, biting down on the flesh in attempts to quiet your moans. Hongjoong must not like that because his fingers close around the base of your throat. “Eyes on me.”

You follow the order without thinking twice, snapping your head back to look Hongjoong in the eye. Your quick obedience brings a stutter to his thrusts. He dips down to capture your lips in his own. Despite the fact that you just hit one orgasm, the drag of his member inside your walls is already spurring you to another one in a short amount of time. Your sporadic clenches around Hongjoong’s cock signal that oncoming orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum again, slut?” He growls against your lips. You nod a few times, tongue darting out to taste his liquorice tasting ones. He pulls just out of your reach and leans back. “Do it yourself.” His words draw a surprised gasp from your mouth. You can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not until he pulls his still hard member out of your heat. You swallow roughly, eyes trailing over him in disbelief, before pulling yourself up to be eye level with him again.

“T-Then let me ride you,” you say. Hongjoong arches a brow and bites his lower lip. Still, he doesn’t move. You blink at him. You don’t know what he’s wanting you to do or expecting you to do, so you do the only thing you can think of. Pin him down against the bed, throw a leg over his hips, and grip his member by the base. He groans at the action, watching you guide his cock back to your drenched folds with a cocky grin. You wipe the smile off his lips with a sudden drop of your hips. You take his whole length in again and don’t waste any time in picking up your pace until it matches his previous one. Even as you bounce on his member, he doesn’t grip your hips or guide your movements, just laying back and watching you do all the work. It reminds you of how much you hate the man, even in the throes of pleasure, he’s still an arrogant and self-righteous asshole. That thought doesn’t keep your orgasm from approaching quickly. Your bounces slow down as you grow ever closer to your high. When it hits, you release a loud cry, freezing on top of him with pulsing walls as the strength leaves your body. You stay like that for a few seconds, unable to move because of the intense orgasm, then pull off slowly.

He watches you with a narrowed gaze as you lower your mouth to his cock. You lap at his member, collecting the juices and precum from it, then take half of him into your mouth. He nearly bucks up into your mouth. You have to comb a few strands of hair back when they fall over his member. Hongjoong releases a wanton moan. You bob your head up and down along his cock in efforts to make him cum faster, and the plan works in your favor. Moments later, he is spilling hot cum down your throat. You swallow every last drop. When you pull off his softening member, you wipe at your lower lip with a satisfied grin.

“You fuck better than I thought,” Hongjoong says through a deep sigh.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” you answer as you fall back against the bed. Your whole body aches and burns from the sex, but you feel extremely satisfied as well. Hongjoong moves with you, head hitting the pillow at the same time yours does.

The two of you refuse to look at each other even in the afterglow of your sex. You don’t know what to say to him, or if you should say anything for that matter. All you can do is stare at the ceiling. Based on the noise that resounds from across the hall, Seonghwa and Wooyoung are already getting down to business. If you hadn’t just fucked Hongjoong, you might find this predicament awkward.

“I’m going to shower,” Hongjoong announces after the silence drags on for a few minutes.

“Y-Yea, yea, go ahead. Help yourself to a towel and stuff. Wooyoung won’t mind.” You watch the man get up and head into the bathroom. The awkwardness is now setting in, and you aren’t sure what this means for the two of you. Perhaps it was just hate sex, but it certainly wasn’t drunk sex because the two of you were surprisingly sober before you even started fucking. It shouldn’t change anything at all.

At least, that’s what you have to keep telling yourself. As Hongjoong passes you on his way out of the bathroom, he doesn’t even spare you so much as a glance. You take a shower of your own in complete and utter silence, mostly spending your time staring at the wall with a blank stare. It’s only when you step out of the shower and look at yourself in the mirror that you say something

“God, how fucking dumb can you be, Y/N?” You towel your body dry and reach down to snatch one of Wooyoung’s spare shirts off the floor, not caring that it might be dirty as you tug it over your head.

When you step back into the bedroom, Hongjoong is long gone. You shouldn’t be surprised. You really shouldn’t. You knew he wasn’t going to stay, and you knew that this was nothing more than a quick fuck for him. However, you are not the type to just have a quick fuck and go. So when you slide under the covers of Wooyoung’s bed, you only feel cold and dejected. Sleeps doesn’t come for quite some time, and you refuse to admit that there were tears on your cheeks at any point in the night. It was just a quick fuck and nothing more. You really have to keep reminding yourself of that fact.

…

“Come on, ladies! Quit moving so slowly! We’re on a schedule.”

You release a huff. The bus seat under your ass is wildly uncomfortable, and even though two days have passed, you aren’t any less sore from your little sex escapade with Hongjoong the other night. It’s the morning of the piano competition now, and you have managed to fully avoid Hongjoong in every way up until now. Because for some unknown and dumb reason, your professor decided that he needed a seating chart for the bus. And he thus decided that putting you and Hongjoong next to each other was a brilliant idea. You can only be glad that you arrived before he did, taking the window seat and pressing your headphones in so that you don’t even have to interact with him in the slightest.

It feels like some bad karma is against you at the moment, the same bad karma that perhaps caused you to fuck Hongjoong in the first place. Being forced to sit next to him is a punch in the gut. You thumb through your music on your phone to find the piece you’ll be playing for the competition today, letting the chords and notes resound through your ears and take over your thoughts. You don’t even notice when Hongjoong climbs onto the bus and sits down beside you, but the sudden lurching of the vehicle causes your eyes to snap open. You glance around in surprise, the music completely distracting you from what was going on around you. When your eyes fall on Hongjoong, you taste liquorice on your tongue. More than that, you fucking smell the candy.

You understand why after a moment, Hongjoong’s fingers toying with a small cube of the black candy. He pops it between his lips, tongue darting out to drag over his lips and collect the rest of the sweet treat’s taste. Then, he glances at you out the corner of his eye and catches your lingering stare.

“What the fuck do you want?”

You were right about one thing. Nothing has changed between the two of you. You opt not to respond and turn away from him with a huff. You return to your music, trying your best to only focus on the notes and all the notes you got from your professor over the past few weeks. Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t bother you any longer and actually lets you have some damn peace and quiet. However, you blame him for the fact that your mind keeps drifting back to him, thinking about everything from his body to the way he fucked you the other night and how good it felt. With each intruding thought, you crank your volume up higher and higher. It does nothing to expel the thoughts but at least it gives you some peace of mind.

That is, until Hongjoong elbows you harshly in the side. You yank one of your earbuds out and whip to look at him.

“What?” You spit out with venom in your tone.

“Turn your fucking music down. I can barely think with how loud it is.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“It’s your damn music,” Hongjoong hisses back with an equal amount of anger to his voice.

“Fucking deal with it.”

Hongjoong’s hand darts out and closes around your thigh. You choke on your saliva, coughing as he squeezes your leg. His fingers are dangerously close to your core, and due to your surprise, you pressed your thighs together and effectively trapped his hand between your legs. Hongjoong leans closer to you, and you pull away in response.

“Turn your damn music down.”

You can smell the candy on his breath, and it reminds you of the taste of his tongue and feel of his lips. You almost want to lean in and revisit the taste, but you resist that burning urge. Instead, you manage to plug your earbud back in and turn the volume down a few notches. It’s enough to satiate Hongjoong for the time being. His grip on your thigh disappears, giving you a chance to breathe again but it’s much harder to breathe now that he’s gotten you a bit worked up like this. You curl further against the window and glare at the passing scenery as the music continues to play in your ears. At some point, you fall asleep to the rhythmic beats of your piece. You don’t even realize it, head still pressed to the cool glass of the window as the bus rumbles onto your destination.

You wake up once the bus comes to a halt, and you wake up with a jolt. However, it’s not because of the bus’ sudden stop; no, it’s because your head has somehow managed to come to rest on Hongjoong’s shoulder as you were sleeping. How that happened, you have absolutely no clue because you were angled towards the window and you’ve never been one to move much in your sleep. Hongjoong must have fallen asleep as well, because as soon as you jolt upwards, your head smacks against his and he wakes with a start.

“What the fuck?” He cusses, bringing a hand to rub at his temple where you hit him. You rub at the sleep in your eyes in attempts to hide the evidence of your tiredness before your professor catches sight.

“Wake up, shithead,” you mutter as you shove his shoulder. “I need to get past.”

“Your fault for choosing the damn window seat.”

“And it’s your fault for falling asleep.”

“Were you not just sleeping yourself?”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Hongjoong spits back, eyes narrowed at you. He gets up regardless and steps away, and you take the chance to leave the bus with your bag in tow.

The one thing you hate the most about these recitals and competitions is the fact that you have to dress up nicely for them. It would be nice to show up and perform just the music, hell maybe even just play behind a curtain. But no, the judges need to see you and you have to be immaculate in every way. It’s not cheap in the slightest, but you’ve opted to reuse one of your previous recital dresses in the hopes that none of the judges will be faces you recognize.

Your professor leads the way into the concert hall, and you linger at Minnie’s side, as ironic as it is. Despite still being madly angry at her for not telling you that she was fucking dating Choi San behind your fucking back, she is still your closest friend in the program. That and she can’t seem to shut up about some movie she watched the other day. Her noise at least distracts you for the time being, especially as Hongjoong slips past you and runs a hand through his blue locks. The action is far too enticing and attractive for your liking. Again you’re left to blame it on horniness.

As you walk through the concert hall, those familiar gnawings of anxiety bite at your heels. Minnie is chattering away in your ear but you can’t hear a word she’s saying. Your hands grow cold quickly, and you tighten your grasp on your bag. You only relax a little once you get backstage and settle into a small dressing room.

“Alright, get ready quickly! Y/N, you’re the opener for the competition so you should get ready first.”

You respond with a few shaky nods before ducking into one of the bathrooms in the room. You change with haste, tugging the dark blue dress over your form until it rests comfortably on your body. You took care of your hair and makeup before coming; that was the first thing you did in the morning. All that’s left it to put on your shoes and get warmed up for the performance.

“Y/N, the room across the hall is where you can warm up,” your professor says when you step back out of the bathroom. You answer with another set of nods, moving for your bag to put your casual clothes back inside and replace your shoes.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Minnie drops a hand to your shoulder, squeezing you tightly.

“Thanks,” you mutter back as you fasten the straps of your shoes. When you stand up, you catch sight of Hongjoong staring at you. Your immediate response is to glare at him, which he returns just as quickly. “What?”

“Don’t fuck up too much. I don’t wanna have to clean up our reputation for you.”

You puff your cheeks full of air and stomp out of the room, not bothering to fight back at Hongjoong’s insult. You head straight for the practice room across the hall. It takes a few adjustments of the bench and your shoes, but you manage to get seated comfortably at the piano.

“Emotions. You need to show the emotions, Y/N,” you murmur to yourself as your fingers touch the ivories. It isn’t even the real thing, you should just be warming up and practicing the parts you had troubles with, but you still put your all into it as though it is the real thing. By the time you conclude the last notes of the song, you aren't even sure that you did what you needed to do. You can’t hear the emotion in the notes, you can only play them and hope for the best.

How Hongjoong does it is a mystery to you. He plays each note like it’s his very blood and bones, his life story laid bare before the keys. For someone so full of hatred and anger, it seems even more confusing to you, and as much as you try to reconcile it, you can’t.

“L/N Y/N to the stage. L/N Y/N to the stage.” You glance up with a start, eyeing the small speaker in the corner of the room. There’s a growing lump in your throat, and it only grows larger as you walk out of the room. Your professor is waiting there for you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the two of you begin to walk towards the stage.

“Remember the time signature and tempo. Watch your crescendos. And emotion! Put feeling into it!” He says as you walk ever closer to the front. You can’t respond due to the lump in your throat. Your attempts to swallow it down and dispel it do nothing either. As you reach the curtains, you catch sight of a certain blue-haired man at the edge of the stage. Your gaze hardens on him. Hongjoong never comes to stand by the stage and watch you perform. He’s toying with another black liquorice candy when you walk up to him, popping the candy between his lips before dropping his hand to mess with his cufflinks.

“Our first performer of the day, Miss Y/N L/N. She will be performing Franz Liszt’s Etude Opus 161, Number 3, La Campenella,” the announcer says, his voice booming through the hall. You don’t have time to think before your professor is pushing you forward onto the stage, and you nearly suffer the embarrassment of tripping over your feet on the way to the piano.

You reach the instrument without any issue, by luck of a miracle. The lump in your throat subsides as you sink onto the piano bench, and your fingers dance over the knobs on the bench to adjust it to your liking. Lift your left hand high, right one at the ready on the keys for the cue from your left. You drop your left hand to the keyboard and begin playing your piece to the best of your ability.

All your focus becomes consumed by the keys and music in your ears. You can’t even glance up to watch your professor or Hongjoong’s expression, too enraptured with your playing to think about anything other than the piano. Your whole body follows the tempo of the piece. You sway back and forth, following the movements of your hands as they dance across the ivory keys, and your heart leaps a little in your chest with each successful chord and note. Even if you aren’t able to fully capture the emotions behind a song, you can at least perform. And performing is what you do best. Replicating the notes, decrescendos, crescendos, chords, octaves and leaps, your runs and arpeggios all executed to absolute perfection. The entire performance is full of the excitement in the piece up until your last note after the five and a half minutes of playing.

