#TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME PLEASE I NEED SOME VARIETY IN MY LIFE

[noodles-and-tea]

you, yes YOU, who's your favorite character to draw right now? do you have a preference?

And as a surprise to absolutely no one… it’s him.

[wearebarca]

8. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,1k

Warnings: 18+ Smut

A/N: Feedback is always nice. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

Rosalie knew all about stress. She had experienced a very wide variety of stressful situations. From race days to big games to work related situations, even personal stuff. But right now, sitting half naked in her bed with an array of clothes around her, Rosalie was experiencing a different type of stress. 

She had spent time with some of the girls from the team but it always was in very casual circumstances. Tonight was different. They were set to go to a popular club in downtown Barcelona and from what she had translated in the groupchat, the girls were excited to show off their outfits. Rosalie wasn’t a big fan of clubs and bars and her wardrobe cruelly lacked in any club worthy outfits.

She was currently stuck between a few options but after sending each outfit to her groupchat with lia and leah, she settled for a short sleeve dress that exposed her back dangerously low. She left her wavy hair loose and did her makeup slightly darker than usual. 

She was taking one last look into her bedroom mirror, feeling quite proud of the way it all turned out, when her phone rang and Keira’s name lit up her screen. 

“Bonsoir petite merde.” She said laughing, knowing damn well that the blonde did not know what she had just called her. Lucy’s laugh could be heard in the distance, which told the brunette that the couple was likely close and calling to let her know. 

“That was unnecessary.”

“Don’t act like you know what I just said.”

“Lucy’s reaction told me plenty.” Keira said exasperated. “We’re rounding the corner, the bar is a block from here so we’ll park in your street and walk from there is that alright?”

“Sounds good.” Rosalie said, putting away her makeup. 

“We’re coming up so you better be dressed and ready.” Lucy said, the sound of a car door audible in the background. 

“Oui madame.” The Canadian said before hanging up. A few minutes later, the couple barged in her little flat, and the sound of her cabinets being opened and glasses being set down on the counter was heard all around. 

“By all means, Faites comme chez vous!”

“We're fixing you a drink, believe me you’ll need it.” Keira said, pouring an impressive amount of liquor in three glasses. She made a move to reach for the bottle of coke but the Canadian quickly stopped her. 

“Non non non. You are not wasting this perfectly good whiskey with coke.” She said, reaching for two glasses and handing one to Lucy. Keira rolled her eyes and poured some in her glass nonetheless. 

“You two are a different breed that’s for sure.” The burn from the alcohol soothed the brunette’s nerves a little as she downed her first glass with Lucy, quickly pouring another for the older woman and herself. 

“You’re packed for national camp already?” Kiera asked, eyeing the bags near the front door.

“ Oui, I have a feeling that tomorrow I won’t be in the right state to pack a proper bag.” Rosalie said, sipping at the brown liquid. 

“ Smart Frenchy, very smart. The flight is at 9 the next day, we’ll be downstairs at 6:00 and grab coffee on our way there. Sarina sent me your plane ticket by the way.” Lucy said, twirling the liquor in her glass. The French-Canadian nodded and took a seat next to the blond englishwoman. 

“So, what is the plan, how is the night going to go?” The brunette said, taking a sip of her drink. 

“We’re gonna walk to the club, it’s only three blocks away.” Lucy said, eyeing Keira up with a mischievous grin, the blond sporting a similar look. “And for the rest, you’ll have to see for yourself mate.” 

They finished their drinks and left Rosalie’s flat soon after. The air was warm  and a fresh breeze carried the smell of food from the many restaurants along with the sound of laughter and many conversation blending in the night. The streets were alive, buzzing with people, relieved for the start of the weekend. 

Someone linking their arm with hers pulled Rosalie out of her thoughts. “You look amazing Frenchy, you gunnin for someone in particular tonight?” Keira said, twirling the French-Canadian like a dancer.

“Non, non, I don’t know what you are referring to.” Rosalie said, walking slightly faster to meet Lucy ahead.

“You know,” The older English woman began, “Looking like that, the cold and composed captain’s surely gonna lose control.” She said, hugging the Canadian’s shoulder. Rosalie’s face went beat red and she pushed Lucy off of her. By now, they could hear the distant beat of music and the traffic in the streets increasing.

The club was situated on a small pedestrian side street. A long queue of people was stretched in front of the already busy club. Most of the crowd waiting looked and sounded already under the influence which worked to the little group’s advantage as they were able to make their way to the bouncer without being recognized. 

Once their little group reached the door with Lucy leading them, the bouncer stepped in front of them to block the way. Once his eyes met with Lucy’s, the realization on the young man’s face was almost comical. “Oh, yes, VIP section.” He said with a nervous falter to his voice. He crossed two names on his clipboard then, looked up to the woman who was unknown to him. “ Is she the photographer?”

His tone did not please Lucy who sent him a look that chilled him on the spot. He made a gesture for the doorman to let them in, eager to move on before embarrassing himself further.

The club was already packed, the music deafening and the air was filled with the smell of alcohol and sweat. It was electric, dizzying even, for the French-Canadian who had not set foot in a club this big since she had left England. 

One thing she quickly remembered upon entering was just how much she hated these places. Her discomfort was almost funny to the two English women standing behind her. She made a move to back out but Lucy and Keira each grabbed one of the photographer’s arms and walked the brunette to an area at the back of the club with several sofas, tables and the entire team already halfway to their second drink.

When the girls saw their beloved photographer they all stood and cheered. Soon enough, Rosalie was being handed a drink and dragged by Mapi to a couch which was already occupied by Sarah, Ingrid, Sandra, Pina, Patri and Alexia. The little group all cheered and whistled at the sight of their friend, but Alexia stayed almost completely still. The only part of her moving was her piercing gaze taking in every inch of the brunette.

The captain knew that tonight would be hard. She had imagined many scenarios of how this night would go. She had told herself countless times how she needed to stay friendly and professional with the smaller brunette,but upon seeing the photographer in that dress, Alexia seemed to forget every word of her little pep talk.

The way that her dress hugged her athletic figure made the captain’s head spin. The photographer turned around and gave the captain a full view of the open back of said dress. She knew that the smaller woman had tattoos because of the small ones on her arms, but she had never seen the one that went along her spine. It was a fine line which seemed to follow no particular pattern. It snaked down her spine, like a path, all the way to her lower back. All Alexia wanted to do was trace the line with her fingers, with her mouth, kiss every inch of inked skin. 

The blond rapidly shook her head, cursing herself for letting her mind go to such places so soon after the woman’s arrival. Even then, it seemed impossible for her gaze not to be dragged back to the woman in front of her. Her hair was down in waves, her makeup darker than normally which accentuated her piercing green eyes. Eyes that were now settled on her.

Alexia sent a shy smile her way as she raised her glass in the photographer’s direction. She answered with a bright smile and a similar gesture. Rosalie was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, thanks to the fact that she rarely drank, but the slight buzz gave her all the courage she needed to take a seat right next to the woman who made her so nervous. 

“ Bonsoir Alexia, I am surprised to see you with a drink. I thought you didn’t drink during the season.” She said, eying the glass the blond had been nurturing since the start of the night. 

“Tonight is special I hear.”

“Yeah, it certainly seems so” Their conversation was cut short by Cata with a tray of what looked like tequila shots. Rosalie turned towards the keeper, which made her almost face the blond, the warm skin of her exposed thigh lean on Alexia’s own. 

“ It’s shot time chicas!” Yelled as she passed around the small glasses. She handed one to Alexia who refused, disappointing the keeper slightly. With the feeling of her first drinks already strong, Rosalie decided that tonight, she did not need to be careful. Tonight, she would let herself have fun surrounded by people who were quickly becoming family. 

She reached over Alexia to pick up the shot Cata was handing her, placing her other hand on Alexia’s thigh to stabilize herself. That movement alone, the light squeeze of her hand, how for an instant Alexia’s senses were swarmed by the photographer. Her floral perfume mixed with something that was so unmistakably Rosalie. How her hair fell all on one side exposing the soft skin of her neck. 

Alexia had to take a deep breath to try and re centre herself. “Dios mio dame uno de esos.” She said to Mapi who had ended up with the tray. 

The tattooed woman sent her a knowing smirk as she watched her nervous friend down to harsh liquid. 

The start of the night was slow. People were mostly sitting around and chatting. Rosalie was surprised to see how comfortable she was in such an environment, but with the buzzing of the alcohol in her system and her friends surrounding her, it was easy to forget how loud and full the club was.

 She was still on the same couch, in between Alexia and Ingrid. She would not admit it but being this close to the captain was unnerving for the photographer who tried very hard to not show it. But of course Alexia, purposefully or not, made the task extremely difficult. 

Engaged in a conversation with Mapi, who was on the other side of Ingrid, the Catalonian had her arm on the back of the couch, and was sitting back in a way that made the brunette feel like if she moved back an inch, she’d be leaning completely on the blond’s front. 

Suddenly, someone a few seats down screamed something in Spanish and several of the girls cheered and left their secluded area towards the dance floor. Before she could react, someone grabbed her hand and dragged her to the floor. 

“Oh non non I don’t dance.” She told the girl who still had a firm grip on her wrist. 

“Tonight you do amiga!” The voice, who she soon realized belonged to Patri, said, as she dragged her towards a small group of Barca girls already dancing. Seeing the smiles and hearing the contagious laughter was what ultimately allowed the photographer to let loose and start moving to the rhythm of the music. No one was judging, it was simply a group of friends having fun and enjoying a night out. 

From the VIP area, Alexia, Ingrid, Irene and Paños had a pretty clear view of the rest of the team. None of them were keen on dancing and had stood their ground against the younger players and exited girlfriend, in Ingrid’s case. 

The Norwegian was smiling as she watched Mapi show off her most ridiculous dance moves to Rosalie who, with obvious difficulty, was trying to keep up with the Zaragozian. 

It took at least a song for the group to utter any words. After a moment, it was Sandra who disrupted their little bubble in the middle of this hectic environment. She grabbed Irene’s shoulder and dragged her closer so she wouldn’t have to yell. 

“This pining has to stop.” She said to her friend while watching the blond who’s gaze had not left the brunette since she had left. 

“Ah si, it is excruciating to watch.” 

“You know what we discussed in Sevilla? You think it is a good time to use this.” Sandra said, watching the way Alexia’s jaw tightened every time one of the girls was dancing  too close to the Canadian. 

“Si, it is now or never,” she said, sending a look to the blond, she laughed and turned back to the keeper, “ it won’t take much, she’s already on the brink.”

The Spaniards quickly briefed Ingrid in their little plan and soon after, it was set to motion. 

“Ale! Come on! We all know you want to go out there.” Sandra said as she sat down next to the midfielder. 

“No no I can’t dance you know that.” She said, finally tearing her gaze away from Rosalie. 

“We all know you want to get out there with her.” Sandra said, leaning back on the couch while twirling the straw in her drink. “Who could blame you, look at her.”

As if on cew, the song changed to a slower beat, which had the brunette change the pace from fun and electric to swaying her hips to match the more sensual beat of the song.  

“Oh believe me I am looking.” The captain said under her breath, but the comment did jot go unnoticed by the keeper. 

“You should go before someone else swipes her away.” Alexia didn’t move. She looked deep in thought. When the goalkeeper realized that the blond wouldn’t move, she got up and started to walk towards the dance floor, but stopped right before exiting the Vip section. 

“Your loss captain.” 

Rosalie was smiling and she could not stop. She could feel the base all the way through her bones and it was like her body had a mind of its own. Gone was the stress that was clawing at her at the start of the night, all she could feel was the rhythm of the music guiding her movements. 

She was currently dancing with Salma and Pina when she felt a hand settle on her waist and the heat of an unfamiliar presence behind her. She knew right away that the mysterious woman was not Alexia, but judging by the face the girls with her made, it was one of their own. 

Rosalie did not think much of it. She just kept following the beat of the music, letting the warm hands guide her. As time passed , the general fun and carefree vibe of the club changed for something heavier, a lot more seductive. 

The hands on her waist got bolder, pulling the photographer closer. Rosalie spun around, having guessed the identity of the taller woman behind her, and hooked her arms around the keeper’s neck. 

“Not the person you were expecting right?” She said with a big smile on her face. 

“No, but I am not mad about this either.”She answered with a matching smile. There was no need to argue her case. She knew that the goalkeeper was aware of what was going on. Rosalie might be on the dance floor, but she was completely aware of Alexia’s eyes on her and she had seen Sandra attempt to convince the captain to come out on the floor. 

Paños leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of the brunette’s ear. “She’s watching us now.”

On instinct, Rosalie pressed herself even closer to the keeper. “Do you trust me?” She asked, leaving a kiss at the junction of her neck and collarbone. The contact sent shivers down her spine. 

Unable to respond, the Canadian simply nodded and focused on the feeling of the base travelling her body. 

They kept dancing like this for a while, with Sandra making sure that the photographer was comfortable every time her hands wandered. Ingrid, who was still sitting between Irene and Alexia, sent a look to the older woman. She could not believe the nerves her teammates had. 

Alexia was livid. She was sitting on the couch, completely rigid, her cold gaze pinned on the goalkeeper, her jaw tensing with every kiss laid on the brunette’s neck and every time her hands roamed a little too low. 

As if Sandra knew, she lifted her gaze and held Alexia’s head on, daring her almost to come and interrupt her.

 “How long do you think it’ll take before she storms on the dance floor?” Ingrid subtly asked, her eyes not leaving the captain.

“Any moment now.” Irene said. She felt a little bad for her friend, but she also knew that the captain needed a little push to go after what she wanted. 

What  made the captain snap was when Rosalie turned around in the goalkeeper’s arms and finally made eye contact with the blond. Her hips were swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music, the movement almost hypnotic to the footballer. And while Sandra was still pressed up against her, holding her waist and caressing the skin exposed by her dress, the photographer was looking at Alexia like she wished it was her. 

Even in the arms of another, very beautiful woman, all Rosalie wanted was the midfielder. This was what did it for Alexia. That look, filled with desire, inviting her to come and claim what could be hers if she so pleased. 

In a matter of seconds, the footballer had managed to make her way through the crowd and grab Rosalie by the hand, ripping her away from the goalkeeper, who was already grinning at her teammates still on the couch. 

“Ale! What are you doing?” The Canadian asked as she allowed the catalonian woman to drag her towards the back of the club. The captain didn’t answer, she simply kept walking, never letting go of the woman’s hand. They passed several of their teammates who all had the same expression on their faces, knowing very well that they would not see the two of them for the rest of the night.

The club bathrooms were individual stalls with their own sinks. Alexia could not be more glad for this fact as she dragged the photographer behind and closed the door, locking them in.  

For an instant, they both stayed silent, Alexia never letting go of the other woman's hand. A second later, this moment of stillness was interrupted by an intense pull, a need to finally close the space between them.

Alexia was the first to move, drawing Rosalie closer and tangling her hand in the brunette’s hair. As soon as Rosalie’s lips made contact with Alexia’s, a sight came out of her, as if her body had been waiting for this moment all night. Their kiss was frantic, sloppy almost, with every movement controlled solely by intense desire. Alexia pushed  the photographer until her back suddenly hit the bathroom door, which made the woman gasp. The small sound gave the blond the opportunity to press her tongue inside Rosalie’s eager mouth. She tasted of alcohol and something that could only be her and Alexia decided that she definitely needed more. 

Her hands left Rosalie’s hair and started to roam downward, along her sides all the way to her hips. Rosalie could feel her skin ignite everywhere Alexia touched. 

