When you think of Feral Wolf (Derek, Liam or Theo etc.), what do you think? What do you consider Feral?
When you think of Feral Wolf (Derek, Liam or Theo etc.), what do you think? What do you consider Feral?
I'm very angry that I've written something very good for the first time in literally forever but because I watch Supernatural before bed and it was inspired by a dream, it's gonna be a fanfic.
*gets up in a huff and turns the table over*
I'M 35 I'M TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT I JUST WANTED TO BE A WRITER WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!
THE FUCK YOU MEAN I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL AUGUST TO START AN ACCOUNT AND BE EMBARRASSED?!
Rating: G Pairing: SasuSaku Prompt: Fatherhood AU where Sasuke has to raise Sarada all on his own after the unexpected death of wife, Sakura, who died in childbirth.
Fatherhood Chapter 2 has been up and I forgot to upload it here. Hop on over and let me know what you think!
Another one for Newt and Anathema fans written for the @do-it-with-style-events WNAGP prompt 3! Newt’s romantic plans keep blowing up in his face.
Story idea for all the writers out there.
So I've had this specific story idea (it can be a platonic story or romance idc) that involves going against stereotypes. Specifically the "Nerd smart kid" and "badboy delinquent" stereotypes even though by "going against" the stereotypes I'm reinforcing them but whatever you get the point
The bad boy
The first character would be the typical "Badboy," He'd be failing some classes but not because he doesn't study, he'd be running with a bad crowd but never seen at the parties or events run by them, he'd be chastised for his clothing choices because it's all black or torn for aesthetic purposes but it's not because he particularly wanted to dress like that but more because he's playing into the look of what is perceived as a "badboy."
He doesn't want to be considered a loser in his social circle so he conforms to a stereotype that would fly under the radar. He has some other reason for not excelling in classes; much to his dismay because he actually wants to succeed (this can be either a learning disability or family issues, anything that would distract him from school that wouldn't be just disinterest in education)
He reads a lot but doesn't tell anyone because others will call him a book worm, he used to wear glasses but was called 4 eyes, he comes off as aloof or mysterious because he has strange interests he doesnt share that don't conform with his chosen stereotype.
He's shy, socially awkward, Intelligent, Meek, and kind, but comes off as sarcastic, cynical, blunt, and narcissistic as a defense and to keep up his image as a "badboy"
The second character would be the typical "Nerd" or "Teachers pet." Probably valedictorian, head of his class, and extremely smart. He most likely has straight A's and possibly tutors other kids. He would have good excuses for being out late doing other things like fight club or going to bars underage, he'd have older friends because his second life was drastically different than his school life, his clothes would always be neat and professional to elude to the fact that he was a very messy person and had things all over his rooms floor.
He comes off as kind, patient, and caring but is actually cold hearted, stern, commanding, and emotionally Insensitive. His chosen stereotype would make his past and bad habits (smoking, drinking, gambling, etc) seem improbable for a person like him to participate in. He would be on good terms with law enforcement, assuming it's a small town and everyone knew everyone.
This character is absorbed in themselves and doesn't know what they want to be, they dont care about education even tho they excel at it.
Now let's say these characters meet. The Badboy was failing a class and was given a tutor, that tutor being the Nerd. The Nerd is intrigued by the badboy because he can tell they aren't being authentic, birds of a feather after all.
Whatever else comes of these two and their dynamic is up to the writer. I just thought that these two characters were pretty weird and it could be a funny and interesting story plot.
💖🥣💖Fanart of my darkfic “dislocation” on ao3!!! my close fandom friend (who would prefer to remain anonymous) drew this for me unexpectedly, and it literally made my day 🥺 I also teared up but shhhh👀 I’m so happy with it and thankful anyone at all is inspired by my words ‼️‼️
btw I’m gonna print this out & hang it on my wall & nobody can stop me 🥳🤌🏻
Me: *reads fic on AO3*
Me: *clicks kudos*
AO3: You already left kudos here!
I have legit like the last ten+ chapters of a fic finished, just sitting around, and I am Scared to post them so uh yeah
The fact that a fic I wrote has +920 kudos and 100 bookmarks fills me with eternal joy, but also with a lot of anxiety. I've been asked to write a sequel, and I will do it next week (I already have it planned out and all). But... what if the sequel sucks? What if I disappoint everyone? What if nobody ends up reading it? What if I ruin the first fic? The bar is high and I'm not sure I can jump.