Your fingers hover over that final note, letting it ring out and coat the ears of your listeners, and when you pull back, your foot slips off the pedal to let the music die out into silence. Applause greets you as you rise from the bench and bow towards the judges. You leave the stage the way you came, joining your professor and Hongjoong at the edge just behind the curtains.

“That was better than ever!” Your teacher cheers as you reach his side. He beams from ear to ear, eyes hidden behind the smile of his eyelids, but you don’t pay him any attention. Rather you look to Hongjoong in attempts to gauge his expression. If he’s impressed in the slightest, he does well to conceal it.

“Following Miss Y/N L/N, we have Mr. Kim Hongjoong, playing Chopin’s Nocturne, Opus 48, number 1.” The announcer’s voice rings out again, calling Hongjoong onto the stage. He glances away from you as he steps out from behind the curtain.

“They put us back to back?” You mutter the question to your professor, who just looks down at you with a glint in his dark eyes.

“The judges requested that you two play back to back,” he explains, maintaining his grin.

“Oh…” You exhale and turn back to watch Hongjoong sit down at the piano. His performance is always a thing of beauty, but you know exactly why the judges would want the two of you back to back. Whilst you exude perfection in every note, Hongjoong does more. More with the piece, he plays with the rhythms and tempos, creating music that sounds wholly his. He plays as though he is the sole creator of the piece and no one else. Each piano he plays becomes part of him. You are polar opposites when it comes to performing. And that’s what they want to see. They want to see the two of your challenge each other with your differing play styles.

The lump in your throat returns as Hongjoong begins to play. Something feels off in the very first note. A spring of anxiety pops up in your gut as you hear it. It isn’t the same as usual, something in the way Hongjoong’s fingers glide over the ivories is not right. The professor still looks quite pleased though, almost like he doesn’t even notice the difference. When you glance out over the panel of judges, they bear similar expressions. It’s a mystery to you how they don’t notice the difference because in your ears, it is so stark and unable to be missed.

The next six minutes carry on with that same vibe. You can’t place what is going wrong until Hongjoong presses his fingers to the final note. The wrong note.

You lurch forward. Hongjoong freezes. The chord echoes through the whole hall, the glaringly obvious mistake resounding without stop even as Hongjoong pulls his fingers off the keys. He stands. Bows to the judges. Heads back towards where you’re standing without a word. It’s not like Hongjoong to make a mistake, not like him at all. You don’t think he’s ever made a mistake, even in practices he is always meticulous and perfect.

Hongjoong’s hands are trembling when he comes off stage. He strides past you without sparing you a glance. He doesn’t look at anything in fact, his eyes are unfocused as he moves forward. You can only stay rooted to the spot and watch him move away without a word. It happens in a millisecond, and if you blinked you would have missed it for certain. Hongjoong’s legs give out and he begins to collapse. Your professor rushes to his side as fast as possible. He grips the blue-haired man’s arm and pulls him back up, draping his arm over a shoulder and rushing down the hall. He’s calling for a medic and an ambulance, and as soon as those words process in your head, you choke on air.

Your feet move before your thoughts do. You chase after the pair, hiking your dress up a bit as you run. The old man carries Hongjoong back to your shared dressing room. Your fellow students dash out of the room as he brings Hongjoong in. You pause in the door frame, watching the scene unfold before you with a plummeting heart. An emergency nurse pushes past you to get in and effectively blocks your line of sight. All you can see is the blue strands of hair atop Hongjoong’s head and nothing more.

Someone catches hold of your arm. It’s Minnie, and she tugs on your wrist as she spews words in your direction. However, you don’t hear a thing. Your ears still ring with that final wrong note Hongjoong played, eyes unfocused as you try to look at Minnie. She’s pulling you to the aside, away from the hustle of bustle of the other people in the hall, and trying to catch your attention. You refuse to look at her, however, and opt to stare back at the room where Hongjoong is with wide eyes. The shock hasn’t drifted from your bones in the slightest.

You don’t get any form of relief until the emergency nurses file out of the dressing room. They don’t carry Hongjoong out on a gurney which is a small relief in and of itself. Your professor appears in the doorway next, sweat on his brow and glasses in one hand. The other runs through his hair – the minimal amount that’s left, that is – and he addresses the other students first.

“You all are to wait at the stage for your performances. You can go into that room across the hall if you need some more practice time, but you are not to enter the dressing room again until the end of the competition. Understood?”

You watch the students share a chorus on nods. Minnie releases your arm to move away with the rest of the students, but she sends one final look your way, one that seeks answers you do not have. Once all your classmates have filed away, you are left to stand across from your professor with bated breath. He doesn’t say anything at first, and neither do you, so the two of you just exchange forlorn stares without speaking. The silence drags on for so long that you think you might pass out; you’ve been holding your breath the entire time as well and it’s really starting to make you feel a bit lightheaded.

“What happened to him, professor?” You ask when the silence grows unbearable.

“He’s fine. Just a small accident.” The answer is spoken with haste, and his tone is flat. The way he says it almost implies that the words are rehearsed.

“A small accident wouldn’t warrant such a reaction from you though,” you reason, lifting a hand to scratch at your scalp.

“I need to go up to the stage to be with the other students, Miss L/N.” Your professor speaks with such finality that you don’t dare press the subject any further. Instead, you watch him walk back to the edge of the stage, waiting until he’s completely out of sight before pressing into the dressing room where Hongjoong is yourself.

You don’t see him immediately, which surprises you to a certain extent, but then you notice that the unisex bathroom in the back corner has an open door and the lights are on. Hongjoong must be in there, but it seems odd for him to have left the door open when anyone could walk in. You’re tempted to call out to him and ask if he’s alright. Something prevents you from doing so, however, and you merely creep closer to the room with quiet steps.

Whatever you might have been expecting goes out the window as you catch sight of Hongjoong’s blue head of hair. He is hunched over the toilet, an awful retching sound leaving his form every few seconds, and you can’t believe that the nurses and your professor dared to leave him alone in a state like this. Hongjoong hasn’t caught sight of you yet, but you certainly make your presence known as you stumble back. Your heel catches on the short train of your dress, you throw your hands back to brace yourself for a fall, but instead catch hold of a table and manage to stay on your feet.

Hongjoong whips his head towards you as you stumble, however, and all of his attention is suddenly directed at you. There is a small excess of vomit lingering on the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand as he looks towards you. There’s no explanation that would be suitable enough to explain what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, because frankly, you don’t even understand why yourself. That fact alone is slightly more terrifying than you would like to admit.

“What the hell do you want?” Hongjoong spits out. He slowly stands up straight, legs a bit wobbly as he moves, and moves for the sink to wash his hands and face. “Come to see me suffer? Does that get you going?”

Your jaw stutters as you fumble to come up with some sort of response. Nothing comes out for a few seconds and you’re left to just stare dumbly at Hongjoong with nothing but a blank expression.

“Figures…” Hongjoong mutters. He leaves the bathroom and heads for his small travel bag. You watch him move without saying anything, eyes tracking each of his movements with scrutiny. As he bends down to open the bag, Hongjoong winces. His arms jerk, back straightening for a brief moment, then his body returns to normal as though nothing happened. Hongjoong hisses, teeth gritted as he continues to push down and get whatever he was looking for. When he stands back up, you catch sight of a toothbrush and toothpaste in his hands. It’s strange, because those aren’t items he would typically bring to a competition like this one which lasts less than a day. The behavior makes it seem like he almost knew that this was going to happen.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask out of the blue. Hongjoong all but ignores you in favor of walking towards the bathroom again, this time with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. “I mean – what happened to you?”

“You’re going to have to elaborate because there’s plenty wrong with me.”

“On the stage, Hongjoong. You fucked up and missed the last note. You never do that.”

“Yea, well, I did this time. What do you want me to say?”

“You collapsed as soon as you were backstage. Something is obviously bothering you now since you puked. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Wanna know why your competition is getting worse? Get used to it.”

“No…” You trail off, unsure of what to say next. Hongjoong brushes his teeth with ferocity, and his gaze remains on the mirror rather than looking to you while you speak. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You aren’t sure where the desire came from. It’s foreign to you, as it the worry that bubbles in your gut as you look over Hongjoong’s form. He seems frail all of a sudden, and that’s just so unlike him in every way that you can’t get past it. He doesn’t respond right away – probably due to the fact that his currently scrapping his toothbrush over the expanse of his tongue. You wait for a reply in silence for two minutes, then Hongjoong spits in the sink and washes his mouth out again.

“Parsonage-Turner Syndrome,” he says. His eyes find yours, still as void of emotion as ever, but you blink back in shock. “Do you know what that is?”

“N-No, I’ve never heard of it,” you answer honestly. Hongjoong sighs and returns to his duffel bag, pushing his toothbrush and toothpaste back inside. He digs around a bit more in the bag before standing up straight again. A small wrapped candy lingers between his fingers. He undoes the wrapper with quick motions, then pops the black liquorice between his lips.

“Idiopathic brachial plexopathy or neuralgic amyotrophy,” Hongjoong recites the words as though he’s heard them thousands of times. You don’t doubt that he has based upon the look in his eyes. “A rare disorder consisting of a complex constellation of symptoms with abrupt onset of shoulder pain, followed by progressive neurologic deficits of motor weakness, dysesthesias, and numbness.”

Hongjoong pauses and purses his lips. He looks away from you, but the way his eyes well up with crystalline tears doesn’t escape your notice. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek in silence. If there’s anything to be said, you certainly don’t know what it is.

“In short, I’m losing the function of my arms. Eventually, I won’t be able to use them at all. The more I play the piano, the bigger risk I run of destroying them further. How ironic, huh?” Hongjoong releases a dry laugh, but the humor is gone from his tone. As his words sink it, your heart sinks further and further. You dare to glance up at his face from across the room. The tears in his eyes have fallen down his cheeks. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen Hongjoong, but you also can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him. “How fucking ironic…”

Hongjoong’s voice dies off a little, cracking as he finishes his sentence. A moment of silence passes. You debate saying something but every time you try to speak, your voice dies in your throat. A scream of anguish leaves Hongjoong’s throat. He swings for the wall with his left hand, fingers clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles are white. He hits the wall with such force that the sound echoes in your ears, and you flinch away from the table you’re leaning against. Hongjoong sinks to the floor, knees hitting the ground with a thud. His fist never quits its rhythm against the wall; he continues slamming his hand at the surface. You’re frozen in place, watching his fist hit the wall over and over until red flecks begin to spread across the pristine surface of the wall.

“Hongjoong–” You start towards him, a sudden urgency rushes to your bones, and you hurry to keep him from abusing his hand any more than he already has. “Hongjoong, stop. Stop it, Hongjoong, stop.”

You snatch him by the wrist, and he relaxes into your touch within an instant. He slumps forward until his forehead hits the wall. It takes a few seconds of silence, then a strangled sob escapes his slacked body. You catch him before he completely falls over and drag his weight in your direction instead. He doesn’t even complain, fingers finding the material of your dress and balling around it without a word. He cries against you. You can’t imagine how long he’s been holding it in, how long he’s known that this was his fate, that the thing he loves the most will lead to his destruction. It’s heartbreaking and horrible to think about. The fear of even spraining a finger haunts you sometimes, but Hongjoong has to live with the knowledge that his fate is to lose his ability to play forever.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong,” you mutter against his hairline. A laugh leaves his lips, but it’s wet and full of mucus. He nearly chokes as he continues to laugh.

“How the fuck is this okay? In what world is this okay? Answer me that.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is always fucking sorry. Yea, come say sorry again when you have your only passion stolen from you.”

“Ho-Hongjoong. No, I-I – stop. It’s not been taken away from you yet. You still have tim–”

“How much time? How long until I fuck my arms up to the point of no return?”

“Can’t they do anything?” Your question is spoken in such a quiet tone that you fear that Hongjoong might not hear it.

“There’s no cure. Just fucking physical therapy and acupuncture to slow the muscle denervation. Electrotherapy. Nothing that fixes it.”

“But it would slow it?”

“For a time.”

“Isn’t that worth it then? Even to just… try? The hope that maybe it will fix things enough to let you play is worth it isn’t it?”

“Worth it to what? I’ll never be able to play at the level I want to. I’ll never get to achieve my dreams, not in this condition. Not with this disease. I’m doomed no matter what. Physical therapy won’t do shit. If I’m gonna lose my arms, then I’m gonna do what I love until I can’t anymore.”

Hongjoong’s resolve is strong, even through the weakness he’s showing right now, and you can’t blame him. His behavior makes sense now. The hatred and disdain for you, the ego and arrogant nature about him, the flaunting of his skills – it was all just an attempt to hide the fact that he was breaking inside.

“Then you’re robbing yourself of an opportunity… you never know if something is going to work unless you try, Hongjoong. Even if you’re not a miracle patient who gets cured out of the blue, just trying could give you the ability to play longer. Not because you need to be the best or play better than everyone else or even play at a high level. But because it’s something that you love. And at least having the ability to do something you love is better than losing it altogether.”

