#so big fuzzy eyeball man instead

[aurumacadicus]

Winteriron camping..... Mothman?

My guy I thought Mothman was a tumblr joke this man is an actual cryptid???? 😭😭 I'm so stupid

Anyway flannel moths! Tony is very fluffy and has very blue fur.

.-.

"This is stupid. We're gonna get killed. I hate this," Bucky muttered, stabbing at the fire they'd built with a stick violently. “How did you talk me into this?”

“I threatened to tell Natasha that you were the one who ate the slice of cake she’d been saving,” Steve replied, unconcerned.

Bucky threw his hands up, frustrated, but he suspected being killed by a cryptid would be better than what Natasha would do to him. “When did you start believing in this stuff, anyway?”

“Sam’s into this stuff and I want to impress him,” Steve answered, shrugging.

“I’M HERE TO HELP YOU GET IN SAM’S PANTS?!” Bucky roared.

Steve blinked at him, unimpressed. He returned his attention to book he’d been reading about different cryptids of the east coast. “You’re here to make sure I live long enough to. You know you wouldn’t have let me come alone anyway so I don’t understand why you’re making a fuss.”

“Unbelievable,” Bucky hissed. He got to his feet and turned to stomp off into the woods.

“Where are you going?” Steve called after him.

“I’m going to walk off my rage so I don’t just fucking kill you myself,” Bucky snapped.

“Take a flashlight.”

Bucky turned to walk back and grab one of the flashlights, then stormed back into the woods.

Maybe he should have brought breadcrumbs or something, because as soon as he got away from the fire, all of the trees looked the same. He was pretty sure that he was following a path, but not entirely. Maybe he should bite the bullet and go back. If Sam was there, he could razz him mercilessly for being attracted to a punk like Steve.

His flashlight caught on something shiny and blue as he turned around. Bucky paused, considering if he wanted to open that kettle of fish, then sighed in frustration. It would bother him forever if he didn’t see what it was. He turned the flashlight back on the trees they’d shone on before, not really expecting anything except maybe a shirt or coat that had been left behind by other campers.

Instead the beam found glowing red eyes. Bucky sucked in a deep breath to scream.

“Ow, fuck, that’s bright. Stop it!” the creature snapped, and a hand came up to shield its eyes.

Bucky dropped the beam just enough to show a furred ruff around the creature’s neck, which spread back to fuzzy blue wings. Its eyeballs’ glow faded to a dull pink as the light moved away. “Um, sorry,” he said, for lack of anything else.

“Well, at least you didn’t scream,” the creature sighed. “It hurts my ears.”

Bucky couldn’t help feeling incredibly proud of himself. A little stupid, too, though. He stole a glance at the creature’s ears, like a human’s except pointed, sort of like what he imagined an elf’s might look like. The tips were coated with blue fuzz, too. Somehow that was cute. “Oh no,” Bucky said.

The creature looked at him, eyes big and frightened. “Are you a hunter? Please don’t hurt me, I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I’ve just had a sexual awakening,” Bucky moaned, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“Oh, a monster fucker,” the creature said flatly. “Sometimes you’re worse.”

“Shut the fuck up people come looking for you for sex?!” Bucky asked shrilly. He found himself sinking to the ground, overwhelmed. “I just found this out about me!”

The creature took a few steps toward him, bending at the waist to be able to see his face. “Well, you don’t have to act like being attracted to me is a chore,” he said, scowling.

“You’re being very rude,” Bucky told it. “I’m having an identity crisis right now. What’s your name? Pronouns? I feel gross calling you ‘it.’“

“I’m Tony,” the creature said. Tony blinked at him, frowning, then added, “I’m male. It’s why I’m blue!” he added cheerfully, fluttering his wings. They shimmered in the dim glow from the flashlight. “Females are yellow.”

“That’s neat,” Bucky said faintly.

Tony blinked at him a little longer, then stood up, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “Well, you’re much prettier than most of the monster fuckers that come looking for us.”

Bucky felt very proud again. He thought maybe he shouldn’t, except Tony didn’t look offended or scared, so. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah, like this weird little human? I don’t think he’s a monster fucker but he smells really fuckin’ horny whenever he comes. I can’t tell if it’s at the thought of me or his hunting partner,” Tony continued, oblivious.

Bucky surged to his feet on instinct and reached out for Tony’s hand. Tony stared up at him, mouth falling open in shock. He looked down at their entwined hands, then back at Bucky’s face.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know screaming hurts your ears but Tony. Tony. Please help me embarrass Steve.”

“The little hunter?” Tony asked skeptically.

“He and Sam just want your picture,” Bucky assured him, and then, “I will make it worth your while.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you have that I would want?”

“Have you ever tried a s’more?” Bucky asked.

Tony blinked, uncomprehending. “No?”

“You’ll love ‘em,” Bucky decided. “Come on.”

“Be careful of my fur, I’m venomous,” Tony warned again, but he allowed Bucky to pull him along anyway.

Bucky warned him to cover his ears just before they cleared the treeline, which seemed to get him in Tony’s good graces as both Sam and Steve screamed bloody murder when they saw him.

#ask meme #write a blurb meme #winteriron #gayspacesprinkles

[paper--moons]

Regressor!Giran Headcanons

Adjusting back to business as usual after his first bout of regression isn't hard—not that Kagero expected it would be. He's a busy guy, after all; the world didn't stop turning just because he had that whole kidnapping thing going on, and now he's up to his eyeballs in missed client calls, back-orders from his regulars, and an added influx of new characters stepping out of the shadows seeking whatever information or supplies he can scrounge up now that the League and MLA have merged. So it's only too easy to throw himself back into the swing of things and keep telling himself that all of that soft relief from the trappings of his adult life and circumstances that that fuzzy headspace provided was a fluke. He's got plenty of other vices—like his smokes that he finally snagged back from Jin, or the endless variety of booze for him to imbibe at his preferred watering hole—that he doesn't need to add another (albeit healthier) thing to that list. But Kagero finds he's still seeking comfort in the items Jin gave him, finds that he still wants the comfort they provide. It isn't all the time, mind you, but it's enough for him to be annoyed about it. He's self-aware enough to know that getting huffy and pouting over it would do him no favors in convincing anyone he's completely grown-up and not little even a tiny bit, but luckily he hasn't got anyone to point that out. So instead he concedes to the little bastard, never having been any good at denying himself something he wants anyway. Besides, it won't hurt to change up his schedule to allow for things like a nap with his bunny. He can even make up for the lost time there by replacing his smoke breaks with his paci—although maybe that one doesn't exactly work out, but hey, live and learn. And what he has learned is that his baby time is here to stay.

It's important to remember that Kagero is a business man, the exact legality of the business that he conducts notwithstanding. This of course means he's got some spending money to help fund this new aspect of his personal life. While he could be buying the more responsible things he needs now (like bottles and whatnot), he is most certainly not doing that. Not his top priority. No, his top priority is spending his big bucks on things he technically doesn't need but that little him really really wants. Like sooo many Strawberry Shortcake dolls (including all of her friends as well—Orange Blossom is his favorite but do not tell the other girls, he doesn't want them getting self-conscious about it). And he wants them all too, both vintage ones and newer releases. In a very short period of time he amasses something of a collection, his online eBay doll hunting quickly leading him to adding not just the dolls and occasional playset, but also managing to procure several of the cartoon series and movies (some of the older ones being bootlegged copies, not that he particularly cares). Kagero could easily pass off everything as him being a serious collector, given his propensity for picking up cute items and trinkets that catch his eye. Except there's a slight problem in that anyone who's halfway observant will immediately notice these things aren't displayed like collector's items, but are instead scattered around like he's been playing with them. Because he has been, but that isn't the point. The point is that he really should probably clean up his place—but most likely he's going to keep playing until he has to go somewhere and be big, dumping everything into a pile on his bed at the last minute.

Speaking of collecting cute items, his horde of cutesy items doesn't just grow in his home space. His collection keeps expanding once he starts regressing more regularly, and naturally it cannot be contained to only one area. Starting with little things at first, like getting a cute phone case for each of his phones and not just his personal one. Then comes the phone charms, and then he's finding he's buying all these cute pens and stationary. There's suddenly so much Lisa Frank filling his office that it starts to look like an early-2000s era Claire's exploded around him, leaving him covered in the viscera and fallout (and glitter). Even his wardrobe takes a hit during this time. Not so much the things he's wearing out and about, but the things he's wearing on his off days (off days that more often than not start to coincide with his small days). One of the staple outfits of this new wardrobe is a pair a sweatpants, his Zoomer and Zorbit hoodie, and of course the matching Lisa Frank crocs should he be leaving the house. It's an outfit that is comfortable enough that he'll wear it when he's curled up nursing a bottle and generally being a sleepy little guy. But it's also an outfit that he doesn't mind popping down to the corner store in to pick up whatever snacks he's craving. It's gotten him a few odd looks as he fills his basket with the best prepackaged garbage he can get his hands on, but the usual clerk has complimented his outfit before so it can't be all that bad of a look on him.

Kagero has always had his fingers in a lot of pies so to speak, and despite the literal number of fingers he has being fewer the metaphorical number of pies keep multiplying. One of his latest ventures is a little side project that actually resulted from his own need to mod and customize a couple of pacifiers for himself. This was of course upon realizing quite quickly that he needed a couple of spares after misplacing the one Jin got for him one afternoon—he found it later thankfully, though that didn't spare him the overwhelming emotions in the moment (emotions that he's used to being able to brush off with ease). It was oddly upsetting and he isn't a fan of feeling upset when he's big let alone when he's small, so the obvious solution was to get a few extra to avoid another paci panic. However, the issue there was that he didn't like the ones he was finding. Which led to him just doing it himself! Kagero has done some pretty hard stuff in his time, so a little arts and crafts project should be a breeze—and it is, only he just. Keeps making them. Until he has a bucket of at least thirty, which seems a bit excessive if you ask him. But what was he supposed to do? They only sold what he wanted to use in bulk! One does not simply buy a handful of beads and charms (he tried, and the craft store sent him away). It was easier to keep making them until he used up all of the stuff he bought, and there's nothing wrong with the surplus so he figures why not make some money back? It takes less than five minutes to set up an online shop under one of his plethora of online handles and attach pictures of the product he's pushing—and as it turns out, his designs are pretty popular.

It would be a fair assumption to think that he likes more elaborate or complex toys. Something over the top, with all the bells and whistles. Given his appreciation for kitschy things or his apparent fascination with novelty items (just look at the man's lighter! could it be any more over the top?), it's a foregone conclusion, right? Wrong! Sure, he certainly won't turn these things down if they are offered to him. After all, what man can possibly deny the allure, the absolute siren song, of flashing baby toys that cost at least forty bucks on sale at Target? Such are the wants and desires of a grown man with refined taste. When he's occupying that soft babyspace however? Kagero tends to gravitate towards toys that are more straightforward and simplistic in both design and intended use. Things like those big wooden puzzles that click so satisfyingly into place, shape sorters in pleasing pastel colors, or stacking toy sets that provide a sense of satisfaction upon stacking all of the things oh so very high. In particular though he is fond of those geometric wooden shape blocks; this thing is a pattern recognition baby. So long as he has his basic needs met (i.e., goldfish crackers and cold apple juice sippy within arm's reach), Kagero is more than content with sitting and creating patterns for a few hours. Or it feels like a few hours but in actuality is closer to thirty minutes, which is about the same time he runs out of snacks (a fact that is not correlated to this in the slightest, no). Once the goldfishies are all gone, his patterns start to get more...interesting, as he incorporates other toys into them. Usually he winds up with some circle made out of the triangle blocks with a puzzle piece placed in the center, like he's trying to summon something. It never works.

Generally speaking, Kagero is so slick about his regression. Enough so that he doesn't even have to scramble to hide most of his regression gear, should anybody drop by unannounced. Which is good, given that a lot of his clientele drop in unannounced—mainly those in the League, not that he keeps tabs on the number of visits or anything (he does). So when Dabi does inevitably decide to crawl into his office through a window grace him with his presence, he isn't making any big moves to try and sweep the paci he left out into his desk drawer. Instead he reclines in his chair and asks the kid what he wants this time, reciting an itemized list of what he usually asks for until offering to bundle it all together at a discount (discount of course being a generous term used to mean that he won't upcharge him any). But the kid doesn't respond to that, no, his eyes are fixed exactly where Kagero doesn't want them to be. Now, he's had decades to perfect the art of keeping his cool and appearing completely unbothered by whatever is thrown at him, so brushing off anything that points to his new little habits is a breeze...in most cases. The basic formula he's been following for years is to act unfazed and then redirect a person's attention to something else (whether the distraction be a physical one or simply a change in conversational topics varies, but he doesn't sweat the small details like those). This works unless the other individual is highly perceptive or highly stubborn. And Dabi is nothing if not stubborn; he isn't satisfied with the flippant response about "needing it for when he meets Molly at a party later", only for him to snicker that his slang is outdated and continue to stick his nose where he shouldn't. Which naturally means that it's time for Kagero to break out his quirk and make the kid forget what he saw so he'll leave him alone. What? It's good to have a back-up plan.

There are a few key differences between big Kagero and small Kagero. One of those differences being that when he's big he believes that he's completely fine regressing alone. However, he sings a different tune once he starts slipping. He doesn't really middlespace much, so his window is limited, but when he starts feeling little he almost always calls Jin. Not to ask him to come and keep an eye on him or keep him company because that's embarrassing and totally unnecessary—no, he calls just to talk for a minute. Although he's careful not to tip him off and definitely doesn't mention the fact that he's slipping, Jin can tell. They've had enough conversations for him to pick up on the fact that something is off. The what're you doing? not being an unusual question, but being spoken in an unusual way. Slow and unsure. Less like a confident broker keeping tabs on his quarry, not exactly like a friend concerned about him either, but more like a child checking to see if their parent is still awake. Most of the time when this happens, he stays on call with him for as long as he can, taking on a softer tone but being sure not to patronize him. If he's somewhere nearby though, then the phone call is much shorter—why stay on the phone when he can swing by? And swing by with pizza no less. The gesture is much appreciated, even if Kagero starts needing a little help with his pizza, having fully slipped now that Jin is there. He probably could have pushed himself to stay big, but Jin plays dirty and puts on something animated for them to watch. How's a guy supposed to stay big when Strawberry Shortcake: The Sweet Dreams Movie is playing? And maybe Kagero falls asleep halfway through, pizza box in his lap and leaning against Jin—but it's okay, Jin doesn't mind in the slightest.

#sfw agere #bnha #bnha agere #okuta kagero #agere okuta kagero #moons hcs #cw drug mention #it is *very* brief but I'm tagging for those who need it

[mortyandem]

Måneskin Members When You Get Hives

I am so fucking itchy right now, sorry if this is shit. Also yay finally posting some sort of fanfiction/imagine. No smut but this is basically me fantasizing about getting back scratches from four hot Italian rock stars. Is that fluff? Idk.

Damiano David -10/10 will tolerate you rubbing your itchy skin against his hairy thighs for relief. -Wraps you in fuzzy blankets to keep you from scratching yourself. -Goes to the CVS to pick up your medication and brings you home your favorite snacks as well. -Will reassure you when you're a bit embarrassed about having him rub ointment on your hives covered back. -Laughs when he catches you rubbing yourself against wall corners for relief like a bear itching its back against a tree in the forest. -Expect lots of cuddles, kisses and maybe a few reruns of your favorite show. -Obviously, he is going to make you chamomile tea.

Thomas -Super sweet and a bit concerned. -Offers to take you to the doctors if needed. -Attempts to make you dinner but gets distracted and burns everything so he orders takeout instead. -Plays guitar to cheer you up. -Makes silly jokes to cheer you up. -If you have hives on your scalp he agrees to gently brush your scalp with a hairbrush, which offers some relief.

Ethan -Fuck WebMD, this man is all about the peer review and metaanalysis. He is on pubmed right now comparing the effectiveness of 1st, 2nd and 3rd generation antihistamines. -Will make you cold compresses to soothe your hives. -Gives you a disapproving look when he sees you eyeballing the brillo pads next to the kitchen sink. -Stays up late when you can’t fall asleep because you’ve turned into one giant miserable hive. -Prepare for a treat, because he is about to order takeout and you’re both going to watch a marathon of What We Do In the Shadows.

Victoria -If you don’t know why you keep getting hives, she will drag you to a doctor’s appointment to get checked out. -Switches to a hypoallergenic laundry detergent and dumps anything with essential oils in it -Generally speaking, babies you when you’re sick -Of course Chili is there for cuddles and kisses -Loves being big spoon and laying in bed together watching Netflix on your ipad

#måneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin fluff #maneskin imagine #maneskin x y/n #maneskin x reader #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi

[hhayfever]

Blinky my beloved

#I think realistically he’d be a gigantic writhing black mass of eyes but I can’t draw that #so big fuzzy eyeball man instead #fever art #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #the guy who didn't like musicals #team starkid #artist on tumblr #nerdy prudes must die #Black Friday #the lords in black #blinky #bliklotep #watcher world #nightmare time

[passivenovember]

Walking Home (v)., the  Tourniquet

For you @thursday-knight. Lysm

They’re going to let Billy out of that horrible, gray padded room on Tuesday, which Steve snorts at over the phone. 

“What, you think that’s fuckin’ funny or something?”

“No, It’s just.” It’s kind of funny. Steve wraps the phone chord around his hand. Nice and tight, like a tourniquet. “Tuesday’s weird.”

“Tuesday’s...weird?”

“Yeah.”

Steve can hear something, like. The clack of a pen. It’s a common nervous tick, a way to cope, but. Steve’s never seen any one hold a bic the way Billy does. 

Barrel in his palm. Clicking the register with his pointer finger, like. He’s pressing Reagan’s Big Red Button. The one to blow up the world.

“What’s so weird about a Tuesday release, man?”

“Ruining the start of a week by spending it in the hospital and then having to use the rest of it adjusting to life outside?”  Steve shrugs, remembering that Billy can’t see him. “They could at least give you a Friday. Then you’d have the weekend, right?”

Billy’s grin is somehow manifested in the honey drip of his voice. “Been locked up for six months, Harrington, what’s two more days?”

And that could be true.

Steve doesn’t feel like so much time has passed. The rise and fall of the moon, the turn of the seasons, the way Billy has to wear fuzzy socks with those little grips on them to stay warm in beige corridors, have been lost on Steve. 

Tainted. Wrapped in paper the exact shade of survival. Surgeries and afternoons carpooling the kids to Hawkins general, paying Barry Mildred to do Billy’s algebra homework for him, and. 

Convincing everyone.

Himself, too.

That Billy would be alright. Steve had to do everything he could to get Billy ready for the world, or.

The world ready for him.

“Has it really been that long?” Steve wonders.

And Billy laughs. “Maybe not for you, King Steve. Some of us had to spend the whole of it in one room.” It doesn’t sound as painful as it usually does.

Steve just nods again. To himself.

He remembers the leaves changing around the time Billy learned to walk again. Halloween. Bringing left-over contraband to spoil Billy’s strict diet of organic bullshit while his body healed itself. Amber leaves complimenting blue eyes as they made unsteady laps around the courtyard together. 

Steve holding his arm out time and time again, and. Billy taking it. 

Christmas. Snowball fights with the kids, crystals on long blonde eyelashes while that stubborn mouth fought to return every smile Max threw his way. Those very same lashes, wet with tears, when Billy opened a vintage copy of Cider House Rules, on Christmas Eve. 

All, you really shouldn’t be spending the holiday in a psych ward, Harrington.

But they held hands for the first time that night. Steve said, where else would I want to be?

And Billy, just. Took what he could get--nothing more.

Steve remembers a lot of things. Happiness. Rocky, at first, unearned, a slide into friendship which turned into peachy cheeks that rivaled the setting sun.

Summer, Fall, Winter, and.

February.

Steve must have missed it. All of it, while he was busy being grateful that Billy was alive. 

He checks the calendar.

“You’ll be out in time for Valentines,” He says. Because that’s important, somehow. “Got any big plans?”

“Oh, for sure.” Billy clicks his pen. One-two-three. “Got a girl waiting for me on the outside, thought we could catch a movie.”

Steve knows. 

He knows it isn’t true, that Billy’s just yanking his ridiculously short chain, but. Steve’s heart beats in time with the click of a pen. Advancing and overtaking the tempo to orchestrate a symphony of worry.

Of fear.

It used to taste like copper. Black slime and dirty snow, but now it tastes like mashed potatoes served on a hospital lunch tray. Contraband sweets. Change and forced endings and--

Steve chokes on something. A laugh that falls wrong halfway through, like a sob colored to fit summer days. “What are you doing after?”

The clacking stops. “Just fucking with you, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Was a joke, I’m not.” Billy clears his throat. “Everyone who matters came to see me while I was here.” 

Steve just nods. Frantically, because he hears words that aren’t there. Meaning that couldn’t possibly color his life in broad strokes. He thinks about what Billy’s saying, what he really means. 

Everyone who matters.

“Where are you staying? Like, when you get out,.” Steve mutters. The chord is wrapped around his hand again. He leans against the wall, wincing as the pins from his bulletin board pinch his shoulder blades. “You got a place to crash?”

Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Steve clears his throat. “You aren’t going back, right? You’re not going. Home?”

“To Neil’s?” 

And Steve gets the distinction. Feels it settle like an axe between his first three ribs. “Yeah.”

Billy sighs. “No, fuck that. Figured I’d ask around. See if there are any beds open at RCA.” Recovery Centers of America, that’s. 

“That’s in Indianapolis.”

“Yeah,” Billy says flatly. Steve thinks, distantly, that he sounds almost. Annoyed. “Owens says there’s a car. It’ll take me wherever I want, long as I stay in State.”

“You want to go away?”

“Sure,” Billy says bluntly. “Wouldn’t hurt to leave this place behind, you know. Maybe go somewhere new--”

“Stay with me.”

Steve’s heart is beating in his eyeballs.

The world falls silent. Only for a moment, for as long as it takes for Billy to drop something on the ground and then swear under his breath. His voice shakes, like strands in the wind. “What?”

“At my apartment,” Steve clarifies. He untangles the phone chord which has somehow worked its way to his elbow. “It’s small and shitty, and the couch only has three legs, but.”

Steve closes his eyes and hopes against hope, praying to every god who has ever existed since the beginning of time and everyone who will come after, that Billy can hear every meaning, every hidden word.

“You could.” Steve says softly. “If you wanted to.”

The clacking starts up again, slow and measured. Steve can hear Billy’s breath. The ragged intake of air that sounds painful, like a boy clinging to life in smoke filled memories. Holding on to his hand, saying, I don’t want to die, Steve, please.

It plants Steve’s feet in an ambulance. It tips the string of a tourniquet, bloody and wet with slime in his hands. It makes him remember. 

Pull it tighter, kid, come on.

And.

He’s losing a lot of blood.

And.

Steve, we’re losing him. 

And.

Kid, step away from the body.

Billy clears his throat. “You mean it?” He asks, and.

Steve lets go of a breath. “Of course I do.”

“You’ll get tired of me.” Billy’s voice, it sounds like shattering windows. Steve doesn’t say anything. Can’t respond, because. Nothing in life is more impossible. 

The world falls silent.

Only for a moment, as long as it takes for Steve to close his eyes. “I can’t watch you get in that car and walk away, Billy.”

It’s nothing. Only a part of how he feels. Only a drop of what he wants, but. It sets things in motion again. 

Billy clears his throat. “Alright,” He says. “Give me the address.”

--

Steve wants it to be something other than what it is.

He buys new sheets. Fern green satin, five-hundred thread count and worth a third of what he has in savings. 

They aren’t what he’d usually go for, color or texture, but. The lady at the department store says muted colors are good for preventing overstimulation after trauma and satin is gentle on the skin. Warm, too, which is always a good thing.

Billy says it feels like winter, now. All, I’m a goddamn human snow globe.

Buying sheets on Valentines, it.

Makes Steve hope that this is something else. 

That Billy will insist on putting his new sheets on Steve’s bed instead of the couch in the living room. That they’ll sleep together here, just how they always did in Billy’s hospital bed. 

Chest to chest. 

Billy’s head tucked under Steve’s chin, but.

Mostly Steve being eaten alive by the guilt.

For feeling like this is the start of their lives. That everything before now--living with his parents, fighting monsters, feeling useless in every sense of the word...

All of it was a dream. 

Preparation for the day he would open the front door and find Billy there, waiting.

Steve takes the sheets back to his apartment. He makes up the living room, rearranging the furniture so Billy can have his own space. The couch as a bed and the coffee table as a book shelf.

Billy has a lot of books.

More than anyone Steve’s ever met, more than Robin and Nancy Wheeler combined and Steve doesn’t own any books himself, or. A place to put them. His apartment is the size of a shoebox.

He’ll get rid of the stuff he doesn’t use anymore. 

He’ll make room. 

In his apartment, in his miniscule life, so that Billy has something of his own. 

And maybe after they’re settled in and the bills are paid for the month, Steve will pick up extra shifts at the video store until he can afford buy one. 

A nice, big oak bookshelf for Billy to house his favorites. 

--

He locks himself in the bathroom an hour after moving in.

Which, you know. Throws the evening for a loop. 

He seems happy when Steve opens the front door, dropping his box of books by the shoe rack and toeing his boots off with a grin. 

His body is loose, and. Open, Like he’s comfortable. Billy pokes around the apartment, making fun of the weird shit hanging up on the walls while Steve cooks dinner.

“You gotta get some real art in here, man.” Billy says. It sounds like he’s by the record player, digging through the stack of vinyl's Steve keeps in a shoe box by the T.V. “And some real music, holy shit. How have you been living like this?”

“I’ve been living just fine, fuck you very much.” 

“You have three copies of Waterloo,” Billy snorts. As if that proves something.

He’s crouched by the mosaic of finger paintings left by Holly Wheeler, studying a particularly abstract piece when Steve hands him a glass of sparkling cider.

“Everyone’s gotta have their backup copies of Waterloo, you know, extra in case you gotta dole them out to strangers.” Steve clinks their glasses together. “Cheers.”

Billy swishes the drink around with a lift of his eyebrow. “You trying to get in my pants, Harrington?”

“It’s not alcohol.”

“Why is it bubbly?” Billy accuses, lifting the glass to sniff at it suspiciously. His nose wrinkles, like a bunny rabbit. 

Steve laughs. “It’s sparkling cider. Cherry flavored.”

“Cherry?” Billy snorts, his cheeks glowing pink like little love hearts. “That’s definitely a sex flavor.” 

“It’s a celebration flavor, you dick.” Steve chuckles again. He files through the records he does have, selecting one he thinks Billy can tolerate. “What do you think of Rumours?”

Billy’s wandered to the kitchen. “Hate the activity, dig the album.” He calls.

The sound of cabinets opening and slamming shut echo through the space while Steve figures out the settings for this vinyl, fiddling with the tiny knobs until Songbird filters through at a pace that seems right.

“Ice is in the freezer,” Steve announces, and.

Billy rounds the corner with a bag of chips, happy little smirk on his face. Steve frowns.

“I’m fixing dinner--”

“I haven’t had Doritos in almost a year, Harrington.” Billy says roughly. He rips open the bag, collapsing next to Steve on the floor by the music stand. Billy takes one and licks the cheese dust off the chip, holding the bag out, like. “Want one?”

Steve face hurts from smiling so much. “Nah, I’m good.”

Billy leans back against the wall, rolling his eyes. “What, don’t eat carbs after four p.m. or something?”

And Steve filters through a million answers, all of which make it sound like he’s trying to get laid, so. He settles in next to Billy, letting his eyes fall closed with the sway of the music.

“No, just. Don’t wanna ruin my dinner.”

Billy snorts, bag crinkling loudly as he dives in for another handful. “I could eat twelve bags of this shit and still go ape on whatever rich boy thing you whipped up.” Billy asses him, head cocked to the side. “Bet the cheese makes you fart.” He concludes.

Steve blinks at him. “You’re disgusting--”

“Processed cheese makes everyone shit their pants, man, that’s like.” Billy wipes his hands on Steve’s leg. “Common knowledge.”

Steve makes a noise like a runover chicken, wiping frantically at the trousers he bought at the Goodwill, just for tonight. 

He wets his fingers with spit, wincing and scrubbing at the bright line of orange nacho cheese that stains his corduroy flares. 

The shape of Billy’s fingers is unmistakable. “I’m starting to regret asking you to move in.”

“Thought I was just crashing here until--”

“Now that you’re here I’m no letting you leave,” Steve smiles at him, the weight of it softening when Billy’s cheeks glow pink again. He knocks their shoulders together. “You’re stuck with me.”

Billy falls silent after that.

Shoveling in handful after handful of Doritos and crunching so loudly that Steve can’t get wrapped up in the bass line on the Chain. 

“Dude, you gotta chew so loud?” Steve asks, shoving Billy’s hand away when he reaches to smear nacho dust down the length of Steve’s neck. “My god, you’re a menace.”

“You love it,” Billy giggles, and.

They stare at each other for a moment. Sort of watching the brush of eyelashes against cheekbones while the music plays. 

A backdrop to the start of something Steve doesn’t have a name for.

--

Night falls and Billy doesn’t come out of the bathroom.

The food has been stored, the dishes put away, but the light which escapes like neon strips of gold to kiss the mouth of the hall carpet never flicks off. Never giving way to rest.

Steve thinks about waiting for him. 

He thinks about going to bed, jiggling the handle to make sure Billy’s okay, breaking the door down when two hours turns to three but that seems intrusive. 

If Billy wanted company he would ask. And if he wanted to come out he would, right?

Steve feels like an idiot. 

Pacing back and forth between the living room and the hallway, trying not to make it obvious that he’s right in the thick of gut-wrenching worry. Violent, intrusive images of brain splattered tile fill his mind. 

Billy could be hurt, or. Asleep in the bathtub. Maybe he slipped out the bathroom window while Steve was turning down the couch for him, making the space comfortable.

Maybe he was never here to begin with. Maybe Steve dreamt him up.

Steve paces back and forth, back and forth, wrestling with the urge to call Dr. Owens and ask what he should do, until the clock above the stove reads 11:34 pm and he has no choice but to call it a night.

His knuckles sound like a machine gun when he taps on the door. 

From behind the oak barrier, Billy makes a noise like he was startled out of sleep. Steve can hear him moving around, when he asks, “You okay? Been in there for a few hours.”

Billy opens the door.

His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks a little flushed, like.

“Have you been crying?” Steve doesn’t want him to cry. Tears and hallow feelings, they have no place in the stretch of nightfall that Steve has built for them. 

He feels himself reaching for Billy on impulse, trying to pull their bodies together, but Billy steps back. 

Away. 

To make room for Steve in the bathroom or to make a run for it, Steve isn’t sure. He knots his fingers together for safe keeping. 

“Of course not, don’t be fucking.” Billy’s voice cracks right down the middle, like. A loaf of bread that has been in the oven for far too long. His eyes are glassy when he looks up, and.

Distant.

Steve feels like an asshole. He leans against the door jam. “I can call Dr. Owens, if you want.” 

Billy stares at him. “Why would I want that?”

“You just seem--”

“I seem like what, Steve?” Billy spits. “You gonna psychoanalyze me too, huh?”

Steve grits his teeth against the urge to. Fight back. “It’s just when I started getting the couch ready, you seemed.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words carefully. “Nervous? Afraid, maybe, just a little. Which is alright. It can be scary sleeping alone in a new place, and--”

“I’m not five years old, Harrington, I can handle a sleepover at my friends house.” Billy snarls. He pushes against Steve’s chest until there are rivers between them. Mountains and oceans.