The door knob was digging in the brunette’s back but she couldn't care less about it right now. The way the blond was currently attacking her lips was electric and the feeling of her hands getting bolder had the photographer reeling as she hooked one of her legs around the midfielder, dragging her impossibly closer.  

The change of angle had the blond’s thigh wedged itself between the photographer’s, giving her the perfect opportunity to grind down on her leg. The shift of the muscles, along with the movement of her hips, dragged a loud moan from the brunette, which was swallowed in a hungry kiss. 

This new position had Rosalie’s dress hike up significantly, revealing the skin of her thighs and stopping just below her waist. Alexia’s hand moved down to explore the new expense of skin as her lips kissed down her neck, nipping slightly at the skin. 

Rosalie’s head lolled back , hitting the door with a dull thud. Her body was on fire. All of her senses were overwhelmed by the captain. The smell of her expensive perfume mixed with her strawberry shampoo was intoxicating. The taste of her lips on hers, the feel of her calloused hands traveling on her body. She knew her panties were most definitely ruined by now. 

“Ale, we should..” the rest of her sentence was cut short by a gasp as she could feel Alexia’s fingers graze just past the fabric of her pantie.  

The blond pulled back, her hand retreating from her spot under her dress. “Are you ok, do you want me to stop?” She asked with concern. 

Rosalie’s answer came fast. “ Non non, god no.” She said, grabbing the blond’s face and pulling her in for a kiss. “ I just think we should take this somewhere more comfortable, if you want.”

Alexia didn’t need to be asked twice. In less than five minutes, the duo was exiting the club and walking towards the photographer’s flat. The walk was mostly silent, but filled with tension so thick you could cut through with a butterknife. 

Finding her keys at the bottom of her bag seemed like an impossible task when the brunette could almost feel Alexia’s hot breath on the back of her head. She almost dropped the set of keys when the blond grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against her front.

“ Sérieusement Alexia give me a chance.” She said, dropping her keys this time when soft lips grazed her neck. Alexia chuckled as she took a step back, allowing the brunette to compose herself a little before unlocking. 

As soon as the door is opened, Rosalie is dragged inside and pushed against the closed door, much like her previous position in The club bathroom. But this time, the blond waits to connect her lips to Rosalie’s. 

Alexia takes a deep breath and wills her hands from wandering from their spot on the brunette’s hips. Their foreheads connect, lips only millimeters apart. Rosalie can almost taste them. All she needed to do was lean in a little more, but she was afraid to break the stillness, the intensity of the moment. 

“Rosalia, are you sure?” Alexia whispered, softly. She tried to surge forward and capture the captain’s lips, thinking that actions were stronger than words, but was stopped by the taller woman pulling away and pinning her harder against the door. 

“No no bonita I need to hear you say it.” She said in a low voice, as her lips were ghosting on the sensitive skin of her neck. She smiled, well aware of the effect she had on the brunette and revelled in the way she could feel her breath quickening and hear the soft moans that escaped the brunette’s lips. 

Control was becoming an issue for the captain as well as she fought to not just rip off that beautiful dress and take her here and now, against her apartment door. Alexia’s lips moved down, close enough for Rosalie to feel the heat of her breath but not enough to actually feel the press of her lips on her skin. 

Finally she reached where the hem of her dress sat at the base of her neck. She nipped at the spot right at the base of Rosalie’s throat, swiping her tongue on the newly formed bruise to soothe the skin. 

Forming a coherent sentence was an impossible task for the photographer at the moment. She reached out to pull the midfielder further in but was stopped before her hands could get to the back of her head. 

“Tell me you want this and I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Please Ale, I need you.” It was like a switch was flipped. She grabbed the back of the photographer’s thighs and hoisted her up. The brunette let out a slight laugh as she let the footballer carry her to the bedroom. 

She laid her down gently on the cover and stood up at the feet of the bed. Rosalie leaned back on her elbows, green eyes meeting hazel as the blonde’s gaze softened.

 “Eres tan hermosa.” She all but whispered before laying down and capturing the brunette’s lips once more. Gone was the urgency from before, but the passion between the two was still burning strong. 

Rosalie’s breath came out ragged as she could feel the blond’s lips kiss and suck at the skin just below her pulse point. In a surge of desire, she pulled at the bottom of the midfielder’s top, needing to finally feel the heat of her skin first hand. Alexia somehow managed to rid herself of the fabric fast enough that it was like her lips had never left.

“Can I take this off, bonita?” She asked gently as her hands were fiddling with the bottom of her dress. 

The answer came with the photographer arching her back, giving Alexia the necessary space to push the dress upwards and finally allow the blonde to marvel at the newly exposed skin. Alexia almost growled at the sight of the photographer, left only in a black lacy tong, hair tousled and eyes dark and clouded by desire. 

She kissed down the valley of her breast, lightly biting at the skin before soothing the bite with her tongue. Her hand travelled up to cup her breast while her mouth explored freely.

She took her time, kissing every inch, worshiping the photographer, showing her just how much she wanted her. Rosalie on the other hand, was reeling. She could feel her arousal pooling in her panties. She needed more. She whined and pushed Alexia’s head down in hopes that the blonde would understand the message, but the captain had other plans. She grazed her nipple with her teeth before biting down, which sent a shock straight to her core. 

The moan that came out of the photographer’s lips was loud 

Alexia’s hand travelled down until she reached the hem of the lacy fabric. There was still a part at the back of Rosalie's mind which was embarrassed about what would the blonde discover when her fingers would dip lower. 

“What do you want, amor?” She said with a smirk plastered on her face. 

“Please touch me.” The photographer whimpered. 

“I am touching you.” She said, while she slipped down the bed to settle between the brunette's legs.

 That confident, cocky side of her, the one that shone bright when she wore the red and blue kit along with the arm band, was peaking through as she gazed up at the smaller woman. Rosalie couldn’t believe that this woman had not been remotely close to where she needed her the most and she already had her begging. 

Her hands were now caressing the smooth skin of her tights, squeezing her flesh, making the woman beneath her gasp at the feeling.  

« Please I need to feel you. » reaching down only to have her hands pinned down on the bed. « I want your mouth on me, Ale please. » 

“Ok bonita, lift your hips for me.”  She said, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her panties and slipping them down her legs. 

“Oh look at you baby.” The sight with which she was met was nothing short of heavenly. Her lips were glistening with arousal and Alexia could not help but leave a soft kiss right where Rosalie desperately needed contact. 

“All this for me?”

“Oui, all for you.” The photographer said, lifting her head just enough to watch the midfielder finally lick down the length of her slit. She groaned at how her taste flooded her mouth, the vibration sending shockwaves through the brunette. 

“You taste so good,” Her tongue found her clit and lapped gently and parts your lips with her tongue, collecting her juice at the same time.

 Alexia is attentive to every breath hitch, whimper and moan coming from the brunette, reading her like an open book. It didn’t take long before Rosalie had lost all control of her own body and mind. All her senses were in overdrive, but there was something missing. 

Alexia’s lips captured her clit and sucked lightly at the bundle of nerves. Rosalie saw stars clouding her vision. “ fuck Alexia s’il te plait,  don’t stop.”

The mix of French and the pleading only motivated the blonde even more as she focused on her clit, altering between tight circles and sucking at the flesh. 

“ Ale..” she said before a long moan interrupted her sentence. 

“Que necesitas, bonita?” 

“More,” She simply was not able to form a sentence in the state she currently was. Alexia’s hand left her hips to travel down between her legs and tease at her entrance. 

“Is this what you want?” She asked smugly. 

“Yes! Oui please.” Alexia smiled at the brunette’s eagerness and could not do anything but oblige after the photographer had asked so nicely. Her mouth fell open as her fingers finally stretched her. 

Her name was on her lips, chanting it like a prayer. Her hand was desperately grasping at anything she could reach before finally finding and intertwining her fingers with Alexia’s free hand. The feel of her climax was approaching fast, like an all-consuming fire ready to swipe everything in its wake. 

Her legs tensed, around the captain’s head and she could feel her walls clenching around her fingers. Her hips started to buck against her face.

“You are doing so good for me bonita.” She said before curling her fingers, reaching the spot inside her that

She lifted her leg on her shoulder and curled her fingers deeper inside her. The change in angles allowing the captain to reach a spot deep inside her that had the photographer completely lose it. Her heel was digging in the blonds back but she couldn't care less. Every swipe of her tongue, along with the steady thrust of her fingers brought her that much closer to the edge. Alexia could feel just how close by the way her walls were clenching, making it harder to keep her rhythm.

The brunette could hear Alexia speak to her softly in what she thought was Catalan. She couldn’t understand a word but it didn’t matter, the hushed soft sound of her voice alone was enough to guide her over the edge. 

Alexia slowed down her trust but kept her mouth on her, lapping up everything the brunette was giving her. It had been a strong one. The kind that completely short circuited her brain and left her body limp on the sheets. When the feeling became too much, she pulled at Alexia’s hand to drag her up to her lips. The kiss was soft and slow, full of appreciation and a feeling that Rosalie was not quite ready to name yet. 

They stayed quiet for a moment. Alexia’s head against the photographer’s chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. “Are you ok, Rosalia?”

Rosalie smiled and took a deep breath before shifting their position, ending up on top of the captain. The sudden movement stunned the footballer who let out a gasp as she found herself trapped under the smaller woman. “ qué estás haciendo…” 

Rosalie didn’t wait for the end of her sentence and crashed her lips on Alexia. A new fire had ignited once the shock of her orgasm had faded. She wanted to make the blond feel as good as she just had. 

“You don’t have to…”

“Non non, none of that.” The brunette said as her lips travelled down her neck to the valley of her breast. “I want to taste you Alexia, will you let me?.” She asked, looking up to the footballer. She looked so good at this moment, her hands caressing down her hips, hair cascading down one side, a silent question written in her eyes. Alexia groaned at the sight. 

“Si, si, I want you to.” She said, as her head fell back on the pillow and her arms came up, covering her face. Rosalie’s lips connected with Alexia’s chest, teasing the skin with her teeth and soothing the bites with a kiss. They travelled down to Alexia’s abdomen where they were met with taunt muscles which twitched with every kiss and drag of her tongue. 

This was probably Rosalie’s favorite part of the footballer. She remembered every time she had caught herself almost drooling when the midfielder would raise her shirt to wipe some sweat off her forehead, leaving her abs exposed. Now, Rosalie was finally able to map out every crease and ridge of her stomach.

She could see that the blond was growing restless underneath her, and she too, could not wait any longer. She slid down between the blond’s legs, spreading them slightly to accommodate her, and left a kiss at the waistband of her pants. Alexia lifted her hips, chasing the warmth of her mouth, which allowed the brunette to tug down her jeans and panties. Once free from the barrier between the brunette’s lips and her most sensitive parts, Alexia grabbed a handful of her hair and guided her towards where she desperately needed her. But Rosalie had other plans in mind, as she skillfully avoided the women's center, opting to kiss and leave little bite marks on the skin of her inner thighs. 

A harsher tug pulled a moan from the photographer as she was brought back right in front of Alexia’s glistening heat. Green eyes met hazel, a teasing smirk dancing on the Canadian’s lips as she watched the captain slowly lose composure. 

The first swipe of her tongue felt like heaven. Rosalie went slow, savoring what had officially become her favourite taste. She drew lazy circles around her clit, slowly working up the blond who seemed completely lost in the feeling. The carefulness with which she had previously touched the photography was gone. Her fingers were now firmly anchored in her hair, tugging and pulling every time Rosalie’s tongue swiped down to tease at her entrance. She was essentially grinding down on her tongue, chasing her high which was rapidly approaching.

Rosalie was contempt with the predicament she was currently in, happy to be used for the captain's pleasure. She was attentive to her reaction, switching from sucking at her clit to flattening her tongue before swiping down to finally breach inside. The groan that came out of the blond’s mouth was surely the most erotic sound the photographer had ever heard, and she made it her mission to be the cause of more of these addictive sounds. 

Her peak was approaching fast. Her grip on reality fading rapidly as she was consumed by the feeling of the photographer’s hot mouth on her. She opened her mouth, trying to tell the brunette to keep going, that she was close, that her tongue felt so good on her, that she was being so good for her, but she did not know if she had been successful in speaking clearly. Hell she didn’t even know in what language she had spoken, but it didn’t matter. Rosalie seemed to know exactly what to do to make Alexia completely lose it.

Her climax came suddenly. It washed on her like a dangerous wave that drags you under and leaves you thinking you’ll never breach the surface again. Every part of her tensed to the point where it was almost painful, but Rosalie didn’t stop, she only slowed down her ministrations, helping the woman come down slowly. Rosalie kissed up Alexia’s body, before laying down next to her. Her breathing was slowly coming down as she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s shoulder and pulled her in. 

“Was this ok?” The brunette asked shyly, as if she had not been buried between the woman’s trembling legs minutes ago.

“Dios mio, Rosalia si, it was more than ok, this was divine bonita.” The blond said, turning her head and kissing the photographer softly. Rosalie smiled as she buried her face in the blond’s neck. Soon enough, the photographer's breath started to even out, her body feeling heavier in the midfielder’s arms. She kissed her head before too, succumbing to the heavy pull of sleep.

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: chapter three

chapter one ✩ chapter two

Paul Lahote x Reader

- The previous day -

“Why did we even agree to this study, clearly she is going to notice signs that the wolves around here aren’t always of the typical gray variety?” Paul questioned the tribal council, pacing at the foot of the meeting table.

“Son we didn’t have a choice, the majority of the land you boys protect falls out of the reservation. It was going ahead anyway, so it made sense to at least have someone from the council always there to steer clear of anything suspicious,” Billy placated, hands up in surrender to the clearly riled man.

“Billy’s right Paul,” Sam chimed in “there wasn’t an option. Plus this way we get income from the cabin and a guide. You know we need this to complete the maintenance on the school.”

“So you are okay with us becoming a study? Because we all know between the cameras and her field observation training we’re fucked. There is no way we can always play it safe with these cold ones lurking around, a mistake is inevitable.”

“Son,” Billy continued “it’s not even like it’s an issue anymore. You’ve imprinted on her, so she is one of us now. It’s well within reason to tell her what is going on.”

“No” Paul growled. “That is my choice and it’s absolutely not happening. Some silly idea that she’s my soulmate doesn’t change the fact she is a complete stranger. We don’t how she’ll react, there is no way I’m risking it,”

“You might not have a choice if she catches sight of something she’s not supposed to.”

“This is my only choice, and I’m not letting anyone taking it from me. Not even you.”

Billy sighed, resting his head in his hands. The chief was well aware what Paul’s reservations were really about. “Son, I know you didn’t want this. But please understand this is a blessing from the spirits, fighting this will only hurt you,”

“I refuse to let my choice be taken away, and I refuse to let hers. I will help to keep our secret safe but once this project is over she will leave and life will continue. And I don’t want anyone to try to do anything to change that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sky was clear but the southerly winds whipped ferociously along the cliff face where Paul parked up. The great blue expanse of ocean was mesmerising, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was in moments like this you felt solace, out of the noise and bustle of large cities. Just the sounds of birds, waves crashing and winds whistling amongst the trees. After taking the moment to ground yourself you made your way over to the truck bed to grab your gear, Paul doing the same with his own bag.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well the most recent report says the last sighting was off this trail here,” you said pointing across the gravel road and to the unsigned trail head. “It happened in a clearing about four miles in so I think we head out there keeping an eye out on the way.”