Me, staring at the thing I posted two(2) minutes ago: Kudoes??? Hittes?? Comemt?????
My AO3 🌧️💛
My fic has gotten 1,000 hits....
My brain cant even. Thank you to the people who clicked or read or briefely glanced, y'all are neat :)
"Write the fanfic you want to see in the world"
I really hate it when fanfic writers decide to demonize one or more of the Golden Trio like nooo that's not them at all. It breaks my heart because they all are my comfort characters and how do y'all have guts to write them in that way? 😩
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.93K
𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?
𝔞/𝔫: when it's 5 am in the morning, you kind of start to lose inspiration for banners ;-;
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language
tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo
When you step out into the rain, you feel a bit sad, shutting the door behind you. Smiling to yourself, you sigh, trying to find Taehyung through the tinted windows, your hand lingering on the door.
You don’t want to leave, you want to hold onto him for a bit longer. Somehow, you know that if you say goodbye now, things will stay the same, you will stay the same.
Broken as you've always been.
He’s lost behind the dark, and you have to let go, turning away.
You can’t rely on him. You can’t let your burdens rest on his shoulders, you have to figure out how to solve them on your own. Nevertheless, the temptation is there. To lose yourself in the fantasy of bliss and happiness dancing in the rain.
What happens when you finally let go?
You don’t want to find out.
Inwardly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you leave him behind, holding tightly to the bittersweet memories he has given you.
Smiling softly to yourself, you lift your satchel to cover your head, shielding you from the rain like a little umbrella, only a few feet away from the apartment complex door. Glancing to your left, you receive a pang of nostalgia as you recognize the small bench where you waited for Jaejin before.
Was it only yesterday that you came to Korea?
You find it so hard to believe that in a mere span of 24 or so hours, so much has already happened and yet you're here.
The same as before.
You scoff a bit to yourself, finding how pathetic that is. You know you have to change, that you have to fix yourself, and find it sad that you can't seem to do it alone. The only moments where you start to feel okay are moments like today, where others can distract you and give you their strength.
Is that all you're capable of being?
A parasite that leeches off of other's happiness?
You are weak, aren’t you?
Turning away, you start to resume your trek to the safety of your apartment, your new home but pause at the sound of someone shouting behind you.
It's a familiar voice, and frantic. Curious, and a bit worried, you turn around, trying to find the source of the sound. It takes you a moment to peer through the rain, but soon you can see a figure stepping out of a sleek black car that is parked on the curb.
The same car that dropped you off just moments ago.
Why hasn't he left yet?
Furrowing your brow with confusion, you step forward, but then you see him.
As the figure turns towards you, even from this distance, you’re still able to recognize his face. Why wouldn’t you, when you have been looking at it, memorizing it, adoring it throughout the 5 years you have known him? His eyes glint as they meet yours across the way and he calls out your name once more, leaving you frozen, speechless.
“Wait for me!”
Kim Taehyung, little do you know, I have been waiting for you all my life.
He starts running towards you. Through the rain, splashing through puddles, getting drenched all over again. Not even bothering to pull up his hood as he runs to reach you, his eyes never leave your gaze, braving the monster that is the storm.
You shake your head almost in disbelief as he comes to a stop before you, drenched from head to toe. He’s dripping almost as much as the clouds around you, his hair now plastered to his face. The rain has turned it from its normal dark brown shade to a deep pitch black. His clothes stick tightly to his body from the rain, all efforts to dry off in the car now futile. He shivers a bit from the cold, his teeth slightly chattering as he stands before you, those eyes boring into yours.
He must be so uncomfortable, so cold, and yet…
His eyes can’t stop shining.
You look up at him, half stunned.
“Thank goodness you heard me. I thought I would have to chase you inside.” He says, chuckling to himself. Stunned, you are frozen, your eyes wide and searching his. He notices the strange expression and tilts his head, confused.
“What is it?” he asks, but you don’t answer. He looks left and right as though he weren't the cause of your stare before bending forward and whispering…
“Do I have something on my face?”
At his question, you can’t help but chuckle.
“Yes.” You nod, lowering your satchel to rest by your hip once more and reaching around his neck, pulling the now soaked and heavy fabric of hood up to cover his head. “You have quite a few things on your face.”