It’s the first time since Starcourt that Billy seems.

Like himself.

The old self, the one that used his fists to keep wandering eyes from getting too close. Figuring him out. If Steve were a younger man he’d fall for it, hook and line, but. 

He knows better.

Six months and a lifetime with Billy Hargrove have taught him a thing or two. He nods, stepping back down the hallway. 

Billy’s eyes track him. Wide and nervous and so, so blue. 

“‘M going to sleep, dude.”  Steve waves a thumb over his shoulder, taking a deep, needed breath. He calls over his shoulder to give Billy some space. “Come to bed when you’re ready. I’ll leave the light on.”

Billy’s footsteps don’t pass his bedroom door until Steve is settled under the covers.

--

He’s starting to think Billy won’t show.

The t.v. is on in the living room, tinny sounds of Yogi Bear filtering through the wall and Steve wonders if he made a mistake in assuming, that.

Look.

Just because they slept together, like, actually slept together  while Billy was in the hospital doesn’t mean anything. 

Maybe Billy is just scraping the bottom of his energy reserves. Maybe he’s getting to the end of the rope when it comes to his friendship with Steve, and didn’t want to move in but had to.

For lack of better options, and like. 

Income and shit--

“Scoot over.” Billy says.

Steve jumps, poking his head out from under the covers to glare wildly at him. “When did you--”

“Move over.” Billy insists, eyes burning like flame in the darkness.

Steve does, all, “Jesus Christ, you’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t ya?” But there are butterflies in his tummy. Gently flapping wings that turn into stinging wasps when Billy manhandles his way into the bed, yanking one of the extra pillows out from under Steve’s legs to punch into shape on his side of the bed.

Steve squawks. “I was using that.”

“It was under your knee caps, dork.” Billy mutters, bullying his way into Steve’s space like he did so many times on warm summer nights at Hawkins General, stiff as a board on his government issued mattress.

Steve’s bed isn’t anything like that, it’s like. A marshmallow. Swallowing the two of them whole when Billy presses his face into the length of Steve’s neck, legs coming up to pin him in place.

“I got weak ankles.” Steve pouts. 

Billy doesn’t say anything as he goes limp and heavy on top of his human pillow. Steve instantly feels like he’s over heating; the guy’s a fucking furnace, but.

Billy’s eyelashes are tickling his collar bones.

His breath fans out over Steve’s skin, like cool breezes on summer nights, and. When he starts crying Steve is there.

Like always, Steve sings him to sleep.

#harringrove #valentines day #billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #please enjoy my trash

[drabblily]

Bad Confessions

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, of course. Fluff. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Synopsis: Y/N seems to have fallen in love with a certain hotheaded blonde, might as well confess and get rejected to move on with it, right?

A/N: First Post! Hope you enjoy <3

------

Falling in love was scary.

There was nothing gentle about it, hence the “falling” part of it. You were either all in or not in at all. You could be pushed, you could take that jump, or you could accidentally take one certain step and fall to your impeding doom.

And it was so, so fucking terrifying to you. When you fall in love there is supposed to be someone waiting for you at the bottom to catch you, that was the fortunate option. The unfortunate side was that when you fall in love, that person could move at the last second to let you splat to the ground.

You guess, that’s what made you so scared of it. That someone would move to let you die. To be manipulated. To be used like that. It scared the hell out of you.

That was probably why you never noticed the signs when you were in it. The constant checking of a text message to see if he texted you, the sweaty hands and speedy heart whenever he walked by, the overthinking about him, trying to grab his attention by looking pretty.

It was torturous and you thought nothing of it, perhaps you were going crazy, though. Because you definitely should not be feeling like this.

So, you visited the school nurse, Recovery Girl, in hopes that she would cure your unknown disease.

“Hello? Recovery Girl?” You knocked on the open door to alert her that you were there before stepping in.

The old woman turned towards you with a smile on her face, “Hello, Y/N, are you hurt?”

You gulped, fiddling with your fingers, what if she weren’t able to help you? What if it was a fatal deadly disease and you couldn’t be cured no matter what??

“Well…actually, not really. I just think I might be feeling sick and wanted to ask you for your advice on how to help me out with it?”

She patted the hospital bed she had, implying for you to take a seat, so you did.

Recovery Girl silently grabbed her thermometer, going across your forehead to see if you had a temperature. You didn’t, normal temperature. She grabbed a stick and told you to open your mouth and say, “Ahhh…” With her gloves, she felt around your throat to see if there was anything that could hint at you being ill.

Unwrapping her gloves and throwing them out, she finally spoke with that constant smile of hers, “Well I did the minimum and it doesn’t look like you are sick. You don’t have a fever or any signs of a sore throat. Are you sure you feel sick? What are your symptoms exactly?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way you couldn’t be sick. Oh my god, what if you were right. What if you were uncurable!! Leg slightly bouncing in anxiousness, you told her, “W-well, actually, I think my mind is all fuzzy. I’ve been getting urges to check my phone when we are out of class…I sometimes get really feverish around people and it feels like my stomach is twisting when around somebody…do you think a villain could’ve used their quirk on me to make me feel like this?”

Your elder slightly chuckled, as if she knew a little secret, smiling even wider with a slight tint of pink to her cheeks, “Oh dearie,” She patted your bouncing leg to calm you down, “you sound like you’re in love.”

Your eyes widened, blood rushing throughout your entire face, “What! With who?”

“With whoever you want to be around, or whoever you think about most.” She clasped her hands together, nodding her head to convince you further. You couldn’t believe it though. You? In love? Doubtful, you were a future pro-hero! You had no time for love!

The bell rung, hinting you should be at your first period class soon, “Well, dearie, you better get to class now. You know how your teacher acts when you are late.”

You numbly nodded, jumping off the hospital bed and walking out of the nurse’s room. On your way to class, you felt heavier, your mind racing with ideas of who exactly you could be “in love” with. No one came to mind. It was torturous.

Finally, you made it to class, opening the door—luckily Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t here yet—and walking to your seat. Eyes scanning the chatter filled room, you made eye contact with mean crimson eyeballs, your heart picking up pace and your tummy feeling nauseated again.

“Got somethin’ to say, damn extra!?” His rough voice asked you loudly, looking to pick a fight.

Your bottom lip quivered in realization, breaking eye contact and sitting down in your chair. You put your head on the table between your arms, “No no no no no no…him?? Really? That cannot be true, he’s an asshole for crying out loud, what is wrong with you??”

You felt a loud slam on your table, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you, dumbass!”

Your head jolted up at the suddenness, your big eyes staring up at your crush and classmate, Bakugo in confusion and sudden fear. Your cheeks flushed and you licked your lips, feeling thirsty out of nowhere now, “I…”

You noticed a deep red dust his ears as he opened his mouth, “Nevermind.”

Heart skipping a beat at his unexpected calmness, your eyes trailed his body as he stomped away to his chair with a slouch in his posture.

You felt a tap on your right shoulder, your close friend, Mina leaning over to whisper to you, “Bakugo’s never that nice to anyone, he’s totally got the hots for you!!” She squealed in excitement.

You choked on your air, sputtering out words, “N-No! I doubt that’s it, he probably just didn’t want to deal with Aizawa-sensei, he could’ve walked in at any second after all…”

The pink alien playfully punched your shoulder whilst giggling, “Hah! Yeah right, he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble, he totally has a crush on you, I can tell!”

You opened your mouth to respond when your teacher walked in with a ‘dead inside’ expression plastered onto his face, the entire class going silent so they wouldn’t get in trouble.

----

Ever since you found out your crush on your hotheaded classmate two weeks ago, you’ve done your best to avoid him as well as possible. No eye contact, no walking near each other, no talking—which meant also doing your best to not piss him off so you wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to one another. You did whatever you could in hopes of your stupid crush on him to fade away.

But nothing was working. So, you could only come to one reasonable conclusion.

Confess to him. You knew rejection was coming and you just wanted to get it over with so you could wallow in self pity instead.

Maybe that’s why you were here, standing in front of Bakugo Katsuki’s door, a rather large lump caught in your throat as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Swallowing it down, your fist quivered, hesitating to actually knock.

You couldn’t do this. It was way too nerve wracking and you were too much of a coward to actually do it. Placing your hand back down to your side in defeat, you pressed your head on the wall next to his door with a sigh.

“Why can’t I just tell him…” You murmured to yourself, looking down at your hands, imagining his rough ones holding yours. Which was stupid, considering it would never happen, you told yourself, pushing the silly daydreams away.

“What the fuck did you just say, damn extra?”

The sudden voice made you yelp, jumping away only to trip on your own foot and fall straight onto your ass. You groaned at the impact your palms and butt just got, both in extreme pain. You brought your hands up to your line of sight, inspecting how they were red and felt like it burned.

The man above you clicked his tongue in frustration before offering you his hand, “Dumbass. How did you hurt yourself from that?”

“I...” You started, grabbing his hand hesitantly; staring at your hands connected made blood rush to your face, “You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”

The blond snorted, “Idiot. How are you going to become a hero if you just jump from hearing my voice.” He mocked, narrowing his eyes at you before tugging you up and off the ground.

You flushed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his to cover your face in embarrassment, “Shut up…”

“What the fuck are you doing in this hall anyways?”

“I just, um, you see…”

“Spit it out already, idiot.”

You peeked through your fingers, making eye contact with him, and taking a deep breath, “I just…wanted to tell you something.”

Bakugo crossed his arms—which you couldn’t help but admire how his muscles tensed and moved—raising one annoyed eyebrow at you to signify to continue.

Okay. You had to do this now or never. If you didn’t do it now, youd be a failure, a disgrace. Maybe rejection was what you needed! Maybe if he rejected you, your feelings for the hothead would dissipate and you could focus on more important things, like being a hero. Not fantasizing what kissing your classmate would feel like in the middle of a test.

‘Okay, just spit it out. You can do this’ You told yourself, putting your hands together and gulping.

“Alright, just listen,” You glanced towards him, seriously, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt you until you got your words out so you wouldn’t feel like a fool midway, “I, well to put it simply, I think…I think I like you, a lot. And its terrifying because ive never felt this way about anyone before. But I know you don’t feel the same way, so…please—”

Before you knew what was happening, Bakugo pushed forward, uncrossing his arms to grab ahold of you.

This was different. A lot different than how you expected.

Soft lips captured yours, passionately. You froze up, your mind going haywire trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now. You noticed two things, does this mean he liked you back? It had to be right? That thought made you dizzy, there was no way this man liked you back. Bakugo fucking Katsuki, no way.

The man in question pulled away, taking note of your flustered expression, smirking at it waiting for you to speak again.

You reached up to touch your lips, still unbelieving that just happened. The second thing you notice was that his lips, oh god. They were heaven. You expected them to be chapped, rough, but it was far from it. Of course! This man would be perfect like this, after all he did seem like one to take care of himself.

Suddenly snapping up to your senses, your eyes widened, “W-what was that!? I said not to interrupt me!”

Katsuki snickered, “Seriously? I just fucking kissed you and you’re thinking about how I interrupted your stupid confession?”

“N-no! The kiss was nice!” His smirk widened. “No! It wasn’t nice, that’s not what I meant! Well, it was nice, I mean I liked it of course! B-but—”

“You’re stupidly cute when you ramble, you know?”

Your breath hitched before reaching over to smack his arm for teasing you, his strong hand catching your wrist and tugging you into his arms, his free hand coming to grip your waist.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined, struggling against his grip to leave your embarrassment.

“Hell no. Its fun to see your expressions when I do.” Bakugo grinned, his grip tightening for a second, “Your confession was ass though.”

You placed your head on his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but he didn’t have to point it out for crying out loud!

You felt the pressure on your wrist disappear only for it to show up on your chin, “Hey, look at me.” His vermillion eyes surprisingly gentle, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

You were the one to lean in this time, tilting your chin up to kiss him, after all, you didn’t exactly reciprocate it when he did. However, Bakugo immediately responded, his mouth moving against yours with a passion.

After what seemed like an eternity to you—which in reality was about thirty or so seconds—you pulled away, speechless and breathless.

His forehead leaned against yours, his eyes snapping open to make eye contact with you, “I like you too dummy, don’t forget it.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugo #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #imagines #x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #fluff #writing #haechan scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #bnha fanfiction #kacchan #kacchan x reader #bakugou scenarios #lily.writes

[katelynn-a-fan]

Somewhere Over The Rainbow: Chapter 1

Next | Masterlist | Ao3

Summary: Patton encounters a stranger outside of his door he never expected to find. Little does he know that this one person found on his doorstep will forever change both him and his friend's lives in a single snow filled night. Animosities flare and personalities clash, but none of them can resist those big, round puppy dog like eyes. And truth be told, none of them really want to.

Word count: 5993 / 6k

Warnings: Fear, implied hypothermia (This fic is not for minors, you’ve been warned)

Patton gazed out the window at the few flakes of snow outside the window as they lazily drifted down to the ground in the fading twilight. He smiled at the sight. Fiddling absently with the sleeves of his fuzzy sweater, he leaned on his right crutch a little. Patton’s brow creased as his left foot started to ache a bit. He shifted his weight slightly more on his right to compensate. The relief wouldn’t last though.

It’s officially winter now, I suppose. OH! I’ll be busting out my Christmas sweater soon, then!

Patton’s smile spread wider as he turned away from the window, looking around the kitchen he was in.

The kitchen wasn’t too small, but even with plenty of space it was piled with many different containers of various ingredient types, and most of them looked suspiciously like items for making cookies. Speaking of cookies, there were quite a number of unlabeled Tupperware containers that were quite obviously filled with cookies. So. Many. Cookies. There were even multiple circular containers that had the very obvious design of a very familiar very chubby, bearded man dressed in red with a half eaten cookie in his hand. 

It was totally not Santa, no siree, just a random cartoon of a guy that looked exactly like Santa...

Okay, maybe Patton had already started to get into the holiday spirit, and okay, maybe he was bored being alone without his friends and baked all of these cookies just today and okay! Maybe-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Patton sighed, adjusting his crutches as he hobbled over to the stove with the grace of a newborn cygnet in a thunderstorm, where yet another batch of cookies shined back at him in the glow from the oven light.

OKAY! Maybe he was still baking  yet another batch of cookies. Sue him! He just loved cookies… a lot. 

Patton propped one of his crutches on the kitchen counter off to the side, leaning on his left crutch to open the stove. He flinched back, despite being prepared for what was going to happen as a wave of almost blistering heat poured from the gaping maw of the oven, hitting him in the face full blast. 

Patton didn’t go to reach for the oven mitts in the drawer beside the oven, instead first inching his face into the heat to see if the cookies looked like they were done. 

Patton studied the cookies, face fading from a smile to an intense and serious half-frown of concentration as Patton sought to complete his task, searching the tray for any of the cookies that looked still the slightest bit wet or soggy. Finally, he spotted one. The cookie had a very obvious spot that looked distinctly soggy and a few of the other cookies around it looked only very slightly soggy. But that was enough, Patton decided to let them bake a little more. Nodding to himself, Patton brought his head back out of the endless waves of heat, snapping the oven door shut with a light  snap .

Only waiting a moment, the heat from the oven cut off from threatening to melt Patton’s face off he leaned too far forwards, Patton added five minutes to the oven timer. The beeping of the buttons that went off as he input the time into the oven filled the silence around Patton. They were only sounds in the silent kitchen other than Patton’s soft breathing, and yet they were like an avalanche of sound.

Patton pressed start, a last beep emitting from the oven before the kitchen was plunged again into silence. Really, that only heightened the wintery atmosphere; the silence reflected the silent snowfall around Patton’s home. The kind of silence that led people to shout: “Wait, it snowed last night! How did I not notice?”

Patton paused, glancing out the window, considering going back to watching the silent snow fall down outside before the thought of the cold outside brought his eyes to rest on the corner of a box on the kitchen counter under some of the items. His lips tugged up in yet another smile.

Oh, perfect! I might just have some of the cookies I’ve made today with this!

Patton grabbed his right crutch that he had set aside for his oven duties, utilizing it to take the few steps to where most of the items were piled on the counter. He hadn’t had the energy to put them up as of yet, but he knew his two partners would help him do that when they got back. They were such good partners like that. Patton was a lucky guy.

A goofy grin spread onto Patton’s face at the thought of his friends. Roman’s little laugh that he always did instead of his full laugh because he automatically tried to suppress anything that would make him use his inhaler, laughing included. Patton hated that he was deprived of such a melodious sound, but his little breathy laughs were (almost) just as endearing. Janus was similarly quiet, but his laughs were fuller much more often when Patton told a particularly good dad joke. Remus was the one that he wasn’t the most keen on, unhinged cackling at the practical jokes he pulled on Patton or his… partners? He had never seen Remus play any jokes on his partners, so Patton had no idea what he sounded like then. Logan’s little giggle when his little buddy Crofters did something absolutely adorable when he was able to play, and finally Virgil's full belly laugh that only happened when Patton or anyone caught him off guard with a particularly funny joke, like Janus, but Virgil  howled . He loved all of their laughter and couldn’t wait to hear it again.

Granted, he could’ve asked Remus to come over as he was the only one in his trio that was still at home, maybe to help get him to stop baking another batch of cookies.

But right now, he was getting that box.

Patton didn’t set his other crutch aside this time, able to stretch out his hands (within his limits, he still had crutches under his armpits to deal with, mind you) to shift aside all of the various food items laid on top of what Patton needed to get.

Having pushed everything finally out of the way, Patton proudly produced a box of hot chocolate packets of various flavors triumphantly. His chest puffed out as he completed the action. The corner of Patton’s lip twitched up.

Score! It’s not opened yet! That means I get the pick of the litter! Yay!

Patton put his hand over his heart with one hand, pressing the box into his chest, dramatically bobbing his head while pumping his fist into the air like a recreation of  The Breakfast Club.

After he was finished, he glanced at the clock despite the fact it was still resolutely still showing 5 minutes left on the timer. 

Patton wasted no time, retrieving his favorite mug with a frog featured prominently on the side. The handle of the mug was made to look like the frog’s tongue, which may have grossed out anyone else if they saw it, but Patton didn’t mind.

Patton hobbled over to the sink with one crutch, leaving the other behind for a bit more flexibility for what he was going to do. It remained, sadly draped against the kitchen counter. He nearly fumbled with the knob and almost spilled his mug, but he was able to steady it before anything was flung onto the counter. Not having any line or indication of where to fill the mug up to for the proper hot chocolate powder to water ratio, Patton simply eyeballed the amount of water he needed. The mug filled to about a third of an inch under the rim of the mug before the water was turned off, Patton having successfully filled the mug with the right amount of water according to his personal assessment.

Before he moved back towards the hot chocolate powder packets, Patton made sure to set the mug down and wipe his hands off with a towel. Patton also ran the towel for a couple seconds around the part of the counter surrounding the sink, to clean any stray bits of water that had managed to splash out of the sink and the mug. When he was done, he hung the towel back up, folding it perfectly like Janus had taught him when they moved in together.

“Towels definitely look nice all wrinkled, folding the towels isn’t a way to make them not wrinkled when you hang them up.” Janus had said in that adorably sarcastic tone that made Patton just want to hold Janus’s face and squish it until Janus was blushing as red as Santa’s signature suit. 

Patton’s smile bloomed into a full blown grin at the memory of one of his partners. He had been  so  adorable when Patton was first able to fluster him. Patton’s heart attempted to full on beat out of his chest as his mind began to wander to more memories of his partners before a slight change out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Patton glanced over to gauge the source of the change in his vision. Like humans developing their innate sense of danger and perception through trial and error, historically it had been used to spot prey and also potential predators. But in a kitchen in modern society, Patton was in no place for some kind of predator to simply jump out at him.

00:04 

Instead of a predator in the wild, the oven timer had caught Patton’s eye once again. Already, a minute had elapsed.

Patton shook his head, trying to shake the lingering memories of his partners out of his head to help him focus.

I love my partners, but if I want to time it right, I gotta focus. Come on Patton, let’s do this. Cookie and hot chocolate time! Woo!

Patton gingerly picked up the mug on the counter, moving over to the microwave, reaching up with the mug-less hand to pry open the microwave with a  click  that reverberated through the microwave, creating the unique sound that only opening a microwave could evoke. Patton’s feet and ankles protested as Patton edged his weight forward to slightly on his tiptoes, gingerly placing his mug into the microwave to heat it up for its intended purpose that evening. Hot chocolate!

Another unique microwave door click later, the sound of the microwave buttons filled the void the other sound of the microwave left behind as Patton set the microwave timer to heat the water for his hot chocolate up for 90 seconds total. 

Roman’s voice filled Patton’s head this time, his voice colored with playful exasperation.

“But why can’t you just input one minute and thirty seconds like a normal human being? The microwave even changes to that form when you start it up! Heathen!” Roman’s voice hadn’t been serious, but Patton had still responded seriously to Roman’s question with five simple words that had Roman aghast.

“Takes less time to press.” Patton had shrugged, turning away to hide his smirk at the offended noise it elicited from Roman that rivaled the most aghast pearl-clutchers.

This time, Patton didn’t let the memory pull him away from what he was doing as he pressed the start button on the microwave. The newest sound from the microwave, a gentle hum that signaled the microwave was working, filled the kitchen. 

Out the window, the snow began to visibly change direction, previously angled coming from the right, the very light wind began to blow the snow slowly from perpendicular to the ground to slowly start coming from the left. The wind was gratefully not the howling winds of a full on snowstorm. In Patton’s opinion, snow was best experienced overnight with little to no wind.

Patton jumped when the sudden beeping of the microwave startled him, whipping around to the microwave. He had gotten distracted by the snow and generally distracted for the third or fourth time in a quarter of an hour. 

Patton’s cheeks warmed, slowly turning pink despite the lack of anyone else there to observe him become distracted once again.

This darn snow! Making my brain go soft with it’s wonderfulness! Darn you, snow!

Patton shook his fist lightly at the snow outside as he mentally chastised the snow, a traitorous grin spreading on his face despite his attempt to look serious. What would the neighbors think if they saw him shaking his fist at the snow? They would likely think he was off his rocker from an accelerated case of cabin fever. The snow had just started, after all, and Patton had been able to go out for groceries not a few hours before for anything else he needed before the snow hit. That was… where he got a huge portion of the ingredients he had used in the plethora of cookies he had already made that evening.

 Patton’s grin remained as he grabbed the small towel he had used to wipe down the water around the kitchen sink. When he went to grab his now-thoroughly-steaming mug, he placed the kind of damp towel under the mug, a barrier between Patton’s hand and the mug. Even through the towel, the mug was almost too hot to touch. The towel also had an ingenious two-in-one purpose as it would catch and absorb any water that happened to slosh over the side of the mug.

Patton almost gasped as he accidentally bumped against the counter with his hip, tipping his mug so that a small glob of water darkened the still damp towel. Patton tensed as he watched the little bit of water slosh out of the mug, waiting for the scalding pain of the near boiling water to come, instead a slight damp warm thump of hot dampness plopped against his hand. The towel stuck to Patton’s hand where the dark spot appeared.

Patton stood still a moment more, blinking down at the dark spot made by the water, his mind filled with the odd thought of soaked towel hand puppets, before he finally relaxed again. His shoulders, like a coiled spring, dropped down into something more of a loose, flimsy string. Patton laughed breathily as he then much more carefully set down his mug on the counter. 

Patton waited a moment, gazing between the mug and the edge of the counter before he slowly ran the mug across the counter, a couple of inches away from the edge of the counter. No chance to mess up that now. Patton nodded to himself.

Grabbing the box of assorted hot chocolate mixes half blindly, Patton checked the timer, the oven now showing:

 00:02

Patton inwardly fist bumped the air like he did at the window. He didn’t want to make himself look even more off his rocker by doing the same thing he just did a few moments before like he was under the influence or something.. Patton was in full view of that same window, after all.

Right on schedule now! Yes! I still got to mix everything up, but the cookies have to cool still, so there’s absolutely no hurry. Take. It. Slow…

Patton pulled the box directly in front of him. His fingers ran smoothly across the surface of the box, searching for the special tab to help him open it. Eventually, one of his fingers sunk into the box, Patton turning it to see the finger had slipped through the hole where the tab was. Patton flexed his finger, getting his finger under the tab and then tugging. The sound of popping came from the box as Patton began to peel back the cardboard lid that was once a solid part of the box.

As Patton finished pulling the lid back, the hot chocolate mix box now resembled more the structure of an open tissue box than a standard box package. Not those tissue boxes with the plastic there to keep tissues from falling out, but the open mix box resembled those cheap tissue boxes you get. The ones where you peel back a portion of the box and leave the tissue paper open to the elements and the various germs of anyone who used it. Yuck. Even the hot chocolate mix packages themselves, the white thin packages with somewhat subtle color difference to denote the different flavors, resembled very thick pieces of tissue paper.

Patton’s face settled into pensive curiosity, following the packages up and down the structured lines the packages were in with his eyes. Already some of the mini packages were starting to fall over against each other, the box less sturdy now that it was open than when it was unopened on the shelf of the grocery store, relatively undisturbed. 

Patton bit his lip, his left hand rising from the counter where it had been draped to cup his chin, tapping his cheek as he agonized over which flavor to use.

They all sound so good! Milk Chocolate, Vanilla, Mocha, Caramel, even Candy Cane flavored?! I- I don’t know if I can even choose!

“You’re all so lovely, I don’t know if I can pick only one of you!” Patton cried, the sound a mix between a coo and a groan.

The mixes were of course no help, all of them seeming to say ‘Pick me!’ ‘No, pick me!’ ‘I taste good too!’ Patton just  could not pick.  

Instead Patton opted for the most unbiased method of choosing, he decided to merely screw his eyes shut and bring his hand down into the box to pick one. Patton gripped the box and did some preliminary stretches, making sure his hand landed on the box when it landed before he attempted the feat completely blind. He stepped back a little, prepared for what he was about to do

Patton slammed his eyes shut, and raised his hand, holding his breath dramatically as he hand dropped his hand into the box. He rummaged around slightly before a specific package called to him. He gripped the chosen package, extracting it from the others, opening his eyes as he brushed off the other package that clung to his chosen package. It was as if the packet was jealous and holding onto the other one to try and get Patton to choose it.

Patton flipped the package over, reading the vaguely faint text that read  Candy Cane on the package. Patton nearly dropped the package as he bit back a loud squeal. Even though he was alone, Patton still automatically suppressed his squeals, worried he might distress his partners. Patton glanced out of the kitchen towards the living room, face dropped before it lit up again immediately after, Patton’s fist balling up and plastering themselves to his chest as he let out a practically ear-piercing squeal, comfortable in the knowledge he wasn’t disturbing anyone with it as no one but him was home.

“It’s like a candy cane and a chocolate bar had a baby! I bet it tastes wonderful! I don’t think I’ve had this flavor before!” Patton bubbled to the empty kitchen, pushing the box of hot chocolate mix packages to the side.

Patton pulled the mug back towards himself. He also slid the towel towards himself as well. The mug was still scalding to the touch-

“Ah! Fiddlesticks, I forgot what I was doing with the mug. That smarts!” Patton clutched his right hand back from the mug, cradling it with his other hand.

-as Patton found out when he reached out to grab the mug like he always did when he wasn’t making hot chocolate, by the main part of the cup. Not the handle. 

Patton waved his hand, trying to dispel the pain as the skin of his hand turned from light toffee to a dim pink. His hand prickled, the sensation in his hand temporarily muddled by the phantom sensation of heat that remained, not going away with Patton’s hand movements.

Patton’s eyes widened, peeping down at the counter. He flickered his eyes between his hand and the counter once or twice before he placed his hand lightly on the counter. 

A contented sigh slipped from his lips. The cool countertop was the perfect balm for Patton’s hand, a current of ice traveling pleasantly up his veins to chase away the lingering heat.

However, his contentment didn’t last too long as Patton jerked when the oven sounded. That meant his hand was exposed to the air, and that aching heat slowly bloomed once again, radiating through his veins. 

Patton moved a couple steps to the oven, still with his singular crutch. Patton grabbed the oven mitts and slipped them on quickly. Patton couldn’t help but cringe at the coarse material sliding over his irritated skin, but he had to be ready just in case this time. Patton never wanted to intentionally burn his cookies.

Patton flinched back at the wave of heat then. His right hand under the oven mitt was painfully pulsing in time with the waves from the oven, like the oven heat was feeding the residual burn. 

Patton peered into the oven like he had five minutes before to check the cookies. Patton smiled as the cookies now were immaculate, no wet or soggy spots and no dark brown burnt spots either. There were one or two cookies that were visibly close to burning, but other than that, they were perfect.

A satisfied smile bloomed on Patton’s face as he reached into the oven with his left hand. He didn’t want to risk further irritating his right hand. Even though it was a bit harder to maneuver, Patton pulled the tray of cookies out with one hand, closing the oven with a solid  thump. With the tray balancing precariously in Patton’s right hand, Patton quickly abandoned his crutch to quickly set the tray down. Patton cringed as his feet protested the new weight on them, but he finished the job quickly setting the tray down on the counter beside his unmade hot chocolate.

Before Patton did anything else, the light yet still on coming from the oven caught Patton’s eye. Without a moment to lose, Patton leaned over as far as he could before his feet started to  really  protest and shut off the oven with a single finger, though the oven mitt hid the shape of his hand..

Glad I caught that! That could’ve been bad, and a HUGE waste of energy and electricity! Good job, Patton!

Patton started to brush his hand together in a job well done, a triumphant grin on his face, until his still oven mitted hands ran against one another. Patton cringed as the movement again irritated his still tingling right hand. Patton’s only lucky break was that the burning in his right hand had subsided while it was in the gloves. The stinging was only a slight jagged edge against Patton’s palm instead of the many very jagged edges feeling the irritation had caused initially when Patton first pulled back.

Patton sighed, gradually peeling off the oven mitts.

Letting the cookies cool as they needed a bit before Patton could handle them, let alone eat them, Patton faced the hot chocolate mix and the mug he had left sitting there. 

Patton snatched up the mix packet, humming with a stupidly wide grin as he finally tore open the mix, wasting no time before pouring it into the mug of slowly cooling water. Patton finished pouring the mix in and moved back, opening the silverware drawer to retrieve a spoon to stir the mixture into an even and uniform solution.

Patton let his mind wander, but not too far, as the gentle clinking of the spoon against the side of his mug faded into a peaceful background melody of sound. 

His eyes eventually gravitated back to the kitchen window, where he found fantastic shapes in the swirls of snow outside the window. Memories of previous winters past flitted through Patton’s mind, of cozy blankets and warm hugs. Comforting touches danced like phantoms across Patton’s skin, his partners’ gentle caresses and the platonic cuddles of his friends teasing him like vengeful apparitions. Except the vengeance enacted by the spirits was only teasing the gentle touch of his friends and partners, nothing malicious or evil.

When Patton was satisfied, he looked down at the steaming mug of hot chocolate. He extracted the dripping spoon from the solution, tapping it on the side of the glass like the final rings of victory in battle. Patton laid the spoon on the towel he had used to insulate his hand, having no need for it anymore.

The cookies sat, tempting Patton to take one, but he was still unsure if the cookies were cool enough to handle. However, it didn’t take long for Patton’s self control to falter under the irresistible temptation of what he had just created. Patton's face quickly turned pained before he pounced on two of the cookies, releasing his breath as the cookies didn’t burn his left hand as he picked the first one up. 

Patton’s pulse raced, bouncing up and down on his toes minutely as he gathered his things, preparing to move to a more comfortable location to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He retrieved his crutches where he had abandoned them leaning against the counter. 