“Sure thing boss. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“If you wouldn’t mind looking for prints, the ground should be pretty muddy under the vegetation cover so anything that’s been here since the previous rainfall last week should have left a mark. I don’t think we’ll actually come across a wolf since they’re nocturnal. But hopefully we can find a good spot for at least one of the cameras,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For the past hour you had been hiking in relative silence. Paul lead the way, keeping a steady but maintainable pace. The trail itself was muddy but relatively flat, and wide enough you didn’t have to squeeze past any bushes. So far you hadn’t spotted anything apart from a wild rabbit that darted across the path in front of you.

Seeing a fallen trunk parallel to the path up ahead you decided now was as good a time as any to have a break.

“You keen for some morning tea?” You called to your companion, who gave you a nod and slowed down.

Perching on the thankfully stable trunk you pulled out the first of the sandwich haul.

“What’s your poison; PB & J or ham and cheese?”

“Whatever one you don’t want,”

“Na-ah, that wasn’t my question now was it. What kind of boss would I be if I just gave my worker scraps?”

“A standard one,” Paul smirked. Before grabbing the ham and cheese sandwich from the lunchbox. “Thanks”

“So Paul,” you began after a few bites of food, “what do you usually do besides leading clueless city girls around the forest ?”

“Thanks for making me sound like a serial killer. Plus I wouldn’t call you clueless,”

“I mean in the serial killer equation I think I’d rather be clueless. Would be worse if I willingly followed a killer into the middle of nowhere. Now answer the question idiot,” you laughed affectionately.

“Whatever the council needs really. Usually some form of construction or land maintenance,”

“Do you enjoy it? I imagine it’s nice to be working with your hands and doing something different every day?”

“I do. It’s not what I had anticipated doing, but it keeps me busy. I don’t think I could ever work in an office.”

“What did you think you’ll be doing?” You paused a second, and realised you may be getting too intrusive with someone you didn’t know. Something about Paul just made you want to dig into what made him…well him. “Sorry you don’t have to answer that. I’ll just shut up,”

“Don’t worry [y/n], it’s fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone,”

“I solemnly swear,” you declared grabbing his left pinkie with your right.

“Child,” Pull laughed, before wrapping his pinkie around your own. “I also thought by now I’d be travelling the country. Maybe working with animals on my way, at a ranch or something like that,”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it’s smart, animals are obviously much better than people,”

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“May I asked what changed?”

“Ah just council things really, it’s my duty to the tribe.”

You could tell he was skirting around the answer, but you knew it would be beyond rude to pry any further.

“Well there’s still plenty of time to try something new,” you declared as you swung your backpack on. “Shall we continue future cowboy?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you all enjoyed xx

Next chapter

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 27

Moniker: Rudy Risk Level: Medium - Rudy is a part-time resident who is detained as needed. He is currently not detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Choking Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Rudy knows how to do this safely cariño, I’ll be watching as back up and if I think he’s making mistakes I will stop it - Ale

Your head wasn’t really in the game walking in. You just felt run-down and like you would very much rather bury yourself under blankets for the next forever.

It was so fucking stupid, you were so fucking stupid. Last night after Price had taken you out of the bath, Mace had popped his head in with an offering of the cosiest, softest pyjamas you had ever touched in your life. You’d been so appreciative, so happy that he would care so much that even when he probably should have been getting his own aftercare after such an intense session he would be thinking of you. Maybe even a little guilty for hurting you.

Calisto had dropped by later with the most insanely complex and delicious dinner you had ever had. She had made it herself for you. You chatted away about cooking for hours during which König had brought you both steaming mugs of a sort of wintery spiced tea that had been delicious.

You’d fallen asleep content and feeling cared for. Idiot. Obviously you had woken up this morning and realised how pathetic you were. They all must be so sick of having to look after you because you were so bloody delicate about everything. You weren’t even that sore this morning, just the aching that came with a hard fuck and some scrapes and bruises. Nothing broken, nothing permanently damaged. And you had safeworded out and cried about it like a baby.

Price must have wished he had picked someone else. They all must be looking forward to you being gone. After all your only use was as a warm body and you weren’t even managing that properly now.

You had to be better. Not that there was really any chance of ever seeing any of them again after this was all over because who would ever want you?

Rudy was beautiful as always. He’d had the room set up just as it had been the first time with him when you’d tried to learn to deepthroat, all soft plush furnishings, calming scents and varieties of snacks and drinks. Only you hadn’t done a very good job learning given you kept gagging on Gaz just the other day. Another failure.

“Hello beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Good thank you” you lied with a forced but convincing smile.

“Perhaps not for long. Have any of the others choked you?”

You considered and shook your head. No, not properly. At least not with their hands.

“Even done correctly it is not 100% safe, so if you would like we can just play with one another without it” he offered, smiling warmly and running an appraising eye over your robe clad body.

You dropped the robe, baring your body and wanting to die when his eyes narrowed just for a moment before his brow relaxed.

“Choke me Rudy” you said, firm. “I want you to wrap your hand around my throat and squeeze until my pussy is trying to snap your cock off.”

That got him moving towards you, his warm hard delicately wrapping around your throat. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off your circulation or your air, just a light squeeze. You wanted him to do it properly because you could take it. You could take anything. Please God let him be pleased with you.

“It’s ok, I won’t make you stop or anything. Please, you can choke me properly” you said, your hands going to his wrist and trying to push his hand to be firmer.

“Ale! Red!”

You were frozen in place, looking wide eyed at Rudy who took his hand from your throat and immediately cupped your face.

“It’s not you beautiful, you’re perfect ok? Let’s move over to the bed, come on.”

He was so gentle with how he led you to the bed, but your heart was galloping in your chest. You’d fucked up. You’d done something wrong. He hated you.

“Oh cariño, I should have noticed this morning” Ale said as he perched himself on the end of the bed you had been deposited on, his hands picking up one of your feet to rub soothing circles into the sole.

Noticed? You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. Was it clear to them that you were useless? How fed up must they be having to sit here and coddle you?

“I’m fine, I can do it.”

“Shh, I’ve changed my mind on what I want today. I just want you here with us. And maybe you can teach Ale to make the hot chocolate you made for me the other week hm? Better than his recipe.”

“Ah! You wound me Rudy, but I would be honoured if you could teach me your slightly less good than mine hot chocolate recipe none the less cariño.”

For a few hours Rudy held you, peppering kisses on your skin while Ale massaged your feet and calves. You sort of just floated in a heavy feeling haze the rest of the day, going through the motions of making hot chocolate with Ale while Rudy was having some hushed conversation with Price.

You didn’t want to eat but they sent in the big guns, Ghost and Mace more or less bullying you into it. If you hadn’t been so tired afterwards you’d probably have packed your bags before crashing out, after all there was no way they’d want you around after today.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

The Devil You Don't - A.A

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader (Mephistopheles Tiefling! Raphael’s Daughter)

Warnings: 18+, Abandonment by parent, Discussion on Loss of a Parent, BG3 Spoilers (set sometime in Act 2), Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, SMUT (P-in-V, Fingering), Past Trauma, Not Proofread

Wordcount: 1,971

Summary: You are Raphael’s daughter, who he disowned for her good nature. You are abducted from Baldur’s Gate and receive a tadpole in your head. You have bonded with Astarion, but you are not about to let him ask your father for help. As a reminder, Tav has just revealed to Astarion that she is Raphael’s daughter.

A/N: This is part 2 of “A Devil You Know” as was originally requested in my inbox for Raphael’s daughter reader, who comes off as naïve and innocent, despite a tragic past. If you haven’t read part one, and would like some more context to the story, please feel free to do so here.

Astarion stared in absolute disbelief as you revealed this information to him. “Darling, you can’t possibly be serious” Astarion attempted to brush off your declaration to him, but the glow of your eyes and the gritting of your teeth said otherwise. For the first time, Astarion was able to sense true, deep pain surging through you. It wasn’t something that he often saw coming from you. He had just been told some of the most heinous information in his life, and yet – here he was, more worried about you, presently. If he hadn’t known any better, you looked on the verge of transforming into a dangerous creature.

“Darling, I-” Astarion began to speak, moving closer towards you subtly. “Astarion, I get it. I understand if you don’t want me here anymore, I know I’m his daughter, but you have to know that he has completely and entirely disowned me. I am fairly convinced that the only reason he is following us around is to spite me, I don’t know.” You sputtered on, with Astarion cutting you off a moment later. “Hush, my love.” He was closer to you now, allowing him to place a finger against your lips so they would purse together and mute your words. “There are no explanations needed from you on this.” He released his finger, although you yearned for the fuel of his touch once again.

“It seems to me that my making a deal with Raphael would be the equivalent of you making a deal with Cazador, and darling, I could never let you do that. I’m not usually impressed by people, but you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.” He spoke, seemingly retracting his previous statements about your naivety. “I’m so sorry, my love.” The care in his heart had grown for you substantially within the last few moments. Astarion had judged you incorrectly upon first meeting. Yes, you were a ray of sunshine for him (although without destroying him) you were also that, but in spite of all of the struggles. He admired you for that, greatly.

Astarion lifted you with ease, carrying you to his tent. Although you initially thought that he wished to bed you this evening, his mind was far from that kind of intimacy. Astarion faced away from you on the bed roll, and you traced the vampiric scars that seemingly sealed his fate, while he asked you a variety of questions about your life, and a few about the ritual too. “How did you ever end up in his hands?”

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. My mother passed away, and Raphael was there, ready to take me with him. I know now that it was more than just a mere coincidence that he was there. He wanted to collect what was ‘his’ in order to render himself more powerful.”

“How did your mother die?”

“He killed her.” Astarion’s heartstrings were tugged instantaneously from the thought of you, a young girl, witnessing her mother’s death, before being scooped up by your devil father. “He wanted power and thought that his child would give him the potential for more.”

“So, why did he leave you at that orphanage? Abandon you like that…” Astarion pondered.

“Well, it’s quite simple really. I was too good for him. Too naïve, too inexperienced, too… happy. He didn’t like that I didn’t want to be evil. That I couldn’t be persuaded to be, either.” Astarion peered back at you, enjoying greatly the way that your hands played along his back. “You know, initially I didn’t like that about you either” he joked, teasingly.

“Correct, but you didn’t abandon me at an orphanage.”

“I think I underestimated you, my dear.”

“Perhaps you did, Astarion.”

You switched sides now, cuddling into Astarion’s chest as his arm was wrapped around your form, tracing swirls into your arm with his delicate fingertips. You used your free hand to trace along his chest in various motions. “This is nice.” Astarion spoke suddenly, before clamping his hand over his mouth in embarrassment, his bloodless cheeks turning as red as they possibly could.

“It is nice, Astarion. I agree.” You spoke in a reassuring tone. “However, I think perhaps you’re deflecting from your issue at hand.”

“Oh, the whole, imminent death via a ritual by my evil vampiric master Cazador, that will kill me and my brothers and sisters and grant him godhood? Haven’t thought about it. Darling, he is very powerful.” Astarion spoke, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I believe in us, more than anything, Astarion. We have overcome great things. We can overcome terrible ones, too. Cazador included.” Your hopefulness on the subject did have some effect on him, but despite that, he still felt sadness from what he had learned. Astarion was merely a pawn to Cazador, but there was a distinct difference now that he had a tadpole lodged in his cranium. He was the missing piece to Cazador’s puzzle.

And you were the missing piece to his.

You slid around, no longer facing him, but he kept his presence known, snuggling up against your backside, his torso flush against your back as he held you closer than he had ever held another. Subtly, you pressed your bum against his pelvis, ever so slightly. “Darling, are you teasing me?”

“Always.” You muttered back, pressing the slightest bit harder. “You cheeky little-” were the only words he used to respond, before nearly instantly slipping your nightgown over your butt. “No underwear either, pet? I know it’s been a while, but you truly are desperate, aren’t you?” He teased, tutting after he spoke.

“Only for you” you answered, which seemed to make Astarion quiver slightly. Only for him? He hadn’t ever had someone that was “his” before. If he was honest, he became jealous when you would stay up late studying with Gale. You said that Gale helped you perform your spells at an advanced level, and that it was for improved accuracy. Typically, these sessions with Gale would come after some sort of catastrophic failure during battle, when you would wound one of your own or the spell would fizzle out soon after casting. He also helped you maintain your concentration spells by testing you.

But confirmation that you were his? He could barely handle it.

“For me?” He spoke, with relative disbelief.

“Of course” you responded, leaving a delicate peck on Astarion’s cheek. The subtle tingling sparked by his nerves left him in awe. You two had been intimate before, but never in such a way. Astarion felt himself becoming timid, especially as the words left his lips “please, let me make love to you.” A small part of him internally cringed, but the other was proud of himself. Astarion wasn’t one to beg, but he had never wanted anything more.

You turned from your previous position so that you could face him. You brought a hand up and through his delectable pale curls, gazing longingly into his crimson irises. “I would love nothing more” you pecked his lips again, letting them linger this time, validating his wishes with your own.

You pulled away and merely nodded, ushering him to move forward. Almost hesitantly, Astarion persistent forward. You leaned upwards in order to slide your nightgown over your shoulders and across the tent, landing on the other side of the bedroll that you shared. “You look delicious, my love.” Astarion remarked, taking in the full experience of your form. He hadn’t truly realized how beautiful you were until this moment. He was so dissociated with his previous sexual escapades with you that he didn’t take the time to admire what was really in front of him.

“Darling, my Gods…” he muttered out as he nearly brought himself to pounce on you, quickly removing his own garments, kissing you feverishly. He broke the kiss a few times to undress, but he kept his eyes on yours persistently. He was with you, and he felt safe. He was so grateful for you. And as far as he was concerned, Raphael needed to watch his back. Any attempts for contact, he would regret.

Astarion focused his attention back to you now, rather than the destruction of the very man who you shared genes with. Astarion felt himself stammering around slightly, anxious to feel you around him again. Somehow, he felt like it would be different this time. His clothes were now scattered atop yours; his hard member being revealed teasingly. “Please, Astarion.” You moaned out, begging for his entrance inside of your canal.

Although he could hardly wait to be inside of you once more, he was also eager to tease. He pressed his index finger against your heat, moving it inside of you gently. He brought his thumb to flick against your clit, and you writhed in pleasure from his actions. “Fuck-“ you groaned as he flicked your nub once more, as you became even wetter than before.

“Astarion, please get inside of me” you begged. With this, he pressured his index finger in you further, and you groaned in response, looking up at him with a subtle smirk on his face. “Your dick, please.”

Astarion removed his finger now, understanding your eagerness. He took his erect member in his hand, guiding it to your vagina. At first he merely prodded the entrance, swirling his tip around it teasingly. Then, he pressed it within, and you gasped “I forgot how big you are.”

“It seems that it’s been far too long, then, my love.” With these words, he slid further in, until his tip reached the end of your canal, osculating your cervix. To this, you mewled from the pleasure. He made a similar groan in from the pleasure, as he felt your passage tighten around him. You took a breath, before he pulled out and pressed inwards again. He brought a finger downwards to play with your clitoris, hoping to provide more pleasure.

“Gods,” you pled once more, and Astarion began pumping in and out of you further, deeper, and faster than before as he felt his own climax building. You squeezed around him tightly, and he gazed down at your bouncing bosom before lifting his head upwards as his eyes rolled to the back of his head with ease from the sensation. He stared back down at you, watching as you panted, but looked back up at him with so much love and adoration in your eyes.

“How close are you, my sweet?” He pondered, and you frantically nodded back at him “so so close.”

“Me too, my love. Cum with me.” Astarion pumped in and out for a few more rounds, before the warm fluid coated your canal, with you squeezing around him, shaking, your own climax approaching steadily.

You writhed with pleasure as Astarion played with your bud still, the feeling of his juices flowing inside of you driving you over the edge. Your lips were soon met with Astarion’s, and you felt your heart flutter as he released, speaking those three little words, everyone’s favorite: “I love you.”