Before pulling away, you can't help but absentmindedly brush a bit of his hair out of his face, your hand resting on his cold but soft cheek. He doesn’t complain, just stares at you with wide expectant eyes. His hands itch to raise and keep your comforting hand there on his cheek, but he’s too late as you slowly pull away, meeting those dark mysterious eyes.
“What were you doing?” You ask, raising a hand to shield your eyes to see him better and he stands straight, clearing his throat.
“I never got your name.” He says quite plainly, shocking you a bit.
“You came out here...for my name?” you ask, quite incredulously. “I’m sorry I--”
You’re cut off, by the hand that he holds out to you, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I’m Kim Taehyung, what’s your name?” Taking his hand after a moment, you shake it.
“My name is Lin Yen, it’s nice to meet you.” You reply and he smiles broadly, his eyes seeming to shine with a million stars.
"Was that all?” You ask him, having to raise your voice over the growing torrent of rain.
“Hardly.” He murmurs under his breath, so soft that you can't hear him. Squinting your eyes at him, you push your hair away from your face, the wind playing with it violently.
“What did you say?” You call out to him, wincing as another howl of wind shrieks in your ear. He doesn’t respond, just turns to you and holds out his hand. You give him an incredulous look, thinking he wants another handshake, but he smiles, shaking his head slightly.
“Give me your phone.” he requests, and you sigh in exasperation.
“Tae, we're in the middle of a storm, I don't--”
“I don’t care.” He says, cutting you off and you regard him in silence. “Besides, you're short enough that I could be your umbrella. So you don’t have to be so worried about the rain.” You raise your eyebrow at his statement, a bit offended. He notices your expression, but at the sight of it, his smile only grows wider, mischief playing in his eyes.
“You did not just call me short.” You warn him, crossing your arms across your chest as you wait for his response. He rolls his eyes, shrugging a bit before stepping forward, so close that he’s hovering over you.
“Just stating the facts, sweetheart,” Taehyung replies, raising his brow as though asking for a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, pursing your lips a bit before he smirks and speaks once more. “You’re like a little fairy, and I’m your protective tree.”
He chuckles, sliding his forefinger under your chin before you pull away with a scoff. Just because some people have the biological genes that make them as tall as the freaking sky…
Tired of his incessant teasing, you raise your hand, take his nose within your fingers, and twist it lightly in retaliation, as though you were stealing it from him. He blinks, a bit surprised as you pull away smirking. Holding your thumb between your fore and middle finger, you wave your hand in front of his face, brandishing it as though it were your prize before turning on your heel and walking away.
“Come on, Mr. Tree.” You call over your shoulder and after a moment, he follows you. When you reach the small overhang above the entrance to your apartment complex, you stop and turn around to him, no longer bare to the storm. Giving him a triumphant smile, you turn to your satchel, slightly humming to yourself. “Looks like you don’t have to be an umbrella anymore.”
“Your loss, for your information I am an excellent tree.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before resting his hands behind his neck and peeking into your apartment complex. The doors are glass, so it's not hard to see through and as you glance up from your tiny task, you smile at how cute and innocent his expression seems. When your hands finally close around your phone, you let out a small gasp of excitement, startling him. He jumps, his hands falling and resting on his chest as though to try and calm his pounding heart. Pulling it out of your satchel, you try your hardest not to burst out into laughter at the sight of his surprised expression.
“You okay there, Mr. Leafalot?” You ask and he scoffs, a bit annoyed, his soft lips pursing into a small pout.
“For one thing, I have no idea what that means.” You bite back on your laugh, snorting a bit as you raise your hand to hide your ever-growing smile.
“For another, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” Scoffing, he rubs the back of his neck glancing away from you for a moment.
“Honestly, I don't need a clumsy Tinker Bell telling me to be careful.” You roll your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight taunt he just directed your way.
“Whatever, Peter Pan.” You shoot back, earning a slightly surprised look from him. He opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off, holding your phone out to him. He looks at it, then back at you, a question waiting in his eyes. After a moment, you grow tired of waiting and sigh, lagging your arm a bit. “Didn’t you ask to see my phone?”
His eyes light with realization and he nods as though he has forgotten why he was there. He takes the phone from you, your fingers brushing against his before you draw away. As he glances at your home screen, he smirks.
“So...am I your bias?”
You glance up at him, a bit confused by his question, but then you realize.