With a pep in his step, Patton slowly maneuvered around the island in the middle of the kitchen. The ground underneath Patton starkly transitioned from the somewhat slick tiled floor of the kitchen to a soft carpet as Patton entered the living room. 

Patton wasn’t affected by the change in terrain, expertly weaving through the living room by muscle memory. He could probably do it in his sleep or blindfolded if he needed to.

Placing the cookies and hot chocolate on the coffee table, Patton set both of his crutches finally to the side, having no need for them while he was going to relax and recline on the couch. 

 The couch wrapped around him like a warm hug as he automatically relaxed into it. He let out a contented sight, automatically closing his eyes as he could finally relax instead of worry about the cookies or his feet. Patton pulled the coffee table close enough to grab his mug while being able to get out when he needed to get up. 

Patton grabbed the remote, turning on the TV. Patton scrolled through the channels, looking at various movies and shows until he turned to a channel that caught his eye. The program was a TV series he was getting into called  Steven Universe.  It was one of the episodes he had already watched, which he was grateful for as he had almost been spoiled a couple of times before, the episode was a welcome one for Patton. 

Though he had already watched it, he let the episode play out, placing the remote on the coffee table and replacing it with the mug of hot chocolate and the two cookies he’d nabbed. 

Patton’s eyes were glued to the screen, captivated almost instantly with the episode. He absently brought the cookie and hot chocolate to his mouth as he watched Steven and Connie battling a bout of snow. Patton chuckled softly at the timing of the episode, glancing outside as he did so.

That’s so funny, it’s snowing here too! Also… I knew this hot chocolate flavor would taste wonderful! It tastes just like candy canes and chocolate had a baby! Don’t want to drink this too fast, though. It’ll be more satisfying if I drink it to savor it, not just gulping it down.

Patton lowered his cup a little, slowing down the flow of hot chocolate. When he was done with the swig hot and heavenly cocoa bean liquid he was taking, he set the cup back down, leaning back into the soft cushions. 

The air of the room was so warm and the scent of cookies and hot chocolate that Patton found himself closing his eyes for longer and longer. It wasn’t until Patton’s arm slid off the arm of the couch that Patton jolted back, fully awake and aware. He grabbed for the mug of hot chocolate immediately, half of the liquid still sloshing around in there, having grown almost cold.

“I can’t have hot chocolate without the hot!” Patton mumbled, bringing the cup to his lips to try and wake himself up more. On the TV, Steven yelled out something, causing Patton to turn his attention back to the show. He peered over the rim of his cup to continue to watch the show when...

Thump.

Patton jumped at a small thud in the direction of the door. The veil of drowsiness draped over him almost immediately fled as Patton nearly tossed his hot chocolate all over himself. He managed to not spill it over himself, instead, he corrected the movement, expertly positioning his mug to catch every last drop of hot chocolate.

Patton didn’t celebrate the accomplishment though, chills traveling up his arms and his spine, making him shudder involuntarily. His mind immediately started to race, his mind conjuring up more and more absurd reasons why the thump occurred before a soft laugh escaped his lips.

It’s snowing, the thump was probably some snow falling off the roof, nothing to be concerned about. Breathe.

Patton didn’t follow the breathing exercise this time. His panic hadn’t mounted too much, so a simple and normal deep breath in and out dispelled the chill up his spine. However, it didn’t get rid of the small pit in Patton’s stomach that told him that there could be something wrong and that sound wasn’t just snow.

But Patton ignored it, moving onto his second cookie, the first one placed neatly in Patton’s stomach.

Thump. Thump.

Patton’s heart sank as two more thumps traveled through the living room for the front door of the house.

It’s not snow. Not snow. Not snow!

Patton’s fingers twitched around the cookie in his hand, placing it carefully on the coffee table. Making as little sound as possible, he slowly turned down the volume of the TV. The bite of cookie in Patton’s mouth now felt like a boulder, scraping down his throat when he swallowed. Patton had to swish down another mouthful of hot chocolate to get the harsh feeling to go away.

Patton’s thoughts went back to racing a mile a minute, analyzing everything he had heard so far and eventually all his thoughts came to the same basic conclusion.

He had to check out what the noise was.

Patton slowly extracted himself from the couch, setting his mug down and grabbed the nearest blunt object, just in case, as he passed the coffee table on his route towards the door: a decorative vase covered in cartoon flowers. The flowers in the vase had long since died and been thrown away, so Patton easily wielded it upside down, gripping the bumpy surface like a baseball bat. 

Patton approached the door very cautiously, trying to make as little sound with his socked feet as he could on the floor as the surface under Patton’s socks changed from the carpet back to the hard, flat surface of the hardwood floor. The change nearly sent Patton tumbling, the slick hardwood providing less traction than the kitchen tiles.

His crutches could wait for now; he didn’t  need them to walk, and they might slow him down in the tighter space of the doorway, so he left them propped up out of the way on the leg of the couch.

Another small shuffle came through the door. Patton gripped the vase harder, but nowhere near enough to crack it. Some part of Patton wanted desperately to run to his room, to hole himself up there and ignore the sound, maybe to call the police in case the sound was someone coming to attack him. 

But a louder part of Patton was insisting that Patton see what was making the sound. It could be something harmless, but it could also be something or someone who meant to hurt him.

Everything became suspended in time for a long moment. Patton was at the door, the only thing he needed to do now was open the door, but he paused. 

Should I open it? I should! But what if- No! I can’t back down, if it is someone who means me harm, I at least know to look out for something. Calm yourself Patton. In 4…..

Patton’s heart had begun to race, his breathing speeding up, but he wiggled his body a little, trying to get rid of the excess tension. He stilled only when he started the breathing exercise. Patton’s chest expanded languidly, his lungs filling with precious air he had been depriving himself of in his panic.

Hold 7...

Patton fought the urge to breathe out until the count was done, keeping his eye fixed on a point on the doorframe to not remind him of the possible danger waiting outside with a reckless glance.

Out for 8...

Patton’s shoulders relaxed. They dropped down almost to the position they were before, but there was an undercurrent of tension even then weaved into Patton’s slightly chubby frame. A stray strand of hair fell down into Patton’s face from his messy ponytail, and Patton tucked it behind his ear absently, not even registering it beyond tucking it away out of sight. 

Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, gazing through the small window above, the snow coming down just the same as at the kitchen window. He brought his hand up to the door knob, snatching it back as he second-guessed himself before slowly bringing his hand back to where it was.

The moment Patton’s left hand hit the cool metal, Patton shivered, hit with the fact that the next moments may count for his life or death.

Patton warred against himself for several moments longer before an impulse swept through him. His hand promptly gripped the knob. He twisted it sharply before swinging the door rapidly open. His left hand went to the vase, primed to strike before his assailant could....

But instead of anything Patton expected, Patton opened the door to find absolutely nothing there, no strange car in the driveway or hooded figure with a gun pointed at his chest. Rather, there was just the silent snow falling to the ground, the cold air blasting Patton in the face as the seal of warmth in the house was broken.

“Mm…”

Patton jumped at the sound of the human groan, nearly shattering the vase in his grip when his hand clenched the vase the tightest he could. Its proximity sent Patton’s heart pumping as he scrambled back from the sound as his gaze trailed down to...

Patton froze. And he didn’t freeze because of the cold temperature.

The reason was… much worse.

On his doorstep, half covered in a thin layer of snow that was slowly melting under the outside porch light, was a child. A child all alone, in the snow, with no coat or protection whatsoever, curled up on Patton’s doorstep.

Patton barely noticed when he dropped the vase in his hands, only hearing it shatter against the floor and the child’s huddled form jolt sluggishly at the sound. Patton’s hand clapped over his mouth, whether to stifle his cry or simply at the sheer sight, even Patton wasn’t sure of the reason he did it himself. Patton’s heart followed suit with the vase, dropping to Patton’s feet and shattering into a million tiny pieces at the image of the child's tiny form, left to the elements in the marginally below freezing weather.

There was only one coherent thought Patton had the sight of the poor child at his feet: 

Who would do this to a child?

#somewhere over the rainbow #sotr #patton sanders #child #k's writing #sanders sides #sander sides fic #hot chocolate #cookies #baking #patton is alone #the start of something I hope you'll find beautiful #eventual romantic dlampr #no remrom #chapter 1

[sweet-marie]

My name is Alison; I’m eleven years old. I love having a fever because I can stay home. And because when I’m sick, I float. On the couch, under the snowman blanket, my mind dissolves like the chewable grape Tylenol I take instead of the pills I don’t know how to swallow yet. When I was five with a high fever I pointed at the painting that was always above the mantle and said, “It looks like it’s floating.” “It’s just the shadow under it,” my mom said. “I see it too.” I knew, though, that she didn’t see it. She thought she did, but she didn’t. It’s like sun just for a moment between black trees when I am half-asleep in the backseat, or the way I can use my fingers to gently move the thin skin over the blue vein in my wrist. Things look different sometimes and I am convinced other people don’t see it, except for the authors of the books I read, and they may as well be dead. I read the same books over and over when I am sick. The pages make my hands dry. TV is different with a fever the same way TV is different at a hotel; it is better. The shows are always weirder when I am home from school. Somehow the remote does not really make sense to me yet, so I watch whatever comes on. “He knew his way around the ship the very first time he went through,” the grandmother on TV says. “No one taught him. He knew it from a past life.” The boy’s eyes are burrowed deep into a glowing Titanic computer game. He has a thin chest and a big T-shirt; he looks like someone who could never grow up. I am moved by his intensity. I feel that somehow I must be a little like this boy. No one taught me to move through the world the way I do. It hurts to grow taller and I’m always growing taller. My shinbones are painful and wrong like someone’s been kicking them in my sleep. Like the young man on the show who wakes up with long red scratches down his back from the fingernails of a ghost of a little girl. I never saw Titanic except for the scene in which parents tuck small children into their beds before they drown.

///

My name is Alison; I’m eleven years old. I like the number eleven, but I don’t like being eleven. I don’t like the number eleven, actually; I like the word eleven. I like words and books. People in books are orphans or dying or must save other people from dying. I do not have big problems. I have milk I am not allowed to pour down the sink if I don’t want it because some children are starving and my mom was hungry when she was eleven and I am eleven and I am never hungry. No one I know has died, not even my dog yet. I have not cried for anyone. I cry when I find out I have head lice. My older brother asks why I’m crying and my older sister says, “It’s upsetting for a girl to have bugs in her hair.” I do not know what she means. If I was a boy, would I not cry? I don’t cry very often. I used to tell my friends I never cried at all. I have to come back to school when the lice are all dead. My fifth-grade teacher, Miss Conwell, who I will later transpose slightly onto my memory of a therapist I have for a year named Dr. Connolly because of their names and blue eyes, dark lank hair and loose pale faces, says it is a good thing I didn’t have to shave my head. I say “Yes,” but when I think of having a shaved head I feel unexpected indifference. I am supposed to care. I don’t think Kelsey, for instance, would like to have all her hair cut off. Kelsey is blond and mean and I am always looking at her, but she doesn’t look at me. I let her copy my vocabulary workbook and she calls me her friend. I know she thinks I don’t know I’m not her friend. My sister was my friend but now she has a boyfriend. Sometimes when I am falling asleep she still plays with my hair, which is how she found the lice. My mother still reads to me before bed though I know how to do it myself. I am not an orphan.

///

My name is Alison; I’m eleven years old. I wear glasses now and without them I can’t see very well. Sometimes I walk around with my eyes closed for as long as I can and see how colors change through my eyelids. When I am fourteen I will have to stop doing this, because I will walk into a car—parked, thankfully—and my nose will feel prickly for the rest of the day. I like to look out the window with my eyes closed, too. Red sunlight recedes from my eyeballs. It looks fuzzy. It’s like TV static. I don’t watch TV except for days when I lay in the cool dark of the nurse’s office for a while and then get to go home early. I wish I could always stay home. Getting up in the morning in winter is terrible because the toilet seat is incredibly cold and then at school where there is frost on the grass we have to run laps on the blacktop. I am the worst runner. Not the worst, but one of the worst. I hate it because when I am running there is cold snot on my face and my lungs crumple and burn. And I look stupid. Secretly I feel I have the right heart to be a runner, I am the kind of person who could truly love it, but my body fails to orchestrate these shapeless dreams. I am a wrecked kite when I run. Walking around with my eyes closed and my arms stretched out into the deep, crowding dark feels as free and endless as running might to someone else. Still, I am afraid of truly going blind someday. We are told we have to run so we don’t get heart disease. I don’t want to die, but I don’t run if I don’t have to. Cold water runs down my chin and burns going down my throat.

///

My name is Alison; I’m eleven years old. Being eleven is awful, but I don’t want to grow up. I am afraid of being old and the things that come with it. I am also afraid of being tortured under interrogation, getting mauled to death by a bear while camping, getting a tapeworm from microscopic eggs laid in the string cheese I used to eat, and the maze of droopy bras at the mall. I can’t look at the bras; I have to stand some distance away and gaze straight ahead while my mother and older sister laugh at me. This is one of the burning injustices of being an eleven-year-old person. There are many things I don’t know how to look at, or do. I stand so stiffly all the time that it hurts. Everything I love I take with closed fists. I lay on my stomach in my older brother’s room and he plays music that I clutch inside my chest in secret. It vibrates around all the chambers of my heart. It is like a black, furry mass I hadn’t known had grown there. My brother is going to the doctor now and there is a book in the waiting room of phobias. It is like a children’s book, with board pages and illustrations. One fear is of being buried alive although I do not recall the word. The illustration is a red rose in a gray coffin. I touch it with my bitten fingertips. When I grow up no one will make me cry when I spill milk. I will be taller and I will know the right words. I am not allowed to argue. And everyone is always looking at me when I don’t want to be looked at. My teacher is telling me something again, and she wants me to look back at her, but I stare deep into a rosebush. All I’ve ever known how to do is hide inside my sleeves and try to be a ghost, try to uproot myself from here. I float away when I bite my fingers. Someday I will lay on the floor wondering if I am going to throw up and the ceiling will become dark and strange like a forest. I will almost think I can step back into my pink bedroom. I will know how to swallow pills. I rub my eyes really hard and darkness prickles into tree-shapes inside my eye sockets, where I am snowed in alone and safe.

#WHATEVER

[mainly-kpop]

You’re Invited

Word count: 6,759 Warnings: bloodsuckers, smut, small anxiety attack? Talks of killing, Yoongi is slightly stalkerish...  summary: A small halloween party to cure your boredom... what could go wrong? Vampires, that’s what could go wrong. 

Ft, my sketchy drawing bc i had a vision god damn it! also, happy halloween ;) 

p.s Ofc, as always, my ask box is open come talk to me or request stuff, i love to hear from yall <3 

Vampires, you scoffed, who actually believed in that shit now? After twilight plummeted in sales, and that generation grew up, wasn’t it a thing no one talked about? Sparkling vampires and lightning baseball matches, it was all heavily fiction, vampires. as if. 

Sighing you turned the television off, sinking into the odd brown plush cushions of the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, making random noises with your mouth, and tapping your fingers on the couch. GOD, why were you so bored? It’s not like you had nothing to do. Honestly you had plenty you should be doing. Maybe work for a start? or the house needed a damn good clean. You could call your mother, see if she wanted to have lunch tomorrow. Instead, you eyeballed the Halloween invite to your left, the black and orange piece of paper making you grimace. How tacky and childish, who celebrates Halloween at this age? Were you just boring? Behind on things people actually took interest in now? Swearing under your breath, you grabbed the invitation reading it over. 

NEIGHBOUR! 

I wish to invite you to our super spoopy Halloween party! I will be heavily disappointed if you don’t dress up, but if you give me a shot of something wicked, I’ll let it pass... 

Hope to see you here! 

Taehyung. 

You knew of the boy, he lived with his friends. It seemed like some weird frat house, but some of them were far too old to be in a frat... Who were you to judge though. Puffing air loudly through parted lips, you trudged to your room to find something to wear. Eyeballing the Halloween outfit from three years ago, you shrugged. 

‘Let’s hope this fucking fits...’ you spoke to yourself, squeezing into the sexy Alice in Wonderland costume. It was snug, but it still looked half decent. Grabbing the invite off the kitchen counter, you headed out to the party. 

He didn’t leave an address, but the people screaming, the heavy base and the cars leading to the scene usually pointed out where to go. Shuffling past already drunk people on the doorstep, you slipped through the door. A boy pounced at you the second you stepped in, as if he had been waiting for your appearance. 

‘I’m so glad you made it!! And you dressed up how cute!’ You tilted her head, frown etched onto your features. Cute wasn’t really what you were going for, but go off chief. You smiled awkwardly at the boy dressed as a vampire. 

‘Yep.’ An awkward reply if he ever heard one, but he shrugged it off quickly. He grabbed your arm dragging you to the kitchen, placing a strange concoction in your hand. Looking into the cup, you shrugged, taking a gulp. If anything, at least it would cure your boredom. 

‘Is she here?’ Jungkook spoke, interest piquing as Taehyung re-joined the group. Yoongi rolled his eyes, smacking the other on his muscular arm. 

‘Of course she’s here you idiot, can’t you smell her?’ He questioned, a little sceptical about the talents of the younger boy. True he was newer than the rest of them, it was going to take some time for his skills to warm up, but he should smell you. The younger just shrugged, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. 

‘Also, why did we all have to dress like vampires. It’s fucking lame.’ Yoongi sulked, taking the fake fangs out of his mouth, throwing them onto the table in front of him. 

‘It’s funny, hyung! It’s dramatic irony!’ Taehyung moaned, Yoongi just rolled his eyes standing up. 

‘Dramatic irony my ass, it hurts my non beating heart. Why couldn’t we be zombies, now THAT would have been funny.’ Jimin giggled at the elder boys outburst, thinking about them dressed as zombies. Honestly dressing up for this season annoyed him in general. They only ever play along because Taehyung and Jin love it so much. 

You wandered about the party, eyeballing everyone dressed up. Was there a vampire theme tonight or? Did you miss the memo? You looked at the little paper invite in your hand, scanning it for any mention of vampires. Seeing nothing, you shrug, placing it down on an end table and walking away. Maybe vampires were still a big classic for people, huh, who knew! Downing the liquid in your cup, you grimaced. Whatever that boy gave you was not normal. 

‘Did you just down that in one? You’re supposed to sip it!’ He looked astounded to say the least, the tall vampire with big doe eyes. 

‘Pfft, who sips alcohol. What do you think I am? A child?’ You sassed, looking him up and down, he was hella attractive, all these ‘frat boys’ seemed to be. 

‘No I’m serious, that’s enough alcohol for like 5 or 6 rounds. You’ve just downed 6 rounds in one glass...’ You just laughed at him. Although, your head did feel fuzzy, maybe he was right. 

‘Ah, who cares, you think, you think I can’t handle alcohol?! I’m big girl! I can do it all little man!’ Jungkook groaned, god he hated humans at these stupid parties... You clung onto his arm, hiccupping. 

‘Hey! Where are you taking me?’ You gasped, he stopped to look down at Your fragile frame. You stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear. ‘Are we going to a bedroom? No offence but you’re a little young for me...’ He scoffed, now THAT was genuinely hilarious. 

‘Listen peach, I’m one hundred percent sure, I’m older than you. And no, we aren’t going to a bedroom.’ He groaned, lugging your dead weight around. 

‘Yoongi, help me please.’ He grumbled, practically throwing your drunken body onto his friends lap. Yoongi looked you up and down, smirking at your cute little costume. Your hair in little pigtails, dried fake blood on the dress.  He could tell you didn’t make much of an effort for this, that you really could have done without being here in the first place. 

‘Hello, you have pretty eyes.’ You hiccupped, poking lightly at his cheeks. He laughed at you, his fangs sitting between his lips. 

‘Hey, those look so real!’ You marveled, before he could stop you, you pushed your pointer finger to the bottom of his fang, splitting your skin. You pulled back instantly, sucking the finger into your mouth, whimpering at the shock. ‘Ouchie.’ You cried out, not noticing the eyes on you. 

‘Hey, little boy, stop looking at me like that!’ You grumble, pointing your other hand at him. Jungkook snaps out of his trance instantly, sighing at you. 

‘I’m not a little boy you child! I’m AT LEAST 60 years older than your stupid ass!’ He complained, making you burst out laughing. He tensed at the sound, hands clenched into annoyed fists by his sides. 

‘If you’re 60 years older than me, then you’re using really good face creams. This kid doesn’t even know how old he is!’ You marvel, whispering to Yoongi before getting distracted by the fangs again. he focused on putting them away before you could endanger yourself again. You seemed like the type to try again regardless of getting hurt. He wrapped an arm around your waist, trying to sit you up on the couch, rather than having your weight lounged across him. 

‘You’re like really pretty…’ You whispered, the boys around you laughed, trying to fall into their own conversations, or find their own women to deal with tonight. Yoongi always wanted you, you didn’t know him, but by god did he want you. You smelt so sweet, looked so tempting. Yoongi basically knew your whole schedule at this point, knew when you went for a jog or went out to work. Knew where you shopped for your groceries, and your favourite song. Most of these things he found out by chance, and saying it out loud seemed creepy. He was shopping the same day you were, he found that day and that place was usual for you. You jogged past their house on the regular, Yoongi naturally woke up one morning to close the blinds that incessantly plunged light into his room. Despite popular belief, he could go into the light, he just rather wouldn’t. It burnt his eyes, he hated sunlight when he was alive, he was not shocked to see it hadn't changed in death. Every morning after that he stood at the window, happy to see it wasn’t just luck when he saw you the first time. One time you looked up, saw him at the window, he closed the curtains quickly though, not really wanting to see your reaction. You might have thought he was a creep, or a stalker, either way you had frowned at the window, carrying on running.  The song thing was purely by chance, he walked past your home a lot at night, his ridiculously good hearing made him hear things he didn’t want to from people’s houses. Every second house, someone was fucking. He once heard your elderly neighbours screaming daddy, that really scared him. He still couldn’t look Mr and Mrs Williams in the eye. Despite that, walking past yours was his favourite, it was always the same pop song blasting through your speakers, he could hear the neighbours ranting about it but he would just laugh. He found himself singing it regularly, not able to place it until he heard it from you again. That’s when he knew he was screwed. I mean enjoying a person is one thing, but he basically knew things about you he shouldn’t, he felt more like a stalker every day, it was getting dangerous. 

The others could see it too, but it wasn’t something they could really help with, maybe he just needed to fuck you to get you out of his system, that was the plan of course. The second you got that invitation, it wasn’t a coincidence. It was meant to drop through your letterbox, bright and colourful to catch your eye. Taehyung had remembered humans were tempted by bright things. Jin had insisted on glitter too, mentioning shiny objects, Yoongi just rolled his eyes, promising you weren’t that kind of person. Now here you sat, basically on his lap, drunk as Jungkook used to get before he was turned. ‘White girl wasted’ if you will. 

‘You said that already angel.’ He laughed, trying still to sit you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, falling more into him. His hands flew into the air, not actually sure what to do. I mean, yeah, he had a taste of you, you tasted better than he could ever imagine, but you were drunk. He could practically taste the alcohol in your blood. He wanted you, but he wasn’t a monster, despite, well, being a monster. He wasn’t going to take advantage of you, not tonight, not in the foreseeable future. 

‘No, I said you had pretty eyes. Stupid boys, you never listen!’ You sighed, throwing yourself backwards, luckily no one was sitting behind you. You lounged over him and the couch, the only problem being your VERY short dress. Yoongi’s eyes popped out his skull, picking you back up into a sitting position. He wrapped a blanket around your legs, slinging you over his shoulder. You frowned, thumping on his back. To him it felt like a strange type of massage, to you it was clearly meant to hurt him. The thing that annoyed you most, even in your drunken state, was the fact he had the NERVE to laugh.

‘Hey, pretty boy! Put me DOWN!’ You squealed, being carried to a quiet room. He threw you down on the bed. Walking to the dresser, he rummaged through drawers. 

‘Listen buddy, if you’re trynna smash right now I ain’t down.’ You protest, trying to get up off the bed, before you can even register it, he’s by your side. Wait, wasn’t he on the other side of the room? 

‘I ain’t trying to smash you, idiot. Here put these on.’ He speaks, handing you some clothes. You were staring at the items in your hands, quirking an eyebrow at him.

‘What? Do you not like my outfit? The tea boy said I looked cute!’ You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. This would be endearing if your tits weren’t already falling out the dress. He groaned, frustrated in so many different ways. 

‘Please, angel, just put the clothes on.’ He whined, you frowned, poking his chest with your finger. He looked mildly confused before smirking at you. 

‘My name is not angel pretty boy, it’s Y/N.’ You grumble, grabbing your hand to pull you to your feet, he stood chest to chest with you. Your breath hitched in your throat, if he told you right now, to get on your knees you would. Fuck being drunk, fuck saying you didn’t want it, you did. Fuck you really did. 

‘My name isn’t pretty boy Y/N, it’s Yoongi.’ He whispered, testing your name and his name together on his tongue. His fingers slipped to the zip of your dress, pulling it down painfully slowly. His lips met your ear, grazing across the lobe as he spoke. ‘But you can call me whatever the fuck you want.’ He whispered, watching the goosebumps appear on your skin, listening to your heart rate skyrocket. He tried to control himself, pulling away from your body watching the dress fall to the floor. You didn’t try to cover up, too busy trying to figure out what his next move was. Gently he grabbed the clothes out of your hands, slipping the shirt over your head, covering your exposed breasts. 

‘Are you really not going to try something?’ You whisper, puppy eyes staring up at him. He smiled down at you, letting the boxers he picked out for you fall beside your dress, pooled around your ankles. 

‘As much as I would love to ravish you darling, you’re drunk.’ he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, softly holding your cheeks. You pushed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. 

‘What if I want it?’ You whispered, chest heaving, despite being drunk this was taking a lot of confidence. He could hear your heart thrumming in your chest, the blood pumping through your veins. You were turned on, you wanted this. He had control, little to none, but some. He was mustering all the control now, to continue turning you down, but the more you begged, the more he wanted to give in. 

`If you keep teasing me like that, I won't go easy on you when you wake up.’ He growled, forcing you to look at him. However, your faces were close, him pushing your face up like this had your lips ghosting on his. Both your eyes widening in shock, he relaxed quicker than you did, slamming his lips on yours. He needed a taste, one little taste to sedate himself, to tide himself over. He pushed you down to the bed, the kiss quickly heating up. You nibbled his lips, moaning into his mouth. 

‘We need to stop.’ He groaned, practically ripping himself away from you. You whimper at the loss of him, making grabby hands. 

‘If you won’t have sex with me, can you at least cuddle with me?’ You whine, climbing under the sheets, pouting dramatically. He laughed at you, nodding in agreeance. He changed out of the awful halloween costume, settling for just his boxers. It was a warm night, he didn’t need much more. 

Waking up the next morning, your head pounded. You let out a loud groan, burying your face into the pillow below you. You didn’t recognise the scent filling your nose, realising you must have gone home with someone. Real smart girl. You chaste yourself, wondering what you even had to drink. Only remembering drinking one drink, you frown. Drugs? A light snore came from beside you, making you shoot your head over, if he drugged you, he was about to get a fucking earful. He roofied the wrong bitch. 

‘HEY YOU!’ You screamed, smacking a hard slap down on his chest. He coughed and spluttered, doubling over in pain. 

‘WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!’ He screamed through coughs, trying to get the air back into his lungs. You sat upright in his bed, arms crossed scowling at him.

‘Did you drug me?!’ You shout at him, ready to kill him. Ready to hurt, maim and kill the man in front of you. He looked confused, squinting at you trying to figure out what the FUCK you were talking about. 

‘Somehow, I drink one drink, remember nothing and now I’m in your bed, with nothing but my panties and YOUR SHIRT. Did you drug me?’ He couldn’t help but laugh, couldn’t help but be weirdly amused by you. Glaring at him harder, you punched his arm full force. You may look like a prissy little girl, but you worked out god damn it, you were tough!

‘CAN YOU STOP HITTING ME?!’ 

‘IF YOU STOP LAUGHING AND ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTIONS YEAH I MIGHT.’ You yell back, he huffed, sitting up to face you. 

‘Hi, my name is Yoongi, and no I didn’t drug you. The punch we make for these parties isn’t well, it isn’t for your kind. It’s strong. You, being an idiot, drank it like a fucking shot. Impressive that you didn’t vomit though…’ He explains, but there was only one thing you picked up on. 

‘What do you mean my kind? You being sexist? Because I’m female I can’t handle alcohol? Listen “Yoongi” I bet I could drink your little ass under the table.’ You sass, Yoongi rolled his eyes. Before you knew it, you were pinned to the wall across the room, hands beside your head, Yoongi’s face inches away from yours. 

‘I meant human darling. Not fucking female.’ He growled, fangs sticking through, making him unable to close his mouth. Fear rushed through your body, kicking your fight or flight reflexes into action. You did both, kicking him as hard as you could in his crotch, running as fast as you could. Realistically, at the speed he threw you into the wall he could catch up with you in seconds, kill you in a heartbeat. Regardless, you made it to your home, safe and sound. Yoongi stood in his bedroom, slamming his head off the wall repeating ‘Stupid!’ Like a mantra. 

‘I know you are but can you keep it down?’ Came a sarky voice from the door. Yoongi turned with eyes glazed over in anger. The boy cowered, running down the hall. 

‘Jungkook!’ He screamed after him, gaining the boys attention. He turned slowly, waiting to hear what the older boy wanted. 

‘Call a house meeting.’ He requested quickly. five minutes later all the boys were gathered in the living room, watching Yoongi pace the floor. Namjoon bit his lip nervously, not really sure what he was sitting here for. 

‘Yoongi, why are we here?’ He sighed, leaning back on the couch. He let his eyes filter around the room, the aftermath of the Halloween party staring him in the face. The mess was a kick in the gut, but not as bad as the next few words to tumble out of Yoongi’s mouth. 

‘She knows. She knows what I am.’ He spoke clearly, not fumbling over his words for a second. He looked at all of their faces one at a time, each displaying variations of fear and anger. 

‘What do you mean, she knows. What the fuck did you do Yoongi?!’ Jin yelled, slamming his hand on the table. Yoongi told them an account of the night, letting the information sink in. There was a long silence, longer than he could bare. No one spoke for what seemed like a lifetime, and he would know. 

‘She has to die.’ Namjoon spoke, saying what everyone was thinking. Despite it being on everyone’s mind, even his own, they still protested.

‘Namjoon that’s too fair.’ Hoseok spoke, sorrow in his eyes for his friend.

‘We can’t just kill her.’ Jimin pouted, actually kind of enjoying having a pretty face in the neighbourhood. 

‘You can’t just say things like that.’ Jungkook spoke, despite how you treated him last night, he knew you didn’t deserve to die. 

‘It’s Yoongi’s mistake, he needs to fix it.’  Namjoon spoke plainly, standing up from the couch. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling sadly at him. It’s not like Namjoon wanted to be the one to say it, but they all seemed to look up to him, maybe because he’s been “dead” the longest. Either way, he became a leader, he wasn’t about to let them all die for one girl. They all had to do it at some point, all had to kill someone who found out, this was nothing new, so why was Yoongi so devastated at the outcome? 