But he truly did mean it. He had never made love to someone before, nor feel so much for another. With you, he did. You felt the same as he did, so you repeated them back to him, “I love you, Astarion.” His name in your voice, following those words? He could’ve sworn he was starving all of his life before he met you. Like he had not truly lived.

You laid down in each other’s arms as you were before, left with slightly more marks from one another than you had previously. He brought another kiss to your lips, and you spoke after releasing “you just can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?”

“Never, my love. Not when you’re you, darling.”

[sheydgarden]

a reminder

i haven't been posting much here in a few months. part of that has been work-related - putting a lot of my time into illustration projects that i can't share, & also doing a lot of prep for a local Hanukkah market i both co-organize & vend at (which happened this past weekend). i tend to use this space as a sort of less-formal gallery, only posting work i consider "finished" or reblogging things related to projects i'm involved in. in the past i've been more talkative & more apt to share WIPs & personal things on my other social media (Twitter, Instagram, Bluesky), which is still true even though i've had to take several steps back from some of those platforms lately for my mental health.

all this is to say that if you only follow me here, you haven't seen me make any kind of statement about the crisis in Israel/Palestine, because that isn't how i've been using this particular site. i do not think of my art as apolitical & i am not secretive about my politics, but over & over again, i find myself followed by people who appear to be shocked to learn that i am proudly & actively anti-Zionist. i have been for my entire adult life. as a Jewish artist making visibly Jewish work, this puts a target on me, not only from garden-variety antisemites but also from fellow Jews who feel "betrayed" by my solidarity with Palestine & threatened by my vocal opposition to colonialism, apartheid & genocidal violence (as well as the very idea of ethnostates). in fact, the harassment & abuse i receive online is primarily from Zionists, which is not something i would have ever expected with so many white supremacists & neo-Nazis crawling all over the current internet!

so, this is just me cleaning house now & again. i don't feel the need to post signs shooing away folks who should be getting that message very easily from my work (if you hate queer, trans, fat, disabled & Jewish people i truly don't know why you'd follow me), but it's very easy for Zionists to see much of my Jewish-focused work & decide they like it, only to turn verbally abusive when they realize i don't share their views. here's your sign! if you want to bail, do so quietly & civilly like an adult please. thank you.

[papermonkeyism]

This post can be found in my devArt, (link), please use that for linking if you need the reference, thank you!

Wingbeans

The funny little griffin-y things colloquially known as wingbeans are flightless, roughly cat-sized, seemingly mammalian creatures with curious nature.

They resemble bipedal cats with chicken feet, but not quite. They are usually covered in soft, floofy fur, except for their hind legs and pawpads. They have soft snoot covering their mouths, which they will boop into things and people they like. Snoot bumps are their way of saying hello.

They have big, bright eyes with vertical slit pupils, and their nostrils are hidden beneath the floof of the snoot. They trust their sight and hearing more than their sense of smell.

They have short arms with three fingers, that are usually held tucked against their chest. The fingers usually have hidden cat claws.

Their wings are small and covered in soft, fluffy feathers, that are used mostly as display and as an additional pair of arms when climbing. The wings have five fingers in a fluff mitten, each having a paw pad, which is where the name wingbean comes from. In a wild type 'bean only the thumb of the wing has a retractable claw, like a cat, to use as climbing grip and for defence.

Their legs are usually hairless from ankle down, and have four toes, three pointing forwards and a small dewclaw pointing backwards. The foot claws are dull, and non-retractable.

They usually have long floofy tails, though there are short tailed and even bobtailed variations. It is also possible to have a tuft tipped tail.

Wingbeans are omnivorous, and as a species aren't picky about what they eat, though personal preferences vary wildly.

Wingbeans can have anywhere between 1 and 4 kittens (also called beanies or beanlings) at a time, most often 2. The kittens are born within a soft leathery egg shell, and they hatch usually within few hours after birth. They nurse their young like mammals.

Mom takes care of the kittens untill they're big enough to fend for themselves, though the offspring often stays nearby even as adults. The 'beans are social creatures who enjoy hanging out with friends, so big family groups (be they actually related or adopted) aren't unusual.

Wingbeans are considered fully grown at one year old, and in the wild their life span tends to be around 20 years, though domesticated 'beans can get a lot older.

Wild wingbeans come in a wide variety of markings and their colors cover all shades of browns and grays, but some have been bred to display brighter colors and strange markings, including unnatural ones. All coat types and lengths are possible; short haired, long haired, curly coated, maned, etc.

They have no apparent sexual dimorphism, and gender appears to be an optional feature to them.

Wingbeans are meant to be fun creatures, and to bring joy and fun.

Wingbeans are not meant for making money. They can be created freely, and they may be gifted, but they shall not be sold.

If you want to get rich by making weird little griffin-y things, make your own species.

Can I make my own wingbean?

Yes you can!

Can I make wingbean adoptables?

As long as you don't sell the designs for real life money. Giving them away for free, or trading them for virtual stuff such as virtual petsites' in-game currency, or things like art or poetry is fine.

Can I make wingbean NFTs/sell them for crypto stuff?

No.

Can I commission people to draw my wingbean?

Yes! Also, while wingbeans themselves aren't meant to be bought with money, do pay artists for the work they do. Artists need to eat too.

Can I commission an artist to design me a wingbean?

I'd say that still counts under the commission clause, so yes.

Can I use them in my D&D/TTRPG campaign?

Sounds fun, sure!

What if I want my wingbean to have rainbow colors?

Sure. Maybe your 'bean was bred by a wizard or something. Have fun!

Can my wingbean have raptor claws?

Sounds awesome. Go for it!

Can my wingbean have horns or other fancy details?

Did your 'bean wander in the way just as you were about to cast polymorph, didn't it?

You said they are flightless, but what if I want my wingbean to be able to fly?

Sounds like it was either born with bigger wings, or it can levitate. Either way sounds cool.

Can I make a wingbean of a big cat species?

That might stretch the definition of a wingbean, but if you feel like it's still wingbeany enough, then sure, go for it!

Do they have whiskers?

They can, if you want.

Are wingbean legs scaly like bird feet, or leathery?

Whichever you want. Both are good.

Are there any rare or limited features or markings?

The rarity of those depend entirely on what kinds of 'beans people create. If half the people making wingbeans decide to make theirs blue, then I guess blue isn't a rare color at that point, now is it?

But how will I know if my wingbean is special?

It's special because it's yours. No wingbean belongs behind paywalls.

What would a hairless wingbean look like?

Considerably less fluffy.

[qqueenofhades]

May I ask about prompts 14 and 38 for Dreamling, perhaps?

Dr. Robert Gadling presently has ninety-nine problems, and students who cannot read the module handbook are, at a minimum, ninety-eight of them. (How did they finish school? Take their GCSEs or A-Levels, any of it, while being functionally illiterate? Etc. etc. dismal condition of British state education and indeed the entire British state under the Tories, but still.) He has just fired off a hopefully polite-sounding group email advising everyone to please have a proper look at the posted content before sending him individual queries, when there's a knock on his door and he glances up, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah?"

"Rob?" It's Philippa, again, which makes his heart sink on reflex. They've already had several serious conversations intended to make him consider the possibility of becoming Head of School when her term's up next May, and -- frankly, over his dead body, which in his case is not at all a metaphor. It turns out, however, that she's not here to harass him to take on more professional responsibility, but rather to attend to his personal life. "Your boyfriend's skulking in the foyer and frightening the freshers again. Make him knock it off."

"My boyfr -- ?" Yeah, yeah, all right, the gentleman doth protest too much. Hob hasn't felt up to taking Dream to any faculty functions just yet, but he did tell Amira the other evening at the welcome-back mixer that he was seeing someone, and the news must have spread as fast as any other juicy department gossip. Hob sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. Thanks, Philippa. I'll tell him off."

With that, not sad to get away from the horror of his inbox, Hob pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, trotting out his office door and down the stairs. Even before he descends into sight of the foyer, he can tell where the problem is located. Dream is standing spookily just inside the door, in full goth-black, long-coat, pale-faced, looming-in-your-nightmares splendor, and students are indeed outright sprinting to get past him. Others seem to think he's some weird piece of performance art from the theatre department and are asking for selfies, which makes him stare at them even more. Hob swallows a groan, speeds up, and reaches the ground floor. "Oy," he hisses at the unrepentant King of Dreams. "What are you doing here?"

As per fucking usual, Morpheus haughtily disdains to provide a sensible answer (or indeed, any answer). Hob adores the skinny eldritch weirdo, he really does, but one problem he did not foresee now that they're officially an item is that Dream has gotten downright clingy. After going a hundred years between seeing each other, with each of those meetings usually ending in disaster, Hob's still getting used to the idea of seeing him regularly -- weekly, even. It's not like he minds. Variety is the spice of immortal life, and all that. But it does mean that they need to have a few conversations about boundaries, and this is definitely one of them.

"I'm busy," Hob says, doing his best to sound stern. "I've got work to do, love. Like we do in the human world, eh? Can't all sit around in magical throne rooms, brood, and spin magical stories."

Dream looks miffed at this lightweight estimation of his professional duties. He opens his mouth for some sort of pompous reprimand, but Hob holds up a hand. "Be back at five PM and save me from the emails, and we can jog off together somewhere, all right? But not until then. And stop scaring the students, or Philippa will have my head. Or make me be the Head, and I'm not sure which one's worse."

Dream once more appears about to object -- he still hasn't gotten in a word edgewise, which is probably for the best. But Hob looks furtively in either direction, then kisses Dream on the cheek, spins him around, and propels him out the exit, whereupon he looks very much like an extremely ruffled bird -- raven, probably, which Matthew is bound to find amusing. Mother of God, Hob's life is strange.

Biting a smile despite himself, he trudges back upstairs and dutifully applies himself to the remainder of the paperwork and otherwise makes sure that everything is in order. Then at 5:04pm, he gets up, grabs his things, and heads back downstairs, where Morpheus is waiting for him. "You are," he announces stiffly, "late."

"Only by four minutes. Pretty sure the world won't end." Hob grins crookedly. "Eager to see me, then?"

Morpheus, of course, cannot countenance actually saying this aloud, but it doesn't matter. He holds out his hand, Hob decides he doesn't care who sees him take it, and does so. Then all at once, the familiar surroundings of the Department of History stretch and ripple and fade away, and the next instant, they're not there at all, or London, or Earth. They're here, in Morpheus's home. The Dreaming.

As usual, the place looks eerie, magical, mystical, and lovely, and Hob is getting somewhat more used to the abrupt transition between worlds, so he only swallows hard a few times and then is good to go. They ascend to the castle, he and Lucienne greet each other warmly, and then Morpheus jealously squires him up to his rooms at the top of the tower, beneath the vast dome. The great bed is a temptation, and doubtless they will end up there before too long, but a supper is already laid, glimmering in the fey candles, and Hob blows out a relieved breath. "Could eat an ox. You're a lifesaver, darling."

Morpheus looks the usual blend of awkward and pleased he always does when Hob casually uses endearments or expresses affection. "Does this make up for me alarming your pupils, then?"

"More 'n." Hob sinks into the chair and tries not to wolf down everything in sight. "But still. Don't do it again."

They eat (here in his own realm, in his own stuff, Morpheus eats too). They drink, they talk. It's like old times, and more. Afterward, they go outside to gaze at the stars, a thousand times brighter and more brilliant than anything on Earth, and Morpheus's tousled dark head sinks slowly onto Hob's shoulder, like a feral cat finally becoming close enough with one trusted person to let itself be petted, let itself be loved. Hob bites another smile, this one unspeakably tender, and leans in to kiss Dream's hair. Aye, his life is bloody strange, and it always has been. But he would not trade it for the world.

[thisisnottheblogyourelookingfor]

My Little Sun

Rating: NSFW

Relationship: Pierro x Fem!Reader / Pierro x You

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Tags: smut without plot (maybe a little), reader is Pierro’s fiancée (arranged marriage), softdom!Pierro, mutual respect, mutual pining (alexa play ‘I won’t say I’m in love’), making love for the first time, LAP RIDING!, mentions of Il Dottore and the Tsaritsa, inexperienced reader when it comes to intimacy or relationships in general, big dick Pierro (both in energy and physically), blink and you’d miss edging, kinda rough sex, overstimulation, russian terms of endearment

Summary: Takes place in Pierro's office. Takes place on a chair iykwim.

A/N: I’ve never played the game before so please ignore if I got the details wrong. Keeping this as a one-shot at least for now. Hope you enjoy this little fic! Did not intend for it to be this long. Shoutout to @jinseinomerry-go-round spending the time explaining so much about the game and encouraging me to write this (my inner whore thank thee)!! <3

Sorry if the terms are used wrongly and is cringe.

Word Count: 2209

[AO3 Link]

Minor backstory (feel free to ignore this and imagine reader however you like): Reader has the skillset of a rogue/spy but it was out of the need to survive their harsh homeland rather than using them as a profession. Still, it doesn’t stop the other harbingers and the Tsaritsa from keeping them under constant surveillance and they can never leave the harbinger’s headquarters. They are currently engaged to Pierro for political alliance reasons and is always either in his company or nearby his office, which he spends most his time in. Reader could try and figure a way to escape the place but it doesn’t help when you’re the fiancée of the First Lord Harbinger who happens to have a variety of skills right at his fingertips. No…you’d have to approach things differently.

Terms used:

Милая (Milaya) – dear/darling

Лапочка (Lapochka) – sweetheart

моё маленькое солнышко/солнышко (Moye malen'koye solnyshko/Solnyshko) – my little sun/little sun

Жизнь моя (Zhizn’ moya) – my life

It was just like any other night at the harbinger’s headquarters. Pierro busy at his desk, sorting through paperwork, dishing out the last few remaining tasks of the day, and already planning ahead for tomorrow's briefing. You were in the office mindlessly browsing through the bookshelves. At some point you wondered if you've already passed that row of books and does he notice? Does he think you're acting strange? you shake away those thoughts and picked a random book, making your way to sit on the chair across his desk, trying your best to not do anything that may disrupt his focus. Then again, he never seems to be distracted by you. You're pretty sure that you're just as much of a presence as the wind when the doors to his office opens and closes. It doesn't bother you… right? Still, you insist on staying up with him for as long as you can. It wasn't always like this. Initially, you were always in the same room as him as a show of respect that even though you may not have necessarily agreed to be his intended, you would respect the alliance. But now? Now you find yourself willingly spending more time just being there, with him. There may not be much of a conversation going on but it felt strangely comforting to be in the same room together and you weren’t alone in thinking that. Of course, the two of you would never admit it out loud.

In the midst of your thoughts, he suddenly spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry my lord, I'm afraid I hadn't catch what you've said" he was reading something, not even bothered by your response before simply repeating himself, "you've spent time in Liyue, I asked if you could take a look at this and tell me what you see".

"Yes, I'd be happy too, my lo-" "Pierro." "I'm sorry?" "Please, call me Pierro. It would hardly seem fitting that a lady in your position should address her soon-to-be husband in such an unfamiliar manner, especially behind closed doors." "....of course....Pierro. I would be happy to take a look at that report for you."

You got up and stood next to him, slightly bending down to read the report. You held onto the paper with one hand while he held the other side. A soft smile started to form on your face, "hmm....glaze lilies...pop's teas...this is Qingce Village! Oh it's such a beautiful place in the Bishui Plains. Did. You. Know. They've got terraced fields of flowers? AND! They were believed to be the scales of a mighty dragon!" You excitedly continued talking about the things you’ve seen and places you’ve been during your time in Liyue.