Hongjoong doesn’t respond to your words. His tears aren’t slowing down, and you wonder if he’s in any pain in this very moment. His shoulders tremble but because of the sobs that wrack his hunched form. As you cradle him against your chest, you can’t help but look down at your own hands. Your fingers are trembling against Hongjoong’s back. In that brief moment, you imagine yourself in his shoes.

The first sear of pain through your arms. The continued abuse over weeks. Finally going to see a doctor. Being told that it’s a disease. That the longer you play, the worse it will get. That eventually you’ll lose the use of your arms completely. The dream you’ve had since you were a child – you wonder if it was Hongjoong’s dream too, before he was given the news. You wonder if Hongjoong had the same bright eyes and hopeful dreams of becoming something great, someone great. You imagine that dream being wrenched from your grasps. It hurts. Just the thought of it hurts more than a thousand knives in your chest.

All you can do is pull Hongjoong closer. There is nothing to say, nothing you can say or do that would make this any easier or better. You settle for this and press your cheek against his head.

…

The time has escaped you yet again, and you glance up from the keyboard to see that the clock reads six o’clock already. You wanted to get some rest in your apartment before nightfall hit because Wooyoung somehow managed to drag your ass out for another party even after what happened last time.

You push the bench back and close the lid of the keyboard. Your fingers linger on the wood, however, and you look at the instrument with a strange tightness in your chest.

It’s been three weeks since that competition. Three weeks since you’ve seen Hongjoong. He hasn’t attended class, you haven’t seen him in the practice hall or rooms at any point in time, it’s almost as though he disappeared off the face of the planet. You hate it. Class is too silent. It’s boring. Without Hongjoong, you have nothing to do except think about when the class is going to be over. It’s almost funny how only now that he’s gone do you realize how much time you spent slaving over the mere thought of him.

During the first week, you watched the door and waited for Hongjoong’s blue head of hair to step through. You always had your snide remark at the ready: “Late for class? At least you bothered to show up this time.” Hongjoong never came though.

The second week you guessed where he might be. Thought about what happened in the aftermath of his meltdown at the competition. They took him to the hospital, forcibly prying him from your arms, and that was the last you saw of him.

And then the third week passed by, and you began to wonder if the damage to his arms had already been done. Even now as your thoughts are occupied by the thought of him and him alone, you wonder if that’s the case.

As you get to your feet, the door behind you slides open. The sound is almost silent, and if you had still been playing you wouldn’t have heard a thing. You whip around to face the intruder. You nearly don’t recognize the form standing before you. Formerly blue hair has been replaced with a bright red, and it’s only when you look at the man’s features that you recognize him. Your darting gaze flits down to his left hand. It’s wrapped in a white gauze, fingers loose and flexing in the wrap. A good sign, perhaps. At least the damage isn’t fully done yet.

“Ew, it’s you,” you say, trying to contain the smile that threatens to overtake your lips when you see Hongjoong.

“Wow.” Hongjoong glances around the practice room. There is something sad and longing in his eyes as he looks around. You open your mouth to say more, but he continues speaking without you having to ask. “I, uh, I dropped out.”

“You what?” You just about fall over upon hearing the news. It catches you so off-guard that you choke on the saliva lingering on the back of your tongue.

“I dropped out of the program.”

“Yo-You – but, but the program – you were one, you were one of the only ones to get – what?”

“I thought about what you said. I, um… Yea, I dropped out. Started doing general studies instead. Think I’m gonna go for a teaching degree. Maybe try to be a piano teacher one day.”

“Why?” You aren’t being very eloquent, but the shock is too strong for you to even think about putting together a coherent thought.

“I kept thinking about what you said. Robbing myself of an opportunity… losing something I love. I love the piano, and I love playing the piano more than anything. I can’t lose the ability to play it. That’s – That’s taking away a part of me I can’t lose. Without piano… I would be nothing. I’m not ready to lose it because of some stupid fucking disease that can kiss my ass.”

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s the last thing you expected to hear from Hongjoong, especially since he resolve to be the best regardless of what happens to him was so strong. He saves you the trouble of coming up with a reply.

“I started going to physical therapy. They started me out on some acupuncture treatments, then worked me up to doing strengthening exercises and range of motion exercises. We’re going to try some electrotherapy next but the doctor said I’m making really good progress.”

“R-Really? Hongjoong, that’s amazing. Honestly. That’s truly incredible. I’m so ha–”

“Thank you,” he interrupts. His gaze is on the floor, fist clenching here and there, and his tone is quiet. “Thank you for giving me my dream back.”

You don’t have time to think before Hongjoong is walking towards you. He catches you by surprise, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his chest without hesitation.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you murmur in response. Your arms drape over him, and hesitance fills your motions unlike his hasty ones. He is warm and soft under your touch, so unlike how he was that day of the competition – cold and stiff.

“I do. Please, I-I…”

Hongjoong doesn’t need to finish the thought, but you don’t need him to. You can guess what he might be trying to say. You aren’t sure you need to hear it or if you can handle it. Instead, you settle for this comfortable embrace. Hongjoong’s breath is hot against your throat, and curse you for thinking about it because it leads your thoughts in a bad direction. Hongjoong shifts his head closer to your neck, lips caressing the skin there that barely peaks out from under your collar.

“C-Can I…?”

“Yes,” you exhale when Hongjoong inches closer to your lips. He brushes over your skin with such a gentle touch that you wonder if it is actually real. He deepens the kiss a moment later, however, and presses against you with more fervor. Your lips slot together, warm filling your chest and gut. He guides you backwards as his hands find your hips. You gasp into Hongjoong’s mouth when your ass hits the lid of the piano. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to mind though. He uses it as an opportunity to press his tongue between your lips. That familiar taste of liquorice lingers there, and you smile into the kiss.

You let him take over, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound interest. It’s so different from your first time together; that time was filled with fervor and passion and arousal. This is slow, gentle, almost romantic. You can’t get enough of it. Each kiss leaves you wanting more, each lingering touch makes you want to take more, and when Hongjoong’s fingers hook around the back of your thighs, you moan into his open mouth. He lifts you with ease although you do worry for a split second about straining his arms. He dispels that worry with haste, propping you up on the lid of the piano without a care in the world.

His lips attack your neck next, pulling away from your mouth to leave a saccharine trail down your skin until he stops at the base of your throat. You bring a hand to his freshly red locks as he sucks at the skin there and roll your head to the side to give him better access. Your gaze flits down to the door he entered through, and the lock on the handle isn’t turned. You should be worried because being caught having sex on a damn Steinway would be atrocious, but Hongjoong pushes that to the side as well. Deft fingers work the buttons on your blouse apart and push the material back until you’re stripped of the shirt. He pops the clasp of your bra next and drops the lingerie to the floor. You bare your chest to him, ready for him to dive in and mark up your breasts in a similar manner but he doesn’t.

His hands instead go to the waistband of your skirt. He unhooks that button and zipper, tugging the material off of you as quickly as possible. All of a sudden you’re left only in your underwear. Hongjoong doesn’t let you stay nearly naked alone for long. He leans back to tug his own shirt off, then his pants are quick to follow. As the material drops, you catch sight of the prominent bulge in his underwear. Without thinking, you reach out and grab hold of his constrained member. He groans into your touch, hips automatically bucking forward from even the slightest touch. You don’t wait to dip your hand past the band of the underwear and take hold of his semihard member.

“Y-You’re the devil,” Hongjoong hisses out as you pump his cock ever so slowly. In response, you drag your thumb over his slit, collecting the precum there and using it to help you pump his cock with more ease. You release a small laugh as his hips thrust into your touch. The laugh is cut short when Hongjoong presses the palm of his hand against your core. “Something funny, princess?”

You can do nothing except gasp in response, back arching off the lip of the piano. Hongjoong must enjoy the sight before him because a low moan slips through. His free hand darts around your back and collapses the music stand atop the piano. He seems ready to move you up even higher on the piano, but you stop him with your hand.

“N-No, wait – I just, I want you to fuck me. That’s all.” Your hand slides across Hongjoong’s bare chest, leaving goosebumps in your wake, and Hongjoong nearly shivers. Your words seem incentive enough for him, however, and he dips down between your legs to tug your underwear off. His follow soon after; hardened cock finding freedom at last. You slide a bit further down the lid of the piano in efforts to get more comfortable. Hongjoong braces your hip with his left hand and the other goes to your dripping folds. You’re nearly wet enough to drip all over the floor, positioned carefully so that you don’t sully the piano any more than you are already.

He works you open with deft fingers, two pushing into with ease thanks to your wetness. He uses those fingers to scissor your heat open and stretch you. You moan under the touch. The loudness of your moans is a bit worrisome considering you’re still in public, so you try to conceal them at least with the back of your hand. The moment you try to cover your lips however, Hongjoong reaches up and tugs your hand back down to the piano. He covers your lips with his. The position lets you moan freely into his mouth until his fingers disappear from your heat altogether.

“F-Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Hongjoong hisses. He uses the juices of your arousal on his fingers to pump his cock a few more times before lining up with your tight hole. The stretch isn’t painful; quite the opposite really, but a high-pitched whine breaches your lips. Hongjoong hesitates halfway, eyes tracking your expression for any sign of discomfort. He only moves again when you nod. Once he’s completely buried in you, you expect hasty thrusts but they never come. You blink at Hongjoong, eyes wide in expectation.

He stares back at you with an unreadable expression. His brow has furrowed and he almost squints as he looks into your eyes. You open your mouth to ask if something is wrong, but he speaks before you get the chance.

“I wanna try… us.”

“You want to what?” You ask, taken aback by the sudden statement. It’s hardly a proper time to bring up a serious subject, but maybe it’s the best timing in the world. How are you supposed to know? It’s not as though you fuck people on the daily in a practice room atop a piano like this.

“I wanna take you out. Spend time with you. Go on dates. Be in a relationship. With you and only you.”

“You’re asking after you’ve fucked me twice now?”

“Haven’t fucked you the second time yet, actually.” Hongjoong winks at you, a smirk curling across his lips. “Is that a yes or no?”

“It’s a ‘ask me again after you’ve fucked me senseless’.”

“I’d rather have your senses intact when I ask you.”

“Yes, Kim Hongjoong. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a bit more than interested in you.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell when I was… you know, in you.”

“Shut up and fuck me already!” You protest, slapping his chest with the back of your hand. Hongjoong pulls his hips back and snaps them back against you without warning. You release a strangled moan that quickly evolves into a whine at the sudden thrust.

“I’ll make the rules, princess.”

You nod hastily in reply and brace yourself against the pillow for Hongjoong’s next thrust. He goes slower this time though, taking his time with each thrust, and you know he’s only doing it to rile you up because of the cheeky grin on his face. You want to either kiss or slap it off him, but he makes you choose the former by pushing forward. Your lips slot together with ease. It’s comfortable, easy, relaxed – like you’ve done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.

His thrusts do pick up in pace after that, his tongue entering the mix as well as he pries your lips open with the wet muscle. You allow yourself just let go under Hongjoong’s touch. You drape an arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder, nails raking down his back as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The angle is near magical because each thrust seems to hit deeper than the last, and your moans are borderline shouts of pleasure. Hongjoong doesn’t let up once. You’re glad for it because you’re pretty certain that if he does stop, you’ll slip off the piano entirely.  

Your head falls back, lips disconnecting from Hongjoong’s, and you struggle to stay upright with the way his cock rams against your sensitive g-spot. An orgasm is approaching quickly. You can’t manage to get any words out, but Hongjoong seems to understand when you drag a hand to his shoulder and squeeze tightly. Your walls clench around his member without warning. Hongjoong’s thrusts stutter as you squeeze his cock, then he reaches up to pull your face back to his.

“Ca-Can I cum in you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. Please. Please, Hongjoong.” The man presses his lips against yours after you get the words out. You can’t hold the orgasm back any longer, and it washes over you with a sudden intensity that leaves you trembling in Hongjoong’s arms. He joins you not long after, hot seed spilling into you, and you moan at the sensation of his cum filling you up. He hunches forward and his head hits your shoulder. Both your chests heave from the exertion; you can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs. Gently you bring a hand to Hongjoong’s hair again and comb through the red locks with light fingers. Hongjoong sighs into the touch, shivering as your nails brush over his scalp.

“So… is this when I take you to dinner or?” Hongjoong lifts his chin to look you in the eye. You roll your eyes ever so slightly as he grins. The hand in his hair moves to smack him upside the head.

“You’re supposed to do that before you fuck me.”

“Eh, I’ve never been one to do things in order like that.”

“Good thing you can fuck well then or else I might not want a date at all.” Hongjoong’s smirk morphs into a wide smile, and his nose scrunches up as he looks at you. You smile back at him then press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll take that date now though.”

“One specialty Kim Hongjoong date coming right up. Though you better be prepared to stay up late tonight.”

“And you better be able to keep up with me. Hopefully all those exercises they’re making you do can help.”

Hongjoong grumbles at your comment, pulling back from you with a pout on his lips.

“I’ve got great stamina, thank you very much.” Hongjoong pauses his sulking for a moment to wear a serious expression on his features. “I’m serious about this, you know. You aren’t just some… some quick fuck to me. You didn’t have to be nice to me or give me a chance or anything, especially with the way I’ve been treating you over the past two years. So, uh, yea. Yea, I’m serious.”