You stood in your home, pacing the floor, the nails you had prided yourself on, now bitten down to stubs. Four years of growing, four years of no biting and now here you are, down to the skin. The floor you paced on was probably worn now, the squeaks of the floorboards definitely seemed louder. You should call a friend, or a co-worker, stay somewhere else until he’s forgotten you. He can’t kill you if you’ve disappeared right? You had a feeling that wasn’t his intention, you were drunk, black out drunk. He could have killed you, but he didn’t. Why? You knew he didn’t want you dead, but that didn’t stop your overactive mind thinking of different scenarios of your early demise. Fuck, you know you shouldn’t have gone to that stupid fucking party. Looking around for your phone, you couldn’t find it. Searching high and low, your entire house, nowhere in sight. You scream into the fucking void because OF COURSE IT’S AT HIS HOUSE. There was no way in hell you were going back for it. Nope, not a chance, no fucking way. 

‘Y/N?’ He muttered in disbelief, staring at you, hand still in the air from going to knock on the door. It swung open before you had a second to even knock. For a second you debated running, but  again, it opened before you could even move your feet. Why were you here? You could just buy a new fucking phone, forget it ever happened, who needs it? Not you. 

‘This was a mistake, I have to go.’ You spoke, stepping backwards, keeping your eyes on him, you did not trust him, not one bit. Your foot landed on a bottle, making you lose your balance, maybe walking backwards wasn’t a good idea? Who fucking knew. 

Before you could hit the floor, arms wrapped around you, pulling you upward. You didn’t have a second to protest before you were in the house, door closed behind you. 

‘Why are you here?’ He questioned, concern and confusion lacing his voice. Clearly you were crazy or just plain stupid for coming back. 

‘I left my phone, I wanted it back but I can just buy a new one.’ You rushed out, trying to get to the door, the more you tried, the more his body crowded around yours. He trapped you against the wall, unable to flee like your instincts needed you to. 

‘Please, hear me out.’ He begs, not even above a whisper. 

‘Hear you out about what? It was a normal party, I got too drunk, you took care of me I left that morning. Nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary, just people dressed as-’ You stop, the word “vampire” on the tip of your tongue. The thought made your blood run cold, the hair on your arms standing on end. Yoongi sighed, bowing his head in disappointment. 

‘Don’t tell anyone, please. No one is going to hurt you, just please don’t tell anyone.’ He begged, at this your face softened. Seeing someone so powerful, so fast, so strong beg and plead was sort of strange. You tilted your head at him, furrowing your eyebrows until you caught the face peeking around the corner. His eyes narrowed in on you, glaring at you. 

‘You might not hurt me, but the little CHILD back there might!’ You growled, suddenly having a lot of confidence for someone standing in a fucking vampire cave. The boy scoffed, stepping out from behind the wall. 

‘I’m not a CHILD, how many damn times do I have to tell you?’ He sarked back, hands on his hips, you snorted at the baby faced man in front of you, pushing Yoongi to the side. Man this kid was getting on your nerves. 

‘You’re a child, you literally look fifteen, fight me baby boy.’ You smirked, assuming he wouldn’t do anything. In that second your back was pressed against the wall again, his face so close his heavy breaths hitting your face. 

‘I’m a vampire too baby, so call me baby boy one more time.’ He growled, Yoongi just glared at him, crossing his arms with a sigh. He knew the youngest wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, he would fucking kill him if he did. You had lost the bite of your tongue, trying to think of something to say. His face was too close, his breath smelt too sweet, his cologne too strong. Every sense you had was clouded, by him. ‘What? Nothing to say baby girl?’ He teased, trailing his fangs over your neck. To your surprise, you didn’t flinch nor did your mind go blank. You let him carry on trying to scare you. When he pulled back, gazing into your eyes, you rolled yours. 

‘Are you done? I just came back for my phone.’ You replied lazily, trying to seem brave, you were sure he could hear your heartbeat. The way he looked down to your chest solidified the idea in your mind. 

‘You got a brave one here Yoongi, how tempting…’ He spoke to the man beside you, eyes still trained on you. Within a second he was gone, your body collapsing to the floor. Yoongi rushed to your side instantly, checking you over. Nothing was wrong, your legs must have just given out at the shock. 

‘I won’t tell anyone, can I just leave.’ You whimper, trying to hold back the tears. You weren’t scared of him weirdly enough, but Jungkook sent a chill through your spine. You were sure he was a nice kid, and you were sure everyone else was just as sweet. Stepping even onto the property today, all you sensed was hostility and anger, that wasn’t a friendly vibe nor one you wanted to be entangled with. Yoongi sighed again, helping you off the floor, leading you to the stairs. 

‘Where are we going?’ You panicked, stopping dead in your tracks. he soothingly rubbed your back, making you look at him. 

‘Your phone is in my room, I can leave you here if you want, but I don’t think you want to meet the others right now.’ He guessed. He was correct, you forced your legs to walk again, following him up to the room. He couldn’t help but smile, you were still wearing his shirt. Granted, you probably didn’t think changing was important, you were probably just as stressed and scared as him. He sat down on his bed, handing you the small device that was left on his bedside table. You grabbed it out his hand, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. Quickly you are reminded of being thrown out of the bed, pressed to the wall, then you kicking him in the balls… You wince at the thought, letting a little snort slip out. He looked up quickly to you, seeing the smile on your face. He quirked an eyebrow, silently asking what was so funny, especially in this situation. He was one loose lip confession away from endangering the whole group, and you were one confession away from dead. 

‘I’m sorry for kicking you in the balls earlier, wait. Do you still have balls? Okay, I mean, you have balls, but do you still FEEL it you know?’ You question, blabbering out the words. You really needed to get this whole word vomit thing under control. He looked at you for a second before laughing, almost clutching his stomach at the speed it ripped through him. 

‘Yes, I can still feel my balls. Also, it hurt like a bitch, where did you learn to kick like that?’ He winced, recalling the memory of this morning, him smashing his head on the wall over and over again. 

‘I take lessons at the gym, got to learn to defend myself you know? Don’t know who or what is out there.’ You joke, watching him roll his eyes. 

‘What now you can make jokes?’ He teased, getting up from the bed to walk towards you. You shrug your shoulders in response.

‘Well, now I know I can hurt you, it gives me a bit of confidence.’ You reply, stepping back a pace. 

‘I’m still faster than you angel, still smarter, stronger.’ You roll your eyes, back against the wall again. 

‘I get that, also my name isn’t angel, it’s-’ 

‘Y/N, I know you told me last night.’ He teased cockily, putting his hands on either side of your head. Trapping you again, why do you let yourself into these situations? 

‘You know, you teased me so bad last night. Practically begged for me, then you ran this morning before I could keep my promise.’ Your heart raced, but not from fear. Call it curiosity. 

‘What promise would that be?’ You question, voice shaking slightly. Okay, maybe you were still slightly scared.

‘Tell me when to stop.’ He whispered before pressing his lips to yours, but he meant it. If this was too much for you, then he would stop, would let you leave right now, but there was no protest. Just a gasp when he first did it, but seconds later you relaxed. Broken memories flashed in your mind from last night. ‘pretty boy’ and ‘Darling’, along with a very fuzzy make out session. 

‘Yoongi.’ You whispered through kisses, making him pull away. His eyes bore into yours, making you throw all caution to the wind. ‘Fuck it.’ You mutter, slamming your lips onto his once again, chasing his scent and taste, the feel of him. You wanted it all, and you would beg in seconds if you were asked. 

‘You don’t know what you did to me last night darling.’ He whispered, picking you up with little to no effort, walking to the bed and throwing you down. Your body bounced for a second, his shirt riding up your stomach. 

‘Oh? Was I naughty?’ You tease, smirk on your mouth. He growled back at you, falling to his knees in front of you, pulling your crotch closer to his face. Yoongi was wasting no time today. You were sober, had full control over this situation right now, and he would keep it like that, but man did he fucking want you. He planted kisses along your thighs, making little whimpers escape your mouth. 

‘You were so fucking naughty. I had more than just a taste of your lips, and let me tell you, it was fantastic. You know, vampires don’t have much self control, but I pulled every ounce I had not to fuck you senseless last night.’ He groaned, already smelling how wet you were. He pulled your panties down painfully slowly, just savouring the way they trailed over your thighs. You weren’t a self conscious person but the way he was looking at your right now had you wanting to close your legs, or smack him in the face. Somewhere balanced perfectly between. 

‘You should have just done it.’ You whimper, feeling his breath hit your core, showing you how painfully wet you really were. He laughed before licking a strip up from your entrance to clit, making you arch your back at the contact. It had been a while okay? 

‘Really baby? What do you remember from last night?’ He teased, still giving gentle licks to your clit. You thought for a second, trying to think back to last night. ‘Tell me from the start baby, give me the whole story, and don’t stop.’ He smirked, licking one strip with slightly more pressure making you whimper. You knew he was doing it to be a dick, but you might as well join in right? 

‘I remember the invitation. Stupid fucking invite. Who designed that by the way? It was a-awful!’ You began, whimpering. The more you talked, the faster and harder he swirled his tongue, having you squirming in his grasp. ‘Anyway, I remember digging through my wardrobe to find a-a costume- fuck. I didn’t want to ah- bring my alcohol over to fuck- you guys, it’s mine.’ You cried, arching your back, tugging on his hair as it tickled the inside of your thighs. ‘I came to the party, the happy looking boy greeted me and shoved a- holy christ- drink in my hand.’ He shoved two fingers inside you wiggling them around to throw you off. ‘Oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this.’ You praised, getting slightly off track. He stopped his tongue movements, fingers still scissoring inside of you. 

‘That’s not part of the story now is it darling?’ He teased, darting his tongue out once more, you throw your head back at the fact he gets it RIGHT on your clit. He smirked at the way you responded, enjoying the way you curl for him. 

‘You’re right okay. I don’t remember much after- ah-ah-after that. I remember you, I remember fangs. They could have been fa-a-ake though. Everyone was dressed like a fucking vampire. Which reminds me, That memo wasn’t-FUCK- wasn’t on the invite!’ You gasped out, free hand running through your hair brushing it out of your face. He delivered a gentle suck to your clit to test how you would react when you groaned in satisfaction, he did it again. ‘Okay shit, I remember you calling me darling, I remember you taking my dress off, giving me close, I mean clothes, dressing me- fuck Yoongi i’m gonna cum!’ You scream, arching your back, waves rippling through your body as you soak the bed below you, legs snapping shut as you curl in on yourself, waves still rushing over and over your body. 

‘Holy shit.’He groaned, pulling his shirt off instantly, wiping his face and hands on it, throwing it lazily to the side. He crawled on top of you, lying you back onto your back, kissing you hard and fast, not caring if you were still going through the aftermath of your orgasm. 

‘Was that all you remember?’ He whispers, brushing his nose against yours. It was an unusually soft moment for what was happening, making your heart pitter-patter happily in your chest. 

‘I remember you kissing me, saying we had to stop. I remember grabbing for you, wanting you to just fuck me. So do it Yoongi, fuck me.’ You beg, pulling his lips back to yours, revelling in the whimper that slips through his own. He unbuckled his belt with one hand, then his jeans, pulling himself out of his pants. 

‘Shouldn’t we use a condom?’ You mumble, thrusting your hips towards him regardless, he laughs at the juxtaposition of your actions and words. 

‘I’m dead baby, i’m immune but clean, and I can’t get you pregnant.’ He replied, pushing himself into you, savouring the way your walls clench around him, your pulse spiking. 

‘Holy shit.’ Laughing at the way you both spoke the words in unison. You shift your hips to let him know he could move. Sighing, he lifted himself up, slamming into you hard, but not taking a fast pace. He kept it slow, letting you feel every stroke and ridge. You hadn’t fucked without a condom before, but feeling every part of him felt so fucking good, you question why you never asked these questions before. Why you never even wanted to try? 

‘You know, there was one thing you forgot, last- fuck- last night.’ Yoongi spoke through grunts, pushing his hips into you, speeding up slightly. Your head was tilted back, and all he could think of was your pulsing artery. 

‘What’s that?’ You whine, wrapping your legs around his hips, forcing him in further, squeezing around him as he buried deep inside of you, he groaned at the feeling, wanting to push his hips in further, wanting to fucking ravish you. 

‘You stabbed your finger on my fang baby, I’ve had a taste and I’m trying so hard not to take more.’ He growled, showing you his face. His eyes were wide, cast over in lust and hunger, fangs poking out, the last shred of self control diminishing. This morning, the sight made you want to throw up in fear, made you curl in on yourself and flee, but now, it turned you on all the more. You whimpered at the thought of his fangs in your neck, letting your back arch. He wrapped a hand around your throat, covering the artery from his sight. 

‘I’m not fucking joking darling, I will bite you.’ He growled, fucking you harder now than before, as if he was fucking some kind of frustration out. He punctuated every word with a thrust, reaching places you didn’t even know someone could. 

‘Then do it. Fucking bite me, fuck- claim me Yoongi.’ You moan, numbly grabbing his back as you feel your next orgasm shooting through you. One hand trailed down to your clit as his fangs grazed your neck. 

‘Are you sure?’ He whispered, waiting for you to pull away, to take it back, but you didn’t. You laced the blunt nails that did drag down his back, through his hair, pulling as his teeth sank into your neck. He growled at your taste, the liquid coating his tongue as he swallowed. Wrapping his arms under your back, he lifted you up, fucking you sensless as he drew your blood. You were light headed, not sure what sensation you were enjoying more. Your orgasm rushed through you, but you were too tired to cry out, too tired to react other than little whimpers. He sucked until your body became limp in his hands, finishing inside of you at that moment. Ripping his teeth out of your neck, he licked over the area, sealing it up, lying your knocked out frame down on the bed, he ran to the bathroom, grabbing a facecloth. He cleaned you up, slipping a shirt gently back over your head, covering your lower half in a pair of boxers. He lay beside you, waiting for you to wake up. You were still alive, he could tell from the way your chest steadily rises and falls. 

‘What happened?’ You whine, peeling your eyes open slowly trying not to wince at the light. Yoongi was by your side in seconds, which you wish you could say you were surprised by. He sat you up, pushing a glass of water into your hands. 

‘I took a little too much blood, I’m really sorry…’ He pouted, looking down at the sheet covering you. You laughed at him, sipping the water he had given you. 

‘I noticed you dressed me again.’ You teased, letting a comfortable silence settle over you.

‘Are you going to tell, like who we are?’ He questions, hoping to god you say no, hoping with his whole unbeating heart, that you say no. 

‘I think, I’ll keep it to myself, that is, if this is a regular occurrence?’ You motion, hoping he understands you mean the sex, he smirks, to which you assume he understood. 

‘I think that could be arranged.’ He teases, removing the water from your hand, crawling back on top of your body. You giggle happily before a knock sounds at the door. Yoongi shouts a “Yeah?” towards the door. A voice came through the wood, not wanting to come into the room. 

‘I’ll have you know, I was proud of that damn invitation you dicks.’ The happy boys voice sounds from behind the door, not sounding so happy now. You cover your mouth with a giggle, watching Yoongi as he sighed, how did he forget the whole house had supernatural hearing? 

#bts #bts one shot #bts smut #min yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #vampire yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim soekjin #jung hoesok #jeon jungkook #jeongguk

[bookburnt]

a primer course on T.MA for my mutuals who followed me from other blogs and would like to know what the fuck i’m talking about!  (hi, guys.  love you.)  GONNA BE SPOILER-HEAVY IN HERE.

First off, big ups to the T.MA wiki, which you can consult on anything here, but this post is intended to serve as a very basic overview of the concepts relevant to this blog without forcing y'all to go into wiki levels of detail.  The first part of this post is some general TMA terms and concepts, and the second part is some characters who have been relevant to Gerry's story specifically.  If you're here for a better understanding of Gerry’s arc and don't care so much about the worldbuilding, scroll down to where I start talking about “who’s...?” and that should help you out.

what’s a “Leitner?”  A Leitner is a book but spooky.  They make bad things happen and, optionally, give you weird powers.  They're usually tied to one of the fourteen(ish) Entities, which I will get into in a bit.  Gerard hates these goddamn books, and has a knack for finding them and destroying them.  His mother, Mary Keay, ran an antique bookstore that did serious business in them.

what’s an “avatar?” An avatar is a (former?) human working closely with one of the Entities. Over time, the influence of their Entity changes them, often granting them certain powers in exchange for a psychological and physiological need to serve their Entity.

what are these “Entities?” / what’s this “Hunt?”  Put as simply as possible, the Entities are, like... fear elementals.  There are roughly 14 different entities, though the boundaries between them aren’t clearly drawn in all circumstances.  As follows, a quick overview:

The Eye. Fear of being surveiled.  The need to know the answers to questions that may destroy you.  The Eye is tied to the Magnus Institute. Its avatars can have the ability to magically Know things, understand all languages, and compel others to answer any questions they ask.  Gerry was tied to the Eye and had some capacity for Knowing stuff, but wasn’t fully its avatar - or if he was, he refused to feed it, which must have hastened his death.

The Desolation.  Fire, but without the warm fuzzy bits.  Pure unhinged destruction.  Desolation avatars can and will set you on fire with their minds.  Gerry’s extensive burn scars are the result of fucking around with a Desolation cultist and finding out.   (The cultist also fucked around with Gerry and found out.  He’s not around anymore.)  

The Hunt.  Being tracked by something that won't stop until it kills you.  The thrill of the chase.  Hunt avatars are capable of killing other avatars, even those who would otherwise be unkillable.  The possibility of Gerry being tied to the Hunt is never discussed in canon, but I’ve got my theories.  (That last phrase is a link to a post discussing those theories, it just isn't showing up like a link on desktop for some reason.)

The End.  Death and dying.  Manifestations of the End often involve disruptions of the natural processes of life and death.  For instance, the fucked-up necromancy book that Gerry got trapped in after dying was an outcropping of the End.

The Corruption.  Bugs, disease, rot, etc.  The Corruption's avatars may spread disease wherever they go, or they might just be chock full of worms.  Potential of controlling a worm army.

The Flesh.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a body.  Cannibalism. Flesh avatars may be hulking, twisted parodies of the human form.  They might steal your bones, turn you inside out, eat you, or all of the above.

The Distortion.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a mind.  Doors that shouldn't be there.  Getting lost.  Being unable to trust your own thoughts.  Distortion avatars look, well, distorted when seen in reflections or through glass.  Will probably try to get you to go through a door that wasn't there before.  You won't like what's on the other side.

The Slaughter.  War.  Violence.  Man's inhumanity to man.  The Slaughter often manifests in groups as well as in individuals, so you could get an episode of mass hysteria where an entire small town turns to butchering one another, or you could get an office assistant who just aches to do murder.

The Web.  Spiders.  Being controlled by external forces.  Can operate in extremely subtle ways.  Can also just be an unkillable spider who wants you to have a bad time.

The Vast.  Really big things.  Heights.  Your own terrifying insignificance on the cosmic scale.

The Buried.  Claustrophobia.  Being buried alive.

The Lonely.  Being completely alone.  Like, completely alone, and never coming back.

The Dark. What it says on the tin.

The Stranger.  Something that's not quite right.  A joke that you're not in on.  Clowns and/or mannequins that might kill you and take your skin.

BONUS: The Extinction. While the other 14 fears have been established for a while (the most recent is the Flesh, which only really came into its own with the advent of mass meat farming), the Extinction is a nascent entity born of anxiety around the idea of the human race destroying itself, and/or being replaced by something else. The boundaries of what constitutes an Extinction manifestation, rather than just a warping of one of the other fears, are unclear.

what’s a “ritual?”  Rituals are ways the Entities’ followers and avatars try to influence the world, usually with the end goal of making our world somewhere their Entity can live and feast full-time instead of just sporadically popping in.

what’s the “fearpocalypse?”  The only successful ritual to date, as of the end of S4.  Possibly the only successful ritual ever, given that it ended the world as we know it and let all 14 fears fully through the gate to fuck everything all the way up.  The sky is full of eyeballs now and that's not even the biggest problem.  This happened a while after Gerry’s death, but I have a verse where, due to his previous ties to the End and the general befuckening, Gerry is brought back to have a bad time with everyone else.

who’s Mary Keay?  Gerard's mother, founder and proprietor of Pinhole Books.  Had ambitions of starting a dynasty of supernatural power, starting with her only son Gerard, who ended up having other ideas.  Flayed herself in a ritual to make herself “beyond death” via the fucked-up necromancy book mentioned earlier.  Gerard was primed to take the fall for her seeming murder, but was let go after the book disappeared from evidence and several key witnesses retracted their testimony.  Despite the ritual being incomplete, Mary remained tethered to the world of the living for five years before Gertrude Robinson finally wrapped that up.

who’s Gertrude Robinson?  Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, and a stone-cold BAMF with a habit of sacrificing those close to her for (her idea of) the greater good.  The late Eric Delano asked her to look after his son Gerry, so naturally she let him live in torment with his abuser’s revenant for five fucking years, then swooped in when he was truly desperate.  She got rid of Mary Keay for good, and got Gerard to travel the world with her attempting to prevent various apocalyptic rituals.  The two would often pose as mother and son to strangers.         Being tied to the Eye, Gertrude seemed to be aware of Gerard’s impending death.  After he passed away, she bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book and left him behind.  (More on that here.) Gertrude was shot to death about a year later while trying to burn the Magnus Institute down and thereby prevent its head, Elias Bouchard, from doing anything apocalyptic.  (Tragically, she did not succeed.  SEE:  “fearpocalypse.”)

who’s Eric Delano?  Gerry’s father.  Died too early to ever really get to know Gerry, despite the sacrifices he made to restructure his life for fatherhood.  (We don’t need to go into the why of it here, but he did have to gouge his eyes out to try to be a stay-at-home dad.  And he did it.  We stan.)  Unfortunately, he’d fallen in love with Mary Keay, who used him to produce an heir for her planned empire, then murdered him with a pair of garden shears and bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book.  She later passed his page off to Gertrude Robinson, who spoke with him.  In that conversation, he asked her to look after Gerry and begged her to burn his page, as being bound into the book was a world of suffering. 

who’s Jurgen Leitner?  A rich, reclusive Norwegian who thought it would be cool and smart to start a library explicitly for corralling forces beyond human comprehension.  (He was wrong, and also stupid.)  Collected spooky books and put his name in them, giving them their common name.  Gerard hates this guy, associating him with the books that dominated his mother’s mind and indirectly ruined his life.  He hunted Leitner down and nearly beat him to death for personal reasons.  Upon meeting Leitner, he came away with the impression that this was just a scared old man, and couldn’t possibly be actually responsible for Jurgen Leitner’s library.  Ultimately, he chose to spare Leitner's life.  Unless we're talking about my canon-divergent Hunter!Gerry au, in which case he did not.

        Anyways, hope this has been helpful.  There's... a lot going on in TMA, but hopefully I've hit the parts that are most relevant to my writing here.  If you have any questions about canon, please feel free to ask!

#and return from the ashes you call | RE: MARY ⚿ #with all the lies in the books | RE: LEITNER ⚿ #I'm writing this letter and wishing you well | RE: GERTRUDE ⚿ #⁠he said son when you grow up— | RE: ERIC ⚿

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; kissies; R

here it is... Jonghyun getting kisses on every single part of him body

shout out to my Kissie Jonghyun Challenge!!!

“You don’t know how to read palms,” Jonghyun says, but he gives Taemin his hand anyway, nuzzling his cheek into Taemin’s shoulder to see better. Taemin holds Jonghyun’s hand, hums wisely, runs his fingers over all of the lines that he doesn’t understand in the slightest, and brings it up close to his face to squint at.

“Sure I do,” he says. He brings Jonghyun’s hand even closer and presses a tiny kiss to the muscle of his thumb. “This line means you’re real gay,” he says.

When the heater finally turns off, Jonghyun stands up and folds his blankie cape more securely around his shoulders before he steps away from the ground vent and back to Taemin on the couch. Taemin opens his arms to let him into his lap, to let him nestle under his chin, warm, almost too warm with all of his blanket-absorbed heat, but wanted either way. When Jonghyun yawns into his neck Taemin drops a soft kiss to the top of his head, resting his cheek there after as Jonghyun hums and presses himself as close as possible to his chest.

~

They’re walking down the street together and Taemin should be paying attention to where he’s walking but all he can pay attention to is the back of Jonghyun’s head. He's wearing a snapback and the tuft of hair of hair that pokes out of the hole in the back is too cute to ignore. When Jonghyun stops to press up against the window of a pet store to look at puppies, Taemin stops behind him and presses up against his back. He nuzzles into Jonghyun's little fuzzy growth of hair. It's soft against his mouth and he says “mwah” loud enough for Jonghyun to hear it as he kisses it before he leans away.

~

Jonghyun’s hair is parted to the side, pushed back from his forehead, gelled up into a suave little flip. Taemin knows that whenever Jonghyun does his hair like this he’s feeling charming and classy and mature, and he should be acting all swoony and fluttery and flustered by him, but he’s too distracted by the fuzzy curve of his hairline, so cute and even. When Jonghyun slings his arm possessively around Taemin’s shoulder and turns to him to call him “babe” in front of all of the people he’s mingling with at this party, Taemin interrupts whatever else he was going to say by leaning up and kissing at his hairline. It ruins the effect Jonghyun was going for when he pouts, but it makes him look adorable, which isn’t bad either.

~

Taemin yawns into his hand as he shuffles out of the bathroom, navigating his way back into the bedroom in the 3am darkness. When he gets there, in the dim light of their nightlight, he sees Jonghyun’s big eyes looking at him, just his eyes and forehead and soft brown hair peeping out from the covers.

“Taemie,” Jonghyun whispers.

“What?” Taemin asks, flumping into bed and getting under the blankies, eyes already closed. Jonghyun wiggles closer to him.

“Kissie,” Jonghyun demands.

“Okay,” Taemin says. He slips his arm over Jonghyun and sleepily smooches the center of his forehead. Jonghyun wiggles happily and tucks himself under Taemin’s chin.

~

Jonghyun is frustrated, annoyed, angry at some tiny thing he’s working on on his laptop, and Taemin can tell because there’s the telling little furrow between his eyebrows, a wrinkling of his golden skin. It’s adorable, extremely kissable, and Taemin scoots his chair around the kitchen table so he can be right next to Jonghyun. When he puts his hand on Jonghyun’s cheek Jonghyun glances at him; when he leans forward and presses his lips gently right between his eyes, Jonghyun scowls.

“Dude, gross,” he grumbles, wiping his head with his sleeve, but after he pushes Taemin away he slips his arm around his waist and holds him close.

~

“Hmm,” Taemin hums after watching Jonghyun spend ten minutes carefully penciling and brushing his eyebrows to look even more perfectly thick and dark than they usually are. He leans forward at Jonghyun’s questioning hum and kisses his right brow. When he comes away there’s powder and makeup on his lips and he groans, scrunches up his face, and looks for something to wipe it off with.

“What did you expect?” Jonghyun asks, voice an incredulous laugh as he turns back to the mirror to fix his brow.

~

Taemin knows that Jonghyun is practising, is very intent and focused on working his way through this song before he has to record it and send it off for some boyband to buy from him, but he also knows that he himself is very intent and focused on the little veins that show up in Jonghyun’s temples when he sings a specific note. He’s with him to watch all of his audio levels and mess with the little knobbie dealies on his soundboard, but he takes his attention from them for just a moment to gently place his lips on Jonghyun’s left temple. The next line that Jonghyun sings is softer and breathier than usual.

~

Taemin doesn’t know what it is about the outer corners of Jonghyun’s eyes that is so adorable. Maybe it’s the way he does his eyeliner, brings it out to the tiniest, softest point. Maybe it’s when he does his eyeshadow heavier on the bottom corner so it all pops just a little more cutely. Maybe it’s just the way his eyes taper naturally that’s just a tiny bit more cute than everyone else’s. Whatever it is, Taemin misses Jonghyun’s little corner-eye-jewels phase, so he takes it upon himself to place two tiny kisses there instead.

~

“Can I be really gay for a second?” Taemin asks, chin in his hand, eyes fixed on Jonghyun’s pretty lashes. Jonghyun glances up at him with his pretty eyes.

“As many seconds as you want,” he grins. Taemin smiles back, putting his hand on his shoulder to turn Jonghyun away from the stove and face him.

“Close your eyes?” he asks, and when Jonghyun does, he leans forward and pecks two of his tiniest, softiest kissies, one to each of Jonghyun’s pretty eyelids.

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers.

~

“Your eyes are really pretty. Nice and brown..”

“Thanks.”

“Can I kiss your eyeball?”

“Do not. Even attempt to put your lips on my eyeball.”

“Can you pretend I did and it wasn’t gross?”

“Yeah.”

~

Jonghyun gets bags under his eyes sometimes, when his insomnia doesn’t let him sleep as well as he should. Taemin lays in his lap and looks up at them, dark, puffy squishes of skin, and is mildly sad to see them, but he also has to admit that they’re pretty cute. He lifts his hand up around Jonghyun’s neck, tugging him away from whatever he was watching on the tv. Jonghyun glances down at him and puckers up his lips expectantly. When Taemin pulls him down even further and leans up, sticking his own lips out and reaching, he puts his hand on Taemin’s wrist.

“What are you--?” he says, and then he scrunches his eyes closed as Taemin gets even closer, and then Taemin presses a tiny peck to his lower eyelid. Taemin lets go and nestles back into Jonghyun’s lap as Jonghyun looks blankly down at him and mouths “what the fuck.”

~

Jonghyun’s nose really is the cutest in the whole world, Taemin thinks. He’s supposed to be watching the movie--he spent eleven bucks on the ticket and he’s the one that wanted to see it in the first place--but he’s just sitting here, looking at Jonghyun next to him, appreciating his side profile. His nose is sooo cute and soft and round and adorable.

“Do you think,” Jonghyun whispers, leaning towards him quietly. “That capitalism man is the one--what?” He glances away from the movie once to catch Taemin’s eyes, and then again in a doubletake when he realizes Taemin was already staring at him. To answer, Taemin leans forward and kissies the tip of his nose.

~

Taemin feels like, in the midst of everyone always talking about his philtrum, no one ever remembers Jonghyun’s or how lovely it is. The soft little dip of skin from his nose to his lip, how it forms his cupid’s bow into not exactly a point, but not a smooth curve either, how it’s just a little bit wider at the bottom than the top. At the moment, Jonghyun is giggling and tracing Taemin’s square cupid’s bow with a fond finger. Taemin takes his wrist to gently tug his hand away so he can lean forward and pucker his lips just enough to smek the tiny space above Jonghyun’s upper lip.

~

Jonghyun’s top lip is so cute, delicate, a pretty pretty shape and ends that taper down to tuck into the corners of his mouth. The faint line in the middle is especially adorable, a lovely little half-centimeter that Taemin always wants to kiss. As Jonghyun shuffles up to him, tiny smile pointed up as he asks for a kiss, Taemin leans in and starts it so he can do just that. He gets Jonghyun’s top lip between his and gives it the fondest peck, and then another, and then a third before he focuses on kissing Jonghyun properly.

~

“No I don't want to sign in,” Taemin grumbles at his phone. He can't sign in; he doesn't have an Instagram, he just lurks on Jonghyun’s Instagram every couple of days to see what he's been up to. Today, apparently he's been up to taking one of those sets of four pictures where he just smiles big at the camera wearing a cute hat. Taemin’s hat, Taemin realizes, squinting at the plastic monster teeth that hang down from the brim of it. He was wondering where that went.

He also wonders, as he looks at the pictures and at Jonghyun’s teeth, if it would be weird to want to kiss them. They’re all bright and pretty in his mouth, slightly uneven, sharp and pointy. He decides, as he taps on the picture to zoom in on Jonghyun’s teeth and bites his own lip, that it's not weird, because he's not weird, obviously, anything that he wants to do isn't weird at all, and even if it was weird, he doesn't care. He sticks his leggy up really far and uses it as leverage to help him roll off of the couch before he sets off  through the house in search of Jonghyun.