You hadn't noticed but with how close you were standing next to him, Pierro couldn’t help but look at you, studying your features quietly, eyes wandering to how a smile slowly formed on your face. Eventually, the silence and lack of response from him has you looking at him and… there. Both of you locked eyes and it's almost as if time stopped for a moment. Breaths hitched; hearts skipped a beat. It's not as if you both hadn't made eye contact before so why does this time feel...different?

It felt like forever and suddenly, Pierro reached a hand out to caress your cheek and slowly bringing you into a gentle kiss. It surprised you and you start to lose your footing falling forward, hands hitting his chest. He caught you, lips never leaving yours, he sat you on his lap and deepened the kiss. As soon as the kiss ended, two of you were now breathing heavily and looking at each other, unsure what just happened.

"Apologies. That was..." "No... it's.... it's alright. Really, Pierro. It's...." you didn't even finish your sentence and you just went in to kiss him again. You're not sure why you did that but it felt nice, it felt right.

You shifted your leg to sit more comfortably on his lap not breaking the kiss and accidentally bit his lower lip. Immediately pulling back you started apologising profusely, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" "It's alright, my dear" "I shouldn't have gone in like that, I didn't think it would-" "I'm fine, milaya. Hey..." he cups your face and continues, "you have done nothing wrong. You have nothing to apologise for." "I'm sorry... it's just... I've never..." 

"We don't have to do this, milaya." "No, it's not that... it's.... I don't know how."

His smile softens at that, "if you'll have me, I can help you. If it gets too much, you only have to say the word and we'll stop. But whatever it is, we do it together. So....tell me. What do you want, milaya?"

"I.....I want....you. I want you, Pierro. I....I want us to be more than the small conversations, the courteous gestures we perform in front of the others to show that we're merely an alliance. I want more than the silence we're constantly dancing around with, more than the passing glances we give each other when we walk the halls, more than the promise that comes with these....rings. More than just you or me. I just.... I want us."

You were both quiet now as your words ring throughout the room, reverberating off the walls as if a spell has just been casted and the effects made stronger with each echo.

His gaze darkened just then and with a low voice, "take off your clothes" "w-what?" "Do you trust me?" You hesitated if only for a moment before nodding softly. "Then take off your clothes." You stood up and slowly removed your blouse and trousers, leaving only your undergarments. The cold air hitting you now and making you slightly shiver. He then pointed at your undergarments "those too" "but Pier-" he merely looks up at you and it sent a chill colder than the air through your spine. So, you removed them and this time, you were really shivering. See, you're not used to the weather here in Snezhnaya, you'd much prefer the warm sun and the light breeze. How anyone survives the harsh cold here is beyond you. You’ve even heard that some people die if they weren't constantly moving outdoors to keep their body temperatures up. Now here you were completely naked standing in front of Pierro, hugging yourself and trying to brush off the cold to no avail.

"Come here," he pats his lap. No hesitations there, you were freezing. Any excuse to snuggle close to that lush fur coat of his is nothing short of appealing right now. You quickly shuffled forward and sat on his lap facing him, legs unintentionally straddling his thighs as you try to quickly curl up against him. While it doesn't help much, it does feel better being closer to a warm body. Pierro notices your slight relief and couldn't help but to lightly smirk at your reaction. Using his thighs, he pushed your legs apart to allow him space to unbuckle his trousers. The sudden spread of your legs left you slightly jolted as a cold wind hits your folds. Seeing his length free now, hard, you forgot about the cold for a second and just stared. Oh. Well, this would be a challenge. "Touch yourself" huh? Oh. It didn’t quite register in your mind if he just said what you think he said and you were about to say something but the way he said it gave you the sense that maybe… don’t test his patience. Reaching down, you slowly but skilfully circled your clit. As cold as it is, somehow this whole situation has managed to arouse you and you were wet.

Pierro watches you with lust-filled gaze and starts pumping his cock. Never once breaking eye contact as he watches the way you try to hide your moans and whimpers. By the gods is this truly happening before his very eyes? He's not felt such an intense emotion since the fall of his homeland and certainly not for a person, besides the Tsaritsa but that's different. Yet here you are now making an absolute mess of yourself and dripping on his lap. This has got to be some sort of trick. Did he accidentally fall asleep and is now living some kind of illusory experiment conjured up by Dottore? Perhaps this is just a dream. Whatever it is, he doesn't want to wake up from it. Not when you're giving yourself to him so willingly, following his every command. And certainly not when he can clearly see you coming undone, your breath getting heavier and more ragged, indicating you're close.

He stills your wrist just as you were about to cum and stops his own motion. You whined ever so sweetly, music to his ears. "Shh, lapochka." He places both your hands around his neck and lifts you up a little closer to his cock. You were still sensitive from that interrupted high and the months of longing hadn't exactly made you any less sexually frustrated at the lack of touch. You'd never tell him but Pierro has always been easy on the eyes. You do find him handsome and it helps that he's got the physique of someone who can either take you in a fight or take you in well... this. So, it didn't take much to set your nerves on fire and Pierro knows this. Oh yes. He's seen the ways you'd pretend not to walk past a little slower when he changes into his armour, he's noticed the blush on your cheeks when he greets you in the morning with a peck on your hands, or the way you lingered in his office to stay up late with him until you eventually pass out on the seat across his desk with the book still in your hands. What was the book you were reading earlier? Ah yes, ‘Shipping Manifest: Logbook #3’ an interesting read. Seeing you slowly unravelling and for him nonetheless, makes him so proud and very excited. Oh the things he wants to do to you.

He teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. You gasped a little. Sensing your nervousness, he asks softly "do you want to stop, lapochka?" You let out a quiet no and with that he lifts you up gently, lining you to the tip before slowly guiding you down on his length. Inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his girth. The last thing he wants is to hurt you.

You held onto him tighter, arms still around his neck as you steady yourself down. He's big and it is your first time. The moment you were almost halfway through, you realise you've been holding your breath. You let it out shakily and closed your eyes. Pierro began rubbing the nub of your clit to ease away the discomfort. It was starting to sting and your eyes were watering now but the way he was playing with your clit kind of offset the pain. It was overwhelming. It was pain. It was pleasure. It's too much and it's not enough. You let out a cry as Pierro suddenly shifted his hips and thrusted into you hard while slamming you down to the base. Your vision turned white and you swear you could see stars swirling about. The shock cutting off your yelp and your mouth was just left open, no words or sound coming out. The impact pushed you so close to the edge that when you finally came to, the air left your lungs in a loud and uncontrollable moan. He made shallow thrusts until you cum for the first time that night. But he did not stop there. He continued riding you through the high and this time with deep long thrusts. Holding your waist up and letting gravity slam you back down. The sensations were making you hazy. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he continued to thrust harder and faster into you. Before you know it, you were calling out his name and cumming all over his cock again.

Your whole body slumped against his chest, exhausted. He's going slower now, giving you time to catch your breath. Then, he slowly picks up the pace, and you can't help but to moan into his neck, the sound vibrating against his skin. Your eyes were still closed and sleepiness were weighing on your eyelids. He coaxes you to open your eyes and directed your sight towards him going in and out of you. Something about it makes you feel warm. The sounds of the sloppy wetness like a symphony. With his free hand, he gently turns your face to look at him "Moye malen'koye solnyshko... My little sun...zhizn' moya…do you see it? How we fit together? How we are made for each other?" He brings his forehead against yours while softly rubbing his thumb against your flushed cheeks as you start to feel your climax building again and as you go over the edge, breath hot and heavy against his skin, he runs his hand behind your back soothing you. Softly whispering in your ear "shh... I've got you solnyshko... I've got you."

[magicshopaholic]

A Lack of Colour

Summary: Seokjin realises he needs to have a talk with his girlfriend. Yoongi makes a promise. "i should have given you a reason to stay" - death cab for cutie, a lack of color

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Angst, sort of

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: Please don’t hate me. Takes place a week after Helping Hands. If you want to yell at me with other readers after you're done , you can do so on the Discord channel.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "a lack of color“ by death cab for cutie

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

The ER is quiet today - too quiet.

Nari tries to ignore the giggles and whispers that are permeating the sanitizer whiteness of the room, and concentrates on the breath sounds of the patient on the bed before her. She’s come in complaining vaguely of “chest pains” but it’s mildly frustrating; Nari can’t hear anything except absolutely normal breath sounds and heartbeats.

“Show me where you’re feeling the pain again?” she asks kindly, watching closely as the girl - a kid probably in her early twenties - frowns and gestures largely at the front of her torso.

“Just… everywhere,” she answers unhelpfully. 

Nari frowns slightly, not wanting to alarm her patient while a variety of scenarios start flipping through her mind as to why her chest sounds perfectly normal, not dismissing the possibility that her stethoscope is damaged.

She glances up at the girl’s friends, two similar looking girls who seem least bothered about their friend’s situation. Instead, they’re on their phones, exchanging grins and excitedly whispering, nudging the girl on the bed to look at something on their screens.

“Just - give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” Nari walks away calmly and doesn’t stop until she reaches the front desk of the ER. She leans over to the first year resident who’s manning the desk for the day.

“Hey, have you seen Dr Kang or… Cheon or… anyone else?” she asks. “I need a consult.”

“Oh, um, I think they’re all in surgery…” The resident checks a large board behind her. “Yeah, won’t be out for a while. Anything I can help with?” she asks quickly.

Nari nods, empathising with the annoyance of having to answer phones in the ER in place of practising medicine. “I have a case of chest pain - female, early twenties, otherwise seemingly healthy. Her breath sounds, heart beat and EKG are completely normal and she can’t seem to pinpoint any singular area of pain. Can you do some research to understand what this could be?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, of course -“ She retrieves a notebook from her pocket and flips through it vigorously. “I’m sure I can find something -“ 

They’re interrupted momentarily by another sound of furious whispering - a group of medical student interns pass by them, giggling in hushed tones.

“Not to sound old or anything, but I swear we were more professional at that age,” mutters Nari, shaking her head.

“I kind of get it, though,” says the resident, shrugging apologetically. “It’s not every day there’s an idol somewhere in the hospital.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Like a k-pop idol? Here?”

“Uh-huh. It’s all super secret and high profile, though. He’s in the VIP section and has bodyguards everywhere.”

“Wow. That explains a lot. Anyway, let me know if you find something on the chest -“ Nari pauses abruptly, something clicking. She turns around slowly to look at the girl with the mysterious chest pains, sitting up straight on her bed and whispering with her friends.

“You know what,” she says instead, turning to the resident. “It’s a slow day. Why don’t you take over my patient instead?” she offers.

The resident’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Make sure to really ask her a lot of questions,” adds Nari. As the resident hurries away, pulling on her lab coat, Nari stops her. “By the way… who’s the idol?”

“Oh. Nobody knows.” The resident shrugs. “Rumour is that it’s someone from BTS.”

—

Nari waits outside the entrance of the VIP section, watching as one of the bulky bodyguards slips inside the private hospital room, presumably to ask the said BTS member if he knows and would be okay to see a Dr Choi Nari.

It’s a fifteen percent chance it’s Seokjin. If it’s any of the others, it will be a pleasant run-in. If it’s him… it occurs to Nari for the first time that he might not actually want to see her.

Just as she begins processing this possibility, the bodyguard pokes the upper half of his body outside the room and waves at her to enter.

Her heart leaping slightly, she saunters down the corridor silently, ignoring the two surely-vetted nurses giving her bewildered looks as she pushes open the door.

“Hey.” Seokjin, in a hospital gown, looks tired yet relieved. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Yeah?” Nari takes a few steps towards the bed, hands in the pocket of her lab coat, noting that he seems okay, except for an IV in his forearm and one of his feet elevated on a cushion. “You know where I work. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

He purses his lips hesitantly. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says lightly. “I thought… this might one of those times where lack of privacy would actually come in handy.”

She nods, waiting for the heaviness in her chest to reappear, but it doesn’t. “It did. What happened to you?”

“Oh.” He seems to remember why he’s here. “Um… twisted my ankle. And our regular doctor is out sick today. Irony,” he adds in a soft sing-song voice, grinning when he realises they've done it in unison.

“M-hm. Who’s your doctor here?” 

“Uh… Park something. Park Naeun.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Head of the department?” She taps his foot with her pen, ignoring his dramatic gasp of pain. “Must be some twisted ankle.”

“That hurt!”

“No, it didn’t,” she says, giving him a look when his face immediately drops to normal. She points at his chart hooked at the bottom of his bed. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. You don’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, I do. Patient information is confidential and I’m not your doctor.”

Seokjin nods slowly but his expression is clear. Nari waits for him to say what she thinks he’s about to but then decides she doesn’t want him to.

She flips through the chart. “Your vitals seem fine. BP is a bit low…” Automatically, she pulls her stethoscope from the pockets of her lab coat and puts it on. “Sit up?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow but obeys. Keeping the chart down, Nari places a hand on his shoulder and gently presses the chest piece to his chest. “Take a deep breath,” she murmurs, listening closely, frowning when his heart speeds up slightly. She moves to his back. “Lean forward a bit?”

He does so, and the hospital gown falls from his chest to his waist. His skin feels warm where Nari places the chest piece on his back. “Slightly tachycardic. You’re dehydrated, Kimbap.”

“Bingo,” he says, sounding tired again. Up close, he looks paler. But his eyes look more full of life than Nari has seen them in a while. She frowns curiously for a moment before realising it’s the first time she’s called him Kimbap in months.

In order to break the silence, heavy with meaning, she places the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. And you look thinner,” she adds, stepping away. “Have you been eating properly?”

He chuckles pointedly. “Hello, pot. I’m kettle.”

A smile flits across her face. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Airplane food is shit.”

“Even business class?”

“Absolutely. And touring is tiring.”

Nari nods, placing the chart back. There’s nothing much for her to do; rest and fluids are all he needs and both are taken care of for now. She hesitates, wondering if she should leave. A moment later, she takes a seat on the chair next to his bed.

Seokjin doesn’t try to hide his smile. “Don’t have surgery to get to?”

“It’s a slow day.” She nudges his bed lightly with her foot. “How have you been?”

Seokjin’s smile fades slightly, and his eyes fall. Nari bites her lip; it’s only been a week, but it feels like forever ago. Standing inches away from each other, his cheekbones under her fingers, his palpable desperation followed by clear, transparent realisation.

Despite that, it’s the first time in months that she’s been around him without wanting to cry. Talking with him is easier. Being around him feels like it used to. The truth is out there, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. 

“Okay. Been thinking a lot,” he says, glancing up at her.

She nods. She wants to ask more, but looking at his pale face and clammy forehead, she decides not to. Not while there’s a chance of delirious answers.

“Where’s Seulgi?”

His face falls. “Oh, crap. I should call her.” He reaches over to his bedside table and picks up his phone, only to see a black screen. “Damn it.”

“You should let your people know to let her in,” says Nari, taking his phone from him and plugging it in to charge behind the bedside table. “They’re fairly intimidating.”

He half-chuckles. “And yet here you are.”

“The whole hospital’s talking about a famous idol here somewhere. Had to check out the rumour for myself.”

“Good to know.” He turns to check that his phone is charging and sits back. “She’s gone to see her parents in Busan,” he says after a moment. “So I don’t think I’ll see her. I fly out the day after tomorrow,” he adds, answering her silent question.

“Oh. You may not be in a state to,” she tells him, pointing to the IV in his forearm.

“Don’t have a choice.” He sighs and closes his eyes, placing his other arm over them. His chest looks white, not a single bit of loose flesh anywhere. But she knows better than to argue with his schedule.

“Keep a water bottle on you at all times. One with a carabiner that you can hook onto your bag.” She clicks her tongue. “There is no way that this is the first time I’m telling you this.”

