#I’ll tag her name and edit the post when she gets one

[emily-mooon]

New OC!!!!

She’s also apart of the 80s band story but she’s not a member of a band, she’s a fan.

She is Wordsworth’s #1 fan and has a rather complicated crush on Eugene (spoiler though it’s not actually a crush and more like an intense admiration, but she doesn’t know that yet).

She also doesn’t have a name yet so for right now I’m calling her rainbow girl (feel free to suggest name ideas if you have any!)

[rosiehrs]

roster | mikha lim.

part one of three.

summary ; excitement was something she was missing and you provided it for her. she thinks you're clueless, but she doesn't know that every move she's made has already been played by you.

pairing ; mikha lim x fem!reader

content ; mikha goes to admu, reader goes to up, mikha volleyball player, BABAERO CONYO MIKHA!!!, hookup culture, half smau...., suggestive, read to see ^-^ !!! taglish w eng translations!

genre ; fluff, angst

wc ; 3.8k

playlist here !!

a/n ; thank u @heybeautifulstranger for helping me translate hehe labyu

mikha loved volleyball. without it, she was nothing. at least, that's what she believes.

she put all her time and effort into the sport, disregarding everything else to improve herself. she was already the star player; every young person in the country was familiar with the name ‘mikha lim’. although the girl was incredible at her sport – that wasn’t the reason why she was so well known.

mikha was attractive. she knew that and apparently everyone in the country did, too. people came to her games to watch her play, but not watch her play. mikha wished people focused more on her performance as an athlete, but she wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t like the attention. support was still support.

“huy, friday night na at nagpapractice ka pa? late na, mikhs. umuwi ka na. (it’s friday night and you’re still practicing? it’s late, mikhs. you should go home.)” her coach advised, putting equipment away. mikha laughed, gripping the ball she held. “not yet, coach. may energy pa ako. (i still have energy.)”

“baka namimiss ka na ng jowa mo. (your girlfriend might miss you already.)” she teased, earning another laugh from the star player. “i don’t have time for a relationship po.”

“oo nga, baka magalit ang mga fangirls and boys mo. (that's right, your fangirls and fanboys might get mad)” she joked, mikha rolling her eyes playfully. she threw the ball over to her coach, deciding to pack up for the night. “i can’t have a jowa when i’m supposed to be the nation’s girlfriend!” she grabbed her bag and water bottle, turning to her coach who was clearly amused by her answer. “i’ll go home na po, night, coach! see you next week.”

“bye, mikhs.”

she gets into her car, checking her phone for the first time in hours. dozens of notifications flooded her phone as soon as she changed her focus from do not disturb. ranging from message requests sent by ambitious and confident (delusional) fans to thirsty comments on her posts to getting tagged on edits, and so much more.

she ignored all of them and immediately checked her messages.

when she said she had no time for relationships, she meant it. but that didn’t mean no time for some fun. she drove home to freshen up and get ready to meet up with her friends.

the loud and busy atmosphere always amuses mikha. while some people enjoy quiet and intimate places, mikha enjoyed the club. 

“lim! over here!” kyle, one of her friends, calls out. she made her way past the sea of dancing drunks and sat with her group. “get me a drink, kyle.” she said, making the group laugh. “wow, hello to you, too.” he sassed before getting up to get mikha’s go-to. “sinong target mo today, mikhs? (who's your target of the day, mikhs?)” evan asked with a smirk on his face. “kakarating ko lang, van. (i just got here, van.) let me drink first, then that question will be easy to answer.” 

kyle shortly came back to the table with mikha’s drink, sliding it over to her excitedly. “thanks, kyle.” she dragged, taking a sip from the glass. “okay, you drank na. who’re you going after?” evan pushed, causing the group to laugh. “what if you just sit and relax, mikhs? it won’t hurt to go a night without sleeping with a random girl.” aiah suggested, foolishly, mikha thought. she scoffed, shaking her head. “ate aiah, where’s the fun in that? besides, i’m not in the mood to sleep with someone tonight.”

“then?”

“baka make out lang... (probably just make out...)”

and that’s exactly what she did.

as soon as she got a little tipsy, she moved to the dance floor and picked a girl up without even trying. she pushed the girl against the wall, her lips on hers and hands on her waist. mikha had no idea what her name was or where she came from. they made small talk before, but mikha didn’t bother listening. she knew where this was gonna lead and she didn’t want to waste time remembering details about someone she was never going to see again. 

she pulled away from the girl, who’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “this was fun, thanks…?”

“jen! my name is jen! but it’s okay if you don’t remember! you wanna get out of here? we can get out of here!” she asked, eager to spend more time with mikha. she slowly let go of jen’s waist, squinting her eyes before shaking her head. “nah, i’m good. you have a good night, though.” and with that, she left the girl alone in the bathroom stunned and embarrassed. 

she made her way back to her group’s table, all eyeing her with amusement in their eyes. “what?” she asked, grabbing a fry from the basket they were all sharing. “who was it?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she shrugs, grabbing another fry to try and end the conversation.

“maybe you should check your hair and makeup before you leave the bathroom, lim.” kyle teased, catching mikha off guard. “shit, is it bad?”

gwen laughed before passing her a wet wipe. “nakakatawa ka, mikhs. (you’re funny, mikhs)”

“i don’t even remember her name. it was like jane something..?”

“jen?! jen santos?! you made out with jen santos?!” evan yelped, letting out the biggest laugh. “what’s wrong..? she was pretty.”

“yeah, she’s pretty. but she’s like.. obsessed with you. i heard she’s been trying to catch you at one of these things so she’s gone to every club in the area.”

“are you being for real..? what if we’re talking about different jens?” mikha suggested. but evan was quick to whip his phone out and show her jen’s account. “is this her?”

“oh..”

evan let out another laugh, causing kyle to laugh with him. “she’s just gonna keep coming here now! we need to find another place!” they joked, earning an eye roll from her. “she’s probably not that bad, you’re just–”

“mikha!” a voice calls out, catching everyone’s attention. it was jen. she walked over to their table a little too excitedly, standing over mikha and placing her hand on her shoulder. “i think you should rethink your decision, malapit lang ang place ko! (my place is near!) we could dip right now.” she offered, trying to be seductive. “ah.. i’m good, jane.” mikha replied, removing her hand off of her shoulder. “it’s jen, pero okay lang! (but it’s okay!) you wanna sit with me? nakaupo lang ako doon. (i’m just sitting there)”

“i’m good.. i’m here with my friends. you have a good night, though.” she smiled politely, trying her best to send her away. “oh, okay! i’ll catch you mamaya (later)! i’ll get your number or something.” 

mikha simply nodded as the girl walked away, extremely giddy from the interaction. “shit.. no wonder why it was so much easier.” they all laughed at her, echoes of various comments following. “this is why you should’ve listened to me and stayed still.” aiah joked, but meant it.

“next time, i won’t even look at a girl.” her friends snickered knowing that would never be possible.

you were a casual sports enjoyer, being in a sports enthusiastic school – you couldn’t escape it. everyone would go to all the games, basketball, volleyball. it was one of the few things that brought everyone together, but it never came above your academics. 

it wasn’t like all you did was study, you liked to think you had a healthy school life balance, going out with your friends whenever they wanted to hang out, seeing some people here and there. you were able to maintain a good social life with good grades and that was more than some people could wish for. 

and your unexpected ‘attention’ really did help you get through a lot. it all started when you helped your best friend, jay, out with his band, x:o’s set at a local event. they were starting to become popular, their songs being played across the country. they were heavily praised for their good music and well.. good looks. 

x:o consisted of five members, jay, jake, stephen, ricky and evan. they were indeed a group of attractive young men and managed to put out really good music. after the gig, the group’s account dedicated a post thanking those who helped out and you managed to catch the eyes of a lot of fans. 

after the post, your social media accounts started to gain traction, earning a few thousand followers in the time span of a week. you appreciated the attention, but with your focus on school, you were never really active on social media, only posting a few pictures and a few tweets here and there. the attention only grew from there as more and more people started to approach you, later sharing on social media how kind and down to earth you were or how pictures didn’t do you justice. jay teased you for it all the time, joking about how he should be your manager since he’s the reason why all of this started. 

your entire friend group has never missed a gig of theirs, but people only ever pointed you out. you and jay started to gain attention as a pair, people getting suspicious by how close you were, eventually leading to them thinking that you were dating. both of you never made an effort to shut the rumours down as you simply didn’t care. (and it helped jay a little with the people who would flirt with him)

your group would laugh at the posts knowing that you looooved women. you were jealous of jay because of the girls that would approach him; some very attractive girls. ‘i should’ve joined a band’ you would joke whenever a girl would speak to him.

x:o landed a gig at the vault, a very popular club in the area. every weekend this place was crowded, which is why this gig is a big deal. jay was setting up with his band while the rest of you (except angelo) had started drinking. “thanks sa food, ate jho! (thanks for the food, jho!)” sheena shrieked, stuffing her face with the food jhoanna bought for her. “wala yun… dapat magpasalamat ka kay y/n kasi treat niya ‘to. (it’s nothing, you should actually be thanking y/n since this is her treat.)” she glared, causing you to laugh. “okay lang yun, jho! libre kita next time, bribe lang kasi ‘to. (that’s okay, jho! i’ll take care of it next time, this was only just a bribe.)”

“ang daming tao rito, mga walay batasan. (there are so many people here, people with no manners.)” colet commented, kissing her teeth and subtly glaring at everyone she saw. “yun oh, yung naka green, suntukin ko siya, beh– (that one, the one wearing green, i’m gonna punch her–)”

“nakarating pa lang natin, may suntukin ka agad? (we just arrived and you’ve already found someone to punch?)” 

whilst your group started bickering about colet’s impulsive (and violent) thoughts, the nation’s girlfriend had arrived with her group of friends. “guys, we were just here last week.” mikha complained, getting dragged by kyle. “since when have you ever been against clubbing?” kyle asked, “besides, we’re here for evan. supportive friends tayo diba? (we’re supportive friends, right?) our little rockstar, performing at our favourite club. full circle moment na ‘to, guys. umiiyak na ako. (this is a full circle moment, guys. i'm crying now.) ” the girls rolled their eyes at his drama, hitting him with teasing comments about how lame he was.

your two groups were together more often than anyone realised. despite having friends in the same band; your friend groups never came in contact with each other. jay was familiar with evan’s friends and evan was familiar with jay’s friends, but their friends knowing each other wasn’t the case.

mikha slid over to the bar, smiling at the bartender as a non-verbal order. she was here all the time and was very familiar with all the staff. while waiting, she looked around to observe the crowd and her eyes landed on an unfamiliar face. she stared at you for a few seconds, growing more and more curious as she watched you from a distance. feeling someone’s gaze, you turned to the side and locked eyes with the particular redhead. the both of you held eye contact until a glass was placed in front of her. she turned away from you to thank him and immediately turned her head back to your direction, but to her disappointment; you were gone. 

she brought her drink over to their booth, everyone curious about her expressions. “nangyare? (what happened?) you good?” gwen asked, concerned. “yeah, i just think i found my girl for the night.”

“ayan ka na naman. (here you go again.)” aiah sneered, shaking her head. “sino ba? (who is it?)” 

“i don’t know yet eh, but i’ll find out.”

you got back to your group with snacks in hand, sitting down next to sheena. “nakita ko yung atenean na volleyball player (i saw that atenean volleyball player). the redhead.” 

“ah, mikha lim? nandito siya? (she’s here?)” jhoanna asked. “is that her name?”

“yeah, kaibigan ata siya ni evan. bakit? (i think she’s friends with evan. why?)” gelo replied, throwing a peanut into his mouth.

you shrugged and took a sip of your drink, “wala lang (nothing), she’s pretty.”

“her fans call her the nation’s girlfriend,” gelo added, making sheena giggle. “seryoso! (i’m serious!) babaero yan. (she’s a player)”

“ang corny, (how corny)” she added. you rolled your eyes at her, although you did agree. but you did see why they called her that. you only needed one glance to see that she was attractive. 

as time went by, more drinks were bought. kyle was already failing to stand up straight and the band had yet to start. both groups made their way to the front of the stage, cheering as the much anticipated band started preparing for their entrance. “the vault, let’s make some noise!” cheers erupted as the five members walked onto the stage, all their faces laced with excitement and determination. “are we ready to have some fun tonight?” jake beckoned with his bass guitar in his hand. the cheers grew louder, all of you grinning at jay as you saw the excitement on his face, “this is ‘looking for somebody (to love)’, hope you enjoy!”

the familiar guitar melody started playing, jay and stephen immediately getting into it. everyone in the crowd started dancing along as jay started singing the first verse. mikha coolly bopped her head to the music, trying her best to avoid contact with random strangers. you were on the other side of the stage as she caught your eye, her red hair made it easy for her to stick out in a crowd. you admired how elegant her small movements managed to be, smiling briefly as you watched her dance with her friends. coincidentally, she looked up and locked eyes with you once again. a small smirk crawled across her face, pleased with the fact that she had your attention in this crowd. you sent a small smile her way before turning away to dance with jhoanna. she couldn't tear her eyes off of you. she needed to have you.

a few songs after, the crowd seemed to quiet down. “should we slow it down a little? gusto niyo ba? (would you guys like that?)” jay asked, playing with his earpiece.

“this is fallingforyou.”

What time you coming out? 

We started losing light

mikha turned to find you, seeing you leaning on colet. you felt her gaze on you, tilting your head as your eyes met once again. she was amused, but she didn’t know why. there was something about you that was so alluring. she moved to face the band before turning back to look at you, but you were gone. again.

“uh, guys, i’ll be back.” she said, eyes searching through the crowd to find you. “yeah, yeah. have fun, mikhs.” they replied, knowing what she was leaving to do.

she pushed past dozens of people on the dance floor, relentlessly trying to find you. after getting past what felt like hundreds of people, she finally found you standing against a wall near the side exit with your arms crossed. 

“eager, are we?” you asked as she walked towards you. “no.. not really. i mean, you must be though, right? leaving the crowd to wait for me here?” she grinned, standing over you. “who says i’m waiting for you?”

“your eyes are telling me everything i need to know.” she mumbled, hand travelling to your waist. “everything? really?” 

And on this night and in this light

“am i wrong? do you have something else to say to me?” 

you hummed, pretending to think, letting her pull you closer towards her. “bilisan mo na. (hurry up.) i’ve been thinking about you for almost an hour now. my patience is running out.” she complained, ducking her head into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. your breath hitched as her face moved closer to yours, “can i?”

you replied by grabbing her neck and placing your lips eagerly onto hers. mikha let out a breath of content, pleased with the contact you two were finally making. she gripped onto your waist, soothing you with caresses every now and then. 