He finds him in the bedroom, crouched down at the foot of the bed to gently poke  at Roo’s sleeping side. If it's almost puppy snuggle time then Taemin has to act quick.

“Hey,” he says. Jonghyun turns  to look up at him with an inquisitive hum. Taemin crouches down next to him, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. “Smile?” he asks. Jonghyun tilts his head, then gives Taemin a small, confused, closed lip smile. Taemin shakes his head. “No, like, big smile,” he says. “Please,” he adds. Jonghyun gives him a big smile, teeth and all, and Taemin smiles himself as he rocks himself forward to extend his lips out and peck his teeth.

~

“Hey,” Jonghyun says, and his entire voice sounds like one big smirk, and Taemin scowls at the tv as he watches Jonghyun’s character completely kick his character’s ass for the seventh time in a row.

“What?” he snaps, grumpy. He can feel Jonghyun wiggling next to him, nudging him with his elbow.

“Mlehhh,” he says, and when Taemin looks over, Jonghyun is poking his tongue out at him. He wants to be grumpy, wants to huff and shove his shoulder and be offended at how happy Jonghyun is to be wrecking him, but all he can feel is soft at his cute little round pink tongue. He leans forward and presses a smooch to it and then, while Jonghyun drops his controller into his lap to put his face in his hands and giggle, Taemin takes the opportunity to win at least one round of their game.

~

Jonghyun has this habit when he’s thinking of touching his bottom lip. He runs his fingers over it, he nibbles it endlessly, he pushes it with his thumb. Taemin doesn’t know what he’s thinking about as he writes in his notebook and reads it over and over, but he’s been thinking about it for a while and he should probably take a break. Taemin pulls up his rolly chair and scoots right next to Jonghyun, bumping into his chair on purpose just to make him look up. When he does, his thumb still squishes his lower lip. Taemin takes his hand, laces their fingers together, cups Jonghyun’s face with his free hand, and leans forward to connect their lips, sandwiching Jonghyun’s bottom one between his in a slow kiss. Jonghyun hesitates, just for a second, before he drops his pen to slip his hand around Taemin’s neck.

~

The little upturn of Jonghyun’s bottom lip, the little curve, is something that Taemin always finds his eyes drawn to. He looked it up once and learned that it’s called a teardrop, and ever since then he’d wondered what it’s there for, what it’s evolutionary purpose is, and why Jonghyun’s is so incredibly attractive to him. He still doesn't know the answers to any of those questions, but he does know that he loves gently brushing his thumb over Jonghyun’s lip and pecking tiny kissies to the bottom of it.

~

When Jonghyun smiles just right at just the right angle, the corners of his lips disappear behind his cheeks, and Taemin thinks it’s utterly adorable. And when he’s not smiling and is just sitting with a neutral face, the corners of his lips curve up just a tiny bit into a natural smile, which is also utterly adorable. And sometimes, Jonghyun does this thing where he pulls the corners of his lips back, flattening out his mouth to judge someone or to figure out a problem, and they look like two tiny little dips at the corners of his mouth, which is, again, utterly adorable.

Taemin loves the corners of his lips all the time, at every moment, and especially now, when Jonghyun is sat in Taemin’s lap, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, just chilling, and Taemin can see their tiny smiley curve up close. He tilts his head and shifts just enough that he can press his lips to the corner of Jonghyun’s.

~

When Jonghyun sweats, it makes his cheekbones stand out that much more, a natural shine, a natural highlight on his skin, making them look sharp and strong in his face. Taemin knows they’re in a public gym and Jonghyun likes to focus on his workouts, but still, when Jonghyun finishes a tricep rep, lowers the weights down, and leans back for a moment to catch his breath, Taemin leans down and quickly smooches the apple of his cheek. Jonghyun blinks, then looks at him with an amused little smirk, still breathing hard.

“Irresistible, I know,” he says.

~

Jonghun comes in through the front door, smiley and giggly after a morning out with his friends, and Taemin waves from where he’s slouched on the couch playing video games. Jonghyun smiles even wider when he sees and his cheeks get so round, so cute and squishy, filled up with the weight he’d been gaining lately since he’s been less stressed. He flounces over to slouch on the couch next to Taemin and the first thing Taemin does is press a big slobbery kiss right to his cheek. Jonghyun doesn’t even grumble as he wipes his cheek on Taemin’s shoulder.

~

Jonghyun is humming to himself in that way he does when he’s shaving and doesn’t want to accidentally cut himself by actually singing, so Taemin enters the bathroom carefully so he doesn’t startle him. Jonghyun glances at him over his shoulder, smiles, and goes back to his work, leaning close to the mirror and carefully pulling the tiniest razor down the side of his face. Taemin moves to squeeze passed him so he can grab his toothbrush, then pauses and looks closer at what Jonghyun is doing.

He’s got shaving cream spread over his sideburns, but instead of shaving a clean line, he’s busy trying to delicately shave a V shape into them. Taemin looks at the floor and laughs softly. He forgot Jonghyun shaped his sideburns into cute little points like this. When Jonghyun lowers his razor to the sink to rinse it off, Taemin leans over and pecks the very tip of his carefully styled hair.

~

Taemin is feeling smoochy, and he needs to find something to smooch immediately. He already has a target--Jonghyun, standing innocently in front of the toaster to watch his bread brown up--and he just needs to find the perfect spot. After a few moments of blatant staring, he finds it: the tiny, tiny little mole just in front of Jonghyun’s left ear. It’s so faint that it usually gets covered up by his makeup, but now Taemin takes his chance and swoops in to cup Jonghyun’s face in his hands and triumphantly press his smoochiest smooch to the little dot. When he tries to pull away, Jonghyun gets his arms around his waist and holds him close so he can hide his face in his shoulder.

~

Ears are so delicate and pretty and detailed. Or maybe that’s just Jonghyun’s. Or maybe it’s all ears, but Taemin is just especially fascinated by Jonghyun’s, at all of the little cartilage bits and dips and curves, extra pretty and adorable because they’re attached to someone he loves. They’re driving somewhere, Jonghyun focused on the road behind the wheel, so Taemin waits patiently until they hit a red light before reaching over and tugging on Jonghyun’s sleeve.

“Hey, this is maybe kinda weird, but,” he says, and leans over the center console to press a kiss directly to Jonghyun’s ear.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Jonghyun mumbles at him, “but you’re cute.”

~

Jonghyun has a mole inside his left ear. Taemin isn't sure how it escaped his notice for so long but one day while they're just sitting together watching TV he glances over and notices it, little and brown, inside Jonghyun's ear just at the top fold of cartilage under the  shell. It fascinates him but not as much as the show so he waits until commercial to actually lift his hand and rub his thumb gently over it. Jonghyun shivers but before he can ask Taemin what he's doing Taemin leans in, extends his lips, and presses the tiniest smooch to his little mole.

~

Jonghyun’s scarf is so big and poofy that all Taemin can see of him from behind is his hair and the very tips of his ears, blushed pink from the cold. Taemin slips up behind him, wrapping him up in his arms as he makes a tiny ooh of surprise, and lowers his lips once to both ears in two little kissies. He says “mwah” each time and Jonghyun’s ears blush all the way from light pink to a deep red.

~

Taemin sleepily watches the commercials play on the tv, arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders, their heads leaning together. Jonghyun plays on his phone while they wait for their show to come back on. He shifts to get comfy and his ear brushes Taemin’s cheek. Looking away from the tv, Taemin shifts so he can nuzzle in behind Jonghyun’s ear and press a soft kiss to the shell of it. When Jonghyun doesn’t acknowledge him, he pokes his tongue out and wiggles it against the same spot, and then grins wide and feigns ignorance when Jonghyun shudders and whines at him.

~

The image of a piercing sliding out of an earlobe is strange, and not one that Taemin particularly likes, but it’s still fun to sit here on Jonghyun’s vanity and watch him dejewel himself for the night. When Jonghyun finishes with one ear Taemin reaches over to touch his lobe gently, to rub his thumb over the tiny hole, to feel the softness of his skin. It makes him feel soft on the inside so he bends forward and keeps one finger on the back of Jonghyun’s earlobe so he can press the softest kissie to it.

~

It’s one of the rare times Taemin has woken up before Jonghyun and he’s taking advantage of that by lying lazily behind him, eyes just barely cracked open, and delicately tracing the loopy lines of the tiny tattoo behind his right ear. He follows the letters with his finger, trying to convince himself that he can feel a difference between the ink and the skin. Before long, Jonghyun shifts sleepily and mumbles something incoherent, half turning to peer blearily at Taemin over his shoulder. Taemin shifts forward and touches his lips to Jonghyun’s tattoo, and then, for good measure, to the little mole that sits just behind it. Jonghyun mumbles something else and shifts to press his face into the pillows.

~

When Jonghyun turns away from him to say something to Kibum on his other side, Taemin’s eyes are drawn straight to the round corner of his jaw. Soft skin over hard bone; he always wants to touch and boop it but Jonghyun always gets tickly there. Glancing around at everyone else around their little breakfast diner table, he slips his arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders and presses a kiss there anyway. Jonghyun can’t get grumbly at him because he’s too busy blushing at the public affection, which was what Taemin planned.

~

“Ooh. Ahh. Ohh.”

Taemin looks up from his phone when Jonghyun suddenly starts making dramatic little noises next to him in bed. He’s doing dramatic little poses with each noise too: he sticks his leggie out, he crosses it dramatically over his other knee, he drapes one arm over his forehead and throws Taemin a flirty little smile.

“Sexy,” he purrs, trailing his hand down his face. “Dramatique.” He angles his head to present his jawline, sharp and straight and pronounced. “Gorgeous,” he smiles, fluttering his fingers along his jaw. Taemin muffles a small laugh into his hand, then leans forward and gives a warm kiss to the center of his jawline. Immediately Jonghyun stops his dramatics and just wiggles himself under Taemin’s arm, heart and flower emojis almost visible over his head.

“Mmm,” he hums happily.

~

Jonghyun’s chin is doing that cute thing it does where he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and it smooths into one smooth curve from his lip to his neck. His eyebrows are furrowed, though, and he looks grumpy as he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror and pokes at a spot on his cute chin. Taemin flushes his pee down the toilet and gently bumps Jonghyun away from the sink so he can wash his hands.

“What?” he asks as he does so. Jonghyun glances at him in the mirror, then points insistently at a little white bump on his chin.

“A blemish,” he sighs.

“Hmm,” Taemin hums. He looks over Jonghyun’s chin; tiny pimple or not, it’s still cute. He leans forward and pecks a kiss directly to the pimple and when Jonghyun sighs at him, wipes his wet hands on his jeans.

~

They’re chilling with some friends at the river and Jonghyun invited himself into Taemin’s lap some time ago, so Taemin is just holding him, cheek resting against his neck, and dozing off while Jonghyun talks. At some point Jonghyun leans away from him to reach for someone else. He keeps one arm around Taemin’s neck to hold himself and Taemin blearily blinks his eyes open, looking up. All he can really see of Jonghyun from this angle is the underside of his chin, the little pouch of squish outlined by his jaw. He tilts his head up, pecks Jonghyun’s skin lightly, and tugs him close again to nuzzle back into.

~

Taemin can’t fathom what about walking around the mall always makes Jonghyun so thirsty but he is absolutely going to town on a big water bottle that he just bought from a vending machine. Every time he swallows his adam’s apple bobs, up and down his neck, not big, but still noticeable, a soft round lump in his throat. Taemin waits for him to finish inhaling half of the bottle and to take a breath before he ducks down a little to press a smile to it. Jonghyun giggles, breaths heavy, and ruffles his hand through Taemin’s hair fondly.

~

Jonghyun is in a big fancy recording booth, belting out lines to some demo track he’s been working on, and Taemin is sleepily sitting on a couch outside, watching the thick vein on his neck every time it appears. Each time Jonghyun finishes he sips some water and talks to the music tech nerds that are actually monitoring and recording him and the vein disappears, but Taemin has its location memorized in his brain. When Jonghyun finally finishes recording and steps out of the booth, smiling softly and thanking everyone there, Taemin slips up to carry his bags for him and take him out to get hot chocolate before they go home. He also slips up to wrap Jonghyun up in a one-armed hug and press a kiss to his neck where his vein is hiding under the skin.

~

The side of Jonghyun’s neck is one of the places that Taemin kisses the most, largely in part due to how Jonghyun always sits himself down in between Taemin’s legs. It gives Taemin the perfect opportunity to tilt his head and press his lips to Jonghyun’s neck, to pepper slow little kisses up and down his golden skin. When he’s not kissing he’s nuzzling, nosing into his soft skin and feeling the tiny fuzzy hairs on the surface. Jonghyun scrunches his shoulders, giggling at his light touches, so Taemin smiles apologetically against him and goes back to his warm, firm kisses.

~

When Taemin slowly runs the electric razor up the back of Jonghyun’s neck on the right side, the inch or so of hair that falls away reveals the two little moles that live there. He smiles at them as he lets the hair fall to the floor between them. Two little friends. He brushes more tiny pieces of hair off of Jonghyun’s skin quickly before leaning down and gently kissing each one. Jonghyun looks down to blush and put his face in his hands, so Taemin uses the angle to better finish shaving down his undercut for him.

~

Taemin leans on the wall next to the pickup counter of the coffeeshop, waiting for their drinks with one hand in Jonghyun’s butt pocket and the other on the back of his head. He rubs his thumb lazily over the curve of Jonghyun’s hairline, the cute little rounded nape that separates his undercut from his neck. It looks like a cozy place to place a kiss, so he does just that, pressing his lips to Jonghyun’s skin and making the tiniest smek noise. Jonghyun shivers at the touch, whole body wiggling.

~

There’s a small pale circle on the back of Jonghyun’s neck, under his hairline but higher than his shoulders, and a little to the right, and Taemin has never been able to tell what it is, for all that it’s been there for as long as he can remember. He figures it’s a scar, but if that’s the case, he can’t for the life of him figure out what causes a scar like this. He watches Jonghyun rummaging in a drawer for something, and when he straightens up, steps behind him to hold him in place for a second.

“What’s the white dot on your neck from?” he asks. Jonghyun glances at him over his shoulder, confused.

“What white dot?” he asks. Taemin puts his finger on it, then moves his finger down slightly when Jonghyun reaches back to feel for himself. “Huh,” Jonghyun says. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Taemin hums. Oh well. He dips his head to kiss it anyway because it’s cute.

~

No matter how long it’s been since Jonghyun got his Poet | Artist tattoo, seeing it on the back of his neck always makes Taemin pause and smile. He’s rubbing suntan lotion over Jonghyun’s weak baby skin so he doesn’t burn to a crisp at the beach, and when he gets to the tattoo, he takes his time in smoothing the cream into him. Then he lowers his head and carefully kisses each letter, all ten of them, plus the line in the center, and smiles against the back of his neck when he hears Jonghyun whispering “oh my fucking gosh.”

~

“Taem.”

Jonghyun is pouting; Taemin can hear it in his voice before he even looks up to see it on his lips. He’s pouting as he shuffles up to Taemin, hands on either side of his neck where it meets his shoulders. Taemin rolls his eyes fondly. He made such a big deal earlier about how he was buff and strong and didn’t get sore from one workout, and now here he is.

“Taem, I’m sore,” Jonghyun pouts, leaning into Taemin’s chest. Taemin doesn’t tease him and just turns him around, gently shooing his hands away to replace them with his own. He gives Jonghyun a little massage, rubbing his muscles gently but firmly. As he works, he appreciates the smooth skin, the pretty curve from neck to shoulder. Eventually he can’t resist anymore and stops his massage to press a few slow, warm kisses to Jonghyun’s skin. Jonghyun hums and shifts closer, so Taemin assumes that the gesture is appreciated.

~

When Jonghyun walks back into the living room from the hallway, Taemin notices a speck of dirt on the right side of his neck. He reaches up when Jonghyun walks in front of him on the couch to get it for him. He rubs it with his thumb, but it doesn’t come off; frowning and tugging Jonghyun to bend down so he can look closer, he sees that it’s not dirt but just a tiny little brown dot on his skin.

“Oh,” he says.

“What?” Jonghyun asks. He tries to look down at it, chin all scrunched up in his neck. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Taemin says. He leans forward and smooches the dot before letting Jonghyun go. Jonghyun looks at him for a moment, confused, before realization dawns on him and he puts his thumb right on it.

“Oh, my little mole?” he asks, a broad smile on his lips. “Yeah, she’s cute. Kiss her again.” He shuffles forward, practically smothering Taemin’s face with his neck, until Taemin laughs and gives him another kiss.

~

Jonghyun was laying on Taemin’s chest, but now he pushes himself up on his elbows to lean over him and reach for something on the table next to the couch. Taemin looks blandly up at his neck right in front of his face, at the hollow of it framed by the long muscles under his skin. It’s a deep little cave, strangely beautiful, in some anatomy appreciation kind of way, and before Jonghyun can move away Taemin lifts his head up to drop a kiss in there.

~

Taemin loves Jonghyun’s chest mole, but not as much as Jonghyun loves it. He’s always wearing low cut shirts, vnecks, open jackets, just so everyone can see and admire it, and when he notices people looking he always smiles a few notches wider. Taemin feels like it’s spoiling Jonghyun, a little, to kissie it, but he loves Jonghyun and he loves spoiling him, so he makes sure to always swoop in and kiss the cute little dot whenever Jonghyun presents it to the world.

~

Jonghyun’s collarbones are so pretty, jutting out from his chest as he sits on the other side of the table at this restaurant. Taemin is trying to focus on the conversation everyone else is having, he really is, but he’s just. So distracted. They look so good. Taemin makes an impulse decision and gets up out of his seat, tugs on Minho’s wrist until he gets out of the booth, and then takes his place next to Jonghyun. Everyone is staring at him in confusion now so it’s easy for him to tuck himself under Jonghyun’s chin and smooch down the line of one collarbone and then up the other. When he’s done, Jonghyun is giggling into his hands and Minho is calling him gay, both of which he appreciates greatly.

~

When Taemin comes out of the bathroom after his morning pee, Jonghyun is still sitting up in bed, rubbing his face and trying to wake up. Taemin thinks it's pretty admirable of him to actually get up and start his day when he wakes up, because right now he's heading right back into bed to sleep for another hour. Before he does, he glances over Jonghyun’s shirtless torso to look for someplace to kiss. His eyes fall on Jonghyun’s left trap muscle, between his neck and shoulder, and the little brown mole placed delicately in the center near the back. Cute. As he pulls the covers up and sits down under them, he gently hugs Jonghyun from behind and drops a little kissy onto his mole before he lies all the way down and pulls the blankies over his head. He feels Jonghyun just as gently pat his shoulder in thanks.

~

Jonghyun’s shoulders are nice, and warm, and solid under Taemin’s hands. Warm and round and soft, thick babely muscle. Hell yeah. Technically it’s all definition and not a lot of mass, but that’s Jonghyun’s goal when he goes to the gym anyway, and he’s still strong enough to pick Taemin up whenever he wants, so who cares.

“Hey,” Jonghyun says, glancing at him over one shoulder. “Are you done feeling me up?” he asks. “I gotta actually get into the shower.” He gestures at the shower running in front of him, which he started a minute or two ago before he undressed and Taemin caught sight of his shoulders in the mirror while he was rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Taemin hums, hands still rubbing warm circles over Jonghyun’s shoulders, and then leans down to press a smooch to each.

“For now,” he says, pushing Jonghyun gently forward. For now.

~

When Jonghyun rolls over in bed and stretches his arm out directly over Taemin’s face, Taemin knows he’s doing it on purpose just to be a little brat. He doesn’t really care, because Jonghyun being a brat is one of Taemin’s favorite things that he does. He quickly snatches both of his arms around Jonghyun’s one, keeping him there, smiling pleasantly against his shoulder when Jonghyun wiggles to get free.

It registers in his brain that this is Jonghyun’s right arm, and that his mouth is on the side of his right shoulder, right where his little mole should be. He lifts Jonghyun’s arm for just a second to check, and yeah, there it is. The tiny circle. Holding Jonghyun’s arm tight again, he presses his mouth to his skin and places many quick kissies to the little dot. Jonghyun stops trying to wiggle away.

~

Taemin likes being snuggled in Jonghyun’s lap because it puts him at the perfect position to nuzzle into the area between his shoulder and his chest. Jonghyun is wearing one of his loose tank tops and Taemin is zoning out as they sit, half falling asleep and half not, and staring blankly where thick stretch marks creep out of Jonghyun’s sleeve and over his skin. He trails one finger over each one, feeling his skin dip into each stretch and the tiny wiggles of the outlines. Jonghyun likes them a whole lot — he wrote a really gay and thoughtful metaphor about his physical stretch marks feeling like emotional ones to put as a forward in one of his albums that Taemin didn't really understand all the way. Taemin just thinks they're cute and pretty and he likes how when he leans in to kiss them he can feel them against his lips.

~

Taemin feels like some of his happiest moments are when he has his face smooshed right up against Jonghyun. Right now he has his face smooshed into the side of Jonghyun’s chest, head tucked comfy under his arm, smile pressed to his skin. Also right now, though, Jonghyun is making his whiny pouty noise and wiggling.

“Your hair is tickling my undiearm,” he whines. Taemin snorts, tilting his head to look up. There’s Jonghyun’s underarm, hollow and full of three week old stubble and slightly sweaty, just like usual. Taemin wiggles up Jonghyun’s body to smoosh his face in there instead, presses it right up into the hollow and nuzzles the hair, smiling pleasantly when Jonghyun sighs heavily at him.

“You smell nice,” he says, and he really means it. He likes Jonghyun’s sweaty musk, and he likes how whenever he mentions that Jonghyun is both proud and exasperated at it.

“Shut up,” Jonghyun says, and yeah, there was a hint of badly concealed pride in his tone. Taemin can hear his fought back smile. He nuzzles even further in and presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to Jonghyun’s pit, just to really drive his point home.

~

Taemin might be slightly tipsy, but that has no bearing on how he thinks the two little moles on Jonghyun’s left shoulder look vaguely like eyes, and the thin vein between them looks like a long blue nose. Like Squidward, is what he’s saying. Jonghyun has a Squidward on his shoulder, and while Taemin has always thought this sober, it takes half a bottle of wine for him to giggle and say it out loud.

While Jonghyun is frowning and trying to squint at his arm with his own drunky eyes, Taemin flops over on the carpet and reaches for a pen on the coffee table. He takes it, rolls back, draws two ovals around Jonghyun’s little moles, and then a small curved frown under the vein. Just looking at it makes him giggle more.

“I’m Squidward,” Jonghyun whispers. He lifts his hands to his cheeks and gasps softly. That sets Taemin to even more laughter, but when he’s done, he takes Jonghyun’s left wrist and tugs his arm out straight.

“You’re cute,” he smiles, and presses a kiss to each mole and slobbers his tongue up the vein.

~

Falling asleep with Jonghyun is always so lovely. He lets Taemin use his arm as a pillow, always has, and Taemin enjoys resting his head on Jonghyun’s bicep, one hand tucked under, the other hand thrown lazily over Jonghyun’s waist. Jonghyun’s lips always fall by Taemin’s head to let soft breaths rustle his hair and his legs tangle with Taemin’s, locking them together all snuggly and warm. Taemin loves. He nestles closer, holding Jonghyun to him, nuzzling into the warm skin of his bicep. He always needs to kissie before he can fall asleep, so he takes the opportunity to turn his head and press as many smooches as his heart desires to Jonghyun’s bicep.

~

Jonghyun’s Never-The-Less tattoo always surprises Taemin. Not because it’s big or bold or shocking or anything, but because he always forgets that it’s there, until he sees it again. The letters are so stark against the skin of his bicep. They almost seem out of place but Taemin is slowly getting used to it after so many years.

It still surprises him, a little, when Jonghyun laces his hands behind his head and stretches lazily, face scrunching up as a tiny squeak escapes his throat. Taemin stares at the three little words on his arm, the two tiny dots that separate them. After Jonghyun finishes stretching but before he puts his arms down, Taemin scoots forward to press five kissies to the tattoo. Jonghyun’s hands move from the back of his head to cover his face instead.

~

“Dude. What are you doing?”

Taemin looks up guiltily from where he’d been casually nomming on Jonghyun’s arm, nibbling along the thick vein that runs down his biep under his skin. Jonghyun frowns at him; Taemin smiles innocently and gently, gently, gently bites his arm again.

“Stop that, you’re gonna, like, bite me open and then I’ll bleed everywhere and it’ll be gross,” Jonghyun mumbles. He tries to take his arm away, but Taemin clings to him with both hands and presses a tiny kiss to his vein instead. Jonghyun rolls his eyes and lets him stay.

~

Taemin wakes up with his face in the crook of Jonghyun’s elbow, and he knows that Jonghyun put the crook of his elbow into his face on purpose because there’s no way that Taemin woke up before him. He takes in a big sleepy breath, hooking his own arm over Jonghyun’s and puckering his lips to kiss his soft delicate skin. He hears Jonghyun make his smiley hummy noise next to him and snorts. He just wanted a morning smoochie. Taemin brings his other hand up to hold Jonghyun’s elbow there, gently but still firmly, and gives him another, and then another, and then, just when Jonghyun lets his guard down to giggle, opens his mouth wide and blows a big raspberry.

~

They’re lying out on their stomachs on the bed, Jonghyun pleasantly putting together a few pages of his latest scrapbook and Taemin just watching, dozing off on his shoulder. Jonghyun hums little words to himself as he works, voice cute and little and confident as he talks himself through it, and it’s soothing Taemin to a nice state of hazy, in-and-out sleepiness. He zones out, sight blurring for a little bit, before he blinks everything back and focuses on what he was looking at.

It was just Jonghyun’s left arm, the inside of his elbow, just a little bit on the forearm side. There’s a nice brown circle on his skin and Taemin yawns into Jonghyun’s shoulder before he reaches over sleepily to poke it.

“You have a mole on your elbow pit,” he says.

“Hmm?” Jonghyun hums. He lifts his arm to look at it himself. “Oh, yeah. That’s Barbara.” He puts his thumb on it, and then, while Taemin is just starting to register that joke and giggle about it, brings his arm over to hover in front of Taemin’s face. Taemin takes the hint and indulges himself in his favorite thing, tilting his head just enough to give Barb the tiniest kissie.

~

Taemin is sleepy and has a headache, but they’re at some mingly party with business fancy people that they can’t escape from yet. Taemin has half escaped, at least from talking to people, by pretending to be drunk off of the cheap champagne being served. He’s tugged Jonghyun to sit on the couch and is leaning into him, doing his best to look drunky and pitiful so people will gently suggest that it’s time for them to leave. Jonghyun is helping too, with an arm around his shoulders and gentle kissies placed to his noggin and quiet murmurs of comfort in his hair. Taemin doesn’t want to brag, but they’re pretty hecking expert at getting out of these things like this.

For now, he picks up Jonghyun’s hand where it’s dangling lazily by his bicep. He turns to nuzzle his cheek into Jonghyun’s palm, and then into the inside of his forearm, soft and smooth and warm, baby peach fuzz hairs tickling his cheek. He always liked the insides of people’s forearms, and especially Jonghyun’s. They always look so comfy and smooth. He tilts his head just enough that he can brush his lips against Jonghyun’s skin. It lessens his headache, a little.

~

They're sitting on the hood of Jonghyun’s fancy car, out in the hills, in a little place that overlooks the city so they can watch the sunset and then stargaze together in the quiet. Taemin is just thinking about pulling the yawn and put your arm around someone's shoulders trick on Jonghyun when Jonghyun himself yawns and does it to him. Taemin laughs softly to himself but accepts that Jonghyun timed that well enough to beat him to it and just snuggles into the crook of Jonghyun’s shoulder instead, getting comfortable.

Jonghyun’s right elbow hooks around his neck, hand dangling over his chest, and Taemin slides his hand down his forearm so he can tangle their fingers together and feel gay about it. Halfway down Jonghyun’s arm, though, he stops, a little bump on his skin drawing his attention. Suddenly he remembers the mole on Jonghyun’s forearm, in between two of his veins, and runs his thumb back over his skin to find it again. When he does, he brings his mouth to it to press a smile against it.

~

Jonghyun is tapping away on his phone, thumbs typing out lyrics, lips pouting every so often as the bus jostles them and he has to delete a typo. Taemin is on his own phone, but he glances up once just to see what’s ahead of them. When he’s looking back down, his eyes catch the tattoo on the inside of Jonghyun’s left wrist and he pauses.

It’s thin, little, sloppy cursive letters spelling out “Story Op. 1.. 2.. 3.. 4…” Taemin lifts his hand to gently take Jonghyun’s wrist, thumb rubbing over the letters and numbers fondly. He worked hard to earn this tattoo. He brings Jonghyun’s hand to his mouth and kisses the one, the two, the three, the four, and adds one more kiss at the empty space after. Jonghyun chuckles softly, taking his wrist back to keep typing on his phone.

“Five kissies?” he asks, cocking a brow. “Did you lose count?”

“No,” Taemin says, pouty. “You’re working on Five, aren’t you?” he asks, nodding at the lyrics on Jonghyun’s phone. “It was a placeholder kiss.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers. He gives Taemin his phone, then puts his face in his free hands. “You can’t say soft shit like that to me in public, oh my gosh.”

~

Jonghyun is sitting on the kitchen counter watching Taemin struggle to make pancakes from a box mix, feet kicking the counters under him and right hand holding a kazoo to his lips. He's been speaking through that all morning and it's only just starting to get slightly annoying and Taemin knows that's only because he's frustrated with the batter. He turns around to grab something from the fridge and Jonghyun, in the grainy weird voice of someone speaking through a kazoo, tells him he has a nice butt. Taemin’s prickles of annoyance dissolve quickly. He can't be mad at that.

He takes a break from his pancakes for a moment to just walk up to Jonghyun’s spot on the counter and put his hands on either side of his hips. He means to lean around the kazoo and kiss the corner of Jonghyun’s smile, but he notices the faint, tiny, little speck of a mole on Jonghyun’s forearm, a little under his wrist, and pauses. That's easier to reach, so he tilts his head and kisses that instead. Jonghyun covers his eyes with his hands, whispering “Oh my gosh,” through the kazoo.

~

“Hey.”

“Hmm.”

“Look.”

Taemin can’t help but look as Jonghyun sticks his wrist in Taemin’s face, hand tilted daintily back to accentuate all of his little veins and tendons under the skin. He raises his brows, tilting his head to look at Jonghyun behind his wrist. Jonghyun smiles all coy and pretty, head tilted down but looking up at Taemin through his lashes, delicate and flirty. Taemin brings his eyes back to Jonghyun’s wrist. Jonghyun twists it just enough to make new little lacy lines and veins stick out, fluttering his lashes at Taemin expectantly. Taemin considers holding back, but not for more than a second, because he wants to kiss Jonghyun’s wrist as much as Jonghyun wants him to kiss it. So he does, leaning forward and smooching his skin once, and then laughing and kissing him more when Jonghyun grins and smooshes his wrist against Taemin’s mouth.

~

“Hey. Lemme read your palm.”

“You don’t know how to read palms,” Jonghyun says, but he gives Taemin his hand anyway, nuzzling his cheek into Taemin’s shoulder to see better. Taemin holds Jonghyun’s hand, hums wisely, runs his fingers over all of the lines that he doesn’t understand in the slightest, and brings it up close to his face to squint at.