“Okay, Dr Choi,” he mutters, not moving.

She slaps his shoulder lightly. “I’m not kidding. You’re making yourself sick. You look like a ghost, Kimbap.”

“On the plus side, my hair game has never been stronger.”

She reaches over and ruffles his hair until he slaps her hand away, laughing.

“Don’t be jealous, Nari,” he says loftily, delicately straightening his bangs along his forehead.

“I’m not,” she says honestly.

He gives her a small smile but says nothing. “Thanks for coming,” he says after a moment. “Truth be told… I don’t feel that great.”

Nari wonders if she’s imagining the double meaning, or if she simply wants to. The look on his face at the restaurant opening when she’d finally told him, in as many words as she could, how she felt; it had simultaneously broken her heart and renewed hope because now he knew.

Part of her had expected their lingering desperation at maintaining a friendship to die a feeble death right then, but Seokjin seems to be genuinely glad she’s here right now. She searches, again, for the heaviness - but it has disappeared.

“‘Course I did,” she says softly, squeezing his hand. He squeezes it back, warm and dry, and Nari feels like crying. Not out of sadness, or heartbreak - but out of relief. There was a lack of colour in her life but it’s back now, clear, beautiful and messy.

“Nari, look… about -”

The door flies open and Dr Park Naeun stands at the doorway, youthful as ever in her late forties, with a sharp frown on her forehead. 

“Dr Choi,” she states sternly. “I don’t remember assigning you on this case. Are you cleared to be here?” Without waiting for Nari’s response, she turns to Seokjin and her face softens. “I’m sorry, I was told you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m not,” he says instantly, letting go of Nari’s hand. “Nari - er, Dr Choi,” he amends, glancing at her sheepishly, “is my oldest friend. No disturbance at all.”

Dr Park nods, still seeming a little unconvinced. “Alright. You should rest, though. Dr Choi - the ER isn’t going to run itself.”

Sensing her cue, Nari stands up, her hand brushing Seokjin’s. “Of course. Take care,” she says softly to him before walking past her boss and out of the hospital room.

—

Nari doesn’t stop by again except later that night to inform him she’s going home and checking his vitals once more. Seokjin stays motionless while she presses the chest piece of her stethoscope once more to his torso, soft and familiar fingers brushing against his skin. The medication makes his heart race but he tries not to show it, and he doesn’t exhale until she leaves the room.

He is discharged the next day; a shiny black SUV takes him back to the dorm, where all the members have elected to stay until the tour ends. It’s both convenient yet mildly chaotic; the only time any of them go back to their own apartments is when Dilara is in town, or if Jimin is to meet Sooah, or if Jungkook is entertaining one of his casual lady friends.

As it so happens, the only person in the house when Seokjin returns is Min Yoongi, eating a bowl of cereal at four pm in front of the television.

“Hey, you’re back,” he says unnecessarily. “When did - wait, why didn’t you tell any of us when you were coming back? We could’ve picked you up.”

Seokjin waves his hand dismissively. “Not necessary. Everyone has enough going on.” He takes a seat next to Yoongi on the sofa and sighs, gratefully accepting the bowl of cereal and taking a large bite of choco flakes and cold milk. “Oh, God, that’s good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I can get you a bowl,” offers Yoongi, heading to the kitchen when Seokjin nods. He brings back a plate with a bowl of cereal on it, along with toast and blueberry jam. “I know it’s carbs but you were sick - you need your energy.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about carbs right now,” agrees Seokjin, eagerly taking the plate and going straight for the toast, not emerging until he finishes an entire slice. “Jesus. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Yoongi nods, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Yesterday was a bit shit but I woke up feeling pretty okay. Nari’s convinced it was the rest and fluids but I think it was the super comfortable hospital bed and jelly cups that did the trick.”

“You met Nari?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “How, uh, how is she?” he asks, sounding a bit guilty.

Seokjin is sure he’s recalling the disastrous not-date that occurred at the restaurant opening a week ago, but says nothing. Nari’s transparent embarrassment from that night doesn’t need to become public knowledge. 

“She’s okay. It was kind of weird seeing her in work mode, but - but it was good,” he replies, realising as he says it, that for the first time in a long time, it actually was good. Maybe it was the fact that he was sick or that he hadn’t actually seen her smile at him in forever, but it was the closest he’d felt to her in months.

Kimbap. And maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t alone in it. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“What?” Seokjin stares at his remaining cereal. “I’m -” About to deny it, he stops. “Okay, I need to get something off my chest.”

“Okay.” Yoongi mutes the television.

“I -” He takes a deep breath, not really sure where to begin. “Um… after the restaurant opening, when Nari was leaving…” He swallows, feeling his stomach squirm the same it has the entirety of the last week, every single time he thought about her and that night. “I think… Nari might have feelings for me.”

There’s a few moments of silence. When Yoongi doesn’t answer, Seokjin turns to him to see him looking back expectantly. “And?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Well…” Seokjin frowns.

Yoongi squints. “Please don’t tell me that’s news to you.”

Seokjin opens his mouth then closes it, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s not… news,” he admits. “But it’s confirmation. I didn’t think it was likely, not after the pregnancy scare and with that Jason guy… but I did wonder. Maybe,” he finishes, shrugging tiredly. “Kind of felt wrong to speculate once I got together with Seulgi,” he mutters.

“Does Seulgi know? Wait - what actually happened?” Yoongi asks instead.

“Nothing happened,” he clarifies immediately. “Not like that.” But it could have. Another second and I might have. “But… I mean, I would be deliberately obtuse if I didn’t see it now, right?”

Although it doesn’t answer his question, Yoongi tactfully doesn’t repeat it. “But you said everything was good with her yesterday?”

“That’s just it.” Seokjin pounces on what’s been going through his head for the last twenty-four hours. “It’s been a nightmare for almost a year and then suddenly it’s… we’re back to normal. Kind of.” He shakes his head. “I kept thinking it might have made it worse, having it out in the open. But it isn’t. It’s like a switch flipped.” I got my best friend back, he thinks, and a part of his heart soars.

“What does Seulgi think?” When Seokjin doesn’t answer, Yoongi sits back on the couch, still observing his friend. “Does she know about this new development at all?”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters. “I don’t even know what this development is.” He catches Yoongi’s knowing look. “I’m serious. It was, like, fifteen minutes in total and it was… normal. If anything, the last few months were a development. This is the default.”

Seokjin is mildly aware he’s rambling now, especially when Yoongi conspicuously utters nothing. It’s just as well; he’s run out of ways to explain the situation. There are no appropriate words to describe the wave of emotions he’d experienced since last week, beginning with shock and solace that Nari was finally communicating with him, stress and fear that this may just have pushed her away for good, and a numbing relief when she’d shown up yesterday. 

He wishes he’d hugged her. He wishes she’d stayed longer, or that stupid Dr Park hadn’t told her to leave. He wishes he knew what she was going through last week, if she was truly as relaxed as she seemed, if her confession really had been as cathartic for her to make as it had been for him to hear.

“Do you think you can travel tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, breaking the silence.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Seokjin shifts on the sofa, running a hand over his face. “It should be fine.” 

Tomorrow. It seems too soon now, now that there’s so much to leave behind in Seoul. She was happy. It was, at the crux of it, the detail that sticks in his mind. He imagines the weight off her chest, imagines her expecting something from him, imagines telling her what she wants to hear. It could get complicated, for certain, but the thought of it doesn’t tire him the way it used to.

“Hey, you know what?” Seokjin asks, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “That night, when Nari was leaving the party, she said you were… kissing someone?”

Yoongi goes very still. “She told you about that?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his tone.

“Well… she was upset,” he says hastily. “I don’t think she knew it was a secret… is it a secret?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

Yoongi is silent for a moment longer. “There’s nothing to tell, honestly,” he mutters, and that’s enough to indicate that the topic is closed.

Later that evening, as he drives to the Big Hit building, Yoongi finds himself regretting being so abrupt with Seokjin.

But there is nothing to tell. He didn’t lie. There has been virtually no contact with Miso since that night, and he hasn’t been able to come up with a single appropriate way to begin conversation. Hey, I just want to skirt around the awkwardness of kissing you in a coat closet right after you admitted your psychotic mother has a habit of stealing men from you, so how’s it going? I miss you.

It was variations of this until Yoongi gave up, choosing to give her space and time to process everything and let the ball be in her court for once.

Even when he reaches the floor, he makes sure to only wave at her while she’s standing with Donghyuk and a couple of other people before ducking into his own studio. He stays there for a while, distractedly flipping through his files and trying to remember why exactly he’d come in today at all.

After a few minutes, he decides he needs a cigarette, taking the elevator to the terrace and stepping out into the pleasant evening air.

He lights his first cigarette and takes a deep drag, closing his eyes when the door creaks open behind him.

“They don’t let you smoke on tour?”

Yoongi doesn’t move. “They’d probably have a heart attack if I did. Although my make-up artist joins me for a secret one once in a while.”

“Clandestine smoke breaks feel different,” she agrees, slipping out her own pack and placing a cigarette between her lips. Yoongi reaches forward and lights it for her, and her eyes look brown in the brightness of the flame.

Miso breathes it in and lets the smoke out without flinching. “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yeah… weren’t you in Europe or something this week?” She frowns. “The flying must be playing havoc with your system.”

She means the tour. Yoongi nods a little belatedly. “I guess. I’m used to it. I sleep when I can. How are you?” he ask after a moment.

“Same as always.” Miso takes another drag before giving him a side glance. “Also… I just want to move on from the whole… weirdness of our - of us, you know, kissing in the aftermath of my whole word vomit about my demented mother going after men far too young for her.” She exhales, having said everything in one breath.

Yoongi stares at her, blinking wordlessly before he realises she’s expecting a response from him. “Oh, hey… don’t worry. No weirdness whatsoever.”

She gives him a small smile and leans back against the railing he’s looking over, the city of Seoul lit up under them. Their shoulders brush and Yoongi tries to grasp at anything to keep the conversation going. “Um, so… how are things with - with you and your mom?”

Miso frowns slightly, as though she hadn’t expected this question. “As good as they’ll ever be? We’ve successfully ignored each other all week,” she explains, half-chuckling. 

Yoongi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe; it’s not a common cue to take, so he simply nods. She seems a bit jittery; the last time he’d seen her like this, it was almost a year ago at her house, the first glimpse he’d gotten a peek into her life. He’s about to reach for her hand which is holding the cigarette and tapping absently at the railing, but at that moment she raises her hand to take another drag.

“Anyway, I, uh…” She clears her throat and taps the cigarette, ash falling on the ground, “I’m just glad we didn’t… I mean, you don’t have to feel like… God, it was a weird night,” she sighs awkwardly. “But it doesn’t have to… go anywhere. We can just go back to normal.”

Unlike her, Yoongi doesn’t look away. “Truth be told, I’m not really sure what normal is with us.”

Looking at the ground, Miso half-chuckles again, without humour. She’s wearing full sleeves again, despite a mostly warm day. Beige sleeves and a dark t-shirt on top; her skin looked white against it, like porcelain.

“I know,” she admits, flicking ash again. “But I’m just saying, it doesn’t have to be… anything different. Whatever normal is.” She shrugs and when Yoongi doesn’t respond, she looks up. “I’m just saying… it was a long night. I was on edge, surrounded by my mother and her friends and you… and everyone was hungry because they took forever to serve dinner…” She exhales, and grey smoke comes out of her nostrils. “Nothing… really happened.”

Yoongi stares at her, his face making no movement whatsoever for he finally feels as though she’s reaching the point. “What?”

Miso gazes at him, pursing her lips. It feels as though she’s reading him, trying to gauge what his question is referring to. She takes a last, deep drag and finishes her cigarette. “This is a good thing, Yoongi,” she says at last, stamping out the butt. “You got a look into the shitshow and… you’re getting out ahead.” She gives him a small, forced smile. “You’re off the hook,” she says in English, the unfamiliar accent jarring. 

She moves to leave while Yoongi stays frozen to the spot, his stomach sinking slowly. Then, as though jerked out of a trance, he extinguishes his cigarette against a metal pipe on the side and drops the butt, turning around and catching up to her in a few steps. 

“I’m off the hook?” he repeats, voice low and sticking to Korean.

She doesn’t look too surprised that he’s stopped her, but her forced nonchalance wobbles slightly. “Well, the proverbial hook.”

“Yeah? What hook is that?”

“The hook that pegged you to kiss me in a coat closet after I… dumped my mommy-trauma on you.” She shakes her head. “There was a lot going on and I don’t… I’m not expecting anything from you. Not for that.”

Yoongi bites his lip. “So… I’m off the hook for the spur-of-the-moment kiss we shared after I assured you that you can trust me.”

Miso’s eyes flicker momentarily but she reverts to her blasé expression instantly. “The words sound like you get me, but your tone is throwing me off,” she says wryly.

He takes a step closer to her. “You are,” he mutters tightly, his hand clenching into a fist, “the single most uniquely frustrating person I have ever met.”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting annoyed with me,” she replies, but Yoongi doesn’t believe her, scoffing and turning away. “You want this, believe me.” When he doesn’t answer, she folds her arms across her chest. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to get involved. I don’t know why you’re still trying to.”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder the same thing myself,” he snaps, walking past her and out of the terrace. He catches a glimpse of her just as the elevator doors close and he bristles; there’s no doubt, guilt or anger on her face. It’s an expression he’s seen numerous times before, annoying him more each time: the one of being proven right.

—

Donghyuk [21:15] Going out with some of the prods in a bit. Drinks on BH. You in?

Yoongi [21:16] Don’t think so. Too much to get done.

Donghyuk [21:16] Sure? Kim Namjoon’s coming too. Probably.

Yoongi [21:17] You asked him?

Donghyuk [21:17] Not yet.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, although Namjoon might just agree to go. Anything to get his mind off his girl.

Yoongi [21:18] Raincheck. In the zone right now.

Donghyuk replies with an irrelevant emoji but doesn’t push. Yoongi locks his phone and stares at the wide screens in front of him. A part of him had planned to return to the dorm tonight to give Seokjin some company; something about how deep in thought the older member had been earlier today was throwing Yoongi off. Seokjin didn’t divulge much, but Yoongi had a feeling he might want to just this once.

There’s also the added bonus of a hot meal most likely awaiting him at the dorm, for when Seokjin was stressed, he tended to cook.

Yoongi [21:25] Hyung. Need me to pick up anything for dinner?

Seokjin [21:27] Not for me. I’m probably going out.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at this unexpected response, his stomach rumbling sadly. But he ignores it, reaching for his half empty pack of cigarettes and debating another smoke break, when his studio door opens without permission and he turns, his heart skipping an automatic beat.

Miso pokes her head in, expressionless. “Donghyuk’s leaving. He asked me to check if you want to schedule the demo with that rookie girl group tomorrow at noon.”

Yoongi turns back around. “Sure. Anything else?”

She hesitates. “That Chinese place you recommended sucks, by the way. Their portion sizes are deceptively huge and now I’m stuck with enough Kung Pao chicken to feed a small army,” she states in mild exasperation before leaving.

The door swings shut behind her. Yoongi scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. Uniquely frustrating. Everything had to be an argument, and every argument had to be won by her, even if it was about an excess of Kung Pao chicken.

He checks his pack to see about half a dozen cigarettes left, when something clicks. He pauses and, on cue, his stomach rumbles again.

Grabbing his phone and the smokes, Yoongi stands up and heads out of his studio, making a beeline down the corridor for Donghyuk's. He can smell the food even before he pushes the door open.