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

your lips moved against each other with vigour, pouring out all of the lust and need you managed to have for each other in a short period of time. for the first time in forever, mikha was excited. she loved the feeling of your lips against hers, the faint scent of your shampoo, how you felt in her hands. she didn’t want to stop kissing you.

you pulled away briefly, placing your head on her shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “you.. i...” she began, unable to form words. you laughed and patted her cheek, not bothering to speak as you knew you’d go through the same struggle. “you wanna get out of here?” she managed, looking down at you with lidded eyes. “i’d love to, but i’m here with my friends.” you answered, the taller girl clearly not pleased with your answer. “please,” she whined, wrapping her arms around your waist to bring you into a hug. “i don’t even know your name, i can’t leave with you.” you laughed, hugging her back regardless. “my name’s mikha, can we go now?”

you laughed once again against her shoulder, shaking your head. “well, mikha. i still can’t leave with you.” 

“thank you all so much! we’re x:o, we hope to perform for you guys again soon! mag ingat kayong lahat! (take care everyone)” you heard from the speakers, causing you to fix your posture. you slowly let go of mikha, getting an annoyed groan out of her. “i have to go, it was nice meeting you, though! mag ingat ka, ha? (take care of yourself, okay?)”

“wait, what?”

“i’ll see you, mikha.” you smiled, locking lips with her once more before you ran into the crowd to find your friends. 

“wait! i don’t even know your name!” 

mikha groaned, throwing her head into her hands. who cares if you were with your friends? she could take care of you (in more ways than one). she stayed there for a few minutes, trying to fight off the warm feeling you left her with. she made her way back to her friends shortly after, evan finally joining them. “mikhs! i was wondering if you were gonna come back. you okay?” aiah asked as she sat down next to her. mikha defeatedly dropped her head onto aiah’s shoulder and sighed, “yeah..” was all she let out.

she felt frustrated, you brought her so much excitement and even if she wanted to do it again (which she did); she wouldn’t be able to. this was the first time she wished she made some sort of small talk before, because other than the taste of your lips and the scent of your shampoo – she knew nothing about you. 

you rushed back to your friends, blindly trying to fix your appearance before reaching them. you saw colet waiting besides the door that led backstage. “well, well, well.” colet began, “nakakatawa ka talaga, beh. (you’re really funny.)” she laughed before dragging you inside. “look who i found. bumalik siya, guys. (she came back, guys.)” you rolled your eyes at her before hugging jay, “good job, jayboy! you did great tonight.”

“eh, pano mo malalaman? nawala ka bigla. (how would you know? you just disappeared.)” sheena joked, sticking her tongue out at you. “i heard the entire set! ano ka ba? (what are you saying) i was just doing something.” "right.. right.. you should fix your makeup, y/n. that something didn't really hold back."

“what?!” you asked, grabbing the mirror jhoanna was holding out for you and immediately turned around in embarrassment. you quickly tried rubbing the lipstick marks off your face as your friends laughed at you.  

“whatever, guys. basta (anyway), good job, jay.” 

he laughed but was thankful for the support. "it's okay, y/n. it's a club! i encourage this behaviour, in fact - i endorse it." you rolled your eyes at him as he slung his arm around your shoulders. "let's go na? back to mine? we can get food and drinks on the way." he suggested, wanting a more intimate celebration. "paano ang mga bandmates mo? celebration niyo? (how about your bandmates? your celebration?)" angelo asked. "we had our little moment na after the show. bukas yung celebration namin. okay lang. ready na ba tayo? (we'll have our celebration tomorrow. it's okay. are we ready?)" you all agreed and hurriedly made your way out of the venue. 

mikha spent the rest of the night trying to find you, not knowing you left from the back exit.

“god, mikhs. who the hell did you hook up with? you’ve been so out of it since you came back.” kyle commented, evidently noticing her friend’s odd behaviour. “i wish i knew, i literally don’t know what her name is. i feel like an idiot, i begged her, for fuck’s sake. i don’t beg.” she complained, taking another sip of her drinking, causing aiah to take it away. “okay, that’s enough for tonight. lasing ka na, uminom ka na ng tubig. (you’re already drunk, you should drink water now.)” mikha groaned at her but listened anyway.

“can you describe her?”

“ganda. pretty. cute. ganda. hot. pretty. gwapa. i don’t know,” she slurred, slamming her head down on the table dramatically. “whatever, i don’t even care.” she continued.

mikha got over you the next day, but slowly, a week went by and you still occasionally managed to cross her mind. she still wondered about who you were and unfortunately still wanted to see you again, but there were plenty of fish in the sea and you know, it wasn’t that serious.

– hope u enjoy..... @yumtooki :3

[bennyden]

User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism. 

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it. 

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here. 

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately. 

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now. 

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did. 

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping. 

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave. 

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us. 

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from. 

Thanks for reading.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too. 

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note  (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least). 

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note  (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories. 

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest. 

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone. 

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why? 

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension. 

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you? 

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within. 

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality. 

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable. 

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life. 

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky. 

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty. 

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions. 

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather. 

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion. 

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all. 

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type. 

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become? 

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited. 

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives. 

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures. 

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe. 

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?” 

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable. 

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency. 

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter. 

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship. 

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul. 

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work. 

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence. 

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing. 

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more. 

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness. 

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost. 

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right. 

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary. 

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life. 

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last. 

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life. 

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones. 

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there. 

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!” 

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.” 

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones. 

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound? 

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin. 

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you? 

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity. 

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley. 

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance. 

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you. 

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows. 

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat. 

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand. 

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation. 

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion. 

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned. 

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested. 

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability. 

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain. 

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside. 

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch. 

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude. 

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed. 

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want? 

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food! 

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air. 

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like? 

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right? 

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor. 

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds. 

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger. 

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection. 

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition. 

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits. 

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline. 

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way. 

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!” 

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby. 

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity. 

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room. 

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals. 

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room. 

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters. 

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room. 

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace. 

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom. 

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day. 

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday. 

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth. 

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment. 

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs. 

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger. 

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality. 

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity. 

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention. 

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph. 

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face. 

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease. 

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory. 

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you. 

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness. 

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner. 

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time. 

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.” 

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven. 

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning. 

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal. 

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread. 

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame. 

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction. 

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide. 

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion. 

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide. 

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets. 

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago. 

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry. 

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine. 

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side. 

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt. 

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return. 

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life. 

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten. 

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life? 

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope. 

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe. 

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi. 

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away? 

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break. 

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you? 

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi. 

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty. 

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones. 

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps. 

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship. 

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses. 

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure. 

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?” 

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears. 

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white. 

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper. 

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you. 

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…” 

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. 

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within. 

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain. 

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief. 

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you. 

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless. 

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you. 

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair. 

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish. 

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,” 

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. 

“Why does everyone leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. 

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. 

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. 

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you. 

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone. 

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone. 

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.” 

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles. 

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces. 

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair. 

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands. 

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs. 

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease. 

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart. 

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens. 

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling. 

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies. 

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background. 

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows. 

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna. 

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between. 

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion. 

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away. 

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time. 

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step. 

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness. 

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia. 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge. 

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you. 

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures. 

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice. 

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life. 

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words. 

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is. 

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual. 

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams. 

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait. 

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi! 

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions. 

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario. 

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access? 

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene. 

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile. 

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

[ananxiousgenz]

HEY YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS????? JARTHUR COWBOY AU TIME!!!!!

this one also comes with a bit of info for the beginning:

@percymawce-arts and I have finally given this monster child of ours a name!! from here on out, this fic shall be known as "When the Land was Godless and Free" (a lyric from the song foreigner's god by hozier)!

the chapters we are posting are like. severely out of order. we've just been going crazy behind the scenes (we keep getting good ideas and then discussing/writing them for literal hours, it's a great time). percy basically wrote all of this and i just did some minor edits and left all caps comments screaming about how fucking GOOD this is, so any and all compliments should be directed at him <3

and some trigger warnings: this chapter contains alcohol and some suggestive themes!!

@izel-reblogs and @ellamenop (if you guys want me to stop tagging you please lmk)

“Here’s to John and Arthur! Arthur and John!” Noel shouted, stepping up onto the bar and raising his beer, some of it sloshing over the side of the cup with the motion. “Freaky-ass, sharpshooting, vigilante crime-fighting extraordinaires! Without you two, those gangsters would still be shooting up this charming little town.” He flashed a wink and a gaggle of girls seated behind John giggled. John rolled his eyes. “To John and Arthur!”

“To John and Arthur!” the bar echoed, jovial sounds of conversation and rowdy drinking soon filling the space again. John smiled into his drink, only to choke and nearly fall out of his chair when Noel clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Get ready for a lot of free drinks,” he said, hopping down to the floor. “This town’s full of generous rich folks just waiting for a chance to throw some money around.” 

John groaned. “Does that mean I have to talk to people?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’,” Noel said, all easy charm and swagger as he leaned up against the bar next to John. “Uh oh. Don’t look now, but there’s one coming up behind you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” John swore under his breath as a young blonde woman in a pink (and startlingly revealing) dress came up to the bar beside him. “That was fast,” he whispered to Noel, who barely managed to hide a snigger.

“Hi!” the woman squealed, her pitch akin to metal nails on glass. John winced. Voice aside, her general disposition was the near equivalent to staring straight into the afternoon sun, and the neon pink of her dress didn’t help matters.

“Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?” she crooned, gently brushing a hand over his shoulder as she smiled far too brightly (the whole blind sharpshooter gig tended to work better when only one of them was blind). 

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Oh, I don’t-”

“It’s on the house for you, sweetheart. I’ll pay for everything, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. So, how about that drink?” She moved in closer beside him, her hand drifting up his neck and along his jawline. John was only beginning to think of how to politely decline when he felt a looming presence over his shoulder.

“Only if you buy for all of us,” Arthur said, not unkindly. But John had been traveling with him for long enough to recognize the hint of something else beneath the politeness. Not what it was, just that it was there. The woman giggled.

“Well, of course! Anything for our dashing heroes!” John glanced over his shoulder at Arthur. His face was set in stone, watching the woman like a hawk on a rabbit as she slipped a few coins into the bartender’s hand and waited for drinks in return. He looked… tense. Like he was a piece of rope, stretched to the verge of snapping, and if that annoying woman made one wrong move, he would.

Noel raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “You must be a real hit with the ladies,” he murmured into his glass, looking Arthur up and down as he did so. Arthur paid him no mind.

The sunshine woman was not the last to buy them a round of drinks, not by a long shot. Plenty of flirtatious ladies (and a few flirtatious men), thankful patrons and impressed watchmen approached them, hoping to show their gratitude by buying them a shot or a glass of whiskey. Arthur didn’t leave John’s side the whole night, quick to shut down any attempts at seduction by feigning ignorance to the intentions of anyone who approached them. But John knew better. John could see the hard set of his jaw, how he gripped his glass too tightly whenever a scantily clad lady twirled her hair around her finger, or a rambunctious young cowboy leaned too far into John’s personal space. It made John’s heart flutter wildly in his chest. 

The drinks only slowed as the saloon emptied out, leaving Noel, Arthur and John three sheets to the wind, laughing uproariously at something stupid as the morning sun came over the horizon (Oscar had retired hours before, drunker than anyone at the bar much, much faster. Arthur had squeezed his shoulder and bid him goodnight with an expression of concern that made John’s heart clench).

Noel wiped tears from his eyes and looked over John’s shoulder, out the window behind him. When he saw the beginnings of daylight creeping over the horizon, he sighed. (He watched them, Arthur and John, engaged in a quiet but passionate discussion about something he couldn’t parse. They were both flushed and leaning in too close, chuckling at every other word that passed between them, oblivious to the rising sun or the empty saloon or Noel’s hands on their arms, steering them towards their room at the inn upstairs).

John chuckled (he did not giggle, he chuckled) as Noel tossed him into their rented room, with Arthur following soon after. He tripped over a trunk near the foot of the bed on his way in, falling forward onto the mattress with a gentle oof. Arthur laughed at him much too loudly for whatever time it was. 

“Alright, you two,” Noel said, trying to hold back a laugh, “wash up and go to bed. God, I should’ve never given that toast, you’re both insufferable drunks.”

“Oh, shhhhhhh,” Arthur hushed, pulling John out of bed by his wrist. John leaned fully against Arthur in an effort to stay upright. It mostly worked. “You loooooove us,” he laughed. Noel smiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the fond expression off his face. “You keep telling yourselves that.” He wiped his nose and tipped his hat to them. “Goodnight, you two.” Then he closed the door, and it was just them. John and Arthur, Arthur and John. 

“Okay, come on,” John said after a long stretch of silence, inelegantly turning Arthur in the direction of their shared washbasin and mirror. Arthur giggled a bit as John tried to move him forward, mumbling some drinking song under his breath that John didn’t recognize (maybe it’s a British one, John thought lamely). They tripped over each other's feet a few times, but ultimately made it to the edge of the sink without completely falling over. 

When they did, John braced his hands on either side of it with a tired sigh, watching his reflection in the mirror. There was a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead and a flush to his cheeks from the alcohol, but otherwise he seemed in decent condition. A few cuts and scrapes, some new and some old, and his braid was a little out of sorts, but nothing really concerning–

Then all the haziness of the alcohol and the late night was gone because Arthur’s full weight was at his back, his warmth permeating the fabric of John’s shirt and vest. His hot breath fanned across John’s ear and jaw, his eyes fluttering closed with the weight of inebriation. John inhaled shakily, suddenly brought back to shifting bodies and whiskey and fireworks with such vivid clarity it could have been real.

But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. John was drunk. Arthur was drunk, he could barely stand up straight, for fucks sake. He was just using John for support, falling asleep on his shoulder, and… 

And pressing his nose behind John’s ear, ghosting his lips over the back of his jaw. Breathing his name with a pained expression. John’s own expression matched, half lidded eyes never leaving the mirror, tense and pained and wanting, oh-so deeply, for the one thing he knew he couldn’t have.

Despite himself, John’s eyes slipped closed. His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving his body as Arthur hands came up to rest on his hips. His head tilted, granting Arthur access to more of his jaw and neck. And Arthur took it. He didn’t kiss, but he skimmed. Barely there, almost not real, deniable. Like a spirit. Like a gut feeling. Like instinct.

“John…” Arthur breathed. John felt a shiver work its way down his spine at the sound of Arthur’s voice at the base of his skull, reverberating in his head like it was meant to be there. It took every ounce of will that John had to keep the small moan building in the base of his throat from escaping.

“Arthur,” he answered, voice hoarse and quiet. He wanted to open his eyes. Wanted to see himself in the mirror with Arthur over his shoulder, arms around him, nosing at his neck and shoulder, resisting the urge to press warm kisses into his skin. Or maybe to bite. To draw blood. John had never been shown a difference between violence and love. Maybe they weren’t so different. He hoped so. He wanted… 

He wanted to see the look on Arthur’s face. Would it be like it was that day in the cabin? Shocked and a little confused but mostly needy. Yearning for something. Yearning for John. Or would it be darker? Dark like the clouds before a storm, the kind of storm that drowned you with rain and filled the air with electricity. Would it be dark like he was holding back? Like John was? 