You cup Hongjoong’s cheek gently and pass him a small smile before leaning your forehead against his.

“I believe you. And it’s not like I was any kinder to you. But if this is a chance to make things right, then let’s do it.”

“Y-Yea, yea, you’re right.”

“Now let’s get dressed before someone walks in on us like this. Then you can take me to dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hongjoong pulls away with a grin still on his lips. For a moment, you just sit there on the lid of the keyboard and watch him move around collecting articles of clothing. The warmth in your chest is foreign and unknown, but comfortable nonetheless. You never would have expected things to play out the way they did, but it was a happy accident and you want to bask in it for as long as possible. You slip off the lid of the ivories. The taste of liquorice is still on your tongue.

​​​☽     ☾

➻ requested by: @atinyinwonderland ➻ prompts:

“Ew, it’s you.” “Wow.”

“Eyes on me.”

this highkey turned into a Thing and idek how that happened but here we are aosidjfosijdfo also i did some research into PTS (parsonage-tanser syndrome) and it’s a rather rare disease apparently but this kinda issue with no longer being able to play piano and being forced to give up your dream kinda stemmed from my personal life and my sister and how i saw it impact her so it’s very real emotions and reader’s thoughts about being in hongjoong’s shoes are thoughts i’ve had myself and it truly is hard for me to even think about especially since music means so much to me but yea i cried while writing this, i hope you all enjoyed im going through it imma head out

#ateeznetz #atinyforatiny #kpopuniversenet #kwritersworldnet #atzinc #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #ateez oneshots #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez scenarios #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong oneshots #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong scenario #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #ateez angst #dreamingofkoo

[hobihobihoe]

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader                                                                

2.5k ish 

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states  “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

#bts x reader #bts fic #female reader #yoongi smut #mafia bts #demon bts #mafia jungkook #bts smut #ot7 x reader #hobi smut #namjoon fic #hobi fic #gang au #mafia taehyung #mafia jin #park jimim #kim namjoon #min yoogni #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #jimin #bangtan #mafia au #ot7 #bts

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Angle turns into a kitty and Chisaki gets aroused or something idk ;-; just like what happened when he turned into a cat and Angel petted him UwU

"Curse..." he said in absolutely disgust and anger as he glared down, covered nose up, at the kitty in front of him, sitting right on his desk and looking up at him with innocent (E/c)'s bright eyes before mewling at him.

He pointed at the kitty while directing his glare at both his commurates, his tone of voice completely low and threatening.

"How did this happen?" Mimic rubbed the back of his neck, making a strange sound while Chrono tried to form any words... to lead to failure.

"I will give you two good for nothing three seconds to explain what in pillars of hell happened with (Y/n), unless..." he motioned hsi hand up and overhauled his glove for a fraction of seconds before putting it back, Mimic gulping thick air as Chrono take a breath in.

"We can't exactly punish the responsible for this Overhaul, it was a kid that most probably didn't had control of their quirk."

"We were just walking then the little punk sneezed out of fucking no where and bam. We have that creature that is your partner." He pointed at the cat who just mewled again.

"... get out of my sign." The young headmaster of the yakusa sighed in irritation, pinching between his eyebrows as a form to contain his anger before he used his quirk on them.

"Apologies. Those two were suppose to protect you since I wasn't able to go. I will think of a punishment later." You mewled again, making him arch an eyebrow before he sighed again while sitting on his chair.

"I will make a cure. But for now I have things to get done." He said nonchantly as he grabbed the papers involving a bunch of exams of blood cells.

You guys know whose blood is... T-T

Although you had other plans apparently... one second that he turned his eyes away from you, you had jumped out of the desk and started to fool around on his office, making him mutter curses as he picked one vase that you almost dropped.

"(Y/n). I know you can understand me." He growled as he glared up at you on the top of the shelf "Get down. Now."

You only mewled at him, and he could have swore that even as a cat, he could see that teasing smile you always had.

"If you dont get down for good then you know I have other methods brat." He growled and you jumped right by the side of his feet and mewled at him again. "Stop complaining. Now let me work at peace."

He sighed again and returned to his chair, picking again his papers up before he flinched a bit when you popped out of no where right in front of him, sitting on his desk.

"... out." He muttered with a frow before you tapped his masked nose with your paw... he cringed so hard at that. Paws that were on the floor and dusty shelfs, touching his mask no less after.

Although in the middle of his attack you sneaked your way into his lap and curled up in a tiny ball.

His whole body was tense now. He had grew used with your touch, but this was just wrong. Why, in so many places you could have chooses, you had to lay down on HIS lap?

There's even a fucking couch on his office, for crying out loud...

He glared down at the ball of fluffy fur that for now it was his lover, aparently at peace and too much comfortable for his liking laying on his lap.

"(Y/n)." He sighed before poking one of your ears with the tip of his gloved finger "Get out from there."

Ignored. You were such a pest or this was the side effect of being turned into a feline... or even both.

He sighed out loud and layed his head in the back of his chair and accidentaly dropped his hand on your fluffy body, immediately retreading his hand away at noticing what he had just done but most importantly.

You had started to purr.

Little yet rather comfortable little vibrations came and dissapeared in one fraction of second that he had touched and retread his hand.

He arched a eyebrow down at you, curiousity taking the best of him and rolling over his mysophobia. He hesitantly placed his hand back and started to rub with his thumb right on the top of your head, feeling and hearing the soft and rather adorable purrs that came out from you.

"... huh. Interesting." He muttered, completely forgetting about the exams and paper work in front of him, focusing more on the sweet sounds as he carresed the soft furry with his gloved hand.

It passed what? Hours? Minutes? He didn't know, but he accidentally fell asleep on his own chair after some petting... waking up with a heavier weight on his lap, but just as enjoyable.

You had turned back, head tucked under his chin comfortably as you were curled around him... legs hanging from outside of his chair.

He was both relieved and shocked. You had turned back and was cured from that dicease yet was just as peaceful laying on his lap, even snuggling on his chest with a content sigh.

For some reason. He didn't had the courage of disturbing your peace... so he merely sighed and accepted his fate of sitting on his chair until you wake up.

Not even minutes of him writing and reading, you started to groan a bit and move around on his lap, until he feel one of your eyes cracking open, your eyelashes brushing over the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Well, I take that you at least had a good rest?" He muttered, changing looks with your puff eyes and smirking underneath his mask at seing the faint pink over your cheeks.

"... meow." You muttered still sleepy and snuggling on him even more as he scoffed and tsked his tongue, rolling his eyes his eyes even. But still not making any efforts to push you awake.

You were clean anyway.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #my writings #zuffer writings

[wickedmilo]

NOT SO TERRIFYING | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Metzli’s Apartment TIMING: 8:57 PM SUMMARY: Struggling to process nearly hurting Bex, Milo turns to Metzli for support WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, alcoholism tw, mentions of grooming, abuse tw, emotional abuse tw

The vampire version of sleep wasn’t something Milo usually enjoyed. Yes, it allowed for a few hours of blissful escapism, but it wasn’t the warm, comfortable escapism that Human sleep so often provided. This was cold, and clinical. A strange sense of nothingness. Sometimes it felt like he closed his eyes and lost entire days, no passing of time, no way of knowing just how long he had been dead to the world. But today, waking up as the sun began to disappear behind clouds, and the White Crest horizon, he was grateful for it. Grateful that, for a while at least, he had been able to forget the previous evening. Bex had been so ready to get drunk, so ready to have fun, but her intoxication had quickly become a rage he hadn’t seen before, there was a frenzied spark behind her eyes as she hurried into the woods, in search of someone, or something he had never heard her speak of. And then… he swallowed, the memories rushing back to him. He had never lost control like that before, never been so overwhelmed by the urge to hurt a friend. It was different to the way he had felt upon first becoming a vampire. That had been feral, and confusing, and his mind had gone utterly blank. This loss of control hadn’t just been desperate, but calculating. He hadn’t lunged for Bex to kill her, or drain her. His mind had been telling him to be careful, justifying the urge for her blood alongside the urge to protect her. It scared him to know he could think that way, could validate his own desires when they were obviously at the expense of somebody he cared about. He had text Metzli during the day, asking for their help, but now that night was falling and he was able to visit them, he didn’t feel so confident in his decision.  

He could talk to Harsh, but he didn’t want to disappoint him, and he definitely didn’t want to cause him any more trouble. After taking him in, and teaching him so much, he didn’t deserve to worry about whether his ward might be volatile, or dangerous. He could talk to Metzli too, but he was embarrassed by what had taken place, undeniably ashamed of his actions. No, Metzli was the perfect person to talk to. And he needed to talk to someone. Not only would they understand the effect fresh blood could have on a vampire, they had almost hurt Bex once too. The thought filled him with guilt. The two vampires closest to Bex had both made attempts to drink her blood, it couldn’t exactly fill her with confidence. But at least Metzli knew what he was going through, they must have faced the same inner turmoil, the same guilt, and trauma after their own attack. Picking up his phone to make sure he remembered their address, he peeked outside to make sure the sun was well and truly set before shrugging on a jacket and leaving the house. He had showered, and changed into clothes not covered in mud. But he still didn’t feel clean. His skin was itchy, his mouth dry like cotton, and his head was pounding due to the hangover he had been hoping he might be able to avoid. The blood bag in his pocket was heavy, and he wrapped both hands around it, holding it so that it wouldn’t tug down the whole front of his hoodie. He could only imagine the looks he would receive if people only knew what he was carrying. Eventually approaching what he assumed must be Metzli’s building, he let himself in and wandered the halls, taking each staircase slowly, prolonging the inevitable. When he finally reached the right apartment, he chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the door for far too long before finally knocking on it. Hesitant, and awkward. “Metzli- it’s me.”

Metzli was just in the middle of finishing up a match when Milo knocked. They had spent the day at home, only playing and doing the occasional stretch. The gallery would be fine, and the three employees they had could run it with ease. After a simple lie of going to acquire paintings out of state, they took their leave and cooped themselves up. Without even realizing it, they had begun to nest. Avoiding day to day responsibilities in order to stay isolated and do what they could to turn the negative thoughts and feelings into something different. Maybe even forget what they had learned so they didn’t have to feel this mixture of rage and agony. 

The door opened suddenly as they pulled rashly, and they put in their best mask, sewing it together with their veins. “Hey Milo, come in.” Metzli waved him in, but really Yuca was the one who prompted him to step forward when she rubbed against his legs. “Yuca. ¡Apacíguarse!” They snapped and shooed her away while Milo was greeted with a picture perfect living room.  

Yuca trotted away, beeping and meowing in a way that sounded annoyed. The reaction she gave them made them chuckle a little before returning their attention to Milo. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get us a drink.” Metzli walked over to their minibar and collected two crystal glasses and a whiskey decanter. When they were finally seated, the glasses were filled a quarter of the way and parsed out the cups between the two. “So, tell papa Metzli what’s going on.”  

Milo flinched as the door was pulled open. It was sudden, and fast, and having the one barrier between himself and Metzli removed made him feel infinitely more vulnerable. Avoiding eye contact with them, he crossed the threshold after being invited in, immediately hit by a familiar scent. “Is Bex here?” His voice was sharp as he became concerned by the fact that his friend might be present. He wasn’t ready to face her just yet, he was barely ready to face himself. But it quickly became clear the scent was a remnant, the only heartbeat he could hear belonged to the cat rubbing against his legs. He offered the animal a weak smile, his expression slipping back to one of forlorn self-pity as Metzli hurried to shoo their pet away from him. For a brief moment, Yuca had been a welcome distraction. Finally looking up, begrudgingly catching Metzli’s eye, he walked further into the room at their instruction, heading towards the couch. He stopped before sitting down, reaching into his pocket to pull out the blood bag. “Speaking of…” He muttered, waiting for Metzli’s attention so that he could throw the bag to them from where he was standing. “Enjoy.”  

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, pulling off his jacket to throw over the armrest closest to him, he fell back onto the cushions with a huff of breath. His shoulders hunched, it didn’t take very long for him to slip down into them, slouching as though maybe he could hide from his problems if only he made himself small enough. Waiting patiently, he listened to Metzli ready two drinks, focusing on the quiet sounds so he wouldn’t be forced to contemplate the reason for his visit. The smell of alcohol wafted towards him on a barely existent draft, and as his drink was poured, he reached out eagerly for the glass. Tapping his fingers against the side of it, grateful to have something to do with his hands, he shrugged, attempting to look casual, and unaffected. “I still don’t know if this is a good idea.” He admitted. “If I even…” But he did want to talk about it, whether he wanted to admit that to himself or not. That much was made clear by the fact that he had considered who to talk to, had messaged the best person to console him, and walked to their apartment the moment he was able to. Why did everything have to be so difficult? “Last night was just... really fucking shit.” He said finally, a frown creasing his brow at the understatement. “And I don’t know what to do- I don’t know how to feel. And I thought maybe- maybe you would understand.” 