He has your phone.
The same phone that has him...
On your home screen.
As your wallpaper.
Inwardly, you curse, trying to ignore the blush rising in your cheeks, and lunge forward, trying to take it back. He laughs, dodging and holding your phone out of your reach.
“What's wrong, Tinker?” he antagonizes, grinning like an idiot as he blocks you with his arm.
Curse your tiny arms.
“Taehyung!” you whine, the embarrassment clean on your face. He just laughs, his fingers playing on your screen doing God knows what as he holds you back. You droop on his arm, pouting as he shows no signs of pulling away, nor giving the phone back.
“What did you even need it for?” you complain, slipping off of his arms and crossing your arms once more. Having finished, he turns back to you, smirking. You tilt your head a bit confused as he hands you your phone. Cautiously, you take it, wondering what he’s done.
“See for yourself.” He instructs.
As soon as you see it, your eyes widen.
He opened your contacts and entered one, the new contact set up and filling your screen. On it, he entered a phone number and titled the contact as Your TaeTae with a purple heart next to it. You breathe out a stunned scoff, before looking up to see him smiling at you. A soft, but innocent smile, which shows his hope and unanswered questions. You smile back, touched at his gesture, and still caught in slight disbelief.
“Is this real?” you ask and he nods. Still unsure, you chuckle a bit shakily turning back to the phone. “I mean, this isn’t your manager's phone number or something…?”
He rolls his eyes before stepping forward and taking your hand into his own, gently cutting you off. You meet his gaze with wide eyes and he holds it with his deep ones before turning back to your phone. You still have your hand around it, the same hand which he holds in his own, a gentle touch that never ceases to fill you with warmth.
You watch as he saves the contact to your phone. Held in beautiful silence, the two of you watch as it registers. Once it's saved, he presses the call button and puts it on speaker just as it starts dialing. It holds out three long beeps before a muffled sound can be heard.
A ringtone echoing from Taehyung's back pocket.
You watch in silence as he pulls it out, holding it next to your phone, an unknown caller ID flashing on his screen. The two of you watch as your soft beeping and his ringtone mix together in a strange symphony. That is, until Tae pulls away, answering the call and holding his phone to his ear. It takes you a moment, but as he softly nudges you, you raise yours to your ear, murmuring a soft response.
“Hello?” He smirks at your faint whisper before replying.
“Hello, is this Tinker Bell?” He asks in the same soft, quiet voice, subtly mocking you. But you catch it, and narrow your eyes at him, playfully smacking him in the arm. He winces, pouting, but you don’t buy it and ignore him.
“It is she, is this Peter Pan?” He wrinkles his nose at the nickname, and you scoff, looking away.
Like Tinker Bell is any better?
“No.” He answers, dropping the mocking voice, his deep silky one returning. At the sound of it, you look up, wondering why he turned so serious all of a sudden. He meets you with those large dark hooded eyes, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“This is Kim Taehyung.” He takes a step forward, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, his smell wafting over you once more.
“This is real.”
You look into his eyes, take in his face, the serene look he holds and everything seems to fade away. There’s only you and him, the rain far away, your troubles falling behind you. There’s only one thing that matters.
After a moment, he slowly smiles, ruffling your hair softly. You flinch, raising your hands to protect your head just as he pulls away.
“I’ll see you later, Tinker Bell.” Stepping back, he raises his hand, waving goodbye before turning on his heel and running off into the rain.
You smile, a bit stunned as you watch him until he rounds the corner around the car and opens the door, looking up at you one last time. You smile, and dramatically wave goodbye to him. He laughs, you can hear it, though it may be faint, as he waves back.
Then he’s gone.
The door closes and you watch the car as it drives away. You stare after it long after it's gone and though you're still smiling, it's almost as though you're returned to your dark and empty self.
As though when he left, he took all the light with him.
Sighing, you shake yourself off.
Now is not the time to lose yourself.
So what if the dream has gone?
You promised yourself you would be strong. You promised yourself not to fall.
So you won’t.
Before you turn away, you look down at your phone, which is still open to Taehyung's contact. You smile at the sight of it, a small sign that what just happened was real, and not a dream. Smiling to yourself, you tap on the empty profile and replace it with the same picture you have on your home screen. Smiling like an idiot, you save the contact changes and are about to turn to the door before you see it.
The option to send him a message.