Miso looks up when he enters, not looking entirely surprised, but - he notes with caution - her shoulders relax as though in relief. Four boxes of food are on the console table in front of her while she unpacks the chopsticks. As he takes a seat next to her mutely, she unpacks the last items in the bag: two cans of lemonade. She slides one over to him and he catches it.

“Thanks.”

She nods, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “I’ve heard the food’s not bad.”

“So have I. I didn’t know about the lemonade on their menu, though.” He takes a sip and swallows it slowly, wincing slightly at the tartness. “Not bad.”

Miso, her can unopened in front of her, observes him thoughtfully before bending over the other side of her chair and retrieving two cans of Budweiser Premium. She offers one to him, eyebrows raised.

“Are we allowed alcohol in here?” he asks mildly, taking the can anyway. 

“No idea.”

“Not afraid of getting caught?”

She hitches one leg on the edge of her chair and pops her can open, taking a long sip. “What are they going to do? Fire me?” 

Nope. Not daddy’s nepo princess.

A year ago, Yoongi would’ve said it out loud. The arrogance of her statement would have struck him in his very core, except now he can only detect apathy in it. What’s the worst they can do? Fire me?

He opens his own can and takes a sip, the cold beer feeling incredible in his chest. “God, I feel healed.”

The corner of her mouth lifts and she reaches over, and they clink their cans together. “Cheers.”

As they eat, Yoongi finds himself more confused than ever. Not only did Miso, in her own twisted way, offer an olive branch and buy him dinner, but for the first time since he’s known her, she is initiating conversation.

“Are you allowed to drink on tour?” she asks him, curiously scooping some noodles into her paper bowl.

“Only as long as we’re not seen. And as long as it doesn’t make us put on weight or bloat or break out…” He shrugs. “So… no. Not really.”

“Is the company afraid your fans will get scandalized if they see you, an adult man, consuming alcohol?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that.”

“Damn. How do you smoke?”

“I don’t, as much. I wait to come home and do it in peace.”

She grins and his heart catches. “Yeah? Dreaming about the Big Hit terrace while sailing around the world?”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I wake up smelling instant coffee and cornflakes.”

“A man so loyal to his work,” she says dryly, chuckling when he waves a hand in mock-embarrassment. “Big Hit is so lucky to have you.”

“They make me do a lot more dancing than I ever signed up for, so… you know what? They kind of are,” he agrees, smiling when she laughs. “Damn, this is good beer.”

Without being asked, she hands him another one, and their fingers brush on the cold can. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Miso lets go and leans back, busying herself with something else. Yoongi glances at her as he absently bites down on a mushroom, wanting to bring up their earlier encounter today, last week and all the preceding weeks - but it’s not a good idea. Not during this precarious time of… he isn’t even sure what to call it.

“How come you didn’t go out with Donghyuk and the guys?”

“Work,” he answers simply. “How come you didn’t?”

“Work, I guess. And I had all this food to finish,” she reminds him, gesturing to the half a dozen boxes on the table. “You’re only back for a couple days, though. How come you don’t want to, you know…” She does an awkward wave with her shoulders. “... party?”

Yoongi stifles a chuckle. “Someone had to help you finish all this food. Apparently it’s my fault there’s so much of it.”

“It is. But the food is actually quite… not bad,” she adds generously. “How’d you know about this place?”

“Oh, I, uh… I used to deliver for them,” he confesses, nodding when she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “It’s been a few years, but… there was this one apartment over in Hongdae that ordered in from there almost every single day. A couple of roommates, fresh out of college, I think,” he recalls. “I asked them once about it and they said they worked long hours and ordering in from here was what kept them going.”

“Wow.” Miso is quiet for a moment. “So you started eating from here, too?”

“Once I could afford it, yeah.” He catches her eye but she lowers her eyes, almost as if ashamed. “The shrimp fried rice is the best thing on the menu, though.”

She nods, glancing up at him. “Noted. For next time.”

Yoongi’s heart soars unexpectedly before his mind forces their disagreement on the terrace to the forefront of his mind.

“I didn’t know you delivered food,” she says after a moment. 

“Mhm. It’s also when I learned to pick a lock, because these kids in one of the Gangnam neighbourhoods would lock people’s bicycles for fun,” he tells her, rolling his eyes. 

“What? Why?”

“Who knows.” He tosses his empty bowl on the table and stretches back in his chair. “Dumb, rich kids with nothing better to do,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling. When he glances back down at her, it’s to see her quietly cleaning up, her hair covering the side of her face.

Yoongi starts to say something but thinks the better of it, instead helping her clear the table.

“Tell me something about you,” he says a little while later, as they share a single serving of chocolate mousse. “Not your parents or your… driver or whoever. You.”

Miso raises her eyebrows, looking a little startled at the question; it’s clear that it’s not something she gets asked too often.

“I don’t know. I’m really not that interesting.”

He gives her a look. “I told you about being a delivery boy. Interesting isn’t the criteria here.”

“Fine.” She purses her lips and frowns, apparently thinking. “Okay, I have one. Ready?”

“On the edge of my seat.”

A smile flits across her face. “Okay… I’m red-green colourblind.” She shrugs hugely, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Huh. Really?” Yoongi wasn’t expecting that. “So, can you…”

“I can,” she confirms. “I wear contact lenses so I can pretty much see everything normally. But, yeah. That’s something about me.”

“Have you - sorry, this might be a stupid question -“ He raises a hand and she waves her own, permitting him to ask. “Have you always had it?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s genetic,” she adds. “My mother used to take me to the optometrist in secret, as if she was afraid that my father would explode at a reminder of a weakness,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Actually, that seems pretty on brand for him.”

Yoongi frowns. “But if it’s genetic…”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have it,” she confirms. “Neither does my mother, which means she’s a carrier.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not something we talk about. Ever.”

She says it in a matter-of-fact way, as though it’s the most understandable thing in the world for her own issues to take a backseat to her egocentric father’s insecurities. 

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “So it’s your little secret?”

“Kind of. Strange to think about,” she agrees. She is quiet for a moment. “She really did seem to care that I had the best possible doctors and specialists and whatnot.” She shudders. “It’s like a fever dream.”

He doesn’t know how to react to this so he follows her cue and returns her wry smile. “I saw a picture of you as a kid at your house. You were a cute kid.”

Miso narrows her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Where are you going with this?”

“Nothing. Just picturing you holding your mother’s hand, going to the optometrist.” He grins when she rolls her eyes. “You did say she took you in secret.”

“Well, she and Seungkwan,” she amends. “Not that we ever discussed it with him but I’m pretty sure he guessed.”

This is news. Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? And he never told your father?”

A faint smile appears on Miso’s face. “It’s a dangerous thing to be that loyal to my father. Some things are better left ignored.”

He senses something else in her words, but doesn’t ask. He remembers her driver vaguely; somehow, he appears everywhere she is, whenever she needs him. 

“Well, I can keep your secret,” he promises her, leaving the last bite of the mousse and handing it to her.

Her smile widens as she takes it from him. “I know,” she says. “I trust you.”

Yoongi holds her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Miso’s smile fades. “Yoongi…” She trails off when he drops his head, suddenly tired. She begins again. “You know, you’re the only person in the world who’s ever apologised to me,” she tells him. 

She waits until he meets her eyes again, and he’s slightly startled at how sorry she looks. He struggles for a moment to recall what she’s talking about, the memories of the aftermath of the launch party crawling to the forefront of his mind.

“That isn’t -“

“I’m just saying… It seems okay now. Now,” she repeats. “But you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m not talking about my parents,” she says quickly when he opens his mouth. “I’m saying…” She sighs. “Yoongi, I don’t think I can give you what you want. I don’t know how.”

Yoongi says nothing; his throat feels stuck and he worries that if he speaks, his voice might break. It doesn’t feel like a rejection, but he also can’t find a way to respond. Once again, she’s won the argument. 

They leave soon after that, once they clean up in silence and Yoongi takes out the trash while Miso closes down Donghyuk’s studio. He walks her to the elevator, both of them walking beside each other with just enough distance between them to not touch.

I don’t know how. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit, and he can’t tell if it’s because of her fucked up parents or her general tendency to keep a distance that she believes she’s incapable of genuine human connection. 

When they reach the elevator and she reaches up to press the button, his eyes fall on her wrist and he wants, once again, to grab it and push her sleeve up her forearm. The bruise he’d seen all those months ago feels like a siren he’d ignored; it makes him sick to think about another potential one on her wrist right now.

The doors open, Miso glances at him hesitantly. “I don’t know about you… but I actually had a good time tonight.” She nods once. “Thanks, Yoongi.”

He slips his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Thanks for what?”

“You know…” She steps in between the doors to stop them from closing and turns to face him. “Helping me out… with the Kung Pao chicken and everything,” she finishes, her mouth lifting up at the corners. By the way she bites her lip, he knows his own face is betraying at least a hint of humour. Or maybe it’s exasperation, or annoyance, or infatuation, or everything at once.

“Your driver… Seungkwan?” He waits for her to nod. “He’s here?”

“Downstairs,” she confirms.

Take care. Call me if you need anything. Call me if you don’t need anything, too.

“See you around, Miso.” He waves mechanically and it immediately feels ridiculous.

She frowns curiously but mimics his awkward wave. “Bye.” She takes a step back into the elevator and presses the button, and he takes a similar step further back. She gives him a small smile as the doors start to close.

Yoongi starts to walk back towards his studio, noting the elevator only in his peripheral vision. As he leaves, the image of her on the terrace comes back to him; through another set of closing elevator doors, her look of mild satisfaction, almost expectant.

It only takes a fraction of a second; Yoongi turns on the spot and hurries back to the elevator, slipping through just before the doors close fully.

“Whoa.” Miso jerks back slightly, but doesn’t look annoyed “What are you doing?” she asks as he steps towards her.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,” he assures her dryly, ignoring the look she gives him and reaching over to wrap her in a hug. He waits a moment, and then two, and then relaxes when he feels her arms go stiffly around his waist.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She smells of lilies and cigarette smoke. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her, closing his eyes and meaning every word of it.

It takes another moment but she tightens her arms around him. Her fingertips brush his shoulders and - he hopes he’s not imagining this - he feels her smile against his collarbone. 

They step away from each other a few seconds later when the doors start to open. There’s a tinge of pink on her cheeks he’s never seen before. She hitches her bag on her shoulders as she exits.

“Don’t be such a sap, Min Suga.” But the blush says differently, as does the small smile she visibly struggles and fails to hide. 

Yoongi grins at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter and taller all at once. He’s made a decision, and now she’s in on it, too.

—

It’s almost close to dinner time, but for once Seokjin isn’t hungry.

His phone stares at him from where he’d tossed it on the futon a few minutes ago, the screen painfully dark. He was trying to spare himself the temptation of checking it every second, but this isn’t any better.

After staring at it for a few more seconds, he reaches for it and replays the voicemail he’d sent to Nari over an hour ago.

“Hey. It’s me. Seokjin. Er, Kim Seokjin. I got discharged and I’m home. I hydrated, too, like you said. Still am, in fact. You may have been onto something, Dr Choi. Anyway… thanks for coming yesterday. It really meant a lot and I’m… God, I can’t tell you how good it was to hang out with you again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. And… I do want to talk about last week. I know things have been really weird with us for a while but I don’t want them to be anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot this last week - I can’t help it, I’ve tried to stop, believe me. I’ve been way too afraid to lose you as a friend. I’d be lost without you, Nari. But… I may have been overcompensating on that front. I don’t know where this leaves us, but I want to figure it out. With you. Not in my own head, the way I’ve been doing it this whole time. I’m flying out tomorrow, but do you think we could talk tonight? Coincidentally, I have everything needed to whip up jajjangmyeon, too. Just throwing that in there. Let me know. Oh, this Seokjin.”

There’s a click to signal the end of the message, but Seokjin’s stomach churns more than ever, though not necessarily in a bad way. He’s officially entered the ring, albeit to do what, he isn’t completely sure. All he knows is that there’s no ignoring this anymore, the uncomfortable distance with Nari, the subtle hostility between her and Seulgi, the distaste with which he thinks of Kang Jason at the oddest times.

Nari hasn’t replied or called him back yet, but he tries not to stress about it. Most likely, she’s in surgery, or the ER, or even catching up on sleep in an on-call room. He’s determined to stay up all night, though; he can sleep on the flight tomorrow.

Automatically, his eyes fall to the last message he’d sent to Seulgi. Hey. I was hoping we could talk. Call me when you’re free?

She had replied a little while ago. Sure. Everything okay?

Seokjin didn’t have a response to that, so he’d sent her a skull emoji instead, hoping that would do the trick.

He wishes he wasn’t touring right now. There’s a better way to do this: with Seulgi, in person, thorough and rational - and then with Nari, slow and gentle, giving her space and control. 

But he has one day - no, one night - before he leaves once more for weeks, with all three of them left to stew in their own thoughts for that time. Sure, he can call - but calls can be ignored. So can messages, and voicemails, and then before he knows it, he’s back in Seoul, tired and jet lagged only to find out that the situation has progressed, leaving him completely out of the loop.

After considering it for a minute, he picks up the phone and calls Seulgi. Fortunately, she picks it up on the second ring.

“Hey,” she says, panting slightly. “I went out for a run; I was just about to call you. What’s up?”

“Um -“ He bites his lip. “Not - not much. How are you? How are your folks?”

“They’re good. Mum’s asking when she can meet you but I deflected that,” she adds, but there’s a knowing lilt to her voice. “You have enough going on right now.”

Do I ever. “I appreciate that. I just wanted to talk before I fly out tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could’ve been there. You barely get any time off as it is and even when you do, I’m not in town.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He picks at a loose thread on the corner of the sofa. “You don’t have to accommodate your family plans around my crazy schedule. And I’ll be back again soon.”

“Can’t wait.” She pauses. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks, apparently done with small talk. “You seemed serious.”

It’s not serious, he’s about to say, but stops himself. “It’s… it’s about Nari. We kind of… ran into each other.”

There’s another pause, a longer one this time. “Okay. When?”

“Yesterday, when she visited me at the hospital. I wasn’t expecting -“

“You were in the hospital?” She interrupts him, tone suddenly anxious.

He freezes. “Yeah, but it - it wasn’t serious. I was dehydrated, that’s all. I don’t even know why they took me to the hospital, honestly. I’m back home now.”

Her next response is instant. “But Nari knew?”

“I - only because it was her hospital. And I didn’t tell her - she found out.” He waits for her to respond. “Seulgi, it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t here - I didn’t want to worry you. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

There’s another pause and then she sighs deeply. “Okay. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Oh, boy. “Kind of. Well, no. I…” He sighs. “God, I really wish we were doing this in person,” he mutters.

“Wait. Are you -“ She scoffs, but it breaks slightly. “Are you breaking up with me? Over the phone?”

“No! No, I’m not. Look, I think I need to talk to Nari,” he says quickly before he loses his nerve. “It’s been a long time and I… I really need to know what’s going on. But I want you to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Where do I start? “I mean, you know what it’s been like. But it’s just been too long - and I think she might be ready to talk to me, too. I have to try and fix it with her… I hope you understand why, Seulgi,” he adds, meaning it and already feeling horrendous.

“But I thought she was mad at you.” Seulgi is calm - too calm, and it’s worrying. “Or something. What’s changed?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” It’s not a complete lie. I think she might have feelings for me based on a moment we shared a week ago, where neither of us actually spoke. Not only did it sound insane, it didn’t actually clarify anything. There was no point bringing it up when he wasn’t sure of it either.