But John didn’t open his eyes, no matter how badly he wanted to know. If his eyes stayed closed, he could pretend Arthur’s gentle, delicate touch wasn’t there at all. Just a taste of something more, enough to leave John wanting. Enough for him to imagine. Enough for it to stay a pleasant, alcohol induced dream. If he opened his eyes it would be real, and it would have to stop. And John did not want it to stop.

“John,” Arthur murmured, his voice just above a whisper now. “Open your eyes.” The timbre of it was deep, so much deeper than John had heard it before. How could he have possibly known? How could he know John so well in so little time? So completely? The moan John was holding on to finally slipped past his lips when Arthurs grip on his waist tightened, ever so slightly. “John,” Arthur choked. 

“I can’t,” John whispered as Arthur’s fingers moved from his hips, leaving a burning heat behind in the shape of Arthur’s palm. They trailed up and up, tugging at the buttons of John’s shirt as they went, making his breath hitch. Up to his open collar, nails dragging across John’s collar bone and hollow of his throat. Until they wrapped ever so gently around his neck, the thumb coming up to guide John’s jaw this way and that. John was breathing hard, now.

“Why?” Arthur asked, pressing himself closer, still, to John. John whined.

“I…” I want to. God, I want to. Make me. “Please, Arthur, don’t make me. Please, just–”

John gasped when he felt Arthur’s teeth scrape lightly over the skin of his neck, his hand flying up to grip Arthur’s hair, his shoulder, something. To hold Arthur. But he was stopped by a strong grip on his wrist, which guided his hand back down to the edge of the sink, holding it there. Pinning it. 

“John,” Arthur whispered. John’s chest was rising and falling like Akke’s after a long sprint, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s. Arthur’s thumb caressed his knuckles, white with the strength of his grip on the sink.

“Please,” they said at the same time. John’s brow furrowed, his lips hung parted in anticipation. His mind swung wildly from the present, between Arthur and the mirror with a hand around his throat, to the cabin, pressing Arthur to the wooden floor, pinning his wrists above his head. The burning momentum between them suddenly halted by John’s fear, like a landslide on the track before a train. Now the train was out of control again, brakes screeching against wheels that just wouldn’t stop, sparks flying. Sparks like fireworks. Sparks like live wires. Sparks like exploding gunpowder.

But then the warmth at his back was gone. Along with it the hand at his throat and the one  pinning his own to the sink. The teeth at the junction of his neck and shoulder and the hot breath on his skin vanished, leaving only a stark coldness where they’d been before. John sighed, whether in relief or disappointment he didn’t know, and opened his eyes.

The flush on his face had migrated down his neck and chest, which was exposed now (when had Arthur done that?) and heaving. The ‘light sheen’ of sweat was beading at his temples and brow now, falling in drops down to his jaw, along the bridge of his nose. His lips were parted and his eyes were wide and his neck was bare. 

And Arthur, leaning drunkenly against the wall behind him, arms crossed, expression chilly. He was breathing heavily too, and his face was red like the first hints of daylight in the sky. But it was the hard set of his mouth and brow that made John shiver.

“We should go to bed, John,” he said, voice still raspy. A needy, sad little sound rose from John’s throat then, and John’s hand flew to his mouth, as if to force the offending sound back in. Arthur swallowed and turned, ready to head back to one of the twin beds awaiting them. Side by side and yet still miles apart. “And don’t worry.”

“It’ll all feel like a dream, tomorrow.”

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 6)

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, dougieham, and 237,029 others

y/ndevils00 HAPPY REGULAR SEASON!!!

WELCOME BACK TO THE SPECIAL EDITION: JACK HUGHES SHOW!

OUR MIGHTY FINE DEVILS WON 4-3 AGAINST THE MICHIGAN BIRDS!

tonight, my beloved, apparent bad boy, got TWO goals, but more importantly TWO penalties!! i love when he does good things, but i love when he does bad things even more!! even if the first penalty WAS a bit of a chintzy call, i still loved seeing him locked up 🥰

my favorite autumn tree got his first goal of the season tonight, and i couldn’t be prouder! you go, ginger snap!

my sweet bratt also got a penalty for interference, which makes no sense to me, and obviously not to him either- but alas, we persevered!

and last, but certainly not least, UNCLE HAULA-HOOP GOT AN EMPTY NET GOAL, WHICH SECURED OUR WIN!! THANK YOU, HAULA BACK GAL!

p.s. i’m sorry to Ellen, who i accidentally ditched to get a picture of her son in the bad boy box, and who also might’ve heard me call him a naughty slut— she laughed, but i think i saw a part of her die inside

tagged jackhughes, dougieham, jesperbratt, and ehaula

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jackhughes did you seriously post a photo of me COMMITTING MY PENALTY?

y/ndevils00 you chose violence. i love it. 👁️🫦👁️

trevorzegras hey those emojis look exactly like you

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras I WAS HAVING A GOOD NIGHT AND THEN YOU SHOWED UP

dougieham autumn tree?

dougieham wait, hold on, i got this….

dougieham trees are tall and their leaves turn red and orange in autumn. i am tall and a ginger (red/orange)! therefore, me = autumn tree

y/ndevils00 YOU DID IT!! 🥹 i think i’m even prouder now than for your goal!

john.marino97 no me? no dawson?

dawson1417 yeah, no us?

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 i have two words, eight letters.

dawson1417 “love y’all” ?

john.marino97 forgive him, he’s new to this

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 DO BETTER

dawson1417 oh :( but you DO love us, right?

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 duh, obviously

user26 DEVILS ARE SO BACK

jesperbratt i didn’t do anything 🙁

y/ndevils00 i know you didn’t, my little swedish meatball! I’LL FIX THIS!

jackhughes no you won’t

y/ndevils00 no i won’t :(

ehaula i’ve missed you, niece!! and unfortunately your puns too

y/ndevils00 IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!! MWAHAHAHA

ehaula was that your evil laugh?

y/ndevils00 yeh

ehaula it was adorable

y/ndevils00 😠

ehaula @/kristen.haula isn’t she cute?!

kristen.haula our niece 🥹

user83 I WANNA BE HIS MOUTHGUARD

y/ndevils00 me first!

jackhughes why

elblue6 i promise, i didn’t die inside! call him a slut all you want!

jackhughes MOM?

y/ndevils00 you are my only true supporter, Ellen 🫶

nicohischier you didn’t call me any names! i used to pray for times like these

y/ndevils00 only because i didn’t get a picture fast enough of you bent over like me in the bedroom

jackhughes why do you say these things

nicohischier please stop talking

y/ndevils00 never. 🗣️ SLUT 🗣️

lhughes_06 i made it out unscathed 🙏

y/ndevils00 you wish

lhughes_06 wait, what?

y/ndevils00

liked by john.marino97, lhughes_06, and 234,641 others

y/ndevils00 i was so happy to meet so many of your wonderful faces on the red carpet!

i was just there to do my job (taking pictures of my boyfriend! god i love my job!) but so many of you asked for pictures with ME and it made my heart feel so full!

i never thought that accepting this job would mean finding a boyfriend, a brother (two! actually!), two amazing best friends, and apparently a family of supporters! i’m so grateful to have the opportunity to make a lifetime of memories with this amazing team!

go devils! but most importantly, go devils fans! this wouldn’t be possible without y’all!

tagged jackhughes, john.marino97, lhughes_06, and dawson1417

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user19 i’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you’re the one to thank for Jack’s new hair, in which case THANK YOU 🙏🫶

y/ndevils00 you’d be correct 😈 YOU’RE SO WELCOME

jackhughes ya know, I’M the one who went and got my haircut

y/ndevils00 yeah, after i played subliminal messages in your ears at night, telling you that you should go and get it cut

jackhughes you what?

y/ndevils00 you look so handsome, babygirl!

lhughes_06 my squishy!

y/ndevils00 MY SMUSH!

lhughes_06 you looked radiant tonight

y/ndevils00 aww, well you looked quite dashing, yourself!

lhughes_06 my sister ❤️

jackhughes she’s in the closet

trevorzegras she came out?

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras I’M CRYING, YOU IDIOT! i’m in the physical closet, not the metaphorical one!

trevorzegras oh! my b, bro

dawson1417 THAT’S ME!

y/ndevils00 that’s you!!

dawson1417 i’m also grateful you have this opportunity and that you took this job btw

y/ndevils00 THIS POST WAS NEVER MEANT TO MAKE *ME* CRY

dawson1417 please don’t cry, i’ll bring you a churro tomorrow?

y/ndevils00 suddenly my tears are gone

jackhughes no they’re not

dawson1417 @/jackhughes i’ll bring her a churro anyways

user73 I MET YOU!!! you’re so sweet, and gorgeous! i think i was even more excited to meet you than Jack!

y/ndevils00 ME? LOOK AT YOU, BEAUTIFUL GIRL!

jackhughes i feel like i should feel offended, but somehow i’m not because i’d be excited to meet dove too

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes you’re so obsessed with me

user39 JOHN PICS 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ THANK YOU, Y/N!!

jackhughes my beautiful, crazy girl ♥️ i’m thankful everyday that you accepted this job and that you accepted the title of my girlfriend

y/ndevils00 aw, i love you to pluto, my sweet boy ♥️

y/ndevils00 p.s. if you’re so thankful, you should think about changing my title 🥰

jackhughes moments over

y/ndevils00 I’M JUST SAYING

_quinnhughes you didn’t hear it from me…. but he’s definitely thought about changing it

y/ndevils00 @_quinnhughes you’re my new favorite hughes

_quinnhughes i wasn’t already?

y/ndevils00 well, you were, and then luke bought me pizza

_quinnhughes pizza? PIZZA is all it takes?!

y/ndevils00 please captain huggy, have mercy on me, i was starving and your middle brother was trying to feed me chicken that wasn’t tenders or nuggets

john.marino97 grateful for you and the way you push me to d* b*tter ❤️

y/ndevils00 did you just censor “do better” ?

john.marino97 it’s given me ptdbs

y/ndevils00 ?

y/ndevils00 wait— “post traumatic do better syndrome”

y/ndevils00 i’m so smart 🥰

john.marino97 yes, you are! such a smart girl!

y/ndevils00 that feels like sarcasm but i’m gonna ignore it

[pensat-i-fet]

I chose you (Julián Álvarez x Reader)

**Got another Julián request recently and it’s always funny how easy it is to write for him. So hopefully it’s easy and enjoyable to read for all of you ❤️**

Word count: 1879

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Are you ok?”, asks my mum, and I can see the worry in her expression even through the screen.

“Yeah. Just not feeling 100% at the moment, you know?”

“Why? Are you sick or something?”

“No. I guess I’m just going through one of those moments where I don’t feel super confident or whatever. No specific reason. For all I know, it could just be the bad weather making me feel this way”.

“Is everything ok with Julián?”

I smile without even noticing. “Yes, mum. It’s nothing to do with him”.

“Well, I’ll still tell him to take better care of you so you don’t feel this way”.

“Mum, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my boyfriend to take care of me”.

“We all need people to take care of us. Don’t forget that”.

I don’t want to admit it but I know she’s right. I’m always in my own head, not sharing how I feel and it can be a bit much sometimes.

“I’ll talk to Julián when he comes back”, I promise to myself before picking up my phone to waste my time on social media.

I see City have posted some photos, including one of Julián, so I like the post. Then I click on his profile and go to the tagged photos. I always love seeing all the photos of him that professional photographers take. I have an album full of them.

But I also see photos fans have posted. It seems like there are more girls taking photos with him after training. With him and all the others, but I only care about my boyfriend.

I’m not a jealous person. I’ve never been, honestly. It’s easy to say you aren’t but then your actions show the opposite. However, that’s not me. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with the stress if I was a jealous person and dating a football player.

So it’s not jealousy I feel while reading the captions they write for my boyfriend. Or seeing the videos where they try to hug him or kiss his cheek. But if it isn’t jealousy, then what is it?

I usually would just laugh it off. Julián himself tells me stories of these meetings whenever something funny happens, knowing how little I’ll care about their flirting with him.

Opening TikTok is probably the stupidest idea at the moment. Yet here I am wasting more time making myself feel ugly seeing all the gorgeous girls I follow for beauty and fashion inspo and getting annoyed at the edits Julián’s fans make for him.

“I’m so stupid”, I say, throwing the phone on the sofa before hiding underneath one of the blankets.

A couple of minutes later, Julián is back and starts to call my name. For a second, I think about pretending to sleep but he would notice the lie.

“I’m here”, I say in a small voice, getting my head out from underneath the blanket so he can see me.

“What are you doing there? Are you feeling alright?”

I nod, not wanting to worry him with my silly thoughts. “Just tired”.

“Well, I’m tired too. How about you move so I can fit next to you and we cuddle?”

“I’d like that”.

My promise to tell him about how I was feeling is gone the second I place my head on his chest. Because I have no reason to feel like this. I should be fine. This will pass soon.

                                    **

"So how was your day?, asks Julián while he sets the table for our dinner. We fell asleep on the sofa the moment we cuddled and didn't get to talk at all.

"Ok, I guess", I shrug.

"What did you do? You always tell me about the whole day. Come on, I want to know".

I'm usually excited to talk about my day. But not right now. "You know. Studied in the morning, face timed with my mum and then went to the sofa to nap".

"Everything ok with your parents?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

I can see him trying to find the right words. "I don't know. You seem a bit off. I thought maybe they gave you bad news or something".

"No. I'm just tired. I told you".

"Well, then you sit here", he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me to the chair. "And I'll finish getting everything ready".

"Thank you", I say, offering him a small smile. His is a lot bigger and after kissing my temple he goes back to the kitchen.

During dinner, he updates me on everything going on at the club and focusing my attention on someone else for a second helps me a lot.

"Feeling better?", he says, hopeful.

"Yes. I think I'll just take a shower before bed to help me relax".

"Go do that. I'll put this in the dishwasher".

I get up to go to the room and stop when I reach Julián to give him a hug.

"I love it when you're clingy like that".

This time the smile is bigger. It's easy to smile when he's around. It's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I struggle.

When I get out of the shower, I try to make a bit of an effort. It's not as if I have to impress Julián right now, but I need to impress myself, sort of.

Whenever I'm having these confidence issues or whatever they are, the first thing I drop is looking after myself. I struggle with simple things such as putting on moisturizer after the shower or picking cute outfits. And it only makes me feel worse in the end because I look worse. It's such a stupid cycle.

Julián is already in bed looking at his phone when I get back to the room. He puts the phone away the moment I get to the bed and puts one of his arms around my shoulders to bring me closer to him.

"You smell so good I could eat you".

I laugh. "You don't like coconut".

"Not the fruit. But I like it when you smell like this", he says, nuzzling his nose on my neck.

"Feel free to use the body butter if you want to smell like me", I joke.

"Wouldn't that make me too irresistible to other women?"

I roll my eyes at his bad joke. "I'll take the risk".

"Actually, I didn't tell you this funny story from today. These three girls asked for a photo when I was in my car and kept complimenting me, my clothes, my car …no subtlety", he laughs but I don't join him. "And then a kid showed up and they had to let him get closer and were so annoyed. They'll probably be there again tomorrow".