Licking your lips, you raise your hand to your bottom lip, absentmindedly playing with it as you contemplate whether or not you should do it. After a moment, you press the option and watch in anticipation as it brings you to the empty chat page, waiting for you to type. Biting your bottom lip, your fingers fly across the screen. Sweet and simple, you smile once it's finished, adding a purple heart at the end before pressing SEND. The transaction done, you press your home screen button before turning it to sleep, pocketing the phone safely in your satchel once more.
Taking one last look at the rain, where your dream faded away not a moment ago, you sigh with content before turning on your heel and pushing open the door to enter the apartment complex.
And somewhere amongst that onslaught of endless rain, Taehyung, driving down the slick streets of Seoul, receives your message. He opens it, finding it to belong to an unknown number. But when he reads it, he knows it's you.
Goodbye, Peter Pan
After all, who else would call him that?
Smiling, he sends back a purple heart before pocketing his phone and driving farther and farther away.
It’s almost as though he never left.
𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i'm sorry but even though the banner is simple, I'M IN LOVE WITH HIS SMILE OMFG
chapter 20 coming soon
check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters
check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content
check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics
ratings: general here, mature on ao3 (teehee)
content warnings: injury mention, blood mention (nsfw tags on ao3), probably very poor english
author’s note: so 2.0 had me shaking and i’m still on life support bc of that gorou scene. however, i have been unable to forget the gorou/kazu interaction ever since, and was already in pain when i read kazuha’s line about gorou. mihoyo delivered, and i wrote 3.5k of pure fluffy smut in the span of a few hours. it was kind of a fever dream, tbh. i will not put the smut here, but it is on ao3 right here: click on me if you’re also a sinner!
That day, Kazuha stepped on his door dripping with blood.
The sun had set early, moon already high in the sky — shorter, colder days, and a storm brewing in the morning had reminded Gorou of the vagrant; as such, he had kept an eye out all day, waiting for the telltale knock on his door frame and the sheepish smile delicately drawn on his lips. Yet he only heard the plip plop of rain pouring outside and against his windows. That was, until around the evening.
Kazuha was shivering, soaked by the rain; and something else, thicker and darker. There was a cut, not deep but worrying, adorning his beautiful face — he was also cradling his arm, and the scent of blood was oozing all over the place, overbearing. Still, as their eyes locked and Gorou’s tail stiffened, he had the audacity to let a small laugh out, wet and strained by — most likely — pain.
“Couldn’t find a shelter, and I encountered, ah, a few treasure hoarders on the road.”
Something flared inside Gorou; a possessiveness, a pressing need to protect and guard. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed Kazuha’s hand — the one that wasn’t bleeding — and dragged him inside his home, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming smell of suffering, and a little bit of fear. He was uncharacteristically quiet, and his fingers twitched at Kazuha’s slight wince.
“Hey— easy, I’m hurt!”
He said it with a chuckle, but Gorou couldn’t reciprocate. As they sat down, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and fetched his first-aid kit, laying out the tools on the table.
“Kazuha,” he murmured, “you need to be more careful.” There was something of a warning layered on his tone, the softest whisper of don’t die so stupidly and don’t you dare leave me behind. As soon as he grabbed a cloth to clean the visible cuts, he felt the feather-like touch of a finger, and a warm gaze cast upon him.
“I’m sorry. I just— I wasn’t close to your home, so it took a bit of time to get there.” He could’ve gone somewhere else, they both knew it — but it was a silent agreement, a pact made between them, after Kazuha’s departure: when rain fell, they reunited. Gorou had actually offered it once, unconvinced and wearing the slightest blush high on his cheeks; not one to stifle his feelings, he let them flow and sensed them crystallize beneath his ribcage. When the wind rose and the clouds filled with rain, he found Kazuha on his doorstep — ironically, he was the one shivering like a lost puppy.
A sigh left his lips, not from exhaustion but from the sheer relief that Kazuha came, once again, to him. Although his wounds were partly Gorou’s fault, the selfish glee of finally seeing the boy again overlapped with guilt, and a small, tentative smile bloomed on his lips. Kazuha, ever the observant one, didn’t miss it.
“Ha! There it is! Come on, don’t dwell on it, I swear I’m okay.” And he slipped a hand in Gorou’s hair, ruffling it and scratching him just behind the ears — where he liked the most, where he, without fault, melted into his caress. Gorou grumbled a little, but there was no bite to it. And if he pressed the cotton a little bit harder than necessary, well, it was but a coincidence.