“Sure I do,” he says. He brings Jonghyun’s hand even closer and presses a tiny kiss to the muscle of his thumb. “This line means you’re real gay,” he says. He brings his lips to the muscle on the other side of Jonghyun’s hand and kissies that too. “That one means you’re real cute.”

“You’re not even kissing the lines,” Jonghyun says. His voice is a tiny squeak muffled into Taemin’s sleeve. He also spreads his hand out wide to give Taemin more kissing room. Taemin smiles against his palm and kisses the little curve at the bottom, and then the side of his hand, and then the little webby of skin between his thumb and pointer finger, and then finally the center.

~

Jonghyun’s hand feels strangely rough against Taemin’s and it puzzles Taemin for like half an hour until he realizes he can just bring Jonghyun’s hand up and look at it. He does that, stopping them in the middle of their lazy walk around the lake. He holds Jonghyun’s hand in front of his face, rubbing his thumb over the top of his palm.

“Oh,” he says. The roughness comes from blisters, one under each finger, two of them a little flaky like Jonghyun has been picking at them. “Where’d you get these?” he asks.

“Jerking off too hard,” Jonghyun says, head tilted and eyes slightly squinted, eyebrows furrowed, his expression of utmost seriousness. Taemin snorts into loud laughter, putting Jonghyun’s hand over his face to muffle it. Fuck.

As his giggles fade out and they start walking again, Jonghyun looking extremely proud of himself, Taemin takes the time to kissie each blister in the hopes that it’ll make them heal faster.

~

Jonghyun always has his little pinky halfway up when he holds things. He never curls it all the way in or sticks it all the way out; he just keeps it bent, a little hook, a little cutie. Taemin watches him singing softly in the practise room, the band for his tiny show playing behind him, his mouth right up on the metal of the mic, his hand almost all the way curled around the handle except for his pinky.

He watches him from the floor, because he got bored waiting for Jonghyun to finish practise like half an hour ago and being on the floor always makes things better. When everyone finishes the song and takes a break, Taemin rolls and slides himself over the hardwood like a slug, coming to a stop at Jonghyun’s feet and pawing at his shins. Jonghyun glances down, almost snorts out the gulp of water he was taking, swallows it instead, and half-cough-half-laughs into his hand as he crouches down.

“Yeah?” he asks, lifting one brow. He rests his elbows on his knees and his hands dangle in between them, one still holding his water bottle and the other holding his mic, both pinkies half stuck out. Taemin reaches up and takes one hand, kissies his pinky, lets it go, grabs Jonghyun’s other hand, and kisses his other pinky. Jonghyun chuckles softly, wiggling his pinky so it boops Taemin’s nose.

“Almost done, okay?” he says. Taemin nods.

“Take your time,” he replies. He just wanted to say hi.

~

“What are you giggling about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re giggling about something.”

Taemin is giggling about Jonghyun’s rings, the two couple rings he’s wearing, one on each ring finger. Every time he sees them they make him giggle. He’s not sure why; it’s cute that Jonghyun got something coupley for himself and decided to keep wearing them even after they got together forever ago. A nice little reminder for Jonghyun that he can like himself by himself.

Taemin reaches out and takes Jonghyun’s smoothie from his hand, and while Jonghyun is whining and telling him not to drink it, takes his hand and brings it up to his mouth. He gives the tiniest smooch to the ring on his finger, then smiles against Jonghyun’s skin as he gives him back his drink.

~

“Dude, Sailor Moon isn’t even that good. You just like it because of the nostalgia.”

“Oh. My gosh. Oh my gosh. Wow. Oh my gosh.”

Taemin watches, amused, as Jonghyun stands up from the couch and walks in a circle in the living room, hands pressed together in front of his mouth. He’s so dramatic. He walks in like five more circles saying “oh my gosh” before he sits back down next to Taemin and takes his face in both hands, palms squishing his cheeks. Taemin lets him, raising his brows and waiting for Jonghyun to say something different to prove him wrong. Instead he just takes one hand off, folds down all of his fingers except his middle, and presses it right against Taemin’s face, squishing his lips and nose.

“Never voice your opinions in my presence ever again,” he says. Taemin obeys him and puckers his lips to smooch Jonghyun’s middle finger instead.

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun mutters, a fond, exasperated sigh this time.

~

Jonghyun is taking a call from his therapist on the phone, and that’s important business, Taemin knows, but he doesn’t need both hands for it, and his left hand is very soft and warm and perfect for holding. Taemin holds it in both of his and rubs his thumbs over Jonghyun’s palm, his fingers, pinches his knuckles lightly. When he finds the little W.Fk tattoo on the side of his middle finger, he smiles and makes sure to give that a special kiss for being cute. Jonghyun ends his phone call a few moments later and cocks a brow at him as he slots his phone back into his pocket.

“Do you know literally any of their names?” he asks, wiggling his finger. “Anyone in the whole group? That I spend hours with on a weekly basis?”

“Not a single one,” Taemin says, grinning broadly. Jonghyun sighs and shakes his head.

~

“Jonghyun!”

“Wuh--What? What is it? What happened?”

“Jong! Hyun!” Taemin bursts into the living room, looks around wildly, finds Jonghyun sitting in front of the coffee table, sprints to the couch, vaults over it, and does a sick ass roll, coming to a stop just a little bit further from Jonghyun than he meant to. He scrambles the few extra inches forward, Jonghyun watching him with extreme confusion and a healthy amount of fear, grabs both of his hands, and stops to catch his breath.

“Are you--okay, what do you want, did something hap--”

“Hey,” Taemin interrupts him, perfectly calm and relaxed. He gets his thumbs under Jonghyun’s pointer fingers and pushes them up. Bringing them to his mouth, he smiles against them and presses a tiny kissie to the pad of each one. “You’re real cute,” he says. Jonghyun looks at him for a long moment, and then he lies back down on the floor on his stomach and grumbles into the carpet.

~

Jonghyun is concentrating with his thumb against his mouth again, lips pressed to the pad of it, bottom lip squishing up and down slowly as he reads over his lyrics. Taemin just peeped into his office to see if he wanted a snack, but as he watches Jonghyun work, he feels mildly jealous. He wants to kissie Jonghyun’s thumb too.

He slips inside, gently taking Jonghyun’s hand before he even says hi and bringing his thumb to his mouth to kiss. Jonghyun blinks at him, confused, before he smirks and smooshes his thumb in between his lips, rubbing against his teeth and along his gums before Taemin splutters and moves away.

~

Taemin is woken up from his lazy couch nap in Jonghyun’s lap by a snap, a snap, a snap, a pause, a sigh, and then a low grumble in the back of Jonghyun’s throat. He rolls his eyes before he even opens them and lifts his hands to feel up around him for Jonghyun’s. When he finds them, as he expects, they’re together, one hand trying to crack a stubborn knuckle on the other.

“You’re gonna break your own fucking finger,” he mutters, pulling Jonghyun’s hands apart. “Crack it later if it won’t crack now.” He ignores Jonghyun’s pouty noises of protest in favor of fumbling with Jonghyun’s hands in his own until he’s holding them by their fingertips. Then, since he doesn’t feel like figuring out which knuckle Jonghyun was trying to crush, he just gives all eight of them a little smooch.

~

Taemin is almost asleep when Jonghyun starts shuffling next to him in bed. He doesn’t open his eyes and just listens to Jonghyun plugging his phone in, taking a sip from his water bottle, and wiggling from a sit to a lie all the way under the covers. When Jonghyun finally gets settled and comfy clinging to Taemin’s arm, Taemin wiggles closer and finds one of his hands to hold.

“Sleepy early tonight?” he mumbles. He hears Jonghyun shrug.

“Apparently,” he says. “I’ll probably wake up in a few hours. I’ll try not to wake you up too.”

“Mmm,” Taemin hums. He doesn’t think anything can really wake him up once he’s out, but that’s considerate. He brings Jonghyun’s hand up and rubs his thumb over his fingers, the short segments between his first and second knuckles. Bringing them up to his mouth, he presses a sleepy mush of his lips to all of them at once. “Nighty n--”

“That was so gay.”

“Nighty night,” Taemin repeats. Jonghyun only giggles for a little bit before nuzzling up close and quieting down.

~

Jonghyun’s middle knuckles are so cute, and Taemin feels like he should be embarrassed to think that, but he’s too busy staring at Jonghyun’s fingers rise up and down as he lifts the dumbbell at a measured pace. His fancy weight lifting gloves cover just the first half of his fingers, stopping short just under his knuckles, and they really accentuate their weird round-but-also-flat knobbiness.

“Fuh--fifteen,” Jonghyun breathes under him, voice just slightly tight. “Right?” he asks, and Taemin knows he’s talking to him, and he also knows that he lost count while he was staring at his knuckles.

“Uh,” he says. “One more,” he says, and then “one more,” and then “one more,” and then “one more” again, and then when Jonghyun starts clenching his teeth on the push up, gently lifts the weight the rest of the way for him and sets it on the rack. “Good job, good push,” he tells Jonghyun, reaching down again to fluff his hair encouragingly. Jonghyun snorts and grins up at him, breaths heavy.

“You lost count,” he says, reaching up to poke his nose. Taemin grumbles, disgruntled at being caught so easily, and just grabs Jonghyun’s hand to kiss his knuckles instead of replying.

~

“Pow. Pow pow pow. Mmm--bop! Bop pow--hey.”

Taemin grins when Jonghyun pouts at him, trying to tug his fist away from where Taemin has a firm grip on it with both hands. He’d think that for someone that just started fake boxing out of the blue, complete with fancy sidesteps and self-made sound effects, Jonghyun would be ready for a block. As it is, Taemin leans forward to press a kiss to the front of Jonghyun’s fist. Jonghyun bites back a smile, then brings his other fist up in a quick but soft uppercut to just barely dink Taemin’s chin.

“Knockout,” he says. “I win.”

~

“Taem.”

“Hfmm?”

“Please.”

Taemin glances behind him in the mirror to find Jonghyun’s hand sticking out of the shower curtain, waving his toothbrush insistantly at him. He snorts. Must have run out of his shower toothpaste. Holding his own toothbrush in his mouth, he grabs his tube and then Jonghyun’s hand to steady it so he can squeeze some onto his brush. Then, since they’re there, he tilts his head to smooch Jonghyun’s knuckles.

“What the fuck was--oh, did you kiss me?” Jonghyun asks. His voice is a grin and he takes his toothbrush back. “Thanks,” he says, voice already muffled.

~

Taemin is yawning over his morning cereal when a hand suddenly appears in front of his face. The back of a hand to be precise--Jonghyun’s hand. Jonghyun smiles innocently back at him across the table before he takes his hand back to himself.  He holds it up by his shoulder, palm facing up, for ten seconds before he lowers it back down over Taemin’s bowl, fingers wiggling daintily. He’s doing his tendonitis stretches but being a little brat about it. Taemin can't help but smile. Jonghyun lifts and lowers his hand again and this time Taemin gently grabs his fingers to hold. Jonghyun's smile grows, and then grows even more when Taemin presses his lips to the back of his hand.

~

Taemin feels like he should be more concerned than he is to be lying in Jonghyun’s lap while he plays the guitar. Jonghyun has dropped guitars before and dropped guitars on Taemin’s head before but he still can't find it in himself to worry. He likes to lie like this and listen to Jonghyun play sweet tunes.

It's relaxing and comfortable to just listen to his creativity flow. He lazily looks up to find Jonghyun's hand on the body of the guitar, warm fingers lazily plucking out notes. The way his wrist curves just slightly accentuates the little round knobby bone under his skin. Taemin always wondered what that bone was for. He raises his own hand to look at his own wrist and then back up to Jonghyun’s. Jonghyun’s is definitely cuter. When Jonghyun pauses his music to write something down in his notebook Taemin takes his wrist to press a kiss to his knobby bone before giving it back.

~

Jonghyun really isn't tall enough to be slinging his arm around people’s shoulders all the time but Taemin likes when he does it anyway. The weight of his arm around his neck is heavy and comforting and it makes him feel like he belongs to Jonghyun in the softest and gayest way possible. He lets Jonghyun drag him around the mall, walking into different stores, window shopping and buying candy. When they stop in line in the food court and Jonghyun lifts the hand around his shoulders to point at something on the menu his wrist hovers right in Taemin’s line of sight. Taemin forgets about food for a second and leans forward to peck his wrist gently. Jonghyun hesitates, then sighs and puts his whole hand over Taemin's face.

~

Taemin knows that his dance practices aren't the most exciting thing to watch but he’s still a little surprised to see Jonghyun conked out and snoozing at the desk in the corner of the practice room. When Taemin left him there an hour ago he said he would be working on his music and supporting Taemin in the background. Taemin guesses he dozed off somewhere in between doing all of that.

Taemin heads over there and crouches down in front of Jonghyun's desk. Jonghyun has his head pillowed in his arms, eyes closed but a moving slowly up and down with soft breaths. Taemin lifts his hands to rub over Jonghyun's forearms, smoothing over his warm skin and gently pulling at his little hairs. When Jonghyun stirs, lifting his head and rubbing one sleepy eye with the palm of his hand, Taemin moves forward and smooches his forearm gently. Jonghyun's sleepy little smile is the prettiest thing Taemin has seen all day.

~

"Are you here because you want to help me with my cooking or because you don't want me to steal all the bacon like last time?"

"The second one, most definitely," Jonghyun says, smile shameless on his face. Taemin smiles back just as shamelessly. He can't blame Jonghyun for his decision. He pokes at the bacon in the pan, flipping each piece over carefully. Jonghyun stands pleasantly next to him, hands laced behind his back. Taemin glances down for a second and when he looks up, his eyes stop at Jonghyun's elbow. Without thinking, Taemin lifts one finger and inserts it into the little fold of skin in Jonghyun's elbow. it sinks in easily and he giggles, wiggling it gently.

"What are you — hey, " Jonghyun says. He tucks his elbow away, lifting it to try to peek at it himself. He lifts it to just the perfect height for Taemin to bend down and kiss.

~

"Oof... Hoo... Huff...... Gotta be... beefy.... "

Taemin covers his mouth with his hand as he tries not to giggle at Jonghyun's workout monologue. It's a good self pep talk, he has to admit. He does his best to focus back on spotting Jonghyun, watching him tug the handlebar down and lift and let it rise back up slowly. He's working on his triceps today and Taemin has to fight to not get distracted by those too. He's always been a sucker for a nice pair of arms. He holds out just long enough for Jonghyun to finish his current set. Then he slips up closer to feel up Jonghyun's arm.

"Very nice and very beefy, " he says smoothly. He bends his knees enough that he can rub his cheek on Jonghyun's nice sweaty tricep. While Jonghyun is chuckling tiredly at him he smooches his muscle gently.

~

Taemin is real tired, almost tired enough to fall asleep on his feet, but that's not why he slouches up to Jonghyun on his tummy on the bed and flops directly on top of him. He smiles against Jonghyun's sweaty bare skin when he wiggles in protest, whining about the heat. Taemin is hot too but he still wraps his arms around Jonghyun's warm chest and nuzzles into his back.

"Taemin nooooooo," Jonghyun whines.

"Taemin yes," Taemin says. He puckers his lips and  presses a kiss to the soft spot between Jonghyun's back and underarm. He does it two more times before Jonghyun growls and rolls him off.

~

Jonghyun is singing in the shower, that one song he wrote when he was feeling particularly gay about Minho's eyes, and Taemin is standing behind him, forehead resting gently between his shoulder blades. He's feeling kind of like a lump today, so Jonghyun offered to shower with him, and by "shower with" they mean Jonghyun does all the work and Taemin stands there feeling lumpy. Taemin appreciates it and he appreciates Jonghyun's soft yet peppy voice echoing off of the tiles. He's been standing under the water for the time being while the conditioner soaks into his hair and while Jonghyun washes his own face. Taemin breathes slowly, eyes closed, and when Jonghyun gets into his little rap section, moving his shoulders to the beat in his brain, he shifts under Taemin's head so his shoulder blade is against his face. Since it's there Taemin gives it a wet kiss.

~

They're having a sloppy make-out, one of Taemin's favorite kinds, but Taemin finds himself highly distracted. His hands are around the back of Jonghyun's neck, fingers trailing lightly up and down the knobs of his spine. Pulling away from Jonghyun's mouth, he lowers his hands to his shoulders and pushes gently.

"Turn around, really quick," he says. Jonghyun obeys with a questioning hum. Taemin pushes Jonghyun's head forward and rubs his thumb over the top few knobs of bone he can see under his skin. "Cute, " he says, leaning forward to kiss each one.

~

It's not often that Taemin is the big spoon — Jonghyun says he likes feeling like a big warm net and wrapping Taemin all up — but when he does get to curl himself around Jonghyun's small warm body, he enjoys the experience a lot. He nuzzles into Jonghyun’s skin, nosing up and down the soft line of his back. He needs to kissie a lot to fall asleep; it's part of his sleep ritual, so he peppers kisses all over Jonghyun's back and shoulder blades before sighing happily as he drifts off to sleep.

~

It's always a double-take moment for Taemin when his eyes land on Jonghyun's a romanticist tattoo. He always thinks it says aromantic instead. Which isn't even wrong, technically. Jonghyun told him one time that he had it done on purpose so it could be both.

"It's because I'm Arofluid," he'd smiled, reaching one finger back to gently poke the clear tape over the tattoo after he’d first gotten it done. "So sometimes I'm aromantic and sometimes I'm a romanticist." he winked then too, looking cute as a button.

Right now, Taemin thinks his tattoo looks cute as a button as well, shyly peeking out at him from the strap of Jonghyun's tank top. He leans down while they're walking through the grocery store to drop a little kiss to and trail his lips softly over the letters. Jonghyun drops the list he was carrying into the cart and shivers, pouting at Taemin over his shoulder.

~

Not to expose himself as an obvious sideboob admirer or anything, but when Jonghyun pulls one of his sleeveless shirts over his head and Taemin gets a nice look at his entire sideboob he suddenly becomes completely erect in every way. He slimes his way out of bed and slides over to Jonghyun by the dresser.

"Mmmmmmmm. Hmm," he hums, wrapping his arms around Jonghyun's waist, ducking under his arm, and smooshing his face into Jonghyun's side.

"Oh hello, my little clingy worm boi," Jonghyun smiles. He pets Taemin's head fondly. Taemin just as fondly kisses Jonghyun's sideboob.

~

Jonghyun holds his arms out, elbows bent, hands locked in front of his chest, and twists at the waist from side to side, stretching before he goes and picks one of the empty weight machines at the gym. Taemin watches, lazily doing his own leg stretches with much less effort and focus, partly because he's just here to feel like he has his life together and partly because every time Jonghyun  twists away from him, Taemin gets a peek at his left side boob and the little mole that sits near the top.

Jonghyun counts each twist under his breath, and when he reaches twenty and lowers his arms and starts to turn himself back to a neutral position, Taemin stops him with hands on his bare waist. Jonghyun hums in question as Taemin gently pushes his arm out of the way and presses his thumb right on the little brown dot.

“You have a little,” he says and ducks his head to give it the tiniest smooch. “Kissy spot,” he says.

~

Taemin can see Jonghyun's nipples through his shirt, and it's not even that he's staring or anything, they're just both out there to the world. He doesn't think Jonghyun notices that he notices either, because he licks his lips as he looks at something in front of him and tugs down the hem of his shirt casually. That just makes his nipples even more obvious and Taemin bites his lip as a plan forms in his head. He waits for Jonghyun to notice him, and then, quick as a flash, nuts forward, grabs the hem of Jonghyun's shirt, yanks it up, and slams his mouth right on top of his nipple. Then, while Jonghyun is busy being extremely confused and thrown off, he sticks his tongue out, latches on, and makes the grossest, wettest, sloppiest, slurpiest noise he can possibly make.

~

Taemin is conflicted. he loves when Jonghyun wears a nice red plaid flannel button-up because it makes him look super super hot and comfortable, but he hates the texture that they have and how they feel against his skin. He doesn't know how he’s supposed to lie on top of his super babely babe and snuggle him if his awful shirt is itching and bothering him the whole time. To remedy the situation, after he sits on top of Jonghyun's thighs but before he lies down on top of him, he reaches down and fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. Undoing the top, like, four, he opens up the collar of Jonghyun's shirt and rubs his hands pleasantly over his warm chest. Then he smiles, proud of himself, he lowers himself to rest his head on Jonghyun's left boob. As Jonghyun's chest shakes with laughter under him, Taemin presses the tiniest peck to his pec.

~

Jonghyun is lying on his back on the couch and Taemin is currently slithering top of him, wiggling his way up his body from his feet all the way up to his head. He means to rub his cheek all over Jonghyun’s face, pestering him and bothering him until he groans and  tries to wiggle him off and pretend like he doesn't enjoy it, but he hesitates when his ear slides past the left side of Jonghyun’s chest. He can hear Jonghyun’s heartbeat under there, relaxed and reassuring and steady. He changes his plan in favor of just settling his head right there, wrapping his arms around Jonghyun’s chest to get comfortable. Jonghyun pats his head absently, not taking his eyes from the TV. Taemin turns his head enough to gently kiss the spot over where his heart beats underneath him.

~

Jonghyun wears his buttonups with the top few buttons undone just to mess with him, Taemin knows it. He knows that Jonghyun knows that he can’t resist staring at the dip of his chest, at the nice line between his muscles, at how the shirt just frames it so nicely. He knows that Jonghyun is very, very, very smug as Taemin pulls him to a corner of the bar they’re in, wraps his arms around his waist, and dips his head to pepper soft kisses down the very center of his chest. He bites softly as well when Jonghyun hums and lazily slings his arms around his shoulders.

“If you wanted to give me a boner you could’ve just done it at home,” he mumbles against Jonghyun’s skin.

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in flustering you in a place where you can’t get embarrassed about it?” Jonghyun replies.

~

Jonghyun has a mole on his left side and Taemin wants to kiss it. It's dark in the bedroom; it's like one in the morning and Jonghyun is shuffling back into bed after peeing and neither of them want to turn the lights on, but Taemin still wants to kiss it. It's lucky that he knows exactly where it is: his left side, a little bit above the bottom of his first set of abs, a little bit further past his nipple, right on one of his ribs. When Jonghyun slides back into bed next to him, Taemin nuzzles his shoulder, wraps his arm around his waist, and   flops his whole body over his chest just so he can press his lips to the place that he has memorized.

~

“Taaaaaeeeeeemie.”

"Yes?" Taemin says. He looks down at Jonghyun in his lap, where he's been the whole time, and where he just called Taemin's name excessively loudly. Jonghyun smiles impishly and wiggles up the couch so his tummy is over Taemin's knees.

"Rubbie, " he says. Taemin smiles warmly and brings both hands to Jonghyun's tummy, rubbing it gently. He pushes his sweater up so he can rub his skin. He traces the lines of Jonghyun's abs, wiggles his fingers to gently pinch his squishy skin, and rubs his palms firmly over his tough muscle. Jonghyun almost purrs under his hands, his own hands running through and tugging on his hair happily.   before long, though, he whines again.

“Taemieeeeeee.”

“Yes?” Taemin says again. Jonghyun reaches up to squish his cheeks, pinching his lips up into a pucker.

“Kissie,” he demands. Taemin squishes his cheeks back, enamored and endeared beyond measure. Then he bends himself over and places the softest loveliest kiss to each one of Jonghyun’s abs.

~

When Jonghyun stretches his arms up over his head, fingers laced together, back arching out, his ribs show through his skin, each line accentuated nicely. He's just getting out of bed, about ready to take a shower and start the day, and Taemin is busy trying not to wake up, but he can't resist. He pushes himself up on his elbows, wraps his arm around Jonghyun’s waist, and while he's letting his big breath out quickly in surprise, tilts his head and gives each of his ribs a good morning kiss.

~

The tattoo on Jonghyun’s side catches Taemin’s eye when they both stand up to let  an elderly couple sit down on the bus. Jonghyun reaches up to hold on to one of the handles and the hole in his sleeveless shirt dips low enough for Taemin to see the black puppy inked into his skin. Taemin rubs his thumb over the dog's head thoughtfully.

“Hmm? Oh,” Jonghyun says, looking down. “Giving her a little pet?” he asks. Taemin nods, patting the puppy’s head a couple times.

“Is she being a good girl?” he asks. Jonghyun is silent for a moment, lifting his hand to rub a thumb over the tattoo himself, before he nods slowly.

“I think she's been good lately, yeah,” he says. Taemin smiles. That's good. Since he can't just crouch down and kiss Jonghyun’s side in the middle of a public bus, he presses a kiss to the pad of his thumb and then presses his thumb to the head of the dog.

~

Jonghyun was up all night last night, so Taemin isn't surprised when he gets home and Jonghyun is still snuggled up in bed. The blankets are a mess around him, sunlight peeping in through the curtains and playing over his warm golden skin. He's on his tummy with his head pillowed in his arms and when Taemin peeks into the bedroom, Jonghyun peeks his eyes open. Taemin can't see his mouth, but he can tell from the crinkle of his eyes in the roundness of his cheeks that he's smiling.

“Hey,” he says. Jonghyun’s cheeks push up even more and he smushes his face into his arms. Taemin shuffles inside the bedroom to rub his hands over Jonghyun’s back. He means to give Jonghyun a little massage, but before he can start, he notices the two  moles near the center of Jonghyun’s back. He gently pokes each one with a finger and then grins when Jonghyun wiggles. He leans down to smooch them instead.

~

Lying on Jonghyun’s tummy like this, Taemin’s field of view is like 70% belly button. He's been staring at it for the better part of half an hour  while Jonghyun  watches one of his nature documentaries, and now he decides it’s good time to wiggle forward and give it a little smoochie. When he does, Jonghyun makes a disgruntled little noise and puts a hand on his head.

“Don't, do you know how nasty belly buttons are?” he says. Taemin does know, but the thing is that he doesn't care. To showcase this he sticks his tongue out and flibbles it directly into Jonghyun’s belly button. Jonghyun sighs but he also giggles at the same time and Taemin is filled with pride.

~

When Taemin walks through the front door, home from pestering Key, Jonghyun is standing in the living room, holding the PS4 controller in his hand as he stretches his arms over his head, back arched, face all scrunched up with the effort. Taemin snorts softly at his insistence on actually taking breaks from video games to stretch like some sort of health conscious human being.

Jonghyun’s shirt rides up over his stomach, exposing his belly button and a dark line of hair that runs from it and down into the  waistband of his jeans. Taemin’s eyes snap to that and immediately he's bouncing forward across the room to drop to his knees in front of Jonghyun and wrap his arms around his hips.

“Ooh,” Jonghyun squeaks, exhaling all of his air in that one surprised breath, and then, “Oh,”he says. He chuckles softly as he pets Taemin’s hair and Taemin nuzzles into the hair on his tummy. It's not as long as it could be but it's still lovely and scratchy and perfect. “What is it with you and my happy trail?” Jonghyun asks him. Taemin kisses lightly down the line of it.

“You always shave her away,” he mumbles. “But she's so cute.” Jonghyun snorts and laughs at him again, but Taemin doesn't care because he's busy peppering kisses all over.

~

“You know, you're like, a really veiny dude,” Taemin says. Jonghyun was standing in front of him as he sat on the couch trying to tell him something, but he's shirtless and his waist was directly in front of Taemin's eyes, and Taemin got distracted. He reaches forward and trails his fingers over the thin little veins that peek up from the hem of Jonghyun’s sweats. Each one is a little blue line that looks extremely kissable.

“Thanks,” Jonghyun tells him. “Do you want to go out to dinner or what?” he asks. Taemin tugs him forward with hands on his hips and gently pecks the veins on his left side.

“Sure,” he says as he moves over to kiss the ones on his right.

~

Jonghyun is talking to Jinki — well, they're both both talking to him, honestly, but Taemin is losing focus fast. Part of it is just his lack of an attention span, but another part is that he is becoming overwhelmed with the quiet but intense desire to pull Jonghyun close and kiss him. He can't kiss Jonghyun on the mouth, sadly, but he can pull Jonghyun around the kitchen table, take a seat, and wrap his arm around Jonghyun's thighs. From there, he noses into the hem of Jonghyun's shirt, pushing it up so he can trail his lips over Jonghyun's side, his pretty waist, and press warm soft kisses to his skin.

~

Taemin loves Jongyhun’s wiggly dance, and he especially loves it when Jonghyun is doing it in celebration of him royally stomping Minho’s ass into the ground in the video game that they're playing. It's not often that he beats Minho at a video game and it's even less often that he beats him this badly, so Taemin revels in the way Minho slouches so low on the couch that he rolls off of it and just lies on the floor in bitter defeat while Jonghyun wiggles his hips and raises his hands up and down and does his biggest and loudest and most highest pitched woohoo. The hips are the cutest part, Taemin thinks, so while Jonghyun is still  dancing supportively, he leans forward to rest his cheek against his waist and then dips his head just low enough to  kiss his right hip every time he sways it closer.

~

Jonghyun is particularly fond of not putting a shirt on in the mornings and going through their sleepy breakfasts shirtless, something that Taemin is 97% sure he does 60% just because Taemin thinks it's really hot and Jonghyun loves when Taemin thinks he's really hot. At the present moment, Taemin is watching Jonghyun at the stove as he flips banana pancakes. Well, more specifically, Taemin is watching his lower back, where his faint stretch marks draw lines through his skin. Taemin reaches out the hand from where he's sitting at the table to ghost his fingers over Jonghyun’s stretch marks. Jonghyun shivers just at the touch; to make him shiver even more, Taemin scoots forward and trails his lips gently along each line.

~

Jonghyun is lying on his stomach on the floor, and he's shirtless, and he's wearing his tight white jeans with the studded black belt, and all of that adds up into Taemin’s eyes immediately zooming in on the top of his ass that peeks out from his waistband. The tops of his cute booty cheeks always make an appearance when he wears these jeans, small and flat but still adorable and round. Taemin does what any sensible human being would do and drops to his knees on the carpet, then leans down, gathering two nice handfuls of Jonghyun’s booty and leaning his head even further down to smack two wet kissies, one to the top of each cheek.

~

“Dude. Hey. Stop,” Jonghyun mumbles. Taemin blinks out of his thoughts as Jonghyun slaps at his hands.He's sitting on the couch, and Jonghyun is lying over him with his butt over his lap, and Taemin was absentmindedly papping out a beat on his booty as he  watched TV. “My butt, like, hurts,” Jonghyun grumbles.

“Oh,” Taemin says. “Whoops.” He guesses he was going a little harder than he meant to. He switches to rub Jonghyun’s butt instead, gently, a little apology massage for his favorite booty. He even tugs Jonghyun’s hips up and lowers his head down to press a kissy to his booty cheeks to help them feel better.

~

Taemin is flopped out in bed when Jonghyun saunters in from the bathroom, naked and slightly moist from his shower. He's going out somewhere populated and fun tonight while Taemin is going to stay in and have his own fun doing nothing by himself. Jonghyun flips his wet hair up into a suave little flip, gives Taemin a finger pistol, and walks to their dresser, where he opens his shirt drawer and then just leans on it, looking in. Taemin’s eyes fall from his head to his back to his booty, cute and flat and easily reachable from his position on the bed.

So Taemin half rolls over to reach it, extending one finger and sliding it quickly down the crack of his ass.

“Beep beep,” he says. Jonghyun pauses for a moment and then looks at him with an incredulous breathy laugh.