I don't say anything because what can I say? I already saw the photos and I thought the girls looked familiar. I guess they spend their days there.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Yes", I say, turning my back to him and pretending to get ready to sleep.

"What was that?"

"I'm sleepy. Good night".

"What did I do for you to react like…wait, are you jealous?"

"What?", I say, turning again to look at him.

"I told you about those girls and you got all weird. You have no reason to be jealous, you know that".

"I'm not jealous of any fangirls, Julián".

And I'm not, but my tone and my face make it sound like a lie. I hate this feeling.

I go back to my previous position and a couple of seconds later I notice Julián wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's you I want. Please know that".

"I know", I whisper. Maybe it's better if he thinks I'm jealous instead of having to dig deeper to explain everything else. "I love you".

"I love you too. Sleep well now. You'll feel better tomorrow after a good night's rest".

If only it were that easy.

                                      **

The next couple of days, Julián seems to be tiptoeing around my feelings and he doesn't bring up any meetings with fangirls. Actually, by checking Instagram, I've noticed one of them mentioned he didn't stop to attend them at all. I don't even know how I feel about that.

By the time he comes back from training, I'm back under the blanket and when he gets to the sofa, he moves it to see my face.

"You were worrying me so I spoke to your mum".

"What?", I say, sitting up.

"Well, you don't talk to me so I had to do something. I can't see my girlfriend hurting and do nothing".

"I just don't know what happens to me", I say, feeling the tears on the back of my eyes.

"It's not going to solve everything but sit here", he says, patting the spot between his legs. "So I can hold you while we try to make sense of it, ok?"

I nod, sitting there and letting him share his strength with me through this hug.

"It's just something that happens sometimes. I don't know if it's anxiety or something else. But I just feel like I'm not enough. Like all my confidence is gone. Like anything I have to do, no matter how small, demands too big of an effort from me".

"Ok. Does it usually take long for that feeling to go away?"

"It depends. It used to be worse when I was younger. Now it's usually a couple of days. Maybe a week and a half or something like that".

"And do you know anything that can make you feel better? Whatever it is, I'll make sure you have it".

"You".

He looks at me confused. "What do you mean?"

"I need you. You don't even notice how much you help me just by being you. It's when you're not around that it gets worse".

"That means a lot to me. But we need to find other ways to help. I wish I could always stay with you but I can't".

"I know", I say, hugging him tighter and placing my head on his chest.

"And you're sure there is no jealousy involved in this? It's ok if there is. I mean, I'm jealous of every man that talks to you".

I chuckle. "No, I'm not jealous. I guess what made me feel worse about those fans was their confidence. How they had no fear of going to talk with you guys and being so direct to you. I wouldn't be able to do something like that. Not in the state I'm in at the moment".

"You don't need to. Because I chose you a while ago. And I keep choosing you every day".

"But you didn't know all these issues were included in the package when you chose me. What if it gets too much for you? I don't want you to feel like you have to baby me".

"I'm not. I'm just looking after you like you look after me. Can you just let me do it? Let me look after you, please".

"Does looking after me include cuddles and watching my favourite movies while we eat ice cream?"

"Of course it does".

"Then count me in".

[captainjamster]

A Surprise Exception

Pairing(s): Kate Laswell x F!Reader Warnings: pre-established strained relationship with sibling, non-sexual intimacy, post-sex cuddling and talks Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: Kate really does not like children, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s having any. No one is changing her mind – but someone else might convince her they’re not all terrible. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: A few notes for this one! This was written all in one go, so I will probably come back to edit it at some point. While I normally write neutral SFW inserts, reader identifies as a woman because I won't write Kate that isn't a lesbian <3 Pre-established strained relationship w/ sibling is an important tag. This is not a generalised portrayal of single parents; this is an insert specifically with family difficulties, and a couple trying to navigate that with understanding but not permissive boundaries. Also, I hate reading baby talk too, I'm sorry! But I can't make a four year old talk like an adult, so her speech pattern just follows the overgeneralisation of grammatical rules most children engage in developmentally. Lastly, child-free individuals have every right to be child-free, this specifically isn't a "MC changes their mind suddenly" fic. Laswell just realises that not every single child makes her want to remove her ovaries

Full fic under the cut <3

“No.” Her voice is firm, lips tight in that frown that you know means business. It doesn’t deter your dramatics, eyes pleading, hands clasped in front of you. “Please!”

“I told you, no kids.” She turns back to the countertop, sipping at the black coffee you’d just placed in front of her. The room basks in the pale sunrise, orange tinting the walls as light shines from the document Kate is already pouring herself over.

“Kate, it’s just one kid –“

“No! We talked about this at the very beginning. No kids, you agreed.”

You inhale deeply, squashing down a frustrated sigh as the pressure of your palms turns your vision fuzzy for a second. “Yes, I know I agreed – but come on!”

There’s a pause as your words linger in the air, and Kate’s shoulders drop. “Come on?”

You reel back, groaning. “No, I’m sorry – I’m sorry, not like that, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and I just feel misunderstood, like you’re not… getting it.”

“Because there’s nothing to get; because we both made a very clear agreement when we started this relationship.” Her tone is final, but you don’t back down.

“Kate!”

She exclaims your name in exasperation, swinging back around on the barstool as she white-knuckles the tablet in her hands.

“Okay, okay – just, okay, just hear me out. Please.” You try not to wilt under her disapproving look, but she doesn’t stop you, and you take the opportunity at full speed. “It’s not even for the whole day, just six hours! I’ll take her out to the park for a bit, I promise we won’t track mud in, and we’ll take a bath, I’ll dry her in the bathroom right after.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust with the shake of her head. “That’s good and all, but our rug? The couch? My office?”

Your head is shaking adamantly before her sentence ends. “She won’t step foot in your office, I won’t even let her go up the stairs, and I’m going to watch her the whole time.”

Disbelief is etched into her frown. “It’s a kid, babe. You’re fantastic, but you’re not magic. She’s gonna make a mess no matter how hard you try.”

Your mouth opens and closes, every retort coming up futile, and defeat quickly sinks in. Your shoulders slouch, a pout pulling at your lips as you take up the stool next to her, slumping over the cool granite top. The sigh Kate breathes is long, putting down the tablet. “Your sister’s asked us for this last-moment shit plenty before.”

“I know, but it’s different this time,” you mumble into your arms.

“And why is this ‘emergency’ any different?”

“Because she said the whole place still smells like insecticide, and she doesn’t trust the babysitter to know what to do if it makes Lottie sick, he’s barely seventeen. I don’t think she’s lying; I dropped off a grocery pickup on my way home from the store yesterday, and it really did stink.”

Kate bites at the inside of her lip, contemplating. “Can we not just give her money for a proper one?”

You look up incredulously, and Kate’s expression immediately crumples. “Sorry, yeah. That was stupid, I know we said no more giving her money.”

You return back to your forlorn position, tracing mindless shapes that leave a quickly evaporating trail of body heat.

“Honey, if we say yes, she’s going to keep asking us. I don’t want to set a precedent.” Her expression is sympathetic as you peer over the ruffled humps of your sleeve, a hand settling on your thigh. “She had time to get a better replacement, it’s not like the house started stinking yesterday. I’m not letting you play unpaid full-time caregiver again.”

You slide your own hand over hers, grip curling around the ring nestled against the base of her finger. “I know Kate, it won’t go that far. She can ask, but I swear, this will be the only time she ever stays at our house until she’s older. If she ever pulls this again, I’ll pack an overnight bag and go over there – I’ll go to our parents, if I really have to.”

“And she’s really going to work this time?” Kate probes, arms crossed. “This isn’t another “oh, I was definitely at ‘work’, but then I went on this date with a cute guy I just happened to meet on my ‘lunch break’ and forgot to block you from seeing the photos on my story?””

“I made triple sure – she sent me her schedule for the whole month, and a confirmation text that she’d be late this morning with a response from her boss. She already sent the interview confirmation when she got it, and she showed me the congratulatory email when we went out for drinks too.”

Before Kate can speak, you hold up your hand. “And I know, those can be easily faked. So, she’s going to share her location with me when – if we say yes – she gets there, and I’ll call her work line at some random point so Lottie can talk to her, to make sure. She’d be putting in more effort to fabricate this than she would actually getting the job.”

The air feels thick as Kate stays quiet – just looks over your face, searching for something.

“I’m not helping.” She concedes after a long pause, and you bolt up straight, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep back a loud cheer.

“I mean it, I’m going to be in my office. I’ll come out for lunch and say hello, I’m not going to ignore the kid. But no begging to play games, no help cleaning up messes or disasters, no picking you up halfway if her legs get tired.” She tilts her head, an eyebrow raised expectantly, amusement in those pretty blue eyes as she gazes at you.

“Nothing, I swear to god, baby. I’ll have lunch ready at around 12, I’ll just text you and you can come down.” You bring her hand to your lips, peppering kisses across her knuckles, making sure to be generous over her ring with a cheeky smile that Kate fondly rolls her eyes at.

==

Charlotte warbles a rhyme she learnt in day-care as you pull into your street, kicking her feet in time with the ticking of the indicator as you stop in the driveway. She makes a loud squawk as you reach for the door handle, a small glare peering up at you through the window to warn your hand away from it. You watch as she tugs at it until the latch clicks, using her legs to swing it open. “I did it all by myself!”

You give her a bemused smile, holding out a hand that she accepts as her little legs stretch to meet the pavement. “Yeah sweetie, you did it all by yourself, good job opening it. You wanna grab your bag, or should Auntie do it?”

Charlotte gives you the most withering look a four year old can muster, sighing loudly as she grabs the straps of her backpack from the floor. “Don’t you know I’m a big girl now? I gotta carry my own bag, Mama said.”

The pressure in your chest hurts as your throat constricts, desperately holding your breath to avoid laughing at the very serious mistake you’ve just made. “I’m – ah, sorry, I’m so sorry Lottie. You are a big girl now, yes.”

All is forgiven as you extend your hand again, and Charlotte skips up the short driveway by your side, backpack clunking with each step. “Was my singing good Auntie?”

You hum approvingly, swinging your arm gently. “It was great, honey. You know so much about bugs!”

She gives you a pleased, toothy grin, her face scrunched up in exaggeration. Before you open the to the door, you halt, crouching down to your niece’s level. She frowns at you inquisitively, gaze moving between your face and the door. “Alright, sweetheart. You remember what I said?”

Her expression dissolves into a sassy squint, nose scrunched up in distaste of your obviously silly adult ways. “Auntie, you told me like – like a million times!”

“I know, I know. Can you say it back to me, just one more time?”

With a roll of her eyes, she takes a deep breath, holding up a finger for each instruction you’ve given her. “Auntie Kate is really really busy, so we gotta be quiet, not be yelling, and I can’t be going up the stairs and being distracting.”

You nod in encouragement, giving her a smile. “And?”

Charlotte frowns, thinking for a moment, before her eyes light up. “And no making messes!”

She throws her arms up as you cheer, her chubby cheeks squished between them. “Yay! Inside now?”

You clap your hands to your thighs, standing up to reach for the handle. “Yep, inside now.”

Charlotte barrels through the door before it’s even fully open, almost pulled back as her bag is caught in the opening, and you catch her hand to stop her from running off. “Hold up, cowgirl! Those shoes need to come off first.”

You shuck off your own, watching as Charlotte tugs at hers, before helping her line them neatly against the wall. Coming out the hallway, to your surprise, Kate is sitting on the couch. You shoot her a confused frown as you walk closer, but she just comes over to meet you halfway, crouching down to Charlotte’s level. “Hey, sweetheart, I wanted to say hi again. Remember me?”

Charlotte lingers near your leg, her hand scrunched up in your pants as she looks your wife up and down. “You’re Auntie Kate.”

She gives a small smile, nodding slowly. “Yep. That’s right.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond, fingers in her mouth nervously. The room is quiet for a second as Kate looks equally unsure, twisting her hands together as she speaks again. “What… have you been up to lately?”

Your niece looks at her owlishly, round eyes slowly blinking.

“I punched a boy.”

Kate’s eyes widen, taken aback with an expression you mirror. “You punched a boy?”

Your niece nods solemnly, looking down at her scrunched up fist with a dramatic reminiscence. “He told my friend – he said, he was really mean, and he said girls can’t ride bikes, and he uhm – he did this,” she explains, making a sharp pushing motion into the air, “and she falled off and got hurted and she was really sad. And then I was sad, and then I did my fist like this and punched him!”

She raises her fist to Kate, a proud look on her small face, and you watch Kate struggle to keep the corners of her lips from peeking up. “Wow, I see. Did you get in trouble?”

Charlotte’s pigtails bounce as she shakes her head confidently, bringing a leg up to point at it as she balances on the other. “Nuh-uh, ‘cos my friend had all the blood on her knee and she was crying.”

Kate nods, clasping her hands together, already out of her depth with the look she gives you. “Right. Okay. Well, no punching anyone or falling off things while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright!” Charlotte chirps, giving Kate the same toothy grin. She gives a smile back before shooting you an impressed but shocked look that you just shrug at, grinning. Kate shakes her head, and you catch and squeeze her hand, pressing your lips to hers appreciatively before she scampers off. “Thank you, I love you.”

The wink she directs your way sends butterflies through your stomach, and they erupt as she calls out, retreating up the stairs. “Don’t worry! You’ll make it up to me.”

==

Charlotte peers down at the puzzle, hands on her hips as she balances the towel on her head. Impossibly happy voices sing from the TV as a show she begged for plays, and you catch a blue dog playing a xylophone with her orange sister when you peak around the corner to check on your niece. “Everything going okay, pumpkin?”

The puzzle is very uncomplete, but she’s been following your advice of finding all the border pieces, given the little pile she’s accumulating concentratedly. “We can get an easier one, honey. 50 pieces is a lot.”

Charlotte looks up at that, unimpressed. “I already did 10 pieces of jigsaw!”

With a shrug, you disappear back into the kitchen, cutting up the last toppings on your board as you call out again. “Alright, that’s fine. But lunch will be ready in 10 minutes, so we’ll take a break then, okay?”

A small grumble of acknowledgement comes from the floor, and you get back to it. Before long, the sandwiches are plated up, and Kate’s salad is in a bowl with her plate. Charlotte makes less fuss than you’d thought as she drags her feet over to the table, clambering up the chair to sit down. Grabbing your phone, you send off a text, shoving it back in your pocket before bringing the plates over. Charlotte eyes the sandwiches, peeking through the layers of bread. “Is it good?”

You laugh, picking up your own slice. “I hope so. Your mama said it’s your favourite.”

“No way!” She perks up excitedly, grabbing a quarter and taking a big bite. Kate descends from her office a few minutes later, cup in hand and making a beeline for the kitchen. She comes out with a fresh cup a moment later, taking a seat across from you. “Thanks for brewing a pot, honey,” she murmurs, scooping up a spoonful of salad. “Have you girls been having fun?”

Charlotte hums through a mouthful, wiggling in her chair. “Shaw ducksh at th’prk!”

Kate tries to hold back a grimace, cringing at the food around her mouth, and you send her an apologetic look as you speak up. “Swallow your food first, Lottie.”