Kazuha watched him carefully as he cleaned the wounds on his face, and the scrutiny of it was starting to distract him. By the point Gorou had slapped a bandage on his cheek, his tail was slightly wagging and a discreet shade of pink had spread on his face — a smile, most definitely dumb, also adorned his stupid face. Kazuha’s hand was still in his hair, absent-mindedly scratching.
“You know,” Gorou started, voice cracking a bit, “it’s really difficult to focus when you do this.”
Kazuha hummed, for a few seconds, barely acknowledging him.
“You have freckles. It’s pretty.”
And there it was: the brutal honesty, punching air out of Gorou’s lungs. What started as a warm, pinkish hue was now a full-on blush, and the smile he was trying to stifle reverberated on the sway of his tail. Something of a cackle shook his shoulders.
“Shut up, and lose the shirt.”
As soon as said shirt dropped on the floor, tainted crimson by several cuts — some deeper than others —, the somber feeling came back. See, Gorou was a warrior; he faced battles and death all the same, and his own body was littered in scars. He sometimes woke up with achy limbs and a strain on his neck, and dreamt of friends he lost on the field — he had patched up more than one of his companions, but Kazuha… Kazuha was a different story.
His hands roamed around the first-aid kit, fetching bandages and gauze and remedies. He cleaned the wounds with careful, feathery touches, Kazuha’s gaze still heavy on him; there was some kind of tension, unsaid words hanging between them. When Gorou had clasped the last bandage around his waist, something — curiosity, perhaps — possessed him, and he put a tentative hand on a scar that ran deep into Kazuha’s side.
Kazuha let out a gasp, the sound soft and surprised, but he didn’t pull away. Rather, he leaned into the touch, scooting closer, breathing in.
“Go ahead,” he murmured, and Gorou complied.
It smelled like blood, and something else; something softer, warmer. His fingers sneaked around Kazuha’s waist, outlining the cut. He laughed, a little.
“I remember how it happened. You were distracted, and they cut you so deep I was sure you were going to die.”
And yes, he remembered, vividly. His hands painted in crimson, panic spreading inside his chest, and arms cradling Kazuha’s body; he remembered rage flaring up, his teeth bared and claws out against anyone, anyone that dared coming closer. Kokomi had to coax him, to persuade him she didn’t want to hurt him. He couldn’t see anything, feel anything but Kazuha’s slow breaths and blood soaking their clothes.
“Yet here I am, alive and well. Unless you dig these claws inside my guts.”
Gorou snapped out of the memory — and realized he was gripping Kazuha’s waist with both hands.
“S-sorry, I just..” He bit his lip, and looked at him with a tender kind of desperation. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Kazuha’s gaze softened at that, and his hand came up to cradle Gorou’s face. Gorou leaned into the touch, his own fingers still pressed against his sides. As Kazuha inched closer, closer — and closer still, he felt a quiver behind his ribcage, tail wagging and claws barely grazing the marked skin.
“I long to sit here / And watch the minutes tick by / Just thinking of you.” Feeling his warm breath on his lips, Gorou stilled, and Kazuha kissed him. Well, it was barely a touch, the flutter of a butterfly’s wings; it was a question, a quest — as an answer, Gorou sprung up and captured his mouth in a soft gasp.
What started as lovely and tender turned rougher by the second, Gorou climbing on his lap and pressing up against him; Kazuha was just as eager, responding with the same fervor, and when Gorou’s lips parted, he wasted no time sliding his tongue inside, drawing little sounds out of the general. He swallowed every whine, huff and choked-up moan that slipped through his mouth, and Gorou shivered against him, breaking off the kiss to catch his breath.
Kazuha’s look made it worse. He seemed dazed, eyes glazed over and full of something like love. Just as he opened his mouth, no doubt with another haiku in mind, Gorou’s look fell on his chest, and he jumped away, scrambling.
“Kazuha! Your wounds! Why didn’t you tell me they were bleeding?”
Gorou grabbed the bandages, face flushed and tail wagging so hard it was hard to keep upright, and Kazuha just laughed, settling down on the couch. He breathed out, and whispered, just for himself:
“I want to feel it / The breathtaking certainty / That comes with our love.”