Metzli wiggled their fingers in overly excited anticipation. It had been a few days since their last meal so they quickly took the blood bag from Milo’s hands. Their teeth punctured to holes and they took a few gulps as Milo spoke. His voice was filled with regret, guilt built up from what had transpired between him and Bex. An all too familiar sound, but this time it wasn’t Metzli that was the source of it. “Why did you try to bite her anyway? You didn’t want to kill her, that’s obvious.” A pointed statement, an unnecessary one. Milo knew why he wanted to talk about it, but Metzli didn’t.  

They could relate in a way, but they couldn’t connect with the true feelings of what they had done easily. If they thought of it passively, there wasn’t a single regret, not one morsel. But if they thought long enough, and played the images in their head, they could practically grab the regret and through the walls of soullessness.  

“I guess I might understand. But the two times I bit Bex…she volunteered once, and the second time…I wanted to kill her. Well—I wanted to want to kill her.” 

Milo watched as Metzli tore into the blood bag with their teeth. He was too used to pouring his blood into mugs, heating it in the microwave to mimic body temperature. He could only assume if his friend was drinking it cold, without any kind of hesitation, that they were thirsty. He remembered them mentioning an arrangement with somebody they knew. Were they still getting regular meals? Or were they starving again? He chose not to ask, too worried about what the answer to his question might be. His frown deepening as Metzli decided to forgo small talk, usually he would be grateful, but he almost found himself longing for it now. He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Of course I didn’t want to kill her.” He couldn’t stop himself from sounding defensive, offended by the thought even though he knew, deep down, it was a valid concern. “I was… I was scared.” He admitted, his voice quiet as he lowered his gaze. He stared at the glass in his hands, at the alcohol inside of it. Fear felt like a good place to start. “We were drunk too, I was- I was so drunk, Metzli… Bex ran into the forest. I followed her and there were these- these creatures. I think she knew what they were, but not well. I’ve never seen anything like them before. She was bleeding, I can’t remember why. I think while we were trying to escape the creatures I was distracted. I knew I wanted her blood but it wasn’t my priority, you know? I could ignore that feeling…” He trailed off, taking a long drink so that he had a moment to collect his thoughts. The alcohol burned, and he relished the sensation. Hopefully it would chase away his hangover.  

“And then the creatures left… it was like everything that was distracting me disappeared at the same time. The fear, and panic, and adrenaline. Everything was just… gone. All that was left was her blood. So I-” He broke off again, blinking tears from his eyes. He wasn’t sure when they had formed, and he reached up to brush them away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. “I didn’t know that could happen.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I know if we don’t eat, we can be dangerous… but I drink a lot of blood, more than I need to. And I didn’t realise I could still lose control like that. I wasn’t trying to kill her, but doesn’t that make it worse? Because I kind of knew what I was doing, I was trying to rationalise it.” Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping now that he had said what he needed to say, he was hoping it would feel like a weight had been lifted. But if anything, he only felt more miserable. The second time I… I wanted to kill her. His heart dropped, an uncomfortable sensation now that he no longer had a heartbeat, a constant sense of movement inside his chest. Maybe Metzli couldn’t understand. Maybe this entire endeavour was pointless. He finished what was left of his drink, pushing himself to stand. “Forget it.” He muttered, swiping his jacket from the arm rest. “Forget it, this was stupid. I shouldn’t have come.” 

With the blood bag depleted, Metzli threw it on the coffee table and grabbed their drink. “Milo, look…” They leaned back cooly into the couch, enjoying the cold sensation of the untouched  leather. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a predator. And Bex, she’s your prey. You’re still relatively new to being a vampire. Blood is blood and when the animalistic side of our brain registers it, it’s like it turns off every humane sense in us.” Memories of when they tried to kill Bex plagued their mind, and they bit their lip, hard. “That side does get easier to manage though. When I bit Bex, I was able to let go. I was even able to have her blood smeared on me and able to clean it up. It just takes time.”  

Metzli looked softly at Milo but was quickly distracted by Yuca leaping onto the couch for attention. Always for attention. She purred loudly and pushed her head into Milo’s chest, basically begging him to pet her. Regardless of how cute she was being, they continued, “It’s natural to crave it, it’s who we are. It’s ingrained in us. My recommendation? Until you’re able to suppress that side, take to biting your own hand or arm,” they paused, taking a sip of the whiskey before continuing. “Pain usually overloads the senses enough to stop everything else. It’s what I do when I’m fighting for control. It’s what I did when Bex practically begged me to take her blood when I was starving myself. And if a piece of shit like me can stop themselves, so can you.” 

Milo glared at Metzli, partially because he didn’t enjoy being spoken to as though he was missing something obvious. Partially due to the fact that they were undeniably making a lot of sense. Just because he chose to navigate around the bloodlust, and aggressive instincts, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. His body and mind had been changed, even if he hated the idea, even if the idea made him uncomfortable. He had been carefully designed to see humans as food because… well, they were food. “But I wasn’t hungry.” He stated again, as though that alone could erase what had taken place. He wasn’t hungry, so he had no reason to lose control. Why couldn’t it be that simple? He could hear the desperation in his own voice, hear how hard he was trying to move past his guilt, but he was too tired to hide his emotion. Metzli already knew he was upset, they could probably read him as well as Macleod given how much time they had spent together. “I don’t want it to take time. I don’t want to feel like- like some ticking time bomb that could get triggered the moment somebody gets hurt. If I can’t trust myself then… then how is anybody else going to trust me? How is Bex going to trust me, Metzli?”  

Falling silent, he felt fresh tears begin to sting at his eyes as he welcomed the sudden appearance of Yuca. The cat settled the anxiety in his chest, and he reached out to scratch her ears as she clambered onto his lap. She butted his palm with her head, rubbing against him without any concern for her safety. “I should bite myself?” He echoed. Maybe once upon a time the thought would have felt barbaric, and animalistic. Now, given his natural desire to lead with his teeth, it made an awful lot of sense. He secretly hoped there would never come a time where the strategy would become necessary, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood just how possible it was. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” He murmured, staring down at Yuca so that he could avoid making eye contact with his friend. “I think you’re a good person.” 

Metzli understood that fear, that panic to get a sense of control over something so clearly out of reach. The anger that came, not only at the person who caused it all, the sire, but yourself too. Because now that the sire is gone, all that is left is you. You’re left with this slice of life with nothing sweet on the side. Left to figure skate alone on thin ice. But Milo didn’t have to be alone. Not if Metzli figured out how to be there. “I think you just need to accept what you are now, Milo. Stop hating what you are and accept yourself. All of it. The blood, the instincts, the senses, all of it. You’re still you, depresso.” They put as much energy as they could muster in the words, feeling a little dejected and tired from their own troubles.  

“Bex hasn’t lost her trust in you. She still trusts you. And cares about you. She has accepted you before you have.” Metzli stated, as if it was obvious enough for everyone to see. “I tried to kill her and when I had a panic attack at that very moment, she checked on me.” A scoff slipped past their lips at the memory, and a pang of something made their face fall into a small frown. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s gonna take a little bit of time and practice. You’ll get there, though.” They waved dismissively at the compliment and stretched before pouring more whiskey in both glasses and propping their feet onto their coffee table.  

“Oh, neat. They’re healing faster now. Thanks for the blood.” Metzli referred to the bite marks on their thighs. With Milo being current company, they laughed and got excited at the potential to gross him out.  

Milo chewed on his bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time somebody had told him to accept his vampirism as a part of himself. Maybe one day he would get there, he had definitely stopped mourning for everything he had lost, stopped focusing on what he missed so that he could pay more attention to the present. And it was becoming more familiar, more steadily normal. But not easy. Not yet. “I don’t know how.” He admitted, feeling small, and helpless. At a loss of what else he could say. He appreciated the way Metzli was speaking, they were no longer reminding him of how illogical his thoughts could be. Instead they were comforting him in the way they knew he needed to be comforted. “I know I’m still me…” His voice was quiet as he thought back on the first conversation he had ever shared with Harsh. Harsh had been one of the only people to tell him that, to tell him no matter what happened he was still the same Milo Summers. Finally looking up again at the mention of Bex, there was no doubt in his mind that Metzli was right. But he didn’t want to believe them because he didn’t deserve forgiveness, or understanding, or trust. Not from Bex, not from the person he was supposed to protect.  

“Was she here?” He asked, still able to detect her scent. It clung to the furniture, briefly becoming stronger each time he shifted in his seat. “Did she tell you that?” A weak smile tugging at his lips as Yuca finally curled up to sleep, he focused on the warmth of their body, how unconditionally loving she was. “She ran- I don’t know if she told you that. She couldn’t even look at me, she just… ran.” His heart ached as he considered how scared she must have been. How jarring was it to escape danger, to feel the crushing sense of relief that came with the knowledge of being safe, only to realise there was a new danger? An unexpected danger that you could never hope to be prepared for?   

Ignoring Metzli as they poured him another drink, he became momentarily distracted by their comment, glancing up at them to see what they were referring to. It was only as they lifted their legs that he noticed the bite marks littering their inner thighs. It took him all of two seconds to realise Macleod was the one to leave them there, and he wrinkled his nose, unable to help himself. “Jeez, you guys have issues.” He muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re like teenagers… you need to fucking chill.” 

“Practice then,” Metzli began, a voice full of experience and history. “You’re scared of your own existence. And you have every right to be. We’re deadly creatures. We drink the lives of humans and can do it before they even react. You know what that feral feeling is now. Use it.” They stared at Yuca, taking a second to listen to her purr. Two monsters in a room and she felt safe. That had to mean something. “Use that experience and take control of the beast. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. And I think you love Bex a lot more than you are scared of your inner beast.” This, too, was familiar. The control that Metzli lacked after being turned. Nearly killing the last of the survivors when they went to check on the ruins of their village. Impossible wasn’t an option then, and it isn’t one now for Milo either. Success was akin to effort and chance, that it felt so close to being in range. 

“She was here, yeah. After what happened, she came straight here and spent the night. I could smell her outside the building and wanted her blood so badly. But I…I love her more than I do blood and managed to patch her up and let her fall asleep on me.” Metzli smiled softly at the recollection, but tensed soon after, feeling vulnerable and exposed for saying such a thing. “I—uh, she, yeah. She left the next morning and was fine. Just a little scraped and tired.” 

Eager to move on, Metzli raised their crop top and revealed several more bite marks on their abdomen and neck. “You should see your mom. She gets a lot more, but she heals a lot faster. Look, it’s not her fault she can’t feel as much. We gotta do what we gotta do.” The vampire gave Milo a toothy grin, hoping he wouldn’t remark on the proclamation they just gave only moments prior. 

“I’m not scared.” Milo bit out, knowing even as he spoke the words that they were incredibly untrue. It was obvious to him, and undoubtedly obvious to Metzli, but he refused to correct himself. Maybe if he said them with enough conviction they would become true. Maybe if he didn’t take them back then he could manifest them. Still focusing on Yuca, allowing the cat to distract him from the true weight of the conversation, he was surprised to find Metzli was making a lot of sense. When you were familiar with a sensation, you had more hope of controlling it, or at the very least recognising its triggers. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. A sigh escaping him, he nodded in response. He did love Bex, he loved Bex more than he had ever been expecting to. Something told him his company might relate to that. Maybe he had spent too much time running from what he was, and not enough time breaking it down, learning about every aspect and element of his new being. 

A gentle smile tugging at his lips, he tried to imagine Metzli sitting with Bex curled up in their lap. It was a strange image, given what he knew of the vampire, but a very welcome one. It made him wonder whether they liked him more than they let on. They always made such a show of not caring, but maybe to some degree it was just that; A show. “She was okay?” He asked, unable to hide how desperate he was for the assurance. “Really?” Not realising he had been leaning forward in his seat, he fell back against the cushions again, letting out a petulant groan at the sudden change of subject. “You gotta do what you gotta do but that doesn’t mean you gotta tell me about it.” He teased, feeling his mood begin to brighten as they fell back into their usual habits. He wasn’t used to being so vulnerable with Metzli, and he was so tired. Both mentally, and physically. “I already have enough trauma, I don’t need you two adding to it.” 

Their eyes couldn’t roll any harder if they tried. But Metzli wouldn’t remark on Milo’s fib. He wasn’t just lying to Metzli, but he was lying to himself too. They understood. It was a practice they had mastered themselves. “She was okay. Just a little panicky. By the time morning came, she was a lot better and even had some breakfast. She’s okay, Milo. Worried about you, even. It sounds crazy, I know. But like I said, she’s accepted what you are before you even could.”  

On their third glasses, they didn’t even bother to sip it, simply throwing their head back to practically inhale the drink. As they poured another glass, Metzli locked eyes with Milo, “I recommend getting in touch with her. ‘Cause right now, you’re more scared of you than she is of you. And next time, you’ll be better prepared. I've been a vampire a long time. A soulless one at that. If I can learn, so can you.” A reassuring energy covered their words, actually finding a source of genuine fondness for Milo. They saw a lot of themselves, their self that had a soul as a vampire for a few weeks, in him.  

“What, you gonna go tattle to her? Again?” Metzli laughed and let their head fall back onto the couch. “I think I’m actually starting to really like her. Her and I are actually gonna go on an actual date on Friday. Oh! Speaking of,” they paused, sipping on the whiskey. “I’m heading out of town on Saturday. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. You think you can come by Saturday night to feed Yuca? No problem if you can’t.” 