Between chews, she narrows her eyes at you, but swallows before speaking again. “There was a mama and her babies.”

The meal is spent in a very one-sided conversation about your trip to the park as Charlotte earnestly recounts every detail, informing Kate about all the kinds of bugs she found under the rocks. The girl is on a long rattle about the spots on ladybug shells when Kate clears her throat, stacking her dishes together, and Charlotte cuts herself off. “No more food already?”

“I have work to finish,” Kate explains as she stands up, “and I’m sure you’re excited to play with Auntie for the last hour you’re here, right?”

A misty expression crosses Charlotte’s dirty face at the realisation, her bottom lip puckering out. “But what if I goed home and comed back after I sleep?”

Kate gives you a pointed look as she disappears around the corner, and you close your eyes for a moment as dishes clink against the metal sink, silently cursing. “Remember we talked about that, babes? You got day-care tomorrow, and I’ll come see you on the weekend.”

Charlotte brightens up temporarily at the mention of day-care, but you can see the moment she realises it’s ‘stopping’ her from coming over as her expression dampens again. “Can we go see ducks on the weekend?”

“Yeah honey, we can see the ducks again.” You nod, leaning back in your chair as Charlotte shoves the last of her sandwich into her mouth. Closing your eyes, your head falls back until it meets the wooden frame, taking a moment to sink down and relax. But tension suddenly springs back into them as fingers slide under your chin, your eyes opening to meet an upside down Kate.

“Hey beautiful,” she murmurs, and you giggle in her grasp, humming as she presses her lips to yours. “Thanks for lunch. You’re so sweet, keeping me fed.” She gives your cheek an affectionate pat, pulling away and heading to the stairs as you sit up and give her a scandalised look at her teasing praise. Footsteps against the floor patter behind you, and Charlotte darts past Kate to the door before you can question her.

“Auntie Kate!”

Your wife pauses, and you can see her breathe in before she turns. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Charlotte drags her bag over, crouching down and rummaging through its depths to pull something out. It takes you a moment to recognise the scraggly stems and squashed petals, but Charlotte shoves them out in offering with the confidence of someone holding a thousand dollar bouquet. “Auntie said you like flowers, and I thoughted maybe you got no flowers inside, so I got the best ones for you!”

Kate’s face pinches into something you’ve never seen before, and you debate stepping in before she crouches down, extending her hand to take the ragged bundle. “That was really thoughtful of you, Charlotte.” She takes a moment to smell them – more for Charlotte’s sake, you think –, and gives the kid a soft smile. “Thank you for getting me flowers. I’ll be happy to have them in my office now, hey?”

You can see Charlotte’s fingers twist and intertwine as they meet behind her back, shoulders up high as she sways happily, and you can only imagine the grin she’s giving Kate. “You’re welcome!” She chimes, grabbing her bag and hauling it back to the door. You watch Kate take in the flowers as they droop over her hand, standing up as she casts a look over at Charlotte, running back to the table. Your gazes connect as she flickers to you, a grin filling her face as she gestures the flowers at you, to which you flap your hand towards the stairs cheekily.

Your phone buzzes as you turn on the tap for Charlotte, and you pull it out as she dries her hands, tapping in on the photo of the flowers in a tall glass next to her computer.

<< Can’t wait to see yours. ;)

==

“I still hate kids.”

“I know,” you sigh happily into her collarbones, pressing a kiss against a mole there. Her skin is still soured by sweat, and you hum appreciatively at the taste, basking in the post-orgasmic daze washing through your limbs. Everything feels warm, exertion mingling with fatigue to settle across you in a sleepy blanket, and you can’t stifle a yawn that bubbles up.

“She was sweet, though. Thought she’d be more of a menace.”

A hum is all you get out, listening to the patter of her heart.

“We’re never having them.”

Kate squirms at the way you huff in amusement against her skin at the remark, tilting up to give her a look. “I know, honey. Wasn’t planning on changing my mind.”

She grins, running her nails across your scalp, bringing you back against her bare chest. “Thought I fucked that sass out.”

You snort, dipping out your tongue to run against her jugular, kissing the damp trail. “The only thing that recovers faster than your libido is my attitude.”

Kate laughs at that, nudging her leg further up between your thighs to make you squeak. “Now you’re trying to wind me up, close your damn eyes.”

“Uh-huh. I remember them being closed before you reminded me you hate kids.”

You whimper as her fingers tug in reprimand at your hair before resuming their strokes, rustling accompanying the sound of breathing in the moonlight room. There are lights swirling in barely visible colours as you fall further into a world between here and unconsciousness, and you feel weightless, floating in nothingness with the only person you’ve ever wanted by your side.

“… She wasn’t that bad, though.”

“Kate, go to sleep.”

dividers by cafekitsune

[writingsofwerewolves]

Here's the first chapter of the werewolf noncon story I'm working on. It's still not fully edited and some things are subject to change before I post it to AO3, but I wanted to share in case some folks wanted an early peek.

If you need any content warnings, maybe wait to decide to read it until I've posted it to AO3 with all the appropriate tags. The only warning I can give right now is that it contains noncon.

The following sample is about 7k words.

Day 1

A free trip across the country. I should’ve known it sounded too good to be true. By the time I realized, it was far too late. I’d already signed the contract.

“For the next four days, you all belong to the werewolves aboard this train,” the woman explained as we crowded into a small room for the orientation. “You will do as they say. For the next four days and three nights, your bodies belong to them. Understood?”

Around me, there was a chorus of “yes ma’am’s,” a lot of which sounded bored. In fact, many of them looked as if they’d been through the same speech a million times. Maybe they had.

“We have some special guests on this trip,” the woman continued and a few of my fellows perked up, “So I want you all to be on your best behavior. Now, get to work.”

With the dismissal, a door was opened and everyone started filing out, a few of them murmuring excitedly to each other.

“Who do you think it is?” one of the men whispered to a shorter woman, “One of the Alpha’s agents?”

“I heard the Alpha himself was coming,” she replied.

“Hush now!” the director woman snapped.

When the room was nearly empty, I stepped towards her, “Umm… ma’am?”

She looked down at me, an impatient eyebrow raised.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” I said in a small voice, “I didn’t know what I was signing when—”

“You signed the contract, didn’t you?” she asked impatiently.

“Yes, but I was told—”

“You didn’t read it?”

“I was in a hurry and the lady said it was—”

“Not my problem,” she held up a hand, “You signed the contract. You’re legally bound to it, whether you read it or not. Now get out there. You have guests to tend to.”

“But I’m… I’ve never…”

She heaved a heavy sigh, gripped my shoulders, spun me around and marched me forward, out the door.

In the train car, several werewolves were lounging in chairs, drinks in hand, and some already had a human companion in their laps. My eyes widened in horror when I saw one of the humans had already been forced to his knees, his head between the legs of a werewolf woman while her fingers knotted in his hair, grinding his face against her crotch.

“New to this, sweetie?” a voice sounded beside me.

I jumped as a hand wrapped around my arm and dragged me closer to a large, warm body.

“Don’t worry, baby,” the werewolf man murmured, leading me over to one of the chairs, “I’ll take care of you.”

He sat and pulled me into his lap, his hand squeezing my ass possessively, making me yelp with surprise.

“Please don’t,” I said in a small voice, struggling against his hold, “Please, I’m… I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled, pressing his nose into my neck, “I think you’re supposed to be right here.”

His hand moved from my ass to between my legs.

I desperately tried to push him away and said, “I’ve never done this. Please…”

He paused, pulling back to look in my eyes, “You’re a virgin?”

I swallowed dryly and nodded.

A wicked smile broke out on his face, “Well then I just won the lottery.”

I fought back a sob as he ducked his head again, nibbling at my neck. His hand was still between my legs, rubbing circles over my clit through my clothes. I’d never been touched like that by anyone before. And my first time was by a stranger whose name I didn’t know, who didn’t know my name, and who only saw me as a sex toy.

Yet, I couldn’t help the whimpers of pleasure that came from my lips. It felt good to be touched for the first time. For the hand on my clit to not be my own or a vibrator.

Just four days and I’d be free. The train would arrive and I’d be free. I just had to put up with it for four days.

While the man continued to rub me through my clothes, he spoke to his fellow werewolves, many of whom also had humans on hand. He talked as if he wasn’t actively violating me in front of everyone, only occasionally ducking his head to nibble at me while someone else talked.

I kept my eyes averted from everyone else. I didn’t want to see how many people were witness to my shame. I couldn’t handle it.

Eventually, one of the man’s hands made its way under my shirt and started squeezing my breast. I whined and squirmed, trying to dislodge his hand, but it was no good. He held me still with one arm while assaulting me with his other hand.

“Do you mind if I cut in?” a deep voice sounded from above me.

“Oh… uh… Of course, sir,” the werewolf holding me said quickly and I suddenly found myself being pushed out of his lap, onto my feet.

I swayed, unsteady from the abrupt change, only to be caught by new hands around my upper arms.

“All yours,” the man that had been holding me said.

I looked up at the new werewolf. He was extremely tall and clearly very thickly built under his nicely fitted suit, with a thick black beard and long hair pulled neatly behind his head. The man held me at arm’s length for a moment, his eyes looking me up and down before he inclined his head towards the previous werewolf.

“Thank you, Robert,” he said.

“Of course, sir,” the previous werewolf said quickly, “Whatever you need.”

The new werewolf scooped me into his arms, cradling me to his broad chest, as he walked through the train car.

“I can walk on my own,” I told him, struggling in his hold.

“I am certain you can,” he said with a rich chuckle, “But I wish to carry you, pup.”

I pursed my lips at the pet name, “I’m not a pup.”

He smiled, but said nothing as he moved to one of the chairs and sat, continuing to cradle me in his arms.

“Let me go,” I said, pushing at his chest to try to get away.

He raised an eyebrow, “If you leave my possession, another werewolf will take you for their own. Did you perhaps prefer Robert?”

I glanced back towards where the previous werewolf was. He had already found another human, his hand in the woman’s pants.

“N-no,” I stuttered out, “But I’m not supposed to be here at all.”

“You signed the contract, yes?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know what it was for.”

“Unfortunate. Still, as I said, if you leave my possession, another werewolf will take you and I do not want that. For the remainder of this trip, you belong to me, pup.”

I fought back a sob and nodded my understanding.

Just four days. Four days and I would be free.

Unlike the previous werewolf, my new captor didn’t touch me between my legs as he began speaking to the other werewolves. He held me to him with one hand on my waist while the other ran up and down my thigh, which was still more intimate than I liked, but it was better than having my clit touched in a room full of strangers.

I didn’t want to listen to the conversations around me. I wanted to completely check out. I rested my forehead against the man’s collarbone, closing my eyes and desperately trying to forget where I was. The werewolf’s hand on my thigh didn’t let me forget. I was acutely aware of the contact as his large, warm hand ran down almost to my knee and then up to the curve of my ass.

“A moment, pup,” he murmured in my ear, “I need to conduct some business in private.”

Before I knew it, I was being hauled gently to my feet. The werewolf took my hand and led me over to the corner of the train car, where a few other humans were sitting. He guided me to a chair and gestured for me to sit.

He bent down and kissed my forehead, “I will return shortly. Behave yourself.”

I nodded numbly and he smiled and turned, leaving the train car with a few other werewolves at his side. As soon as he was gone, the two other humans there leaned towards me.

“How’d you do it?” the woman asked in a hushed but excited tone.

“Do… what?” I asked, hugging myself protectively.

“Bag the Alpha,” the man said in disbelief, “I’ve been doing this for five years and I’ve never seen him take on a human before.”

I felt my eyes widen fearfully, “The… Alpha…? Like the Alpha?”

The pair of them nodded, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“You really didn’t know?” the woman asked, “Wow… You must be oblivious. He’s only the most famous werewolf in the whole fucking world.”

My face warmed with shame and anxiety. The Alpha...what the fuck?

“He probably overheard that they’re a virgin,” the man commented to the woman.

“Really?” she looked at me, brow furrowed, “You’re a virgin?”

“I’ve… never had sex,” I whispered.

“Fuck,” the woman groaned, “If I’d known that was all it’d take to get the Alpha’s attention, I would’ve saved myself.”

My face burned further.

The werewolf that had laid claim to me returned to the car, walking straight towards me. He held his hand out to me.

As I looked up at him, really looked at him, I realized I did recognize him. I’d seen him on the news plenty of times. I just hadn't been expecting to see him there.

“Come with me, pup,” he said, his voice soft.

The humans beside me gave me a look of jealousy and disbelief.

I swallowed hard and placed my hand within his. He helped me to my feet and started leading me to the door at the back of the train car. My breathing was rough and ragged. The Alpha. The fucking Alpha. I barely saw where we were going as he led the way through the train. He kept a steadying hand on me as I rocked with the train’s movements.

Then we were in a private room. A surprisingly large bed for it being on a train took up a large amount of the space. My heart raced in fear as I eyed the bed, but he pulled me past it and into a bathroom, also unexpectedly large for being on a train. Suddenly, he held me close, pressing his nose into my neck and inhaling deeply. When he pulled away, he had a frown on his face.

“You smell of other wolves,” he told me and he gestured at the shower, “Bathe thoroughly.”

“P-please, sir,” I looked up at him with wide eyes, “I… I shouldn’t be here.”

“Regardless, you are here and for the next four days, you belong to me, pup,” he said in a firm but not unkind voice. “Please do not make this more difficult than it needs to be. Shower and there will be clean clothes waiting for you.”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Left with no real choice, I showered. Keeping in mind what he said about the scent of other werewolves, I made sure to wash my neck thoroughly where the other man had nibbled. I also took the time to wash away the evidence of my arousal between my legs. Of which there was an embarrassing amount.

Once I felt clean, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. Then I realized… I didn’t have any clothes to put on in the bathroom. My werewolf-scented clothes were there, but I knew the Alpha wouldn’t be happy about that. My only option was to step into the bedroom and hope there were clothes waiting for me there.

They were, but the Alpha was also there. He was on his cell phone, speaking a language I didn’t understand. When he saw me emerge, he said a quick goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the conversation and hung up. He gestured to a small stack of clothing on the bed.

“Dress,” he ordered, “Quickly, please. We have somewhere to be.”

I swallowed hard and moved towards the bed. The Alpha’s head was ducked as he did some typing on his phone. Steeling myself, I grabbed the shirt from the stack and tried to keep the towel firmly around me as I maneuvered to attempt to dress.

I heard the Alpha heave a sigh and then suddenly he was moving towards me. I tried to back away, but I hit a wall and then the Alpha was there, his hand gripping the towel I clutched around me. I tried to hold on to it, to keep him from pulling it off, but to no avail. The towel was yanked from my body and I struggled to cover myself with my hands. He dropped the towel and gripped one of my wrists, holding it up so I couldn’t use that hand to cover myself.

“There,” he said simply, “I have seen you naked. No need to complicate things to avoid this outcome now, is there?”

I didn’t respond, I just struggled against his hold, trying to free my wrist.

“Is there?” he repeated more firmly.

I stilled and said in a quiet voice, “No, sir.”