“Did you just beep beep my buttcrack?” he asks. Taemin grins wide as he nods his head up and down quickly.

“Yeah, uh, I'd like to make a purchase, please,” he says. Jonghyun snorts, looking down into the dresser again for a quick second before he looks back up with a cocked brow.

“Yeah?” He twists so his butt is more facing towards Taemin. “Do it again,” he says. Taemin lifts his hand to do it again, anticipating whatever it is that Jonghyun plans to say next. He doesn't say anything; he's silent for a few seconds, and then he scrunches up his face for a few more seconds, and then he deflates in a burst of breathy, defeated giggles that he hides behind his hands.

“I tried so hard to fart, dude, I'm so disappointed,” he laughs. Taemin bursts into his own giggles. That would have been so good.  Partly to comfort Jonghyun, and partly to show appreciation for what would have been a great joke, and partly just because he wants to, Taemin sits up and kisses the line of his booty.

~

Taemin has seen a depressingly low amount of cute booty holes in the sexy way in his life, but still, he has nothing to complain about when the cute booty hole that he gets to see the most of is Jonghyun’s. Jonghyun is currently panting underneath him, face pressed into the pillows to muffle his whiny noises as Taemin spreads his cheeks open and bites his lip at the first look of his booty hole of the day. Cute and dark and pretty and adorable, like always. He rubs his thumbs around it, gently, a little massage, before he leans down to press a tiny soft kissy directly onto it. It really is his favorite booty hole. He smiles and smooches it again, and then again, and then another time, and then Jonghyun whines loudly at him from the pillows.

“Quit it,” he pouts. “Just eat me out already,” he demands. Taemin huffs, annoyed.

“Asshole,” he snaps. “I'm trying to make you feel special,” he says. Jonghyun kicks him gently in the leg.

“I don't ca—” he interrupts himself by bursting into giggles. Taemin blinks, confused at his sudden switch, and paps his booty gently with both hands as he makes a questioning noise. Between gasps of laughter, Jonghyun says, “You fucking — called me an asshole while — you were kissing my—” and then he doesn't finish and just bubbles up into even more giggles, feet kicking in the air.

~

“So,” Taemin says as Jonghyun crosses his right ankle over his left knee, back flat on the floor. He watches as Jonghyun locks his hands around his left thigh and pulls up, nose scrunching at the stretch. “Besides, like, staying flexible enough to let people hold your legs like five miles apart when you're fucking,” he says, “why do you do these stretches all the time?”

“I don't know, it's good for you, I guess,” Jonghyun says. “What if the apocalypse happens and I'm being chased by zombies and I can't run good because my hips aren't stretched enough?” He turns his head and lifts his brows at Taemin questioningly. Taemin  shrugs back. That's a good point.

“If you weren't wearing sweats, I could see your taint,” he points out then. He reaches out and pokes where the little patch of skin between Jonghyun’s booty and balls rests and would be perfectly visible and exposed in this position. Jonghyun’s fingers almost slip apart around his thigh as he laughs.

“Don't say the word taint to me,” he says. Taemin grins at him around his knee and pokes his taint harder.

“Moist taint,” he says clearly. Jonghyun lets his legs fall down, partly to cover his face with giggles and partly because his stretch was over, Taemin thinks.

“Okay, yeah, you can say that again to the me,” Jonghyun says as he crosses his legs the other way to stretch his left hip. Taemin crawls forward to kiss Jonghyun’s taint through his sweats, making the most gremliniest sound he can muster before whispering, “Moist taint.”

~

Jonghyun is on his back in bed when Taemin passes the doorway. He's in one of his loose tank tops and some boxers and he's holding a book over his head and his legs are sprawled out over the sheets and there is an amorphous blob on his thigh and—

Taemin stops in his track as he does a double-take and squints inside Jonghyun’s boxers, trying to figure out what the fuck—

“Oh, it's just your balls,” he says with a sigh of relief. It's just a half shadowed little testy peeking out of the cloth. That makes sense. That's okay. As Jonghyun frowns at him, confused, Taemin walks into the room, clambers onto the bed, lowers his head, and pushes the leg of Jonghyun’s boxers up enough so that he can give his not amorphous blob a kiss.

~

Jonghyun is lying naked on the floor, as he does, and when Taemin walks into the living room and finds him, his eyes travel down his whole body until they land on his ween, soft and gently curved up onto his tummy. He looks at it for two seconds and then says the first thing that enters his brain: “I'm going to bite your dick off.”

“Don't bite my dick off,” Jonghyun says, not looking up from his phone.

“I'm  gonna do it,” Taemin repeats. He steps forward, he gets to his knees, he flumps down over Jonghyun’s thighs. “Here I go,” he says, and he opens his mouth and gently clamps his teeth on the shaft of Jonghyun’s ween.

“How dare,” Jonghyun mumbles. Taemin opens and closes his mouth quickly, making little chomping noises without actually putting any pressure with his teeth. Then, when he gets tired of that five seconds later, he just smiles and kisses Jonghyun’s ween instead.

~

The head of Jonghyun’s dick is the cutest peen head that Taemin has ever seen or tasted. The tasting part isn't that impressive — he's only had like three dicks in his mouth in his life, including his own — but he has seen a lot of dicks and a lot of dick heads and Jonghyun’s is by far his most favorite one. Soft and round and cute, he holds Jonghyun’s dick in his hand and rubs his thumb over the head, smiling against it as he presses little kisses to it, trailing his lips from side-to-side to kiss it from every angle. Every now and again a little drop of pre-come leaks from the tip of his dick and down the side, so Taemin tilts his head to lick it up and then kiss where the drip disappeared.

“You know,” Jonghyun murmurs. His hand plays with Taemin’s hair, petting the strands back out of his eyes. “Usually when someone says, ‘I want to blow you,’ they usually go, like, farther than this.”

“What? Oh,” Taemin says. Oops. He got distracted. “Sorry,” he grins. He kisses the head of Jonghyun’s dick one more time before he wraps his lips around it and starts to actually blow him.

~

Taemin knows he's not weird for thinking this, but he knows that Jonghyun will think he's weird for doing it, so he only has a few seconds between when Jonghyun finishes peeing and puts his dick back away into his undies to do it. it's not graceful, either, when he slides to his knees on the cramped bathroom floor, pushes Jonghyun’s hip so he turns, and just straight-up grabs his dick, but the little smoochie that he gives to his weenie hole for being cute and round and cute and adorable is worth it. Jonghyun doesn't even react other than to sigh quietly and ruffle Taemin’s hair.

~

There's not a lot of things that Taemin can do to really tease Jonghyun — he's sensitive all over and has learned through training and practice how to get a nut out of almost everything — but one thing that gets him shivery and beggy is the creases of his thighs. Which works out great for Taemin because he thinks that they're real hot and real pretty and he loves to lie Jonghyun down and rub his thumbs up and down them slowly. He would love it even if it didn't have such an effect on Jonghyun; the begging is just a bonus. Jonghyun pleads with him to do something else so Taemin smiles as pleasantly as he can and leans in, pushes Jonghyun’s legs up further and a wider apart, and trails slow kisses over the creases of his thighs.

~

Jonghyun and Key have been bickering about something for like twenty minutes in the kitchen, but Taemin was more interested in his tacky judge shows on TV so he didn't feel like going to check it out. Until now, when their raised voices sound much more like arguing than bickering and he feels responsible enough to go at least watch, if not break it up.

“No listen, asshole,” Jonghyun is snapping when Taemin peeps in the doorway. “When I sit down and slouch and my tummy goes  blub blub blub blub,” Jonghyun sits down and slouches and lifts his shirt to poke the rolls of tummy fat that appear, “that is a separate part of my body and only exists when I do this. It's the same thing.”

“It is not the same thing,” Key snaps back. “That's not even how it works. Your tummy fat is still there even if you can't see it all of the time. Your ass and your thigh are two different parts of the body and they just transition from one in to the other without any extra  hidden body part appearing.”

Taemin feels a little lost. He doesn't know how they went from tummy rolls to the under booty crease. Before he can step further into the kitchen and ask, Jonghyun spots and then points dramatically at him, announcing his name loudly to the room. After Taemin startles, Jonghyun stands up and turns so his back is facing him, looking over his shoulder to keep looking at him.

“Is this part of my butt slash thigh,” he says, reaching down to feel up the underside of his butt where it meets his thigh, “a separate part of my body from both the butt and the thigh?” he asks.

“Well,” Key huff's, walking forward and bending to pick up one of Jonghyun’s legs. “You gotta show him both options,” he says. He makes Jonghyun put his leg up on the chair and then dramatically frames where his butt curves smoothly into his thigh. “Is that not the same part of the body?” he asks. “There is no extra body part, right?”

“Um,” Taemin says. He looks between them and feels like this is a conversation that he shouldn't be getting himself into, but he also looks at Jonghyun’s butt and decides that it wouldn't hurt to take a closer look. He steps forward and then sits down on the tile of the kitchen floor, reaching up with both hands to feel up Jonghyun’s curved booty cheek and uncurved booty cheek over his jeans. “Hmmm,” he hums thoughtfully, hands rubbing and squishing gently. His scientific opinion is that either way Jonghyun’s butt is extremely cute. He feels Jonghyun up for just long enough for them to realize that he's just feeling Jonghyun up, and then, before they can tsk at him and  shoo him away, leans up and smooches the crease under Jonghyun's butt cheek.

“If it's something I can kiss then it's a different part of the body,” he says firmly as he stands up. Jonghyun pumps his fists in victory as Key rolls his eyes.

~

“Can I give your thigh a hickey?” Taemin asks, voice muffled because he has his face pressed against the back of Jonghyun’s right thigh. It's very soft and warm and he's been enjoying lying here on Jonghyun’s legs while Jonghyun lies on his stomach and taps away on his laptop.

“Why?” Jonghyun asks blandly. His leg shifts under Taemin’s face and Taemin assumes that he's twisting to look at him over his shoulder. He shrugs.

“Wanna,” he says.

“Maybe later,” Jonghyun tells him. “I gotta drive to the recording studio tomorrow and I don't want to sit on a bruise the whole way there.” Taemin shrugs, partly in disappointment, partly in acceptance. Okay. He just kisses Jonghyun’s thigh instead, snuggling close and dropping wet, open mouth kisses all over.

~

The insides of Jonghyun’s thighs are so smooth and soft and pretty. Whenever he's just in his undies or he's wearing shorts or a skirt, Taemin always winds up laying or sitting between his legs just  so he can nuzzle his cheek against his lovely soft skin. He’s doing that now, as they all lie on the floor, him and Jonghyun and Jinki, watching some movie and laying on top of each other. Taemin has seen this movie before so he's kind of zoning out and focusing instead on Jonghyun’s thighs, where he can press soft, light kisses all over each one. He feels like maybe he's teasing Jonghyun  on accident, if the way he bumps his knee into  Taemin’s shoulder every now and again with rising insistence means anything, but he's having fun, so he keeps doing it.

~

Taemin doesn't know how he got roped into this little local sports event thing, where he's wandering around the center of a track trying to find somewhere where he doesn't melt in the sun. He thinks Jonghyun convinced him with words like “charity” and “fun” and “food after”. Either way, he's hot and bored and when he catches sight of Jonghyun further down the turf, wandering around as well and talking to some of the other attendees with the scrunchie bottoms of his pants hiked up all the way over his thighs, Taemin stops in his tracks and just stares for a little bit.

Jonghyun’s thighs are. So great. He doesn't know shit about muscles or anything but he knows there very cute and pretty and they need to be kissed right now at this very second. He jogs over to Jonghyun’s group of people that are enjoying all of the sporty track and field stuff more than Taemin can ever pretend to care and sits down on the fake grass next to him, resting his head on his thigh. When Jonghyun turns to pet his hair and ask him how he's doing, Taemin paps one of his thighs gently and drops a kiss to the front of his other.

~

It's supremely unfair, Taemin thinks, for Jonghyun to take him out to lunch and wear a pair of jeans with big holes over the knees. His knees are sooooooo cute in those jeans, round and smooth and slightly knobby and looking like they're begging for kissies under the cafe table. Taemin is almost pouting with how unfair it is that it's not socially acceptable for him to clamber under the table just so he can smooch Jonghyun’s knees.

It's the first thing that he does when they get home. He gently ushers Jonghyun to sit down on the couch and then sits down on the floor in front of him, one hand feeling up each knee with slow circular motions as Jonghyun giggles at him. Taemin doesn't let him get up until he's given each knee at least seven kisses.

~

It's very nice to be sitting here on the floor between Jonghyun’s knees while Jonghyun sits on the couch and plays with his hair. It's very nice and soothing and stimmy to feel Jonghyun’s soft skin against his cheek and his fingers against his scalp and the brush of tiny braids and the clatter of little butterfly clippies every time he moves his head. He's zoning out, staring dully at the side of Jonghyun’s inner knee, the knobbly bits, the webby of skin on the underside, the smooth space in between. He likes the way it looks and when Jonghyun takes his hands away to reach for another hair bobble, Taemin leans forward and brushes his lips against the side of his knee.

~

Lying on the floor like this with the backs of Jonghyun’s thighs as a pillow, Jonghyun’s legs kicking daintily in the air as he flirts with Jinki on his phone, Taemin  is face-to-face with the underside of his knee. The knee pit, as he likes to call it, specifically to bother Minho, who hates when he calls it that. It's smooth and soft, the skin delicate enough to see little veins underneath. Taemin wants to kiss it, so he does, wiggling forward an inch so he can kiss it gently. Jonghyun giggles in a startled way but doesn't tell him to stop, so he kisses it more, just because he wants to, until it sparks a sort of familiarity in him and makes a smirk grow on his lips. He licks his lips, sucks in a big breath, and before Jonghyun can realize what he's about to do and say more than “Don't—”, latches onto the underside of his knee and blows a big raspberry.

~

“Snippy snippy...Stimmy stimmy....” Taemin hums to himself as he gently snips away at the hair on Jonghyun’s calf. They're at Minho’s soccer practice, chilling on the sidelines to watch and support him on a day where Jonghyun doesn't hate the sun as much as he usually does, and Jonghyun is lying on his tummy with his chin in his hands as he watches. Taemin got bored, found a pair of scissors, found Jonghyun's left leg, and got to work amusing himself. He likes how he can feel every tiny resistance from every strand of hair that he snips and he likes how it feels prickly against his skin when he rubs his thumb over it and soft in other areas.  He likes it a lot — and then he gets bored. He hesitates, looks at the uneven patch of hair that he cut off, and then shrugs, putting the scissors down.

“Finished,” he says, tapping Jonghyun’s leg gently with his fingers. Jonghyun props himself up on his forearm and turns to look back at Taemin’s work. When he sees, he bursts into laughter and reaches back to feel it himself.

“That is absolutely. Not finished,” he says. Taemin shrugs lazily back. He brushes little bits of hair off of Jonghyun’s calf, and then leans down and puckers his lips to press a quick smoochie to it.

“Now it is,” he says.

~

Jonghyun is all bundled up in bed, blankies covering all of him except for his shin, where his leg sticks out and the bottom of his sweats rides up to around his knee. His skin is warm and golden, his hair is soft and dark, his shin has that weird shin shine that always shows up on anyone's shin for no reason no matter what the light level is. Taemin zeroes in on that little patch of exposed skin and feels an immense softness fill him all the way up on the inside. Jonghyun is so cute all the time in every area no matter what. He was about to leave to go hang out with some friends but he takes a moment to walk up to the bed, bend over, feel up Jonghyun’s leg, and leave a soft kiss on his shin. Then, while Jonghyun is giggling and blushing, he pulls the blankies over his leg and pets him gently.

~

“Mmmmmmm...ha!” Before Taemin can look around to see what Jonghyun was humming about, Jonghyun shows him by sticking his leggy out really far and directly into his face. Taemin finds himself suddenly face to face with Jonghyun’s skin, the curve where his leg turns into his foot. “Delicate and seductive,” Jonghyun purrs from the other side of the couch, nudging  Taemin's chin with it and poking his temple with his big toe. “Exemplify your reverence towards my beautiful existence,” he demands. Taemin bursts into giggles and grabs Jonghyun’s ankle to hold it steady.

“Sure,” he says and lifts Jonghyun’s foot slightly higher so he can kiss the curve of it gently.

~

“Hey.”

“Wuh?” Taemin looks up from his lovely floor nap when a shoe lightly kicks his shoulder. He opens his eyes, then scrunches them against the light of  the sun coming in through the living room window. He feels up for Jonghyun instead, and finds his leg, which he latches onto sleepily. “What?” he mumbles. When he speaks, his lips brush against weird shoelace texture, so he lifts his head until he finds skin. It's Jonghyun’s ankle, he's pretty sure, and he smiles against it.

“Do you wanna —don't,” Jonghyun jumps slightly when Taemin gently kisses his ankle, tugging his foot out of his grasp. Taemin wiggles over the floor until he latches onto Jonghyun’s other foot. “Do you want—oh my gosh.” This time, when Taemin kisses Jonghyun’s inside ankle and Jonghyun tries to step away again, Taemin clings to him with all of his strength and kisses him more. “I'm going to go to McDonald's without you,” Jonghyun threatens.

“Nooooo,” Taemin wails dramatically. He kisses Jonghyun’s ankle once more before he stumbles clumsily to his feet and nuzzles into Jonghyun’s shoulder.

~

Jonghyun is standing in front of the living room window, watching the street and waiting for Minho to come over and pick him up and take him out for a nice date or whatever, and Taemin is lying on the floor behind him, curled up in a blanket cocoon and rubbing his thumb and down his achilles tendon.

At least, that's what he thinks it is. He's not too sure about anatomy but he's pretty sure that this is the one part where if you get hit here then you become a Greek legend and everyone makes fun of you for thousands of years. He feels it under his thumb, skin slightly dry, not wrinkled but kind of creased, the toughness of the tendon and then the give of the hollowish spots on either side of it,  all of it incredibly boring if not for the fact that it's all connected to Jonghyun. Jonghyun is great. And his Greek myth tendon deserves a kissy, so he gives it a kiss, and then tilts his head to gently peck either side of it as well. Above him, Jonghyun hums vaguely in thanks.

~

“Taemieeee,” Jonghyun calls when Taemin walks past the bedroom door. Taemin pauses, backs up a couple steps, and peeks inside to find Jonghyun on his tummy on the bed, chin propped up in his hands and feet kicking playfully in the air. “Taemie, aren't I cute?” he asks, fluttering both his lashes and his fingers on his cheeks. Taemin smiles on the inside, softness filling him all up, and  nods. Jonghyun flushes with happiness and wiggles his shoulders. “What about me is cute?” he asks. That makes Taemin chuckle. Oh. He's looking for validation.

He steps inside the bedroom, crossing his arms and tapping his foot and pouting slightly to make it look like he's really concentrating. Everything about Jonghyun is cute, but what Taemin finds his eyes drawn to this time are his heels, exposed by how both of his socks are only half on his feet, looking very soft and round and adorable as they swing through the air in lazy arcs.  Taemin walks forward so he can grab Jonghyun’s ankle and stop his little kicks in mid-air. As Jonghyun squeaks in surprise, Taemin ducks down to smooch his heel and then give it a gentle pat.

~

“Tireeeeeeed,” Jonghyun wails as he starfishes himself out on the couch, head against the back, arms drooping down the cushions, legs sprawled over the carpet. Taemin smiles as he sits himself in front of Jonghyun. He's been whining since they got into the car after their date. It's very cute. “I'm just gonna sleep here on the couch like this,” Jonghyun says. He closes his eyes and everything and Taemin chuckles. He's tired himself, but he reaches for Jonghyun’s ankle and picks up his foot so he can take his shoes off for him.

When he pulls off Jonghyun’s right boot, his sock comes with it and Taemin is left just holding his foot. He looks at it, at the bottom of it, all wrinkly and full of lines, almost like a palm but not. He brings his other hand up to rub his thumb over the sole of Jonghyun’s foot, smoothing out the wrinkles before he gently pinches them with two fingers. Soft. And cute. And very lovely. And—

“Dude, don't,” Jonghyun says. Taemin glances up to see Jonghyun looking down at him through sleepily cracked eyes.

“Don't what?” he asks.

“Do not put your mouth on my sweaty foot,” Jonghyun says. Taemin glances to his foot again and then back to him, raising one brow.

“Why not?” he asks. Jonghyun exhales a soft laugh.

“Because it's sweaty and gross,” he says.

“Hmm,” Taemin hums. He examines Jonghyun’s foot for another few seconds and then, holding it in both hands, rests his face right up against it, nestling in comfortably. The sound of their skin meeting is a tiny little slap and the sound Jonghyun makes is a tinier little sigh. Taemin smiles, blinking slowly at him with the one eye that isn't pressed up against the ball of his foot. “I borderline felched your belly button that one time,” he says. ”I don't know why you thought your sweaty foot would repulse me.” This time when Jonghyun sighs he does it with his cheek resting in his hand in the most fond and enamored smile on his lips.

“Just kiss me and take my other shoe off,” he says, and Taemin obeys. When he takes Jonghyun’s  left shoe off, he kisses that foot too.

~

When the commercial finally hits, Taemin takes the opportunity to let loose the monster of a yawn he'd been holding in for the last like five minutes. He leans his head back against the back of the couch, eyes scrunched shut and mouth open wide. Then he just sits there like that for a minute, smacking his lips sleepily. Opening his eyes, he squints at a fuzzy pink blob and slowly blinks it into focus. It's Jonghyun’s left foot, crossed over his other ankle, both propped up on the back of the couch. Neat. Taemin appreciates it for a second before he leans his head up and smooches the ball of his foot gently.

~

Being upside down in bed is second only to being on the floor, in Taemin’s opinion. There's something about it, something about being in a place that's meant for lying down but lying down in it in a way that it's not meant to be lied down in, that's incredibly good and free and queer. Like sitting wrong in a chair, or on a kitchen counter. It's good.

It also means that whenever he does it he’s often face-to-face with Jonghyun’s feet, but he never really minds that much. He appreciates it very much right now, in fact, because while Jonghyun is twiddling away on his phone, Taemin has been resting his head in his arms and tracing the veins and lines that play over the tops of his feet with his eyes in great detail. It's fascinating, how many little intricate details can be in one area and also how strongly his mind can cling to them as something to be interested in. Taemin is staring at a particularly clear and soft area of Jonghyun’s foot when he suddenly gets the irresistible urge to smooch.

So he does, lifting his head and leading the few inches over to plant his lips on the top of Jonghyun’s foot. He kisses the intersection of a couple of veins, too, just to be thorough, and smiles when Jonghyun gently nudges his cheek with the side of his foot.

~

Taemin feels like, with all of his years of life, he should remember whether or not his toes have hair on them. He's pretty sure that they do; his fingers do, and Jonghyun’s toes do, where he's playing with them in his lap as Jonghyun dozes on the couch with Roo on his tum. He rubs his fingers over Jonghyun’s toe knuckles, feeling the hair under his skin, pinching them and pulling them gently with two fingers. He feels like, whether or not his own toes are hairy, and whether or not he should be worried about how little he knows about his own body, his conclusion out of all of this is that Jonghyun’s hairy toes deserve kisses. He picks up Jonghyun’s foot by the heel and gives a little peck to each knuckle on his toes.

~

“And you couldn't relight this yourself?” Taemin asks as he picks up Jonghyun’s lighter from the rim of the bathtub with one hand and a tiny pink candle with the other.

“And what, get water drips in the wax?” Jonghyun asks, offended. Taemin chuckles and shakes his head as the wick takes the flame. Good point, he guesses. Putting the candle and lighter down, he leaves his elbows on the rim of the tub and smiles at Jonghyun in there, covered up to the neck in pink bubbles.

“Having fun?” he asks. Jonghyun nods eagerly. He lifts one foot out of the water and crosses it over his other knee, wiggling his toes    prettily.

“I'm glittery,” he smiles. Taemin looks closer; he is indeed glittery, tiny specks of pink and white and red dotting his skin.

“You sure are,” Taemin agrees, pushing himself higher on his knees to lean over the tub and smooch Jonghyun’s glittery toes.

~

“Taem?” Jonghyun calls, walking down the hallway. “Did you want something?” he asks. Taemin huddles around the corner, waiting for him to pass. He absolutely wants something, but it's absolutely a surprise. “Taemin?” Jonghyun’s voice is louder now, closer; any second now he's gonna—

“Aha!” Taemin exclaims, skillfully rolling into the hallway after Jonghyun and grabbing onto his leg. Jonghyun shrieks in surprise as Taemin kisses where his little baby sock clings around his ankle. From there, Taemin kisses his calf, and then kisses it again up higher, and then a third time, but now his lips land on Jonghyun’s shin, because Jonghyun is turning around in his hold.

“Gave me a fucking heart attack,” he snaps, shaking his leg to try to get Taemin off. Taemin grins his gremliniest grin up at him as he kisses his knee.

“Gotcha,” he says. While Jonghyun is rolling his eyes he smooches up his thigh as well, gripping his legs with little hands and squishing gently. He's a little uneven as he gets to his knees one at a time, so he uses that and the fact that Jonghyun is still trying to worm away from him as an excuse to lean over and bite Jonghyun’s booty cheek through his little short boardshorts style undies before kissing his other booty cheek when Jonghyun squeaks and turns sharply. He moves on and up to smoochy over Jonghyun’s back through his shirt until Jonghyun turns back around and he's kissing his tummy instead, wiggling his fingers in between shirt  buttons to expose skin that he can graze his lips over.  

“Taemin,” Jonghyun says, giggling, backing up and getting his hands under Taemin's shoulders. It feels like he doesn't know whether he's trying to help Taemin stand or push him away, and he backs himself up into the wall of the hallway, and he's giggling the whole time as Taemin finds where his top shirt buttons are undone and takes heavy advantage by peppering kisses all over his chest as he stands up. “Oh my gosh,” he says as Taemin pays special attention to the mole between his collar bones.

One of Jonghyun's hands cups Taemin’s chin, trying to pull him up, probably for a mouth kiss; Taemin grabs his hand and kisses his fingers, his knuckles, the back of it, up his forearm, the inside of his elbow,  his biceps, his shoulder, all the way up to his neck. All the while Jonghyun is laughing and trying to say his name between bubbles of giggles. Once he gets there, he rests one hand on  Jonghyun’s hip and the other forearm on the wall next to his head, pressing him warmly against the wall.

Taemin is extremely proud of himself so far for how well his plan is working. He kisses up Jonghyun’s neck, the point of his jaw, his chin, the corner of his lips, and hovers over his mouth for just enough time for Jonghyun to expect a mouth kiss before he tilts his face up a fraction and pecks the tip of his nose instead.

“Tae,” Jonghyun whines. Taemin presses a smile to the apple of his cheek. “Are you—” Taemin kisses the flat of his cheek. “Are you do—” Taemin kisses his ear, and then his temple. “You're still— fuck—” Taemin presses the gentlest peck to his scrunched-up eyelid and then the other. Then he smooches between Jonghyun’s eyes and then the center of his forehead. “Are you finished?” Jonghyun finally manages to say. Taemin smiles against his hair as he stands on his tiptoes to kiss the top of his head.

“Never,” he says firmly. He kisses down Jonghyun’s face again, but this time, he lets Jonghyun hold his cheeks in both hands and guide their mouths together to share a kiss. The kiss is half of a sigh of relief from Jonghyun and half of a smug smirk from Taemin. He wraps his arms all the way around Jonghyun’s waist to hold him close and hums lightly when Jonghyun’s fingers thread through his hair. Pulling back slowly with a couple of  soft pecks, he rests their foreheads together for a moment. “You know everytime I kiss you like that just because it means I love you, right?” he asks. Jonghyun’s soft laugh fans out against his face and he brings their  mouths together again for another kiss.

“Yeah,” he says. “I believe you.” Taemin squeezes him imperceptibly tighter, wanting to feel Jonghyun’s heartbeat against his own. Good.

#jongtae #jonghyun #Kissie Jonghyun Day #taemin #r #fluff #by the way like more than half of this was written using speech to text so if any part of it is funky or weird. That's why lamo #I love him a whole lot and I want to kiss him a whole lot #ydw #🌙

[darlingstarstuff]

dream journal. 77.

august 4th, 2019

i only remember one dream, but hot damn, is it pretty story driven. i love dreams like those, they make sense and have a sense of adventure to them. needless to say, no lucid dreaming, but that’s just my fault not putting my alarm on last night. i’m hardly disappointed though.

that’s not to say the story is weird though. the beginning was set with me and some members of my family. we lived in a world where, while there were humans like me, there were other humanoid beings that we-existed with. they looked similar to us but just had different features. not only that though, whatever city or country i was in, was on the brink of revolution and war- saying or doing the wrong thing against the government or higher power could have you imprisoned or killed. pretty dystopian, but not war-torn. you know the movie v for vendetta? it’s like that.

somehow, someway, i had a way to put a dent in it. there was this weird thing i did. if i put my eyes very close to a mirror, there were these tiny embossed pinpricks on my eyeballs, and- even more so weirdly, when i focused it was like my eyes turned into a map, or like- my sight did, and i could see things in real time. it totally doesn’t make sense but it’s how the story rolls.

so in this ‘map’ my eyes honed in on this huge superstore. there was something about this store, perhaps something in it, that could help me start cracking down on the injustices of the city. unfortunately, while my ‘map looking’ skills are cool, but sense of direction is nowhere to be seen.

i go to a small store instead, trying to find this other store i’m actually suppose to go to. there is this other big store that looks like a wall-mart behind the small store, but that’s not what i’m looking for. i believe i end up getting lost while looking for this store- transitions never make sense in my dreams and just sort of happen in an instant- but somehow i find myself in an apartment complex. i go to the top floor; it’s more open, there’s no real “front door” you just go to the top of the stairs and into a hallway and thats the apartment itself. i meet a couple of cool dudes inside. both are that humans species. one is tall, lanky, has a dark green skin color. the other is shorter, stouter, and has a more lilac pale skin tone. let’s call them- green and lilac.

green, i find out, is a cook. lilac stays home and makes music; he’s also a remixer. also also found out he’s actually using his music to subtly open people’s eyes about the dystopian world they actually live in. cool stuff. dangerous though, considering the consequences. through talking with them and common sense though, i come to find out that the huge building i was looking for… was literally just behind the other wal-mart looking store and the tin store i was actually at. it was just hiding. i groan like “are you kidding me??” but it’s late, and i’m beat- i can’t go back out there to do my work right now; the dudes say if i want, i can spend the night in their apartment. i take them up on that offer.

they have this futon on their living room and it’s pulled out for me. this moment, or scene, was hella chill man. i was laying down with green, and we were just staring at the ceiling. lilac was sitting close by on this big comfy rocking chair on his computer, probably working on music.

the dream time skips. maybe it’s been months. i’m gonna say maybe six months. i go back to the apartment, going up the steps. i’m here because i want to see the dudes again, and of curse this would be the first place to check. the thing was, i was worried. while i was away, the dudes could have been arrested and taken in- they could have been killed.

i go into the “apartment”, and instead of finding them, i come across a small group of (maybe foster?) kids. i step up this boy whose maybe thirteen. i ask him about the previous tenants. he tells me that that they obviously don’t live here anymore. somehow though, the kid knew where lilac lived. i think it was because he now lives were the kid used to live? but it was faaar. like, it’d take me two hours just to get there by train.

regardless, i’m elated. if lilac is alive then green must be too. i leave the room feeling actually exciting, just repeating “theyre alive” over and over again. i leave, and while out and about i come across a open cafe restaurant or something? and a chef there came up to me and handed me a boxed up dish. it looked like green spaghetti and… big nacho chips. okay. turns out the chef knew green, and knew that i knew green, and gave me the dish because it was one of green’s creation.

i get the thought to ask him about green, maybe this dude knew what he lived, if not with lilac still. but as talking with this chef dude out fo the corner of my eye i see the back of a familiar figure. i couldn’t tell if it was  aline cook or just someone sweeping from behind the counter but when he turned i immediately knew. that dude was friggin lilac and he was working in this little restaurant.

of course, when we both see each other, we’re like- shocked. then happy. i practically drop the take out box back into the chef’s hands and run to lilac to give him a big “i thought you were dead but you’re alive and here you are!” hug. fuzzy feelings!