Milo narrowed his eyes, not failing to notice Metzli’s response. But they didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have enough energy to try and start an argument. Not when they had been so understanding, not when they were genuinely trying to help him. He felt the guilt in his chest flare at the mention of Bex being panicked, but he reminded himself that said information wasn’t new. She had run from him, of course she was panicked. What truly mattered was how she felt once she was safe, whether she was scared of him, or angry, or anxious. A quiet laugh of disbelief escaping him, he shook his head, as always intrigued, and amazed by his friend’s ability to forgive. Metzli was right. Bex knew he was a vampire, and she knew what that meant for their dynamic. He was the one who was struggling to accept the truth. Quickly finishing what was left in his glass so that he could encourage Metzli to refill it, he relished the buzz of the alcohol he had already consumed. It was warming his fingertips, relaxing his tense muscles.  

“Yeah, I guess…” He agreed, resigning himself to what he was being told. Metzli knew better. And though they weren’t the type to bring up their age gap, they were older. They had been doing this for far longer. He really should be listening to them, he really should be taking in what they were trying to teach him. “She text me…” He admitted, swallowing as he thought about the reply he still owed her. It was so difficult to know what to say. Hallmark didn’t sell ‘sorry I tried to drink your blood’ cards, and even if they did it wouldn’t feel like enough. His smile slipping back into place, he stuck out his tongue. “Maybe…” He countered, pleased for the lighthearted topic. “Although you’re a bad influence. It probably won’t be long before she starts doing this shit too, and then who’s going to get mad when people punch me in the face?” Shifting in his seat, curious to hear what Metzli was going to ask him, he was shocked to realise they wanted him to take care of Yuca, and he could only assume their apartment by extension. “What? Why?” He felt suddenly concerned. It was strange that they were leaving with no idea of how long they might be gone for. “What are you- I mean, where are you going?” 

The effects of the alcohol were visible on Milo. He relaxed and began to genuinely listen to Metzli’s words, which they didn’t expect him to do. As someone who rarely listened to anyone else, they never felt offended when someone didn’t listen to them. That’s why when Milo half heartedly agreed, it didn’t really incite a reaction. There wasn’t one that needed to be executed. Moving on, they tipped the decanter towards Milo’s cup and poured. It was halfway gone now, but there was no buzz to be found yet.  

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to get mad. Or maybe both of us. But I don’t know. It’s probably best we just stay fuck buddies. I’ve never done the whole relationship thing and don’t plan to. Connections like that are dangerous.” Metzli thought out loud, practically rambling. Shaking their head, they managed to refocus and look at Milo as he questioned them. They wondered if they should tell him the truth. But if they were to not return, they thought it best that they did. At least, for Yuca’s sake. “I’ll pay you. I only plan on being gone two, maybe three days. Uh…” There was a loud gulp as they chucked the rest of their glass back and poured another. The tingling and warmth finally come to the forefront of their senses. “My sire, my master, he uh…he found me. Sent some clan members to spy on me and feed him info. So I’m gonna go find the hideout and rip them apart.”  

Fear and rage mixed together like oil and water. It didn’t work. They wanted so desperately for them to mix so they could use them both as motivation. But fear won in the end. What their face showed though, was nothing but composure. Not having a heartbeat was a saving grace. One brought out of hellish actions and not a prayer. “And don’t worry, I got backup. Bex was already on my ass about it.” 

“I don’t want either of you to get mad.” Something Milo definitely wouldn’t have said out loud if he had been sober, but he also didn’t regret his words. They were true. Metzli, and Macleod had both been integral parts of his life as a vampire. He didn’t know where he would be without them. The thought of them getting upset, or arguing made him nervous, which was ridiculous really. As much as he liked to joke, they weren’t actually his parents. “Yeah, me neither…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. It was something he was being forced to consider a lot, as of late, and not a topic he was entirely comfortable with. He always told himself he didn’t need a relationship, he was more than happy on his own. He was saving himself a lot of trouble by avoiding them, but what if it wasn’t that simple? The way his heart ached for Orion told him that he might be lying to himself. Jeez, why hadn’t he just kissed him? 

“Dangerous why? Because people could get hurt?” He asked, wondering what logic Metzli was using. Maybe it was a similar brand to his own. He opened his mouth, confused about the offer of payment. He knew he should insist otherwise, tell Metzli he didn’t need their money. But truthfully, he was never somebody to turn down payment, not when his habits were so undeniably expensive. “I- okay.” He agreed, watching them as they seemed to search for courage at the bottom of their glass. Only when they spoke again did he understand why. “What?” His voice was so sharp that Yuca stirred, staring up at him as though daring him to interrupt her slumber. “Metzli, what the fuck- isn’t he like, the biggest asshole on the planet? Can’t you just- I don’t know, lay low for a while?” He spluttered, sitting upright, on edge again despite his intoxication. Yuca gave up on a comfortable perch, standing slowly before jumping from his lap, realising he was no longer going to sit still for her. “Metzli, backup or no backup, you can’t just take down a bunch of vampires. Even I know that.” 

Metzli chuckled and shook their head as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Connections like romantic relationships are dangerous because I’m a monster, Milo. Though I enjoy it most of the time, even I know things like me don’t get that romantic ending. And I’ve never cared for one anyway.” Their glass of whiskey was quickly depleted and they stared off into nothing, losing focus and watching as their vision blurred. Everything was so muffled while they got lost in their distant stare. But Milo managed to reel them back in with his questions and concerns.  

“Chill. I know how master works. He’s gathering intel right now, and I need to get rid of his little crew so he gets blinded for a while. It’ll buy me time to figure things out. Macleod is actually the one coming with. She said she’s an expert at ripping heads off, so I figured she was my best bet.” Metzli explained further and motioned for Milo to calm down. Confidence radiated from their body language, knowing that they could handle themselves from years of experience. “I’ve taken down multiple groups of vampires, kid. I’ll be fine. Please just focus on Yuca.” A half-hearted smile formed subtly on their face and they sighed. The signs of stress were making themselves evident, but they knew they had to be strong. 

With a pat to Milo’s shoulder, Metzli looked straight into his eyes and began, “I promise I’ll be fine.” A grimace flashed over their face and they gagged dramatically. “Yeesh. That felt weird to say. Just tell me to fuck off and die so I know it’s real.” 

Milo sat in silence, watching Metzli as they explained their stance, their words cutting through him sharper than any knife ever could. Had he missed his chance? Had he spent so long insisting he didn’t need romance in his life that the moment for it had entirely passed him by? He thought of Evelyn and Miriam, of Bex and Mina. They were supernatural, and they had found ways to navigate their love for each other. Evidently it was possible. “Does that mean I don’t get one either?” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He didn’t want to admit the longing he suddenly felt, but it was true that you only knew how much you wanted something when it became impossible, when somebody actively took it away from you. “Things like us…” He corrected, a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been present until hearing the way Metzli spoke. They weren’t people, they were things. Monsters undeserving of affection. His frown only deepening as the conversation moved back to Metzli’s clan, he let out a frustrated huff of breath.  

“You still call him master... do you realise how fucked up that is?” He asked, unable to help himself. The dark mood settling over him was making it difficult to stay calm. His gentle tone wasn’t easy to maintain. “You’re going to take him on and you still call him master. How do you know you won’t falter when you see him, Metzli? How do you know he isn’t going to get inside your head again?” Feeling a spark of relief upon realising Macleod would be accompanying his friend, if any two people could take on a clan, it would be Macleod and Metzli, fighting together, side by side. “She’s definitely your best bet.” He begrudgingly agreed, making it clear he still wasn’t happy about the idea. “Yeah, you’ve done it before, but I doubt any of those vampires ever groomed you.” Glancing down at Yuca, who was carefully cleaning her paws on the floor at his feet, he couldn’t deny the affection he had for the animal. “I’ll take care of Yuca… obviously.” He muttered, looking back up to hold Metzli’s gaze as they leaned forward to pat him on the shoulder. Their words comforted him, but he knew he couldn’t count on them, so he shrugged them off, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “You can’t make that promise, and you shouldn’t. If you hadn’t made that ridiculous promise to Mina, Bex and I wouldn’t have gone out and none of this would have happened.” He tried to stay angry, tried to cling to his resentment, but a smile was soon tugging at his lips in spite of his best efforts. A few seconds passed before he finally gave into it. “I’m not telling you to fuck off and die, asshole. I want you to come back.” 

“I never said you were a monster, idiot.” Metzli eyed Milo carefully and with soft eyes. “I said monsters like me. I was a monster well before I became a vampire.” They looked away, as if Milo was too bright and they needed to avert their gaze to protect their sight. “You and I couldn’t be any more different despite what we are.” A darkness fogged over Metzli’s eyes and they furrowed their brow, showing brief signs of despair. Erasing the signs with whiskey, this sucked their teeth and begrudgingly sipped on their drink more. How many times did they have to explain? How many more people did they have to tell? It was becoming monotonous.  

Just as more words formed on their tongue, Milo struck them with the flick of his own tongue. Do you know how fucked up that is? Metzli indeed knew how fucked up it was. If it were Milo, if they had the capacity to empathize, they would’ve slaughtered Eloy immediately. Could someone, could multiple people have that ability for them? The answer was yes, but that wasn’t something they were letting themselves believe. Not when people leave so readily. “I don’t know that. I don’t. But I have to kill him. Myself. He took everything from me. I have to try. It has to be by my hands. And I need more time l—more time to get stronger and make a plan.” The unsteady momentum of their voice was prominent, but they hoped they could break from the coffin of terror they had been nailed shut in.  

“That’s surprising. Don’t know why you’d want me to come back. Figured you’d want Yuca all to yourself.” A slow, wry smile tugged onto their lips and they propped their elbows onto their knees as they leaned forward. “I’m not gonna make stupid promises anymore. If I make a promise, it’s because I mean it. I got shit to do. So, I promise I’m coming back.”

Milo continued to frown, tapping absentmindedly at the side of his glass as he thought on Metzli’s words. “I don’t believe that.” He said finally, mustering all of his conviction so that they would know he was being entirely serious. “Not for a second.” Waiting for them to look up at him so that he could pointedly hold their gaze, he couldn’t help but notice their expression. Just how lost they looked. He wasn’t used to seeing Metzli so vulnerable. He wondered whether he ever looked the same way to them. “We are different, but that doesn’t make me good or you bad… it only means that we’re- well, that we’re different.” Not the most eloquent of speakers, even sober, with the alcohol in his system he could only hope his muddled sentence was enough to convey his sentiment. He had done some pretty terrible things, and so had Metzli. But he also knew Metzli had done some wonderful things, things to help others, and make the world a better place. Whether they believed that or not, it was true.  

Not expecting such honesty in response to his comment, he fell silent, scared by his friend’s admission. If they did falter, they would die. They had to know that. Part of him wondered whether they really cared. They had spoken about death before in such a casual way. They seemed to hold no value for their own life, only ever the lives of others. “I know- I get that.” He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to validate any of what they were saying, but they deserved honesty too. It was the very least he could do for them, all things considered. “I just don’t want to lose you… and I know there are other people who don’t want to lose you. You’re not bad company, you know?” Offering Metzli a weak smile, unable to hide how worried he was about their mission, he patted his lap at the mention of Yuca, knowing the cat was eyeing him from where they were sitting in the centre of the room. It didn’t take long for the animal to approach, apparently forgiving him for disturbing her earlier. She clambered back up onto his legs, purring, and butting her head against his chest in a desperate bid for attention. “I do want her to myself.” He agreed, his smile growing, becoming stronger, and more genuine. “But something tells me she might try and eat Summer and Quinn so I guess she’ll just have to stay here with you.” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, it was comforting to be so accepted by an animal. There was something so pure about their affection. “I’m going to hold you to that promise…” He said, his voice quiet, and pensive. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” 

Metzli’s eyes closed briefly, trying to take in Milo’s words in a way that wouldn’t break them completely. First Bex, then Milo, and now even Macleod showed them compassion and care in a way that they had never experienced. Never even hoped to experience. How did someone so vile and monstrous manage to have that happen? “You don’t have to believe that, Milo. But, I do.” They stood up suddenly, becoming acutely aware of the preparations they needed to make before they left town for a few days. Keys jingled from a key ring that hung by the front door, and Metzli sat down while simultaneously dropping the key into Milo’s lap. “You’re gonna need this,” They pressed their lips into a thin line and then finally rolled their eyes. Somehow, they had managed to settle back into a more relaxed deposition. “Well, you can’t have Yuca, and I’m definitely coming back. And don’t say cringey shit like that. Lose me? Come on, get real.” 

A hand pressed against Milo’s arm and shoved him playfully, making everything that much more light-hearted. Metzli didn’t like the seriousness that had taken over the conversation on their part. But they supposed that both vampires needed this. Needed to not feel so alone, and maybe find the answers to the internal questions that they didn’t dare say aloud. “Are you feeling better?” Their voice had a candor of annoyance, but that was only a show. Truthfully, it was more to find out whether or not they were getting better at their own version of compassion. To see if they were capable of making things better despite not being a whole person.  