He released me, “Good pup. Now dress. As I said, we have somewhere to be.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied weakly.

He gave a nod and then moved away, resuming typing on his cell phone.

I dressed as quickly as possible, grateful that the man didn’t look at me again while I did so.

“Good,” he said, pocketing his phone and then offering me his arm, “Shall we?”

I wanted to scream “no!” in his face, but that wouldn’t do any good, so I nodded and moved to his side, holding his arm as he led the way out of the room. We went into the dining car and the Alpha gestured for me to sit beside him at a large table. There were lots of other werewolves sat there, and only a few of my fellow contracted humans.

Food was delivered to us. Mostly meat based, from what I saw. Which made sense, with all the werewolves.

My stomach was too tense to eat much. And as much as I tried to ignore the conversation around me, I still heard some of it.

“Alpha, you’re really not worried about the vampires rising in the north?” a woman werewolf asked, who had a human woman at her side.

“We have people keeping an eye on them, Delilah,” he responded, “As a whole, however, I do not believe vampires present a threat to us.”

“They threaten humans,” a man argued.

“Not as much as the news would have you believe. How many humans kill humans every day?” the Alpha asked, “The numbers of vampire on human violence feel high because the news reports on every single attack broadly when the reality is that they kill far fewer humans on average than humans kill each other.”

“So a few human deaths at the hands of vampires are acceptable?” another questioned.

“Not at all. I only mean to say that vampires as a species are not a threat to werewolves or humans. The violence, whether it be vampires against humans or humans against humans, needs to be addressed. I have formed a committee of vampires, werewolves, and humans to discuss what can be done. We are investigating the causes of vampire attacks on humans and learning how we can prevent them.”

“Killing all vampires would do it,” someone pointed out.

“Indeed, it would,” the Alpha agreed gravely, “Just as killing all humans would cease their attacks on werewolves. Do you suggest we commit genocide for the acts of a few individuals?”

The person flushed and didn’t respond.

“As I said,” the Alpha continued, “Vampires as a whole are not a danger to us. Everyone on an individual basis has the capability of committing horrendous acts, but those actions should not condemn their entire species.”

The conversation drifted away from vampires as I starred at the nearly full plate of food in front of me, stomach churning.

“You are not hungry?” the Alpha asked me softly.

“No, sir,” I replied in a whisper.

“You should at least drink some water,” he said, moving my glass closer to me before taking my plate and emptying it onto his.

I took the glass and drank a few sips before setting it back down.

The Alpha gave a weary sigh, shaking his head, “More, please, pup.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered, a little bitterly, as grabbed the glass again, drinking more deeply.

“Good, pup,” he said softly.

My cheeks warmed under his praise.

He returned to speaking to others at the table and I obediently continued sipping my drink, realizing I was indeed quite thirsty.

After a while, the people dispersed from the table. The Alpha helped me up, but instead of letting me walk, he scooped me into his arms. I gave a small yelp of surprise, which earned a chuckle from him. I didn’t bother complaining. It wouldn’t do any good.

He carried me into another car, where the werewolves had settled down with their human companions. I tried to avert my eyes from the sexual acts being preformed shamelessly, but I couldn’t help glancing. A werewolf had their cock down a human’s throat. Another werewolf was fingering open a human’s pussy lazily. When I saw a human bent over a table, a werewolf plowing into them with a strap on, I finally buried my face in the Alpha’s shoulder, closing my eyes.

I felt him chuckle as he moved to sit in one of the chairs, cradling me to his chest. My body buzzed with nerves as I expected him to start fucking me like the other werewolves were doing to their humans.

“Quite the cutie you’ve got there, boss,” someone said.

“Indeed,” the Alpha agreed, running his hand up my thigh as he spoke, sending a shiver through me, “No companion for this trip, Leo?”

“All the good ones were taken,” the man sighed sadly, “There should be a rule that no one can have more than a single human on these trips. Delilah claimed two.”

“You could always ask her to share.”

The man raised an eyebrow, “It’s Delilah.”

The Alpha chuckled, giving my thigh a small pat, “Indeed. My apologies. You know the rules of the train are outside my jurisdiction, Leo.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re the Alpha,” the man persisted, “As if they’d refuse you anything.”

“As I understand it, they are still perfecting the system. You may lodge a complaint if you wish.”

“Won’t help me get my dick wet today,” the man grumbled.

“Indeed not,” the Alpha agreed gravely.

“You know I helped you out with those rogue packs in the west,” he said.

“You did,” the Alpha said slowly, “I am grateful for you assistance. It was invaluable.”

“Invaluable enough that you would let me have a taste of that cute little thing in your arms?” Leo asked.

I inhaled sharply and pressed closer to the Alpha, weirdly seeking safety in his arms despite the situation.

“I am glad to share many resources with you, Leo,” the Alpha replied coolly, “I will listen to any request you have that would improve your life and the lives of those in your territory. But this human is mine for the next four days and I have no intention of sharing them.”

I let out a breath of relief, my body relaxing.

“Of course, Alpha,” the man said quickly, “Sorry. I… My apologies.”

“No harm done. It never hurts to ask,” the Alpha replied, “I do hope you find company on this trip, my friend.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said before retreating.

“Are you alright, pup?” the Alpha murmured, stroking my cheek.

I pulled back so I could look up at him, “You’re not gonna share me?”

“No, I will not,” he said firmly, “You are mine.”

Something about the way he said that made me shiver. I glanced around the room. Lots of clothes had come off and more than a few pairs, or larger groups, were outright fucking. Yet the Alpha hadn’t done more than hold me.

“Are… are you going to do…” I swallowed and nodded to one of the nearer groups, “that… to me…?”

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, “Not here. Not in front of everyone, pup.”

I let out a breath of relief, though it was mitigated by the implication that he still would do it. That said, it was good to know that my violation wouldn’t be a public spectacle.

“Then… why are we here?” I asked in a small voice.

“Would you rather go back to my room now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” I said a little to loudly and quickly. I shrunk, feeling my face warm.

He chuckled and rubbed my thigh gently, “We are here for business purposes. I am waiting for someone to arrive, but they are running late. You are free to enjoy the show in the meantime.”

I glared at him and looked away from the groups of fucking people.

“You are not going to lean against me again?” he asked, sounding hurt, “I quite enjoyed that.”

“Sorry if your pleasure isn’t top of my priorities,” I muttered.

He gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. For a second, I thought he was angry, but he was smiling.

“Good,” he stated, “I like your fire, pup.”

Before I could respond, someone approached, “Alpha. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not a problem,” the Alpha released my chin and gestured to the chair beside him, “I missed you at lunch.”

“You looked occupied,” they said as they took their seat, “I’ve never seen you with a human on these trips. This one must be pretty special.”

“Perhaps,” the Alpha said, “Though I admit, I usually am far too busy to even notice the offerings.”

“I can relate to that. Makes me glad I have a permanent human companion ready and waiting at home.”

“Did you wish to discuss humans or the trade routes from your territory, Rose?”

“My apologies, Alpha. One of our grain suppliers is short this season and…”

I didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation. My eyes were drawn again to the werewolves fucking their humans all around us. I wondered at how or even why they would choose to have such an important meeting in a room clearly designated for sex. Though, I couldn’t help but notice how the werewolf, Rose, seemed to be enjoying watching the proceedings while they discussed their territory’s food supply.

While watching the other werewolves enjoying themselves, I felt the Alpha’s hand firm on my thigh, rubbing circles there. Even though it wasn’t between my legs, like the previous werewolf had done, I still felt arousal build.

I had an internal debate. There were basically two options. I could fight the Alpha, not let myself get aroused or enjoy it, and he would still probably take me. Or I could give in to the excitement I felt building between my legs, which would make it easier for him to fuck me and probably make it less painful. I didn’t know which option I’d be able to live with after the four days were up.

“Thank you, Rose,” the Alpha said, beginning to rise as he cradled me in his arms. “I will set the plans in motion right away. The wolves in your territory will not go hungry.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” they said, giving a bow.

The Alpha carried me through the train cars, back to his room. I felt fear grip my heart. Once we were in his room, he set me down on my feet.

“Ah, good,” he said, “Your things were delivered here.”

“My… my things?” I sputtered, rushing over to where my two travel cases were.

But the Alpha beat me to it. He lifted one of the suitcases up onto a table and unzipped it.

“Please don’t,” I said, “That’s… that’s mine. It’s private.”

He turned and raised an eyebrow at me, “Not on this train, pup.” He returned his attention to the travel case as he filled it open. “You seem to have planned an extended trip.”

“Stay out of that,” I said, moving and reaching to grab the case. My words were cut off when the Alpha wrapped a hand around my throat. Automatically, I gripped his wrist in both my hands, fruitlessly trying to pry him off me.

“What exactly do you not wish for me to find, pup?” he asked, his voice soft but with a dangerous edge.

“You… you have no right,” I choked out. His hand wasn’t squeezing tightly, but I found I was having trouble speaking under his harsh gaze.

“You signed away your rights,” he reminded me, “Now go sit on the bed.”

I glared up at him for several long moments before dropping my gaze and letting go of his wrist. Once I did, he released my throat. I rubbed my neck automatically as I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, watching fearfully as the werewolf dug through my belongings.

He systematically pulled out all my clothes, folding them and setting them aside. I couldn’t help that spread over flush of my face as he got to my underwear. I didn’t have fancy underwear or anything, but it still felt extremely invasive. To his credit, he didn’t make any lewd comments. He set the articles of clothing aside just as he had the rest.

When he finished going through the first travel case, he put everything back and moved on to the next. I shuffled uncomfortably as he unzipped it. Immediately, he raised an eyebrow. He reached into the case and pulled out a wand vibrator before looking at me questioning.

“You have a problem with vibrators?” I asked stiffly.

“Not at all,” he said with a chuckle, setting the device aside, “But my husband would chide you for buying such poor quality.”

“Husband?” I demanded, “You’re… married?”

He frowned at me, “That is hardly a secret. Many of your kind were upset to learn I was married to man.”

“Sorry, I don’t keep up with werewolf gossip,” I muttered, “I have more important things to do.”

“Clearly,” he nodded towards my travel case, “You packed quite thoroughly. Where are you going?”

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.

“Or perhaps I should ask from what you are running,” he mused, “Regardless…” he returned my things to the case, “It seems you truly are just a traveler.”

“Did… did you think I was lying?” I asked, confused.

“I wondered if you had been sent to assassinate me,” he said, zipping up the case and setting it back on the ground.

“Why would I do that? And why me?”

He faced me, arms crossed as he frowned thoughtfully, “You truly did not know who I was, did you?”

I looked away, embarrassed.

“How did you come to be here, pup?”

“I’m not a pup,” I said through clench teeth.

“Answer the question.”

“I… I needed a way to get across the country,” I muttered, “But I didn’t have enough money. This lady said there was a free train, I just had to sign a bunch of stuff. It was leaving soon, so I didn’t have time to read the contract and…”

“And now here you are.”

“Lucky me.”

“You are indeed getting a free train ride across the country.”

“Not free if I have to pay with my body.”

“A fair point,” he inclined his head, “Were you telling Robert the truth? You are virgin?”

I grimaced, “Not a fan of that word.”

He chuckled, “Then you and my husband would get along well. You are sexually inexperienced?”

I nodded reluctantly.

“I take it you are not unfamiliar with pleasure,” he said, nodding towards my travel case.

“Whatever you’re gonna do, why not just do it?” I demanded, “Get it over with.”

The Alpha raised an eyebrow, “I have no intention of rushing this. After all, it is your first time. I want to make it memorable.”

“I think my virginity being taken against my will by the Alpha werewolf will be pretty fucking memorable.”

He smiled, “For me, I mean.”

I glared at him.

“There is that fire,” he said, stepping towards me, “You are cute when you are scared and submissive, but I like your defiance.”

“Not used to people not bending to your every whim, Alpha?” I asked spitefully.

“Good,” he breathed, moving closer until he was right in front of me. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my face up, “Do you have more to say, pup?”

I breathed heavily, struggling for another cutting remark, but nothing came.

“A pity. Now will you undress yourself or shall I do it for you?”

I swallowed hard. And there we came to my choice… Did I made it easier on us all? Or did I fight him the whole way?

He waited patiently for my answer, as if he knew what debate was raging in my head.

“Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

“I will not hurt you, pup,” the Alpha said, his voice soft and gentle, “And if you allow yourself, you will enjoy it as well.”

“I don’t want to,” I said, feeling tears sting my eyes. “Please, Alpha.”

He didn’t say anything. He ducked down and pressed a kiss to my forehead before pushing me backwards to lay on the bed. I went without fighting him, struggling to keep my tears from falling. Once I was on my back, the Alpha pulled my shoes off and then gripped the waistband of my pants. I stared up at the ceiling as he pulled down my pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

“Hmm,” he rumbled, his warm hand finding my bare center, “You are positively soaked.”

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth.

“I know better than to say this means you want this,” he told me, his thick warm thumb rubbing slow circles over my clit as I forced myself to stay silent, “It is a natural reaction to stimuli and has nothing to do with what you do or do not want. It will, however, make this easier.”

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as he pressed a finger into me.

“Have you ever had something inside you before?” the Alpha asked, his voice low and husky as his finger swirled with me slowly.

“Y-yes,” I choked out, my hands in tight fists on the bedsheets as I fought to stay still.

“Good,” he murmured, his hands leaving my pussy and traveling under my shirt, pushing it up to expose my belly. “Solo explorations, I imagine?”

“Just fuck me already,” I ground out.

He smiled, “There is that fire.”

I glared at him as he pulled my shirt off, over my head, leaving me completely bare. He hands ran up and down my sides, taking the time to run his thumbs over my stiffening nipples. I couldn’t suppress my shudder at the sensation.

Then he pulled back and began undoing the buttons of his shirt, “Play with yourself.”

“W-what?” I stuttered, sitting up and scooting back away from him on the bed.

“Pleasure yourself,” he said, “I want to see what you enjoy.”

“Why do you care what I enjoy?” I demanded, my voice more weary than angry, “This isn’t that complicated. I’m already… prepped. Just fuck me and be done.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You are not nearly prepared enough for me, pup.”

My eyes widened in horror at the implication of his words. I automatically glanced down at the bulge in his pants and swallowed dryly.

“I will make sure you can take me before I fuck you,” he said, “You can ease that along. If you truly wish for this to be over quickly, touch yourself. Show me what brings you pleasure.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, “Fine, but… I only ever use a vibrator.”

“You never use your fingers?” he asked.

“Not on… on my clit. It doesn’t feel as good.”

“Hmm,” he said, shrugging off his shirt and folding it before setting it aside. “Still, I want to see you finger yourself. Please, pup.”

I couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of his shirtless torso. He looked sizable with the suit on, but without it, I could see he was a large man. Chewing my lip anxiously, I reached down between my legs.

Fuck, I was wet. Way more so than I got in my quick vibrator sessions. I was soaking the bed sheets beneath me. At the feeling of my fingers on my clit, I let out a small moan.

“Good pup,” he murmured. His words reminded me that he was there and I quickly pulled my hand away, my face flushing.