#dream journal #dr entry 77 #dreams #dreaming

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 100 Thoughts

“He has the power to wipe out the entire human race, and if we believe there's even a 1% chance that he is our enemy, we have to take it as an absolute certainty. And we have to destroy him.”

Look, if you design a character who agrees with Batman in Batman v Superman, you just sorta have to accept that bad things are going to happen to him.

Though, since we are talking about it...

Now, I’m not making any giant leaps here.

All I’m saying is that technically all Eldians have the name of their mother in common.

Which means Eren’s going to die, Reiner’s Batman, and Wonder Woman is still waiting for her musical cue. Also, War Hammer is Doomsday.

#spoilers

Obviously I missed out on calling Falco Robin, which is even more tragic due to where his life story looks to be taking him, but then we have to get down to assigning a Joker, and I guess Gabi’s a pretty easy Batgirl, but I have a chance here to keep one of these posts short, and I can’t do that if fanfiction is being written in the margin.

Also, I think someone would yell at me if I suggested Zeke for Wonder Woman (heislookingbackatabattlefieldheisdepartingsotheblockingisthereevenifthemoralcenterisn’t) so let’s just stop.

Okay, so the brief summary of this chapter is ding-dong, the witch is dead, only there’s some disagreement over whether it was a good witch or a bad witch. A similar disagreement is ongoing regarding the perpetrator.

Truthfully, the one thing that can be said is that the good or bad witch’s slippers are unlikely to be taken by the good or bad witch who slayed him. They won’t fit, and the good or bad witch murderer already has the most powerful magic in the land.

The briefer summary is that Willy Tybur continues to be terrible, only in such a way that it’s confused for nobility, and I am so very tired of Marley.

He’s willing to die for his belief that his people are irredeemable monsters that should be eradicated--but he’d still rather they not be, because life gives him the warm fuzzies, and maybe the people whose abuse his family’s been profiting off deserve warm fuzzies too.

The idea of a nobleman looking at the life of luxury he has at the cost of his own people, and choosing to make steps to change the world for the better, is not a bad one. Doing that despite a wholehearted belief in their inherent evil is actually very interesting. It’s one more bit of cognitive dissonance that allows Willy to feel guilt over what has been done to his people, even though he thinks the world would be better off without them, and doesn’t mind killing large numbers of them.

At his core, all he is is a man who wants to live in the world he’s been born into, and he’s willing to sacrifice that life for a better world.

Here’s the problem.

His version of a better world is blaming Paradis for everything so that everyone can run off holding hands to murder them all.

He’s willing to die to make that vision a reality.

He’s never met anyone on Paradis. He’s never tried to talk to anyone from Paradis. He’s used diplomacy with nations in the rest of the outside world to ease the horrific damage Marley being Marley has caused itself, but not once with Paradis.

When it comes to the island, murder is always the only solution.

Willy Tybur is the one Eldian with a position in the world that can make a real difference. He can get ambassadors to change their minds. Despite never taking advantage of it, he does have control over Marley. Under his direction, Marley might have avoided the mass series of war crimes that the rest of the world hates them for.

(not that we have any idea why that is)

He doesn’t go that route.

He determines that the best path to world peace is uniting the world to kill his ancestors’ scapegoat.

Martyrdom is not a thing you do because you’re too lazy to put effort into actual change.

It’s easy to look at what Eldians are capable of from birth and call them monsters. It’s easy to say that, obviously, they never should have existed. Even if you have that same blood, and want to be alive, it’s very, very easy to reach that conclusion.

What’s difficult is carving your place into a world that is predisposed to hate you. It takes time, and concentrated effort. It takes giving a damn about treating people decently.

Willy has the means to forge a peaceful, humane coexistence between Eldians and the rest of the world. Or at least the means to make that attempt.

He chooses to forge his peace in the blood of other Eldians. The fact that he’s willing to die for that outcome doesn’t magically turn it into a noble gesture. He’s strong enough to make a decision that will cost countless lives in a war based on nothing but fear and prejudice. And that would be after knowingly sacrificing people he thinks of as less worthy to a terrorist attack.

Ding-dong.

Speaking of, Eren’s response to Willy’s declaration isn’t exactly on the moral highground you’d appreciate from your protagonist, so that’s nice. His lunge is as horizontal as possible, but it would take authorial intervention to keep him from killing civilians when he goes after Willy.

The only way this doesn’t seem like a very bad idea is if Eren agrees with Willy’s decision.

...I want more of a warmup before looking at that too closely.

Elsewhere, Titans in pits.

Or not.

Zeke’s still the only one walking around free. Galliard and Pieck are out of whatever fight’s coming next.

None of that appears to be expected on the Marley side. It looks like they wanted their Warriors gathered when everyone went horribly wrong. Possibly to keep the level of wrongness to a minimum. How thoughtful.

It seems pretty fair to guess that Galliard and Pieck are the work of Eren’s friends, but Zeke and his fancy glasses that hide his eyeballs are a little harder to pin down. We get one shot of him, walking alone.

I’m willing to leave that for another month though, so to the other pit!

Falco being the Eren to Eren’s Reiner is painful. Here he had this thoughtful adult encouraging him all the way into committing treason. He was just being a good person, and Eren takes advantage of that.

And right after all of that hits, he gets to watch Mr. Braun self-destructing, and hears about dead friends and mothers.

Falco’s a good kid. Assuming that Reiner gets him out of this alive, he isn’t only going to take death and betrayals from this. He understands the toll of being a Warrior, and understands enough to hate that people are okay with Gabi selling her life to the role.

Eren looks right at him and says that the people inside the walls are the same as the people outside. I don’t know how well the doubt will stick, but if nothing else, I think there’s a good chance that Reiner won’t be able to keep up the lies about Paradis demons--to Falco, anyway.

Falco’s in this spot because he cares about people no one else sees. I don’t know how much of his path can be changed, given the decisions made this chapter, but I hope that the idea that everyone involved in this war is a person sticks with him.

Even though that will be infinitely more painful than just being a participant fighting off demons.

Oki doki, so.

Eren.

Eren has gone on a very educational journey of learning that people are people. Willy even helps him along by directly quoting something Eren says way back in Trost.

“Because... I was born into this world.”

They’ve all been born into this world, and they all want to live in it, freely.

Time to go attack that island!

Eren spends most of his time in the pit prying everything that went through Reiner’s head out of him. Not for the sake of condemning it. Just to hear the honest words of a man like him, who caused incredible pain in the name of saving the world.

Their whole talk is about their similar intentions and circumstances, and being understood. And finding forgiveness on a road that doesn’t deserve any.

“This whole time... it was painful for you, wasn’t it?”

“I think now... I understand that [...]

I was right. I’m... the same as you.”

So

Yeah, Eren brings down the house.

The final page is his hands extended in Titan form the same way Willy’s are when he makes his declaration.

Reciprocity. Yay.

There are a few concerning things here.

The murder’s pretty low on the list.

These would be the panels that earn Eren the kind of looks Reiner is the recipient of when he’s going through his identity trouble.

Eren, last seen back home speaking as his father and Eren Kruger, has supernaturally granted identity troubles, and not recalling death threats to the point of asking Reiner to ignore that they happened is... weird. Whether or not it means anything, who knows, but Eren’s general stability seems to be mimicking the style of someone who has recently done pot up to his magic handshake. There’s so much personal history involved that it makes sense that Eren’s the one mostly behind the wheel, but... yeah, I’ll stick with weird.

Adding to that is what he says during the magic handshake.

(the magic comes from friendship)

“I just keep moving forward. Until my enemies are destroyed.”

Once upon a time, Kruger explains to Grisha what the Attack Titan is all about.

“No matter the age, this Titan has always moved ahead, seeking freedom. It has fought on for freedom.”

Eren has altered the deal. Pray he doesn’t alter it any further.

No, but I’m not big on speculation. I like waiting to see what the next month brings instead. But I keep waiting for more on the individual Titans having sentience, and it’s hard not to wonder a little if Mr. Attack and Eren are experiencing some unnatural bleed-through.

I don’t know, some things just feel very odd.

Anyway, outside the tempting cracklands of detours, there’s a really uncomfortable prospect presented in this chapter that I would prefer being wrong about, but at the same time, hey, Eren’s causing destruction and murdering people, so clearly happy funtimes are over.

Eren smiles when Willy says he wants his audience to fight with him against Paradis. It is not full of happiness, exactly, but it is not the look you would expect from hearing that kind of statement. Some mix of acceptance and sadness, maybe?

There are a lot of people on Paradis who, if asked, would know the exact best moment to kill Willy that would encourage his message most efficiently.

Eren waits until Willy is done with his speech to kill him.

Willy’s just asked everyone he knows for helps against the island devils, and... Eren gives them one. Whatever destruction does or doesn’t follow, Willy’s message is heard in its entirety, and he’s killed by the enemy he asks for unity in facing.

If you want to limit his support, this is, by far, the worst way to do it.

So even though I can’t imagine why anyone would reach this conclusion, I have to wonder if Paradis agreed with Willy. If they agreed that a unified world could only come about through a common enemy and a martyr.

Thematically, I have all kinds of disagreements with that, but Eren couldn’t have fulfilled Willy’s plan any better if he’d been in the room listening to its design. At the end of a grand speech, a monster rushes out and kills the only one in the world brave enough to call all people to arms against this great threat.

It’s beautiful, and... very on the nose.

You could not pick a better time to attack.

...For Willy’s purposes.

Even if this wipes out a bunch of Marley military personnel, care has been taken to keep all of the Titans out of the way. The main force is secure and breathing. This is not an attack that will devastate; it will invigorate.

And I can’t shake the thought that someone on the Paradis side thought that that was the only hope the rest of the world’s Eldians had. And having said that... it’s hard not to wonder if that someone is Eren.

Staged martyrdom only works this smoothly if both sides have the script.

Or maybe Carla just raised Eren to believe that it’s rude to interrupt people.

I really don’t know how to feel about most of what happens here. This is another chapter that I’d like to think would be benefited by future ones.

Right now there’s just this ominous dread that makes it difficult to appreciate that I don’t have to read Willy talk anymore.

Nothing next month can’t fix, I’m sure.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 100 #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

[mafiabosstsuna]

Prompt 1: You are actually the side chick to Gokudera, unbeknownst to you. He actually has another woman who he plans on marrying. You think the two of you are lovers, but in reality, you are just an affair.

It was honestly a miracle that you landed a boyfriend as amazing as Gokudera. In the past, you had always had a hard time with love, and it seemed the gods above were finally on your side for once.

So it seemed, anyway.

Looking back, the relationship had progressed smoothly. If smoothly meant the complete opposite of easy.

The two of you had started out as strangers suddenly thrown into a mission together. You had been apart of the CEDEF, under Basil’s branch, but then had been transferred to actually guard the leader of the Vongola.

Which angered a certain right hand.

The first meeting was nothing less than disastrous. When the angry eyes met yours for the first time, something flickered in your body, shocking you. It quickly went away after Gokudera let his thoughts about the team-up known.

Gokudera had thought the idea of having someone other than himself--or any of the other guardians--were a better idea than someone who had “no proper training or connection to the family.” At that point, you had to force your eyeballs not to roll all the way to the back of your head.

Before you could give him a piece of your mind, the Vongola Decimo had intervened. His sheepish smile that was directed towards you held something darker behind it, as the room had suddenly turned colder and you could not suppress the cold sweat that had formed on your forehead from his aura.

“Gokudera, that is no way to treat a comrade.”

That had shut up the silver-haired annoyance real quick.

After that, there was no peep from your new partner, as he had learned real quick that you knew what you were doing. There was no real problem until the actual mission had come, and the two of you realized that you had totally different mindsets.

While you wanted to stay low and be all stealth, Gokudera thought that it would be best just to confront the man. You knew that he wasn’t stupid, and maybe he was right, but you were not going to bow down that easily to him. There was a spark of fire deep inside of you whenever Gokudera’s eyes met yours, and like hell you were going to let that feeling outweigh your intuition.

So, like all great partners, the two of you completely did your own thing. Which ended badly, of course.

You had managed to sneak up on the enemy, who had already saw you coming from a mile away. The vent that you had managed to sneak into was already being monitored. You didn’t have time to react as you were suddenly face to face with the enemy’s henchmen. What great luck you had.

Stealth was such an easy route, it was almost insulting that you had thought about it. You were angry at yourself for being so stubborn, but there was no time for wallowing in your self hatred. You had to get out.

Gokudera had arrived soon after your capture. Managing to blow a hole so big in the entrance of the bunker that it could fit two foot ball fields. He was quick and efficient. He did not smile once and managed to take down the enemy in only a few blows.

It made you feel inadequate.

However, when Gokudera had made his way over to untie you, there was no immediate response from him. No insults or boasting. He did not even say the cliche, “I told you so!”

Just silence.

It irked you and you felt the fire that was brewing inside of you flare up at the lack of response.

“Aren’t you going to say something? Rub it in that I was wrong and you were right?--” You roughly pushed Gokudera away from you once he got the last bit of rope untied. He growled. “It would be better if you at least said something! That way, I can know what you’re thinking, you asshole.”

Gokudera sighed, feeling the anger that had built up just dissipate. Your pride was hurt. He knew the feeling. The feeling of hurt and humiliation. Gokudera did not want to fight with you. That would only lead to more conflict and honestly, he knew that the both of you wanted to get home and forget this mess of a mission.

That’s why, instead of saying anything, Gokudera just stripped himself of his jacket. You looked at him confused, and went to ask what he was doing. Before any words left your lips, his jacket was thrown in your face. A scent of cigarette smoke and dark chocolate filled the air, and you felt yourself calm down from your outburst.

You meekly peeked up from the dark fabric of the jacket, and into Gokudera’s emerald eyes. They are staring right back at you, and the feeling is back again deep in your body. It was different this time, a nice fuzzy feeling.

You pushed the feeling back down, refusing to acknowledge it again. Hastily, you wrapped the jacket around yourself, not realizing how cold you were until then. Gokudera had still not taken his eyes off of you, but you ignored them, and marched right past him.

“Shall we go?” You kept your voice level and calm, refusing to look back at the other. Gokudera’s eyes lingered for a moment longer, before he brushed his hair back, and let out an exhausted sigh.

“I need a cigarette...” He mumbled, walking a few paces behind you. You were lost in your thoughts. It was hard to forget the tingling that you felt whenever Gokudera looked at you, even if you tried to force yourself to delete the feeling.

Once the two of you arrived back to the base camp that you were saying, that’s when things got personal. While the mission had been dealt with, the two were to leave the next morning, which meant having to spend even more time with Gokudera. Said man had set up a fire, and was warming himself by it, while enjoying the taste of nicotine on his tongue.

You stared at him from across the fire, wrapped up in your blanket. Seeing how the soft amber glow from the fire settled on Gokudera’s relaxed form made your mind venture into places where they should not be visiting. It made you feel confused and slightly guilty for thinking about the man, who you had not been able to get along with in such a way. However, you could not help but think that anyone, friend or foe, would sleep with Go-

“Oi, what’s with your constant staring?” Gokudera’s rough voice, which sounded much closer than before, interrupted your thoughts. When you finally focused once more, you let out a yelp when you realize that Gokudera had moved next to you.

“Eh--I was no--... why are you so close to me?” You changed the subject, not wanting to admit that you had been caught staring, even though he had done the same to you earlier. The red tinted cheeks of yours did not hide the fact that you were embarrassed, as noted by Gokudera.

Instead of answering, Gokudera slid closer to you. You became aware of how even more close he was then, as you could smell the nicotine on his breath. His eyes were much prettier up close, you thought. The heart beating in your chest was going a mile a minute, and the warm feeling was back tenfold. You were so confused.

“I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?” You jolted at the question, but you found yourself nodding your head at his words. His cold, calloused hand were at your neck then, drawing you gently into a kiss. It was all pressure, lips against lips, nothing extraordinary. The two of you were staring into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to act.

Throwing every rational thought out the window, you kissed him back, opening your mouth, allowing Gokudera more access to you, while wrapping your arms around his neck. The action set something off in Gokudera, as he started to eagerly ravish your mouth, his hands roaming around your hips up to your chest.

You felt your back hit the ground, and the two of you separated. Your lips were red and glistening, and your face flushed a light pink. Heavy breathing was heard, but the two of you couldn’t tell who it was, as your eyes were both locked together.

Gokudera bent back down, connecting your lips once again, and slowly taking off your shirt.

That night, your relationship changed forever.

You thought that you had landed yourself someone as perfect as Gokudera as your boyfriend.

How wrong you were.

#gokudera #khr scenario #admin chrome

[luninosity]

Aha! I have managed to finish something! Because I think I am busy on @viperbranium‘s actual birthday, I shall post this early - have some fluffy first-meeting Evanstan writer-of-kid’s-books Seb and reading show host Chris AU! And have a lovely birthday, my dear! I hope it is EVERY BIT AS WONDERFUL as you deserve. <3333

##

Chris shows up for his first day on set nervous. He knows what he’s here to do, he knows he wants to do it, he just can’t quite shake the sense that he’s going to flub a line or sit too stiffly or fail completely at reading.

 He eyeballs the children’s book in question. He’s read it three times to get used to the rhythms, the pacing. Lots of good messages. Superheroes, compassion, accepting help.

 The book eyeballs him right back, but somehow does so with kindness. It knows about encouraging nervous kids. Chris Evans, clumsy with enthusiasm, is pretty much a big kid at heart, and could use the reassurance, right?

 He flops into his chair. Then he sits up straighter. Time to be a good host and presenter. First episode of hopefully many, many more. Children’s literacy programs and all that. Brand-new show.

 He crosses his legs. The camera lights’re kind of bright.

 He looks at the book again. All about heroes, by a person named Sebastian Stan, a person whose prose has made Chris beam and whose author picture is unfairly adorable, all big eyes and fluffy hair and wide happy smile.

 Sebastian Stan looks like a person Chris could want to know. Sebastian’s kid’s book is pretty much everything Chris’s anxious heart could ever want: compelling, generous, clever, and containing awesome superpowers. Sebastian Stan knows, Chris decides, about the importance of kindness, and of fun.

 Sebastian Stan would probably consider these thoughts, coming from a person being paid to read his book on television, at least mildly creepy.

 Still: Chris and the book mutually straighten shoulders anyway, side by side. Him and the words and the superheroes. They can help each other. That’s the theme.

 He reads. He relaxes. He reads some more. The show overall’s only about twenty minutes long, not counting commercial breaks and the credits and so on; mostly it’s him introducing the book, reading, suggesting other books kids might like if they liked this one. He knows that Sebastian Stan’s written two more. He makes sure to mention those.

 He’s read them, too.

 They do a couple of takes—once the microphones’re having issues, and another time a stuffed animal falls over on the chair. Chris laughs, picks up the animal—some sort of bird mascot in a matching hero costume—and holds it for the sign-off.

 “I’m Chris,” he says, grinning at the camera, “and I hope you enjoyed that story, I know I did. I’ll see you tomorrow for another story, one about airplanes!”

 And they’ve got it. First day of filming. First story. Done.

 They manage to get him reading through three more episodes before they call it a day, and it’s been a good day, and he’s still grinning as he changes out of wardrobe, as he swipes off camera-ready make-up, as he heads home.

 A couple months after that, the first episode’s aired. Chris, while not instantly famous—how many people really watch children’s reading shows?—gets a certain amount of modest recognition. Not bad. Kind of nice. Just the right level of being known, and known for something important, something that gets kids to read and makes parents happy and makes families smile.

 He’s kept one book. That first book, the Sebastian Stan book. He’d asked for it for his niece. Somehow never quite passed it on. Bought her a new copy instead.

 It sits on his bookshelf next to wilderness stories and philosophy books and shiny glossy outer-space imaginings. It makes him smile, too.

 Under Los Angeles sunshine, he ducks into a Starbucks. He’s not really a big Starbucks person, but he’s yawning and a little fuzzy; his little brother’d needed a ride to the airport at fuck-the-world o’clock that morning. He collects blissful steaming caffeine. He turns.

 An absolutely gorgeous man’s holding the door for him. The man’s coming in as Chris is going out; the man’s tall and slim but with lovely wide shoulders, dark eager hair, beautiful cheekbones, faint hints of masculine stubble…a wide curling kitten-smile…pale cheerful rain-over-seaglass eyes…

 Chris freezes halfway through the door.

 The man pauses, and then bites his lip and blushes, which is first of all adorable and second probably not the standard reaction to someone becoming a door-blocking statue.

 “Hang on,” Chris says. “I know you.”

 “Not really?” Still blushing, but peeking up now, and not as shy as at first glance. His eyelashes are long and soft and dark, and Chris should stop staring and can’t. Those lips quirk up. “I know you. I didn’t think you’d know who I was…”

 “Sebastian,” Chris says. “Sebastian Stan. I have your book. I mean I read your book. I mean, your book, I read it, on the show.”

 “Chris Evans,” Sebastian says right back. He’s smiling more. Maybe he likes awkward first meetings and men who can’t recall how to speak. “I watched the episode. I liked it. You were—I liked hearing you read it. My book.”

 “You did?”

 “I did. I do. Like it, I mean.” They’re smiling at each other now, wordless. Anticipation slides down Chris’s spine. Dances at his fingertips where they clutch a slightly too-hot cup. Crackles like whipped cream and sugar in the air: this is something, this is the start of something, Sebastian’s noticed him looking and is looking back and Sebastian Stan likes the way Chris read his book on the show…

 In the pause, Sebastian glances at his own hand. Still holding the door. “Can I…we’re in a Starbucks…can I maybe…buy you a coffee? And we can…we could talk about books? Or something? Oh—wait, you have coffee, I’m sorry, I’ll just—and you were on your way somewhere, I shouldn’t keep you, never mind—”

 “You don’t have coffee yet,” Chris leaps in. Both feet. His heart. Overpriced lattes and mochas. Offered up at Sebastian’s feet in their battered slim black boots. “I don’t have anywhere to be. Nowhere. I could, um, maybe I could buy you a coffee? Instead? Or tea. Some people like tea. Or apple cider. Or whatever you get at Starbucks. Anything.”

 Sebastian’s smile comes back. Full brilliance. Lighting up the world and lightening Chris’s heart. “I like coffee.”

 “Wow,” Chris says, “me too,” and tips his head back toward the counter. “Can I?”

 “Yes,” Sebastian Stan agrees, eyes warm, shoulders warm when they brush up against Chris while moving out of the doorway, a movement that’s not quite accidental, drawn together as a wave and the sand, a compass-needle to true north, “yes, I’d like you to—I mean I’d like it if you wanted to—yes, you can.”

#evanstan #viperbranium #happy birthday! #much love #my fic #fic for friends #fluff

[hankeliza]

Hate to be cliche, but here goes.

This decade has been some shit. 2010. Best year of my life. I’m 17, I have my soul mate and best friend every single day of my life. No bills and making way too much money. I got the love of my life, Rome. I am so cool in my mind and just life was fucking GREAT. I met corbin that year and I was legit in absolute bliss.

Feb 2012 my best friend moves to fl and that was so great but I am in absolute shambles. I am lost I am unhappy. This is where it all goes wrong and only now, 8 years later do I realize the codependency issues I had with jenna. I fucking loved that chick from the depths of my goddamn soul, we could speak and make decisions and plans with just locking eyes for a blink of a second. So bc I am sad, lost and unable to make sense of my selfish and immature feelings, I take it out on her and a whole slough of klonopin. Corbin and I are doing bad and this is when it should’ve ended.

April 2012 (hah time is funny af) I do some shady shit, but not to the magnitude it was portrayed. Life moves on and I get back with corbin. This is my new person to rely on. I need him bc he stuck thru it with me and gained my whole hearted trust that he loves me, even when ugly and I love him through all of his ugly. We are ugly and we are in love and nothing in the world matters to me anymore besides him.

Oct 2012 I finally am ready to move outta stc. But corbins with me. I beg and beg and beg to please go to Tampa but nah, we go to Miami. It’ll be easier, Adam will take us in. He still is this big mature, always with it guy, I don’t know him, that’s why. We get there, nothing much to even talk about. Great times but eh. Leavin it at that. Shit happens and we get out of dodge like some fuckin thief’s in the night. Drive two days to portland. I won’t get into all the beautiful shit I saw bc that’ll take too long but, here we are.

I live with a naked hippie that is actually psychotic and oh, later on turns out she’s making us pay for a house SHE IS SQUATTING IN. But anyway, things happened (again adam) and we move to the city city. Won’t even get in to the shit that transpired there, but now I’m moving back home.

Feb 2013 (wow really seeing some timelines matching up of my most unpleasant times of my life?!¿¡) so I’m back home. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I think I weighed 110 while standing 5’8. My dads on parole, only time I see sunlight is when he needs to meet with his PO. Nicole nurtures me and literally does everything in her power to make me be better, but I am not ready to feel happiness or bond with any other human. I am not ready to move on or up or out. I am stuck. Corbin moves home. Ahhh yes. My safety blanket is back and I can be happy again (hahahah)

So in the meantime while I was sad Nicole and I are partying, late nights to meijer and rite aid, getting high and snacks and shit is just fucking awesome. She meets the love of her life and he takes her and even me in to his whole friend crowd and I am HAPPY and feel bliss again. I have friends? Imagine that. They fall madly in love and then heh, they move. Well shit. Now mind you I have totally capability to see them whenever I please bc Nicole is an open door policy. But truly I’m lazy, I like convenience and still wrapped up in my own stupid bitchass, (that I can now see, but then couldn’t) and it’s back to corbin and I.

So now it’s getting close to end of 2013 and all I pretty much do is spend every waking moment with corbin. I don’t mean to make that sound so awful, then I loved it. Now, it’s all so bleak.

2014 hits. I’m in and out of jobs. Corbin and I live off of pop can returns. I’m still 21 so like, none of that mattered and I didn’t care about a future. He gets a job and I finally get into the courthouse. We start doing ~molly~ heavy. Locking ourselves in a bedroom from Friday-Sunday. Every weekend. When you hear “ecstasy/drugs ruined my sex life” from older people, you don’t really know what to make of that. When I tell you drugs ruined our sex life and our likeness for each other, now I fucking get it. I stopped smoking weed 24/7 bc I was paranoid of losing my job. Not much more to that year or 2015 than chemical pills and being locked in a room and outdoor adventures with my dog.

2016, I finally convince corbin to {for the love of god} attempt to get his license back (which he did, and then ruined again, but that comes later) so we’re really making moves, honestly for us we were doing shit. We had a marker board calendar AND meeting our goals/deadlines !!! His dad gets oxys, and we’ve been borrowing his Vicodin for idk, a year or 3 at this point. This is kinda when things get fuzzy. But oxys come and got damn do they feel good. But only recreational. It wasn’t serious then.

Corbin gets prescribed adderall. Not much more we need to dive in to with that jazz but oxys and addies were all we ate until about the end of 2017. Pills are gone. Let’s fucking driiiiink.

2018

So I developed an alcohol issue at this point. Still battling it to this day. But I don’t really remember much. Did some cool shit, went to Europe. Met a girl that I’ve never loved kissing more. She was nuts. I moved out of our apartment we got together and back home, re-up w/ Rickey, we have fun. He cheats on me with the girl he got pregnant and neglected (they’re engaged now, congrats guys) I’m completely broken and alone because at this point i have managed to push every waking soul away from me and experience the weirdest fucking shit ever that I can only explain as spiritual, or maybe it was satanic. It burned and hurt and scared the ballsacks out of me. Can’t kill your self if you’re a pussy, turns out.

I spent this whole year trying to find friends, wrong crowd. I developed a relationship with a coworker who still to this day has my heart and soul and I love him and will always hope the best. He is the greatest comfort I had but it was only ever from 5pm - until we finished having drinks and sex and then back to being alone. I even confessed my confused love for him and he set me straight. He showed me more about being strong than anyone ever. I love you D.

The end of September I finally meet up with a dude I can’t take my damn eyeballs off for years. I finally mustered up the courage after making excuses for about 2 weeks why I couldnt meet up with him. So I come over. It’s raining so hard. I couldn’t find his house. I just wanted the god damn dick, and go home. He didn’t let that happen.

We see one another mainly every single day except Wednesday’s because he has plans that day every week. I tried my hardest to ghost him multiple times but he didn’t let that happen either. We are both drinking a lot because we are both sad but our company really really reaaaally made up for the sadness. He is the funniest person I’ve ever met and I think he thought that about me too.

November 21st comes and he is being weird and I am constantly nervous around him so I get weird bc I think I did something or he’s gonna tell me to go home, I didn’t know. He finally says he wants to be my man, like full time man. I have a bf? I don’t want one but something about you is fckin freaky you beautiful boy. Everything is coming together.

And here we go: December 21. 1 month is all it took to mess it up.

Leaving my work party, ironically after getting all of my drinks bought for me :) , I go to jail. Jail was not as bad as I expected. I was a good criminal so I got to sit in a different room w/ a tv until shift change. Oh and ! my high school classmate was a worker there so that was neat ! (jesuschrist) anyway; dont have Laynes number memorized, my family and I just watched my grandpa die, gasping for air 10 day prior. Can’t call my mom. Scared to call my dad (who was the nicest of anyone) soooooo corbin it is. I dealt with his jail problems time after time so, his turn I guess.

Welp it’s 2019. Not much to say. Layne stuck through all of it with me and I have no fucking clue why. Got a therapist. Stopped drinking whiskey completely. Bought a vacuum and couch. Live with my way too supportive boyfriend. My family fucking loves him. I am .... growing ? stronger ? mentally ? as every day passes ? because of him ? He teaches me so much about moving on, life and just thinking before doing. Life ain’t that serious. I love you Layne. I completely do. I started alcohol classes and I went in with such a shitty attitude, like I’m better than everyone? (Been my issue for, forever) I fucking love my group sessions. I am for once not alone with the unpopular shit I struggle with. Addiction is so real and I always thought it was a stupid ass excuse for being lazy but hahhhhhh karma loves me.

I’ve been struggling so hard with jenna. I have talked to a handful of people and most have said it’s been blown out of proportion but, don’t hurt your friends. I finally fucking wrapped it up when I got ahold of her, tried to anyway, before Christmas. I explained a lot, now that I’ve had years to sit back and reflect on myself and my bullshit and I can’t blame her (side bar: she still didn’t care lol.) But I am fuckin over it. My feelings got hurt to absolute fuck about some things and instead of being mature, I fucked her over, because I felt fucked over. But I’m sorry, I did that, I take responsibility and best wishes forever but an anvil weight has finally been lifted off my chest and I feel like I can finally move the fuck on and it’s such a great feeling to get rid of something that’s been eating me alive.

So basically, the last two years ate me the fuck alive. This year I meditated on shit. We will see how 2020 goes but I am ready considering what I’ve done to myself, been through and I still am fucking alive and trying. Being a human is dumb but it’s aight sometimes. Getting better. Good luck y’all.