“You can stay here tonight. But I gotta go check on my gallery and make some final arrangements. All my alcohol better be here when I get back. Actually—” Metzli rose once again from the couch and went to their liquor cabinet to lock it. “There. No you have to only survive on the rest of that whiskey if you stay here.” 

“Well, I know it isn’t true, and that’s what actually matters.” Milo countered easily. He wasn’t about to let Metzli get away with talking so negatively, especially not about themself. He knew if the roles were reversed, they would all but bite his head off in an attempt to get him to stop. Watching curiously as they jumped to their feet, it soon became clear what they were doing, and he hurried to catch the keys. It was strange, holding physical proof of Metzli’s plan. It made everything feel more real, and the anxiety in his chest seemed to triple in a matter of seconds. “I’m allowed to be cringe. Let me be cringe.” He muttered, trying to hide his concern. It wouldn’t benefit either of them, and he didn’t want to make things any harder than they needed to be. Despite his nerves, a laugh managed to escape him when Metzli playfully shoved him, and he grinned when Yuca glared up at him, clearly worried he was going to move again. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her, gently running his fingers through her fur. “I’m not going anywhere.” She made a soft sound in response, and if he didn’t know better he would say she had understood his words.  

His smile faded at Metzli’s question as he was reminded of the reason for his visit, but it didn’t disappear. “You’re right.” He said, forcing himself to be open. It was difficult to admit but he didn’t want them to leave thinking he didn’t trust them with his feelings. “I am scared of myself. Sometimes I- I’m really fucking terrified.” He exhaled, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking again. “But I have you, right? And you make everything… you make everything not so terrifying.” His grin firmly back in place at the mention of taking their alcohol, his expression fell when he realised they planned to lock their liquor cabinet. Apparently they were being serious. “No fair.” He pouted. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just told me.” But he was teasing. He was done lying to himself, and done lying to Metzli, at least for the evening. And their company was a comfort, it made him feel almost normal, as though his problems weren’t miriad, and entirely overwhelming. “I guess I’ll be here when you get back then.” He offered them a smile, his eyes shining with open affection. “Unless you need any help with your gallery?” 

Milo’s words forced Metzli to look away and act like they were just calmly grabbing their keys. You make everything not so terrifying. Being a source of comfort never seemed possible, and it felt good to finally be doing something right for a change. Pretending to sift through some papers for just a few seconds longer, they closed their eyes tightly and composed themselves enough to appear` normal. “I guess you do have me. For now. If you get too clingy, though, I’m gone.” Tone was teasing and obviously playful. Taking a few strides to the back of the couch, they tousled Milo’s hair and chuckled lightly.  

“You won’t need to come again until Saturday night, so just let yourself out before I get home in the morning. Unless you wanna see some freaky shit.”  

Metzli walked to the door and grabbed a few more things before opening it and pausing before stepping out. “Thanks for helping me out. And...I’m glad I was able to help a little bit. I’ll see you soon, okay? Try not to wreck my apartment.” The door closed slowly and their steps receded down the hallway. The connections they were making were growing in number. And while it was only a handful, it was far more than Metzli had ever dreamed of having. It scared them, having this much to lose with their former master so close to taking everything away. But they thought maybe that’s what made it worth fighting for. They just had to fear failure, and nothing else. 

#alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #grooming tw #abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #milo and metzli #c:metzli

[punk-in-metal-detector]

So since Halloween is around the corner I want to share this scary story that happened to me recently. 

So at the time all highschools and colleges in my country were closed due to corona but the rest was open so my sibling was at school, my parents and work and my grandparents were coincidentally away too, no biggie just normal stuff but then the fun began. So we have two cats that my granpa puts outside every morning and they have to wait for someone to let them in when they want to go in and since I was home alone there was no one to do so, so logically they both were outside but then I hear fucking meowing from the hall (also important to say, my room is in the basement) which was super weird because they were out right? And at first I thought that I imagined it but few minutes later I heard it again and again and I know exactly which of the two cat it was, it was that acurate and ngl I was shiting myself and my mom was supposed to came home in two goddamned hours! 

So after a lot of time spent calling with my friend because I was too scared to be alone with that sound I decided to go see what the fuck was happening and by unearthly luck when I opened my door I heard the front door opening too because surprise surprise my mother came home earlier! So yeah I’m pretty sure my mom saved me from getting eaten by some mimic trying to lure me by imitating the sounds of my cat

Happy Halloween  guys!

#spooky #creepypasta #cryptidcore #cryptid #monster #mimic #demon #ghost #haunted #scary story #scary stories #scary #Halloween #also watching Annihilation just few days afterward pretty much fucked me up #those of you who've seen it probably know why and for those of you who haven't definitely go watch it it's a great movie #ok to be honest there's a part to this story that I left out #actually later on I checked the room where we leave our cats overnight and they were in there.... #yeah my grandpa just let them in that day becase it was too cold or the fuck I know why #and I was too scared to go check.. #I'm a dumbass #but it's quit cool story to tell isn't it? #especially since there's this joke running among me and my friends that our basement is haunted by this demon I call Frank #and since two of my friends that I go to school with follow me on here I really hope they don't know how tags on Tumblr are used #to write continuings of post or otherwise I'm never gonna get rid of this #so if you two ever read the ending of this please shut the fuck up

[twisted-nox-sidus]

Hello there, I’ve just read your headcannon of Strix trolling the Octavinelle trio. LOL. Thank you for the laughs. Since April fool’s day is coming. If you have the time, can you do a scenario where Strix trolls the other dorms with the help of her dream eaters. If you can include Malleus, it’s okay. If not, I understand. Thank you and stay safe.

Anon continued: Hi there, during my previous post, I was asking whether or not Malleus would join Strix’s trolling in trolling the other dorms since April Fools is coming. Oh! I almost forgot, can Grim and Lilia join with Strix in trolling. Thank you and have a good day or night.

Oof, doing six other dorms is a lot in one post, so I’ll keep things condensed, hence the headcanon format (sorry if you really wanted a scenario version!). I see Malleus and Lilia as types to watch for entertainment than directly take part in it. Strix left Grim out of her plans since he himself is chaotic already. It was time for her to assume the lead and let it out, at least for the day.

It’s come to my attention that I like doing headcanons of Strix and her dream eaters, so I plan on doing more headcanons/scenarios involving the pesky but cute spirits. They don’t stop here so look forward to it! Happy April Fool’s~

Heartslabyul

Heartslabyul could handle strange things more so than any other dorms. Just not anything against the crimson tyrant’s 810 rules.

“WHO PAINTED THE ROSE MAZE BLUE?!!!”

Riddle’s face fumes as red as his hair. Not a single trace of red is found! There was only blue as far as the eye can see.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater were rendered speechless by the sight. Just...wow. They’re not even dreading the culprit’s fate at Riddle’s mercy; instead they’re impressed with the feat. Such commitment!

Meanwhile Ace was resisting from bursting in a fit of laughter. That madwoman actually did it! She even casually remarked about doing such a feat but no one had paid her words seriously. Bravo! Bra-freaking-vo!

Ah, speaking of...

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face, Strix! You must be begging for your head to roll! This is defying the Queen of Hearts herself! Repaint every single rose -by yourself- until all is red!”

“Sheesh, let’s not get a rage stroke. You’re still so young...” Strix nonchalantly yawns. “I wanted to surprise you so I spent the whole night painting every rose blue. Of course, I had a helping hand with me.”

She vaguely gestured to the dream spirit hiding behind her leg. Me Me Bunny’s ears act as another pair of hands, and this cutie is quite dextrous; it also knows “bun fu”.

“Oh you surprised me all right. [Surprise] is only an understatement!”

A sigh. “You don’t get it, Riddle. Think of it this way. Blue makes the red stand out. Then the only red rose we’ll see...is you, my queen.”

She leans forward to slip a strand of Riddle’s velvet red locks between her fingers and graze her lips on them. Her half-lidded bright blue eyes gaze into his steel gray pair. Perhaps she was still under the drowsy spell to comprehend what she was doing, though a part of her was knowingly teasing.

Riddle stared wide-eyed. His cheeks flushed in a different meaning this time.

She pulls back to give space and turns the other way.

“Plus, contrary to your words, I think you actually like my surprise. It’s certainly not boring. And it’ll only be for today.”

Strix flashed a lazy grin his way.

“Happy April Fool’s~”

Savanaclaw

Strix’s dream eaters are quirky, adorable, and colorful spirits. Jack often questions their capabilities. What can little prey do to the brawny hotheads of Savanaclaw?

A lot.

One day Strix was on patrol. Jack had been keeping an eye as she works part-time as the “cleaner” of Savanaclaw. Just how much power can she draw from these familiars? It was a test for Strix to see if she can meet the standards of a respectable magician in this academy.

Meanwhile Ruggie anticipates something interesting will happen. Strix’s dream eaters are an enigmatic force to reckon with. He himself certainly doesn’t plan on confronting them since that’s not what he signed up for as vice dorm leader.

The hyena snickered his trademark laugh. What mayhem will the prefect student do?

Strix had to break up a fight for the nth time this week. Things happened, and one of the students said something that forced Strix to deal her hand.

Instead of commanding her eagle and hawk to attack, she summoned a single chubby cat/dog hybrid with stubby legs. It doesn’t look like a clever beast.

Aww, look at it roll around and paw at air for affection while its pink tongue stuck out. They’re going to die of cuteness.

Strix blankly stared ahead. “Meow Wow... Balloon.”

Said spirit stood on all four legs and stopped wagging. Every onlooker watched as it inflated in size. It continued to grow and grow until no one could see the light of day. It was then everyone thought it’d be wise to run from immediate vicinity.

However it was too late when Meow Wow deflated in puffy smoke and sparkles, drowning its victims along with the plume of clouds.

Jack and Ruggie watched from a platform above where they could see the area in action.

“Magic familiar tamers have unique strengths...” Was what Jack concluded. A hawk and eagle’s cries pierce the sky.

Ruggie rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s be real; in this world, birds are a real hassle. As long as you don’t make an enemy of them...”

Strix was already gone by the time Meow Wow inflated. Her eagle dream spirit now willingly massive in size acted as her glider and transporter. Strix’s body dangled as she clung tightly to her Eaglider’s talons until it settled her on the balcony of a dorm room. Eaglider flew to patrol elsewhere alongside Halbird, the hawk dream eater.

Sitting on a chair was Leona playing with a chess piece in his hand. A chessboard was already set up on the table, the black side facing him.

“Enjoying your job, aren’t you.”

Strix allowed a sheepish smirk. She’s not exactly proud to engage in cleaning up people’s messes, but there’s the thrill she finds in it. “To be honest, yeah. I think I might be a sadist at this point...” She mumbled under her breath and continued, “Sorry for the wait. Let’s start.”

Scarabia

“Jamil, a rainbow fish is swimming through the skies!”

“Nonsense. There are no aquatic animals in Scarabia. You probably just saw a magic carpet.”

“Then how come no one told me magic carpets can shoot lasers??”

Before Jamil can decipher whatever the hell Kalim meant by that, the sapphire blue skies turned murky. No, that wasn’t the work of clouds.

To everyone’s bewilderment, they bared witness to a school of colorful fish roaming freely through the air and above the whole dormitory aimlessly.

Lasers shoot from their mouths and make contact with the other to cause sparks to erupt in colorful fireworks. So that’s the laser part...

Kalim’s eyes sparkled. “It’s like the aquariums at Octavinelle, but airborne! *gasp* I just got a great idea for the next party!”

“For the nth time Kalim no more parties this month!”

*whistle* “Fin Fatale’s actually enjoying this. Who’d knew?”

The two boys turn to see Strix approaching them causally.

Strix grinned. “Bet you don’t see this in Scarabia often.”

Pomefiore

Pomefiore students have a tendency to look into a mirror at almost any given opportunity. They recognize every detail of their their highly bestowed beauty, lest they would fail to maintain perfection.

Imagine their surprise when a carbon copy of themselves suddenly replaces their reflection, except in a horrendous eye-burning color palette that screams “clown”

Turns out the copy really is a clown creature with a large tongue. Jestabocky simply loves to prank people at the expense of their reactions, and it took a liking to Pomefiore students.

Strix giggled in amusement, much to Vil’s chagrin. Standing next to the man was a Vil duplicate, except in that hideous orange carrot and lemon yellow palette that made his eyes want to bleed. Of course no one could ever compare to the original, especially a circus mimic at that.

Rook was examining his blood red and ice blue carbon copy. What a refreshing change of pace! “Your dream eaters never cease to amaze, little owl.” “Don’t hunt them for sport though!”

Epel was staring at his clone awkwardly. Cotton candy hair and yellow eyes are an odd combination. And would it stop grinning uncharacteristically like that? It’s freaky.

Strix looks beside her. Teal green hair, violet eyes, and an orange to yellow uniform color scheme. It’s horrendous, but that’s where the fun lies. Her dream eaters don’t know the meaning of color coordination.

Ignihyde

Strix thinks a surprise here and there in the shut-in dorm leader’s life ought to keep him on his toes. She knows how much Ortho wants him to come out his room, and so she’ll deliver just that.

Idia recieved an alert message as he was browsing the net. A window pops up displaying the security camera footage across the entire Ignihyde dorm.