The Alpha was fully bare, having finished undressing while I touched myself. My eyes were drawn immediately to his half hard cock. I didn’t have much, if any, experience with real penises but it looked intimidatingly large.

“Did I tell you to stop?” the Alpha asked, his hand wrapping around his length as he slowly began stroking himself.

“Please don’t do this,” I begged.

He frowned and stepped closer to the bed. I started to back away, but he gripped my ankle and dragged me towards him.

“No!” I tried to kick at him, but before I could land a hit, he was on me, his waist between my thighs, his heavy torso on mine, and his hands pinning my wrists to the bed. I felt his large, burning hot cock resting against my pelvis.

“If I need to restrain you, I shall,” he warned in a low voice, “Is this what you want, pup?”

A shudder ran through me. My body was reacting to his words and the feeling of his weight pressing down on me, the strength of him holding me still.

“Hmm,” he raised a curious eyebrow, “Perhaps you do indeed enjoy it.”

He moved my wrists to above my head so he could hold them in a single hand. His newly free hand ran down my body, stroking my breasts, my belly, and finally settling between my legs. I struggled against his hold as he began gently rubbing circles over my clit.

“Please don’t,” I begged in a small voice.

The Alpha ignored my plea and ducked his head to my neck. First he inhaled deeply and then he nibbled at my neck, biting down gently. At the sensation I stilled and whimpered.

“Good pup.” he murmured against my neck and then he pressed a finger into me, while his thumb continued to work my clit. The Alpha continued to nibble and bite my neck.

My back arched off the bed as I felt his thick finger swirl within me.

“You are quite tight,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “Have you had anything my size before?”

I swallowed hard and squeaked out, “N-no… I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he replied and I felt him press a second finger into me.

I winced at the stretch. It was borderline painful.

“Relax,” he ordered, pulling back to look into my eyes as he finger fucked me, “Give in and this will be much easier for you.”

“Easier for you to assault me?” I said through clenched teeth.

He curled his fingers upward as his thumb pressed hard against my clit, making me let out a long moan as I felt an orgasm fast approaching.

“I will enjoy this regardless,” he told me, “You can enjoy it if you allow yourself.”

“St-stop,” I begged, my hips moving of their own accord as I neared the edge. “D-don’t!”

He released my wrists, instead using his hand to grab my breast, giving it a rough squeeze as he thrust his fingers against my g-spot.

“Fuck…” I moaned out, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, my hands grappling at his arm for something to hold as pleasure washed over my body against my will. I felt my pussy convulsing rhythmically around his fingers as he continued to gently rub my clit, drawing out my orgasm.

He looked down at me as I panted, recovering from the experience, his fingers still deep inside me, his eyes full of lust.

“Am… am I wet enough for you now, Alpha?” I hissed with as much spite as I could in my breathless state.

“Hmm,” he mused, moving his fingers within me, making me whimper at the over-stimulation, “I think you may be. Do you feel ready for me, pup?”

“Just do it. Get it over with.”

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling his fingers from me and instead gripping his cock, stroking it and spreading my arousal on himself, “Would you like for me to take you like this?” he rubbed the head of his cock against my pussy.

I squirmed at the sensation.

“Or should I turn you over and fuck you from behind.”

My pussy clenched at his words and he smiled.

“From behind it is,” he said and before I could react, he grabbed me, and flipped me over.

“Hey!” I protested, starting to get up, but he pressed his hand between my shoulder blades, forcing my face into the mattress. I shudder ran through me at the sensation of being pinned, his body pressing close behind me.

His other hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it to rub through my folds, soaking him in my juices.

“Please, wait,” I begged breathlessly, fear suddenly gripping me, “N-not yet. Please, Alpha.”

“What happened to ‘get it over with’?” he asked, sounding amused.

“I’m not ready,” I said, feeling tears start to soak through the blanket under my cheek.

“Do you wish for me to prepare you further?”

I swallowed hard and said, “Y-yes. Please.”

“Good pup,” he murmured, his hand moving between my legs, his fingers entering me again.

With the new position, it felt different, eliciting a whimper from me. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to force my body to relax, to let him in. I didn’t want it to hurt. I didn’t want it to be more painful than it had to be.

“You are doing well,” the Alpha told me, the hand on my back beginning to rub soothing circles there, rather than holding me down.

The praise went straight between my legs, sending strange tingles of pleasure through me.

He worked three fingers into me, gently moving in and out, filling the air with lewd squelching noises. I felt a second orgasm beginning to build in my belly. I knew that if I managed to cum again, my inner muscles would tighten and penetration would be difficult for a time afterwards. I didn’t want to test his patience by asking him to wait longer.

“Okay,” I spoke up, my voice shaky. I hated myself for being party to my violation, but I knew it would be worse if I wasn’t, “I… I think I’m ready…”

“Good pup,” he said, bending over me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder, “Try to relax. I will be gentle.”

He ran a soothing hand over my back before he resumed rubbing his cock against me, lubricating it. Then he lined himself with my entrance and pressed forward. As I felt the stretch, fear overwhelmed me.

“No!” I started to struggle, but his hand came quickly down on my back, pressing me flat against the bed.

“Stay still,” he ordered, “I do not wish to hurt you, pup.”

My hands tightened into fists around the blanket beneath me as tears blurred my vision. He continued to enter me slowly and I felt myself open around him, molding to his shape. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt foreign and uncomfortable inside me.

Behind me, I heard him groan in pleasure. He didn’t stop until I felt his pelvis flush against my ass. Then he stilled, his breathing ragged. After a moment, he reached between my legs and rubbed my clit.

“Oh!” I gasped out, my pussy twitching around him at the sensation.

And then he moved. He pulled back slowly, all the while his fingers worked my clit. Before he was fully out, he pushed gently back in. The sensation of him reentering me smoothly and the stimulation of my clit pulled a moan from my lips.

He slowly built up speed, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting forward. He couldn’t keep up pleasuring me while he moved. He instead gripped my hip, one hand still pinning me to the bed while the other provided him with more leverage.

Little sounds of pleasure escaped me every time he thrust back into my pussy. Without really thinking about it, I reached down to play with my own clit, needing that stimulation to truly enjoy the feeling of him fucking me.

“Good pup,” he grunted.

I gave a small pleased whine at his words, happy with the praise. It sent zings of pleasure through me.

With his large cock opening me up, stimulating nerves I hadn’t know existed, and my hand rubbing my clit, it didn’t take long for my second orgasm to hit me. I moaned openly into the blankets under my face, my free hand knotting in them as my pussy clenched and convulsed around the Alpha.

He muttered something in a language I didn’t recognize, but his meaning was clear. He was close as well. He fucked me roughly before pressing forward, his cock twitching within me as I felt a warmth filling me.

He panted, his body curling over mine as he used one arm to brace himself against the bed.

The Alpha kissed my shoulder and murmured breathlessly, “You did well, my pup.”

I hummed contently, wiggling my hips against him. He groaned and held me still. He slowly pulled out and I winced at the loss. I felt his cum drip out of me and run down my legs.

Very carefully, he lifted me into his arms and I leaned my head against his bare chest. He gave a low chuckle that vibrated my body as he moved onto the bed. The Alpha reached for something beside the bed and then pressed a warm, damp cloth between my legs.

I grimaced and squirmed uncomfortably.

“Sshh, pup,” he soothed, “Let me take care of you.”

I relaxed, melting in his arms as he cleaned the mess from between my legs. When he was done, he put the cloth away and kissed my forehead.

“You were wonderful,” he murmured, cradling me to him.

I blinked quickly, the fog of pleasure receding from my head. My breathing sped up.

“Pup?” he questioned, sounding concerned.

“I’m… not your pup,” I whispered, wiggling to try to get out of his arms, but he tightened his hold.

“For the duration of this trip, you are,” he reminded me, “You belong to me, pup.”

“Fuck you,” I said, pushing weakly against his chest, “Let me go.”

He chuckled and gripped my chin, raising my face to look up at him, “There is that fire again.”

I jerked my chin free and glared at him.

“You cannot honestly deny that you enjoyed this,” he told me, “You gave yourself to me freely.”

“Because fighting you would hurt more,” I countered.

“Perhaps. I do not believe that is the full truth. Did I hurt you, pup?”

I swallowed hard and reluctantly said, “No.”

“Good,” he replied, “If I do, I wish for you to tell me.”

“Why does it matter?” I demanded, “You’re gonna fuck me no matter what.”

“I will do what I can to minimize your discomfort. You did well asking me to prepare you further. If you continue to cooperate in that way, we both shall greatly enjoy the remainder of our time together.”

“I’m used goods now, though,” I pointed out, “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You believe that was your appeal to me?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Not in the way you think. I have no plans to toss you aside now.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to fuck you again,” he said simply, “I want you to cum on my cock over and over until you are incoherent.”

I swallowed dryly, my eyes wide.

“For now, however,” he began, “I think you should rest. We have two more nights together and after such an intense experience, I believe you need time to recover.”

His words made me truly process it… I’d had sex. Concerned, I reached a hand between my legs, as if to reassure myself that I was unharmed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “Are you in pain?”

I shook my head, “No, but… was there blood?” I asked in a small voice.

His expression shifted into a kind smile, “No, pup. There was no blood.”

I let out a breath of relief. All my life, I’d been told my first time would be filled with blood and pain, but… it wasn’t. Whether that was due to my previous dildo usage or the Alpha’s thorough preparation, I didn’t know.

“Sleep, little one,” he murmured, kissing my forehead, “You are safe and cared for here.”

“I think we have different ideas of what safe means,” I mumbled, but I leaned my forehead against his shoulder regardless.

“Perhaps we do. Still, you can rest easy knowing I shall not touch you again tonight.”

[daryltwdixon]

Hihi! I’m here with some writer’s asks (sorry if it’s a lot 😅)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Thank you sm for the love 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

when I was part of the 1d fandom in 2012ish I wrote a tonnnn of fanfiction on my blog 😅 I had no business writing and reading so much filth

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

oy vey. Honestly, id give it like a 6, it’s not terrible but rereading the same thing over and over again will make me crazy after awhile LMAO I do like it cause I’ll write a pretty basic outline of a scene out then go in and fill in where I can to add layers and texture!!

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

@chockholdsillegal not saying we’d be great at covering our tracks but this my homie right here (and your job might help us be able to get rid of evidence in a way other people don’t have access to 🤔)

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

forever and always will rec @heathermason6060 like holy shit their Matchmaker Merle pt 1??? Serial killer rick and daryl??? 🧑‍🍳💋

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@weirdoneattheparty your internet sleuthing is incredible and more people need to appreciate the work it takes for the shit you are able to dig up

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

I like reader inserts ! Writing them and reading them personally! Like partially yes I am the character but also they are their own character at the same time w a totally different lore than me and putting myself in their shoes is just as fun. Like would I make all the decisions fmc would? No but im not about to complain about a character acting morally gray or making bad decisions cause if they didn’t there would literally be no plot lmao

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

speaking of lore hmm you want like normal? I own my own pet sitting business on the east coast in the US :) I’m also a surrogate baby and have a bunch of half sibs that I’m close with now as an adult!

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

slide into them DMs and let’s be friends OR if you reblog good stories or write interesting stuff! I also follow people who regularly comment on my writing cause I love you sm

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

here’s a screenshot of something I saved for Heart of Us inspo! I have a long note of drabbles of dialogue / scene ideas and screenshots of things I find so this one was from tik tok

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

god as cliche as it is I love a good and juicy love triangle. I also love when reader/fmc is able to handle herself and is tough as nails. I mean I’m literally writing the fanfic I want to see so idk what else but also I love @heathermason6060 because she writes an amazingly desperate and needy daryl so whenever I need a hit of that to my system I go to her ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

honestly I love any and all comments when they’re kind! But esp when someone is like “holy shit” lmao or even just a really nice “can’t stop reading this” or “so glad I found this” I’m telling you comments make my day and make me want to keep writing!! I love any and all!! ❤️

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

ooof… well I’m gonna go with a character I hate at this exact moment in my rewatch which is Eugene. Let me complain then I’ll say something nice. EUGENE YOU WERE SO EASY TO MAKE THE FLIP TO NEGAN YOU ASSHOLE WTF. Ok nice things he’s v smart for someone who was a liar / fraud he still knows how to do SO MUCH !!! He also was v kind when he told negan’s wives he knew they were there not of their own volition and didn’t want to take advantage of them. I also understand why he flipped to negan so readily because they treated him so freaking well and he was always being ridiculed and told he wasn’t enough back w his old group!

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

Other than the obvious in watching the show, god I love music. Whenever I hear a good lyric I’m like oh shit I need to base an entire story around that or the feeling music will give I’m like this is how daryl would feel or fmc would feel when this and that happen!! Poetry is also a huge one, as seen above with my recent screenshot to my notes.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

when I’ve been on tumblr before I knew short and sweet is usually best, and the fact twd fit so well into Daryl Dixon I said let’s try this lmao and it worked!! So now I am Daryl the walking Dixon lmao

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

this goes for books/novels as well. You need to show me how a character is feeling, show me the scenery, the atmosphere instead of TELLING me. My favorite example of this comes from Harry Potter which does way better to explain than I could writing out everything:

Instead of “Harry started crying”, in GOF it says “The thing against which [Harry] had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.”

This goes for atmosphere/scenery too! What the heck are the smells! The sounds! What does it feel like!! So whenever fanfic or books do nothing to embellish any feelings I usually click out or DNF

[ghostoffuturespast]

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress. 

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

VP

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped. 

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager. 

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more. 

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give. 

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.

[cloudymilk04]

Story of a slumber party spook (+ Baldwin somehow)

Tagging @i-cant-sing because their Time Traveler fic indirectly became part of this story and this is probably too long to simply tell in an ask or something. Buckle up for the ride, I’ll also add screenshots at the end of my friend and I joking about this event, Baldwin’s in general, or that TT fic.

Let's set the scene. It was around a month ago when I had a big sleepover with my three best friends (+ my cat) as my family was going to be gone for the weekend. We'll call my best friends Anna, Rose, and Julie (not their real names, all random names they picked).

For some much needed background, Anna and I are big Baldwin IV fans. I'm the only one who has Tumblr and uses it actively so whenever I see something on here relating to him, I'll screenshot and send it to her. However, we both really like the Time Traveler fic by the previously tagged user so whenever there's a new part, I'll message her and read it while telling her what's going on (often feels like watching drama go down while texting your friend about it).

We have an inside joke that we're actually the best of buddies with Baldwin, (as a side note, she’s the one drawn with me and him in my last post) which is why when the time for the sleepover came up, I said something like, "Imagine if we're all partying down and we hear a knock on the door but when we open it, Baldwin comes waltzing in." and just joking about him coming to our slumber party.

Hours passed and time came for everyone to come over. We hung out for a little bit until night fell and we started to get hungry. We decided to get food and bring it back to the house but Rose (the driver) also needed to get something from her grandma's on the way there. Realizing that it would be a lot of trouble to load all four of us into the car, we chose for two of us to go and bring the stuff back and the other two to stay. I had referenced earlier about going to the basement to workout and Anna asked if she could come along too, so we agreed that Anna and I would be the ones to stay behind and wait for Rose and Julie.

I asked how we would be sure to know they had arrived if we were in the basement. Considering it was night time, I didn't want them waiting out there too long and with us being down there, I wasn't sure if we'd hear their knocking. Julie said that she'd call or text when they were getting close to my house so we could be back upstairs by the time they pulled up. We all agreed to the plan and went our separate ways. Rose and Julie leave while Anna and I go to the basement.

I showed her our equipment for a little bit and Anna came up with an idea to film ourselves working out but leave a space for us to edit in Baldwin afterwards to make it look like he's getting his gains with us (this detail comes up later). After this, a few minutes pass and we stop just to stand and chit chat about random stuff when we hear, clear as day, a knocking from upstairs.

It sounded like someone had knocked on the door. We both looked at each other confused and I said, "Is that them?"

She responded with, "I guess?" I didn't wanna leave them waiting so I asked Anna to turn off the lights behind us as we're going upstairs and commented that it's weird Julie didn't text or call. I walk upstairs and notice through the dining room window that it doesn't look like Rose's car is out there. I walk to the front door and there's no one there and so, in the most calm voice I can muster, I call out to Anna that they're not there (later she told me that her heart dropped when I said that).

It should be mentioned that my house doesn't have a back door, but instead, a side door. The side door leads out to a closed off porch. While you can get to the porch from the outside through a door, I knew it was locked so no one could even get to the side door, much less be on that porch.

Anyways, we're standing together and feeling nervous. I checked my phone and noticed I didn't get a Life360 notification either. I'm trying to make sense of it all so I asked if she heard the same thing I did, knocking coming from upstairs. She said yes and confirmed that it was very clear. I remembered how earlier I had joked about Baldwin knocking on the door and so, to lighten the mood, I started being like "Man, Baldwin just wanted to join the party" and "Did he have to show up in such a foreboding way??"

A couple minutes passed as I looked through the windows to see if I could see anyone. Anna and I go to stand in front of the couch when we hear a loud thump come from the side porch. It sounded almost like someone threw their body against it, so I pushed Anna away from the door and quickly said, "I think someone's out there." and had us stand behind the couch.

Right at the moment we heard the thump though, Julie called (very poor timing really). When Anna answered, Julie only said, "Be on the lookout." before hanging up. Which, I should add, was unknowingly the worst thing to have been told at that moment. We talk about how we gotta watch out for two separate things and we stay huddled together behind the couch frantically looking out the windows for either Rose's car or some person or ghost trying to break in.

About 30 seconds passed and we saw them pull up, so I told Anna to wait inside while I go check to see if the side porch door is open and to tell Rose and Julie about what's going on. I go outside and check only to see that the door still looked closed. I give the other two a quick run down and Rose, with a determined look, hands Julie the food, straightens her back, grabs her purse with her pepper spray, and starts speeding off towards the side of the house saying she's gonna check around the place. I quickly asked, "Do you need a weapon??"

She just goes "No" before skedaddling off. Julie and I bring the food in before explaining to Anna what Rose is doing. A minute or so passed before she came back in, saying that no one was out there and wanting more details on what happened. Anna and I explain further and we agree that there probably wouldn't have been enough time for someone to just completely run away and have no one see them.

She also goes to the side porch and checks it out while confirming that it was still locked. Everything's in order.

To get rid of the tension again, I started joking with Anna that it was actually Baldwin's ghost showing up to join the party and that when we go back to watch the workout basement video we took earlier, that we might see an orb floating in Baldwin's spot. I also say that the thump outside must’ve been him falling over since we left him standing out there for too long.

The rest of the night went smoothly and we all had fun, took Julie a bit to feel at ease though (she gets scared easily :( ). Also my cat is completely okay he’s a grumpy old guy so he was chilling in my room asleep

In the end, here's the screenshots of us talking tried to put them in some sort of conversational order, can only put ten pics though. Purple is me, red is “Anna”

[snapdragonsimming]

Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut

(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.

So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.

I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.

Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)

-

PRAISING HIM!

Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.

When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.

Read more about their family below!

-

Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!

Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!

You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.

-

Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.

Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!

The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. “If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”

Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.

Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.

The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.

If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family, click here to send a message!

[lux-scriptum]

Re-Re-Introductory Post

Hi! My name is Lucas (Luc or Lux works just fine!). I use he/him pronouns. I’m 26, and I’ve been writing for well over a decade now. I’ve had this blog since 2015, and I have no plans on leaving any time soon. I enjoy talking about my projects, my current character hyperfixation, and offering any nuggets of wisdom my years of writing may have produced.

I write fantasy of all flavors. While urban fantasy is my leaning, I have a couple high fantasy projects as well. My favorite thing to do is something I affectionately call frankengenres. (Perhaps a misnomer, but a fun word.) My casts are all queer of some flavor. I adore worldbuilding, with fondness for finding a reason to add wings to characters (leftover from my obsession with angels and demons), and building all new god pantheons. I like to play with concepts in my writing like morality, and trauma both personal and generational, and healing, and turning into creatures, and anything else I might be processing between therapy sessions. All of my writing is tagged under my writing, and usually the character name/project name.

My big projects I’m likely to talk about are Personal Demons, Ichor (godsuckers), Dragonmarked, or Give Me Ur Eyes (temporary title). My minor projects are many, but the ones I can remember at the moment are the Warped wip, the polyam supernatural wip, the witchy nun story, the twisted trio, opulent dreamer, tons of aus and such, and technically Lev n Fax, tho that one is “complete” in theory. Might edit it up one day if I end up self-publishing PD, since it (and a few of my minor projects) are in the same universe. Also, me and @fragmentedink wrote Hell to Pay as a collab au, and we’re in theory working on the second generation right now.

If you find my old introductory post, you’ll see that I said I had dyslexia, but in January of 2020 I went to get fully diagnosed and it turns out I just have severe ADHD that was making it hard for me to read. I was supposed to get diagnosed with autism via a specialist for adults and I... did not follow through.

I do ask you don’t tag me in tag games. I have really bad anxiety, and even though I know no one gets mad that I don’t fill them out, I still stress an awful lot when I can’t fill them out. I just don’t have the time or the energy.

My askbox is always open though! I take prompts constantly, and you’re free to ask me anything. I tend to get on at night more than daytime when it comes to asks, but I’ll get around to them eventually!

I don’t currently have an FAQ, but hey, that might be a thing in the future, I don’t know. We’ll see. There doesn’t seem to be a need just yet. Also I procrastinate real bad. 

My cat’s name is Luna, and she’s fat and I love her. If you want to see her, her tag is Luna at large.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Rewrite line

Thanks to @mk-writes-stuff here and @splashinkling here, and @somethingclevermahogony here.

Rules: rewrite your given line and post the new one!

Optional variant: it's your last line

MK's line:

For once, she wasn’t even thinking about them. She had a plan. She was going to make this work, and everything was going to go perfectly. She was going to get her magic back with Cassiopeia’s help, her parents would name her the heir, and everything would be absolutely fine.

The tense feeling in her chest would just have to be quiet.

My rewrite:

For what seemed like the first time in her life, she wasn't thinking about them. Instead, that newly-free space in her mind was formulating a plan.

She was going to make this work. Everything was going to work out perfectly.

She was going to get her magic back. She would get Cassiopeia's help to do so. Her parents will name her heir.

Everything would be fine. Perfect. The tense feeling in her chest would go away.

Ink's line:

Rylise rushed out of the castle. At ground-level, everyone scattered in fear, shouting, shoving, and attempting to carry as many of their belongings with them as they could. Some even scrounged up things that were left behind by others. Above, he finally saw what had been attacking them—a mix of physical cannonballs and magical fire-rain that set ablaze anything not made of stone or gem.

My rewrite:

As fast as he could, Rylise burst out of the castle, pausing when he reached the ground level, unexpectedly being greeted by a chaotic scene. Scattering all over his field of vision, everyone attempted to carry their belongings--shouting at others to move, shoving when they didn't, scrounging up things left behind in the mayhem.

Rylise looked up, and his eyes landed on their attacker. The sky was littered in magical fire-rain and physical cannonballs. And everything not made of stone or gem was in flames.

C's line:

Akard smiled to himself as he watched the seer descend into the earth, “Not at all, I don’t think I’ll be going back to Apuna, for quite some time.” Bazus chuckled, “That’s good, you’ll get to enjoy all the hospitality of my father’s city, come let's go talk to your seer!” 

As Hutbari’s eldest strolled confidently onward Akard muttered under his breath. “I assure you I will be enjoying far more than just father’s hospitality.”

My rewrite:

As the seer descended to earth, Akard found himself smiling. "Not at all," he said. "In fact, I don't believe I'll be going back to Apuna for...oh, quite some time, actually."

Bazus chuckled as he copied Akard's smile. "In that case, you may enjoy my father's city."

"I thank his hospitality," said Akard.

"Come," Bazus said, gesturing forward, "let's go talk to that seer of yours."

Akard felt his smile fade as Bazus strutted onward. As he followed, Akard muttered to himself, "I bet your father's city and hospitality won't be the only thing I enjoy."

Honestly don't remember the last line I edited, so here's the last line from TSP Part Two:

“How’re you and Niri? I accidentally found out you texted him.” “We’re fine.” Hannah smiled a bit. “Is that a hint of red on your cheeks?” I asked. “Now, don’t you start,” Hannah said, pointing harshly. “I had to deal with Charlie and Amanda grilling me about the boy I was texting in your absence.” I smiled. “I’ll come save you.” “Thank you.” Hannah swung the door open and we went back into the crowded family room. I tried to ignore the devices pulling me back.

The devices are telepathic probes if y'all want to be more specific. Hannah and Ash are also sisters.

Okay tagging @elsie-writes @theprissythumbelina @writeouswriter @sarahlizziewrites @winterandwords @sarandipitywrites @dyrewrites @i-can-even-burn-salad @cwritesfiction @drchenquill + ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

[karamell-sweetz]

welcome to my blog!

pls drop a like once you’ve read this post! | last updated 24 october 2024

BASICS

my name is karamell! its a pleasure to meet ya :D

i go by she/her and am cis female :3 not too fussed abt pronouns tho!

at present i am 17, my birthday is the 16th of june. i’m australian + filipino, so sorry if i post something at an ungodly hour for your timezone lmao

this blog will be for my fandom reblogs, art and countless ramblings! i have a separate account dedicated to undertale multiverse content -> @karamellz-multiverse-l0g (i don’t post there a lot because undertale is on the backburner for now!) i’m currently aiming to get into an animation course for university, so all my art is working towards that :3

i am also self-appointed chairwoman of the rui kamishiro fanclub! not that that’s too important… but i like saying it lol

BYF

i don’t tag my reblogs/queue usually so uhh good luck poring through that >< all of my original posts are tagged for convenience though, you can find my tags in the search bar :3

in relation to that i’m VERY multifandom so srry if you get bombarded with stuff that doesn’t relate to you haha! but hopefully you’ll like the stuff i rb too, i’m a firm believer in the power of brainrot spreading and most of my fandoms are from the same niche anyway!

i dont have a dni because realistically i cant rlly control who sees my stuff, but if you or the stuff you post make me uncomfortable i’ll just block you. no hard feelings <3

FANDOMS + FAV LIST

project sekai - rui kamishiro, tsukasa tenma, wxs, n25, okay actually its everyone i love proseka soo much

vocaloid - miku, una + deco*27, n-buna, kikuo, pinocchio-p, inabakumori, picco, harumakigohan, maiki-p

d4dj - unichørd, hapiara, lyrilily

bandori - pasupa, morfonica, hhw, ras

enstars - trickstar, alkakurei

love live - rina tennoji, shioriko mifune, hanamaru kunikida, ruby kurosawa, you watanabe, ayumu uehara

fragaria memories - romarriche

milgram - amane, yuno, mahiru

undertale (utmv) - xtale, ink, murder time trio

danganronpa - shuichi saihara, kaede akamatsu, k1-b0

twisted wonderland - heartslabyul (deleted the game because UGH the grind)

denonbu - harajuku district

revue starlight - lalafin, karen, aruru (i love all of them tho)

cookie run kingdom - had a very minor fling with this one so you won’t see it a lot

genshin impact - also minor fling, have not played past liyue. solely here for the banger character designs

mcyt (idk if i’ll reblog anything from here but i know a little bit of the dsmp lore and am attempting to understand life series??)

other things you may see: lalaloopsy + other doll lines from that era, mlp, warrior cats, cute art i think is nice, lunime gacha games (i was very much a ‘gacha kid’ back in its prime), puyo puyo, writing stuff, THE COLOUR PINK, webcore, memes, cool crafts, yorushika, other teenage girl things idk

TAGS

karamell yells - ramblings and random stuff, may include headcanons and analysis

karamell doodles - my art! mostly fanart at the moment

karamell’s wips - works in progress (stuff i’ll never finish probably)

karamell’s pocket - posts i want to come back to

karamell gaming - random game screenshots

karamell rolls the gacha - my gacha pulls of varying luck

karamell’s mailbox - asks, submissions, tag games, all that fun stuff

karamell’s rq pile - drawing requests (which are always open btw, feel free to send some in if you’d like!)

karamell stop missing the blonde clown - thirsty? brainrot posts about tsukasa tenma because boy do i love him

karamell’s confections - various big projects (videos, edits, etc). all the cool stuff i make that isn’t normal art basically

karamell’s burning pile of ocs - see image below:

(utmv submissions for this will be posted on my sideblog)

UPDATE: the number is now 350 instead of 244!

when in doubt. rui scribble - various random scribbles of rui kamishiro because i like drawing him

karamell asks a question - mostly polls and stuff i need help with

say hi to my sideblog guys - self rbs from my utmv sideblog @/karamellz-multiverse-l0g. just for a little bump! :)

ALLIURA - general oc posting, inc. OCtobers, oc challenges, animatics, doodles etc. i might make a sideblog for this later when i have more time to work on it

TAGS FOR MINI-SERIES

karamell’s project precure au - project sekai x precure (updates never)

wxs revue au - project sekai x revue starlight (updates randomly)

karamell’s birthday treat cafe - food-themed fandom birthday drawings (on break for a bit)

kamikou seniors trio - tsukasa ena rui posts because i want them to hang out

the mizuruiena agenda continues - mizuki rui ena hanging out

rui dress agenda - rui in dresses what did you expect

rui fanclub sekai - read my blog description. just silly things about a hypothetical rui fanclub

FIND ME! (links are underlined!)

youtube - karamell-sweetz!

tiktok - karamell.sweetz

pinterest - karamellxsweetz

art fight - karamellxsweetz

ao3 - mirai_spxrk

FRIEND ID (GLOBAL SERVERS ONLY)

bandori - 4636316 (karamellxshowtime!) (i might be out of friend space tho)

d4dj - ffzoJpPf (mirai.chørd)

project sekai - 168505012555628545 (karamell?!)

enstars - 7709727947 (karamelloid)

that should be all. enjoy your stay on my silly little corner of the internet!! 🫶