To his horror, rainbows invaded the cameras everywhere he looked. In each one there was a massive bipedal colorful panda doing something to the students behind the screen. One was lifting a student to the air, another swinging and cradling, and others generally giving bear hugs to any soul -dead or living- that enter their vision.

Though the pandas are harmless and students are unharmed (some seem to enjoy it while others are bewildered in shock), Idia was quaking in his chair. If he walks out the room he’ll be crushed by the pandas’ mercy! (And by rainbows and cuteness!)

He zoomed in one of the footages. A Kooma Panda held a sign directly to the camera.

[YOU’RE NEXT]

This is nightmare fuel! Nightmares, he tells you!

Just as he spun around to hide and cower in the safety of his blankets, he had failed to notice the looming shadow over his flaming head prior to this very moment.

There was the same panda. In his bedroom. Staring right into his soul.

It smiled. (I reread this part and lowkey I realized I was writing a FNaF fanfic for a moment wut)

Idia wheezed. How did it get here?! Was it capable of teleporting?!

The shut-in had never ran for the door to the outside world with such eagerness in his life up to now. He slammed the door open and was about to hit the breeze when suddenly he recognized Strix standing right in front of him.

He practically tackled the poor girl (oof). Just when he dreads the contact with the floor, he felt something bouncy push them off. And then the same bouncing source came from behind. Now he’s squeezed between something.

The world spun in his eyes. Light-hearted laughter snapped him out of his trance. His soul actually came close to leaving him the moment Strix’s face registered in his vision. So close!

Two Kooma Pandas were hugging and nuzzling the two in a human-dream eater sandwich. Awww.

From the sidelines, Ortho watched in awe. That’s one way to bring his big bro out of the room. He eagerly joins in the hug fest with Strix and an all-too drained Idia.

Strix giggled and wrapped her arms around Idia and the panda behind him. She was clearly enjoying this. “Happy April Fools~”

Diasomnia

First things first: Strix can’t fool two all mighty and powerful faeries. Instead, she’ll entertain them like she and her dream eaters have always done. After all, boredom is their kind’s biggest enemy.

One day, Diasomnia students were walking down the halls when they notice a colorful bat creature hanging upside down from the ceiling, innocently watching people pass by.

There was one Komory Bat. The next door over there are two. The door after that door appeared three. In front of the dorm gate there may or may not be a bat perched to greet students in and out.

In the library, students are surprised when they’re greeted by the librarian aid...who was working upside down and levitating with gravity magic.

Strix casually acts as though it was natural. When she had to move away from the counter she continued walking upside down on the ceiling. If the ceiling was too high she’d float over just above people’s heads, and address when needed.

Strix likes to mess with Sebek by doing a “handstand” on his broad shoulders while talking to Silver. Sebek would shoo her off and when he does, Strix still pesters him by floating with a mocking haughtiness behind the way she rocks back and forth while grinning mischievously. The sight is hilarious, much to Sebek’s chagrin.

She can see why Lilia likes doing this. By the end of the day though, that’s enough walking on ceilings for the year.

Strix greets Malleus at eye level. “How’d you like it? Not boring, right?”

The horned fae chuckled. The glimmer of accomplishment in her stunning blue eyes amuses him the most. Like a child who proudly boasts their little achievements to appeal to their parents. It was adorable. “Certainly.”

#twisted wonderland #my post #strix noctowl #anon #headcanon asks #diasomnia #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #ignihyde #pomefiore #scarabia #dream eater spirits

[221castiel]

Let it Snow - Chapter One

Master Post // AO3

1 year later

December 1st,

24 days until Christmas 

The engine was cut, and for a moment Dean’s eyes stayed locked on the house he parked outside of. It was one floor, with white paneled walls, and a brown roof that was now covered in bright snow. Without even going inside he already knew what it was like, he’d long ago memorized the set up. Every hall, every room,  every doorway, the colours of the walls, and the material that made the floor, the way the ceiling was just that little to low when you took the staircase to the unfinished basement. He knew every chip in the paint, and every scratch on wood. 

He knew the house, yet staring at it, through the falling snowflakes, only brought dread. A deep unease that came every Friday night when he walked up the stairs to pick Jack up, and every Sunday evening when he walked back up them to drop Jack off. 

Dread. 

Discomfort.

Pain.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked up the front steps and felt ease. 

“Dad?”

“Yah kid?” Dean hummed. His eyes still rested on the house to his left, more specifically the Christmas tree that glowed in the window, contrasting against the evening sky, and falling snow.

When no reply came Dean turned finally looked away from the window and instead to the back seat where Jack was sat. A wide grin was spread across the child's face, while his arms were wrapped around the teddy bear that sat in his lap.

“How about,” Jack finally began in his usual high voice, “I can stay with you again!” 

“Yah,” Dean replied, “Next weekend.”

“No now!”

Dean gave a shake of his head, something that only made Jack’s smile drop into a pout. “But, we can watch the who movie!” Jack cried, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow.

“The who movie?”

“Yah with the mean green man, and the baby puppy,” Jack babbled. “And the man sneaks into the houses, and takes Christmas!” 

“The grinch?”

“Yah!”

Dean couldn’t help the small tug of his lips, as he turned away from Jack, and instead faced forward, eyes on the front window of Baby, and the thin layer of snow already covered the glass. “We’ll watch it next weekend,” Dean said as he pulled out the keys, shoving them into his jacket pocket before he undid his seat belt. 

“Tonight!”

“Jack-“ 

“Please!” 

Dean glanced to the rear view mirror, getting a glimpse of Jack's pleading expression, a mix of puppy dog eyes, and a puckered out bottom lip. 

For a moment he considered doing as Jack wanted, turning the engine back on, and driving back to his apartment, where they could spend the night watching movies and eating junk food. Fall asleep on the couch then make pancakes for breakfast. Just one more night that Dean could spend with Jack, one more night where his apartment would be filled by giggles and stories instead of the heavy silence that usually weighed throughout it.

Dean wanted so badly to do as Jack asked though no matter how much he wanted he knew he couldn’t and instead pushed open his door. A low crunching coming as he stepped out of the car and into the snow, the noise continuing with each step he took, from his door and to Jack’s. 

“You gonna walk yourself?” Dean asked as he pulled open Jack’s door, leaning down so he could peer into the backseat of the car, where Jack was still sitting, somehow more pouty than before.

“No?”

Jack didn’t respond, instead crossing his arms over his chest, head twisting to look the other way.

“Come on kid, I’m freezin’ my ass off.”

As Jack once again didn’t respond, Dean exhaled breath coming out in a cloud around him. He leant into the car, unbuckling Jack’s seat belt before he took the child into his arms, Jacks own arms immediately wrapping around his neck, squeezing tightly. 

With one arm holding Jack to his chest Dean stood, using his other to close the door, before he turned back to the house, breath immediately hitching in his throat. His grip around Jack tightening as he took his first step forward.

A second soon following.

It never got easier, walking along the path, up to what once had been his home. Though now it seemed harder then ever, each step more forced then the last, as Jack’s face stayed buried in his shoulder, and arms around his neck. 

It wasn’t until he’d made it up the front porch, and had knocked on the door that he let out even somewhat of an even breath. 

He forced himself to take another breath as he herd movement behind the door, and then with his heart leaping to his throat, the door was pulled open. 

“Hello Dean,” 

“Cas,” Dean greeted. His voice steadier than he expected with his heart racing, hammering frantically in his chest. His eyes lingered on Cas’s for a moment before darting down his body, then once again to his eyes. He looked good, tired but good, his blue eyes seeming more vibrant against the blue long sleeve he wore, a blue long sleeve that was one of the few shirts he owned which showed off his build; hugging his shoulders and waist.

His dark hair was its usual mess, and the thought of leaning forward and attempting to fix it crossed Dean’s mind. Run his fingers through the dark strands, then trail them down the side of the Cas’s face, lean in for a slow kiss, movements that were once automatic. Done most mornings when they were still too tired to wake up, or on late nights when they were together on the couch.

With that thought still lingering on Dean’s mind, stabbing at his heart, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” Dean hummed this time to Jack, gaze dropping to his son. “you gonna say hi?” 

He raised his free hand to Jack’s hair brushing his fingers through the strands that were now stuck together with small snowflakes, though Jack stayed silent. The only indication that he had even heard Dean was the small movement he made, burying his face further into Dean’s shoulder, and grip tightening around Dean’s neck.

“Come on kid,” Dean pestered. “Don’t be stormy.”

When it became clear Jack wasn’t going to reply Dean looked back up to Cas, forcing a smile across his own face that the other didn’t mimic. Instead Cas continued to stare, his gaze harsh, and lips pressed in a tight line. 

Whether it was meant to be that way, or if he was simply being Cas, Dean wasn’t sure, though either way he could feel his stomach tug. His lips suddenly incredibly chapped no matter how many times he licked at them and throat dry, the words he’d been wanting to say suddenly stuck.

He’d been practising throughout the drive, the reasonings of why he should get Jack for Christmas, yet now, they all seemed blurred. A mix of thoughts that didn’t make much sense even to him.

“Dean-“ 

“Are busy?” Dean asked before could he dwell on his thoughts any longer. “Or could we talk?” 

Cas tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing together. “About?”

“Christmas.”

For a moment Cas didn’t rely, his lips staying pressed in a tight line, before they slowly parted. “I have a few minutes.” 

After bringing Jack, who still only gave Dean mopey looks, to his bedroom, Dean made his way through the house. Down the hallway, and into the kitchen where he took a seat at the kitchen table.

He didn’t look to other as Cas placed a mug in front of him then took a seat at the other side, Dean didn’t think he could. He didn’t think he could see those blue eyes he knew so well. The darker shades that would be visible, overlapping the lighter, so powerful, so electric, it put even the ocean to shame. He couldn’t look and so instead Dean glanced to the kitchen, gaze darting across the room he knew well.

It was set up exactly as he remembered it, though now decorated for the holidays, with fake holly lining the cabinet tops, while the kitchen towels and placements had been replaced with Christmas themed ones. Everything about it was incredibly warm, with candles glowing through the dim lighting, and the lingering smell of baking.  

Warm.

Welcoming. 

Home. 

That thought passed Dean’s mind for less than a second before a soft meow got his attention and his gaze dropped from the kitchen and to the floor, where Atticus walked past his feet and towards Cas. 

“You still have that fuckin’ thing?” Dean asked as he finally looked to the other. 

“His name is Atticus Finch.”

“More like Assicus.” Dean mumbled as Cas lifted the cat onto his lap.

For a moment Cas didn’t reply, his gaze on the cat in his lap one hand brushing through Atticus's calico fur while his other rested around his cup of tea, leaving the room to sit in a heavy  silence. Each breath that parted Dean’s lips seemed too loud, seeming to echo off the walls, bouncing back.

Everything was too loud, his breathing, Atticus’s purring, the ticking clocking, his own thoughts. 

He knew what he wanted- had to say, and he was sure Cas already knew what he was going to say, yet the words seemed stuck, even as his lips slowly parted. 

One breath, he let himself exhale once before speaking. 

“You had him for Easter,” Dean barely whispered. His heart seemed to stop as Cas finally looked up, the pain clear in his eyes for a moment, though just as quickly as it was there, it was gone. “And his birthday.”

“So you want him?”

“Want him?” Dean asked almost breathlessly, words coming out more exhausted then he’d expected- almost empty. “Why the hell wouldn’t I want him.”

Cas didn’t reply and instead he pressed his lips into a tight line, gaze dropping to his cup. 

There was nothing else to say and Dean knew that no argument Cas could make that would explain why he should get Jack, and no joke Dean could crack that would ease the tense atmosphere. Something that had suddenly settled around them, thick and heavy, squeezing out any air that had once filled Dean’s lungs. 

“You can have him next year.”

Once again Cas didn’t reply, only giving the smallest nod in response, and leaving Dean with no way to respond. 

He didn’t want Jack- or atleast in this way. He wanted Christmas, he wanted the way too early mornings, and soft smiles that would tug across Cas’s lips, he wanted the gifts and crackling fire. Everything he’d learned to love, everything he hadn’t spent enough time appreciating. He wanted Christmas not the expression that now sat across Cas’s face, underlined with pain, as he stared down to Atticus.  

Dean let his own gaze rest on the other for a moment, across his wide eyes, and locked jaw, looking until his heart hurt too much and his gaze dropped to something easier to look at. Castiel’s hand which still rested around his mug.  

From under the rolled up sleeves of Cas’s sweater Dean could just see the wings that tattooed his skin, the tips of feathers done in a dark ink. He didn't need to see the rest to know each line, each feather and detail. To know the way the dark ink made Cas's tanned skin seem to glow, to know how the feathers had been engraved along his shoulder blades and down his arms to just below his elbows, or the way Jack's name had been done cursivly in one of the feathers.

Dean knew every inch of that tattoo, and part of him wondered how long he'd know every inch of that tattoo.

How long he'd know every inch of the other's body.

How long he'd know every shade of blue that danced through his irises. 

How long he'd remember the way Cas's hands would glide his body.  

How long it would take before he could look to Castiel, and not feel the heartache of everything he'd lost.

#Destiel #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #let it snow