“So…” She takes a deep breath on the other end. “Let me get this straight. She’s been evasive and distant and - let’s face it - sort of pissed at you. And then something changed… and suddenly she’s nursing you back to health during a hospital visit that I’m finding out about now.”

Seokjin closes his eyes. “I know it sounds bad,” he murmurs. “And I know it’s my fault it’s so messed up. I don’t… If I think back, I don’t know where I went wrong, but I’m sure I did something. You know?” He bites his lip, suddenly glad he’s flying out tomorrow, far away from his girlfriend and his best friend where he can’t hurt them anymore. “I don’t want to be unfair to you,” he admits.

“Why do you think you are?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know…” He runs a hand down his face tiredly. “There’s a lot of history there and baggage and stuff…” There's no telling what we’ll find.

“You know what I think, Seokjin?” she says after a few moments. “I think you’re not fully sure of what you want. Or you are,” she guesses, “and you just don’t want to admit it because if you do and you don’t get it, you’re afraid it’ll devastate you.”

Seokjin swallows. His vision blurs without warning and he blinks rapidly, a distinct memory threatening to surface, of hope being crushed in his chest, a life he’d dared to imagine disappearing before he’d even fully wrapped his head around it. He’d repressed it as best as he could, figuring there was no one to blame but himself for this lapse in judgement, but it had inadvertently set actions in motion that he will regret for a long time. 

He’s taking too long to respond, he realises, but he’s afraid to speak. It might all boil down to that one night and the thought of what it meant - of what it might still mean - is too overwhelming to think about. 

“I’m glad you don’t want to be unfair to me,” she states, and there’s finally a bite to her tone. “So call me when you figure it out.” She hangs up.

Seokjin stays frozen for a minute before he sighs, tossing his phone back on the sofa and dropping his head in his hands. Suddenly, everything about his relationship with Seulgi feels tainted, now that his mind is involuntarily tracing the timeline of events back to the day he met her, and then ran into her again. She was lovely and calm and straightforward and put together - and he was so tired.

He needs to talk to Nari. He needs to. His mind is blocked and so is his heart, and it’s occurring to him now that it all comes to Nari. Everything comes down to Nari.

He’d been vague but he can’t imagine she would simply ignore his message, not unless she absolutely hated him. She didn’t, though, his brain reasoned. 

She’d visited him, actually talked with him, and she’d called him Kimbap. She would call. Even if she couldn’t meet him, she would call, or text. All he has to do is wait.

—

Nari takes off her lab coat and shakes her hair out, glad to be done with the day.

“See you tomorrow, Nari,” says one of her friends, a perky first year resident with the kind of confidence Nari could only dream of. “Say hi to your famous friend for me.” She winks and leaves.

Nari rolls her eyes but scoffs in humour. Somehow, the other residents in the surgical wing had caught wind of the fact that she knew the elusive celebrity idol that was admitted to the hospital yesterday and while she’d neither confirmed nor denied it, the story spread anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” comments Hyeri, her friend, changing out of her scrubs at the locker next door. “What did you take and can I have some?”

Nari frowns curiously and laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That. The laughing and the smiling and the… being nice to first years and interns.” Hyeri raises her eyebrows. “We haven’t had the mental capacity for that shit in years.” She raises her eyebrows. “Is it actually because of your famous friend? I mean -” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “We’re talking about Seokjin, right?”

“I - yeah. He was here,” admits Nari. “Nothing serious, though. He got discharged today.”

“Oh.” Hyeri sounds surprised at the admission. “That makes sense. You’re relieved.”

Yes… and no. She’s certainly glad Seokjin’s okay, but despite how selfish it makes her feel, she’s even gladder that for the first time in a long time, she was able to be herself around her best friend. It’s definitely relief - Hyeri isn’t wrong about that.

“I can’t believe we’re actually out early enough to have dinner,” remarks Hyeri as they head out of the locker room, out of scrubs and in normal clothes again. “I’m going to get in the tub with a glass of wine and fall asleep in there. Obviously I’m not serious,” she adds quickly, catching Nari’s eye.

“Hey, no judgement. Add some candles while you’re at it and it’ll look like a Madonna video.”

Hyeri chortles. “I’m out of wine, though. Can you send me the number to that liquor store? The one that delivers?”

Nari nods, fishing her phone out of her bag. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Daeun has it, though - she’s the one who sent it to me.”

“Okay, let me - oh, there she is!” Waving hurriedly, Hyeri jogs towards the entrance to catch up with Daeun, another of their resident class who’s leaving for the night as well.

Nari smiles as she watches her friend dash away, and catches herself. The laughing and the smiling and the being nice to interns. It’s not a mystery, the origin of this brand new version of herself. It took a long time and a lot of frustration and courage, but a week after the fact, she knows she’s at a place with Seokjin that she was only hoping she would eventually reach.

It’s a start, she tells herself. It’s a start and irrespective of what happens next, at least it’s a start. She’s lighter and she’s calmer - sometimes, there are moments where she feels freer, as though the invisible chain that kept her tethered to her suppressed feelings has been cut through with a chainsaw. 

She stops by the pharmacy in the lobby of the surgical wing to pick up some antiseptic for her first aid box. While the cashier rings up her purchase, she turns absently and spots Jason at the reception, still in scrubs and handing in a couple of patient charts. As he clicks his pen closed and tucks it in his pocket, he grins at something the nurse says and responds, making her laugh.

Grabbing her antiseptic, Nari walks over to him, smiling when he spots her.

“Hey.” He takes in her clothing? “Leaving already? I thought you were helping Dr Park with her trial research.”

Nari shrugs. “She gave me the night off.”

“Wow. Is she okay?”

“I’m not going to ask; I’m just taking the night,” she tells him. It’s a start. “What about you? Are you, uh, free tonight?”

Jason raises his eyebrows casually. “Uh, yeah. I have a couple of things to close out, but I can head out in a bit. Or I can meet you back at my apartment, too, if you want.”

“No, um…” She shakes her head and bites her lip. She hasn’t done this in… ever. “I meant, are you free… for a drink.”

He clearly notices the change in her tone. “A drink,” he repeats. “Just you and me. Like a…”

“M-hm.” Nari nods, but she doesn’t think he’ll say no. Familiarity builds over time, and Nari is suddenly seeing the world - and the people in it - in a newer light.

After a moment, Jason nods. “Absolutely. Just give me fifteen minutes?” He waits for her to nod as well and smiles, touching her elbow as he leaves.

She watches him go and her heart beats pleasantly fast with a small risk that’s paid off. She’s definitely lighter, brighter, calmer - and she can only route it back to the night of her confession to Seokjin. It felt like a start but maybe - just maybe - it was closure.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[asterrrific]

lee chan x reader

Idk what to title this

Dino x reader (ft. 95z)

Warnings: none, just loads of fluff

unedited so i apologize for any grammatical errors or whatever. i made this bc a sudden idea came to me🥹

---

It was around 1am when y/n felt herself sway in her seat.

Books, answersheets, pens, sticky notes, her laptop, and a variety of snacks to keep her awake but failed were scattered at desk. It was the last week of the first semester and she's trying to rush all of her academic backlogs.

Such is the life of a senior student leader with other commitments. Always the last to catch up with academic requirements and classes because of her duties.

She shook herself awake, forcing her hand to continue writing. Her eyes were drooping, but she persevered.

"Get it together, y/n. One last chapter THEN you can go to bed." she willed herself.

But she's been staying up for weeks now. Dark circles are more than evident under her eyes. She's lost weight as well, and she's been easily stressed nowadays.

So it was hard to battle sleep.

"Bub?" came a familiar voice. Normally, she'd get excited and awake whenever she hears the endearment, but tonight, she's a dead man.

Chan cups her cheeks gently, stilling her from swaying in her seat as she battled sleep. His eyes strayed to her paper, words not evident, but random squiggles she perhaps thought were answers.

"Baby, you're not even writing answers anymore." He chuckles lightly as he takes away the pen from her hand. Y/n tries to grab it back... weakly.

"No, I can make it... I'm almost thereeee." she whines, eyes half closed, trying to reach for her pen. Chan keeps one hand on her cheek while the other puts the pen away.

"Y/N Baby, it's been three weeks. You've been busy since the start of the month. Your body is probably hating you right now. Let me take care of you please?" Chan gently prods, almost whispering.

Y/n and Chan's friends have all been concerned about her state. She's NEVER had decent sleep since the start of the month, BARELY eats her meals and snacks on time, and RARELY goes out with them.

It worried them so much that even Chan excuses himself from practices earlier than the rest now so he could monitor y/n.

"But I need all these. I wanted all these." she counters.

"I know, bub, and I appreciate that and I'm so so proud of you... but what's the whole point of achieving all these if you're gonna lose yourself in the process, hmm?"

At this, y/n's eyes flutter open, now aware of where this is going.

She knows damn well that he's right. But she just can't help but panic sometimes, knowing that the rest of her classmates have already submitted theirs and she's probably the last one left, although she's been given a grace period.

"Let's go to bed, please? It's already Sunday. We can sleep in. You can get some rest, and I'll be with you since we won't have practice. We can do anything you want except these academics. Please, baby? Have time for yourself too?" Chan barters. He tries his best at making puppy eyes at y/n, hoping his aegyo would work on her like it does with his hyungs.

Y/n sighs as she leans her forehead on Chan's. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his nose gently on to hers, then giving it a small kiss later.

"Whatchu think, bub? Like my proposal?"

"Fine, you win. But only because I'm so so drained now. How do you do it, Channie? How do you get things done and not get guilty and tired at all?" she asks, eyes closed.

"Who told you I don't get tired and guilty? I do. I just don't show it that much." He admits.

"Why though?"

"Because I don't want to worry any of you guys."

Y/N looks at Chan, his eyes on hers, his hands finding their way back to her cheek.

"I've learned to handle myself earlier on because of the nature of my career. And the hyungs helped me a lot too. If you'll allow me, I can help you work that out as well. Because I love you and I am concerned and I want to take care of you the way you derserve to." he lovingly explains.

Y/n smiles sleepily, allowing her whole body to lose its tension. She drops forward to surrender to Chan, who giggles on the floor as he catches her.

"There's my baby girl." he coos, as he sits up, caressing her hair carefully. She snuggles closer to him.

"Oh my God, I've been craving this for a whole week. I really DO deserve this." she exclaims, making Chan laugh lovingly.

He adjusts to carry her towards their shared bedroom in y/n's apartment. Gently, he lays her down before climbing in after her. Y/n immediately attaches herself to him the minute he settles in.

Chan lets y/n lay her head on his chest. He showers her head with little kisses while he rubbed random shapes on her back, lulling her to sleep.

"We'll talk more in the morning bubs. Get some rest, hmm?" Chan says, grabbing a blanket to tuck them both in.

"Mmkay..." y/n sleepily agrees.

Chan was about to close his eyes when his phone rings. A call.

"Hello-?"

"WHERE'S THE UPDATE, CHILD? IT'S BEEN TEN MINUTES. ARE YOU HOME YET?" comes Seungcheol's prodding voice. Apparently, because of his worry for Y/N, Chan forgot to update his hyungs who were still probably hanging out together after practice.

"Sorry, hyung." Chan fumbles, as he sets the call on video, showing y/n on his chest, hoping it'd serve as an explanation.

"You got us worried here you know? How can we have ber when- Oh my God, am I seeing this correctly?" asks the older male.

Chan chuckles as he brings the phone back to his face.

"Yep. She almost fell from her seat when I came in. That's why I wasn't able to call. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. What's important is she's getting rest now goddamn... she's hard to take care of sometimes. Proud of you for being patient with her, Lee Chan." Seungcheol salutes from the other side.

"Did I hear right?" Comes Jeonghan's voice as he and Joshua comes into the picture. The three eldest are like real brothers to Chan and even y/n. They worry for them like real siblings would, that's why Chan can always go home earlier than the rest, so he can care for y/n too.

And when y/n is with them, they surround her protectively, along with the other members especially when they're out, since fans can get really pushy sometimes.

"Finally, she's getting sleep. I hope tomorrow we can go out too." Joshua sighs.

"Nope. I promised her we can sleep in and we'll do whatever we want- except those freaking acads."

"Then maybe we could go there instead? We'd bring snacks for her and whatever else she needs. Tell her in the morn-"

Joshua and the other boys stop when they all saw y/n stir in her sleep. Chan immediately caressed her hair to lull her back.

"Channie?" she blinks, trying to lift herself away from him. The boys on the screen signal him to end the call and just message instead but y/n sees them.

"Oh..." she starts as her eyes adjust to the screen.

"Heyyy, y/n! We were just checking in. Go back to sleep." Seungcheol smiles.

Still really tired and sleep drunk, y/n hums. Chan smiles as he helps her lie back down.

"We'll message tomorrow Chan. Get some sleep too. It's been a long day." Seungcheol orders, his leadership shining through the older brother figure that Chan sees in him.

Chan does a salute as the call ends. He puts the phone on dnd on the bed side table and snuggles lower to cuddle with y/n, already going deeper in her sleep.

---

The next morning, Chan wakes up first. Y/N is no longer on him, but is still asleep soundly next to his chest. Her arms wrapped around his middle while her legs tangled with his. He blinks as rays of light sneaks through the blinds, and smiles as his eyes start to focus on the sleeping beauty next to him.

Gently, he carefully carressed her face, using his finger to trace out her freckles that he loved.

Y/n hums and stirs, and Chan freezes for a second. Slowly like a cat basking in daylight, she stretches, hitting Chan's chin on the process.

This was enough to wake her up.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry Channie." she goes, caressing the spot she just hit.

Chan laughs it off as he catches her hands, kissing them both gently.

"It's good morning first before that, my love." He says, pulling her close and settling his lips to the top of her head. With a contented sigh, he inhales her scent like his morning coffee.

"Good morning, bub." she giggles. It was music to his ears.

"Good morning, bub. How was your sleep?" He asks, brushing her hair away from her face and tucking strays behind her ear.

"It was good. Really good. I think I dreamed of the oppas..."

Chan laughs loudly at this, his laugh tickling y/n's ears. God, how she loved his laugh.

"It wasn't a dream, my love. They called last night and you saw them." he explains, pinching her cheeks softly then booping her nose.

He was overflowing with love for her so early in the morning, and he couldn't stop himself. Especially now that y/n has finally gotten some rest that she so much deserved.

"Oh they did? So they're coming over?"

"Uh huh. Later in the afternoon."

Y/n reaches over to Chan's side, where her phone was also placed. He gently holds on to her waist as she lifted herself on top of him.

"It's 9am..." she announces.

"Wanna have breakfast? Or brunch?"

"Uhm... I still kinda wanna sleep more." she admits sheepishly as she sinks back to her place besides Chan.

"Then let's sleep more."

"How about the guys?" she worries. "We might oversleep. How are we gonna prepare?"

"Well, I could tell them to come for dinner instead so we could still have more time to sleep and prepare after. What do you think, bub?" he asks, pulling her close.

Y/n takes her time to answer, and stays silent. It fooled Chan into thinking she fell back to sleep.

He was about to snuggle closer and go back to sleep when suddenly, y/n jerks up, her head hitting the same spot on Chan's chin she already hit earlier.

"Owwwww" they both say in unison.

"I'm so so so sorry bubby." She frantically says, laughing. "I was going to try to kiss you!" she worries.

"Double that then." he teases her, tending to his aching chin.

Y/n caresses the spot, then kisses it. She then locks eyes with Chan.

"You can hit my chin one million times and I'd still be head over heels for you after." he whispers.

"I'll kiss all your pain away a million times more then." she whispers back.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because you just did. Why ARE we whispering?" she giggles. Chan sighs.

Gently, he grabs her face in his hands, and softly lands a kiss to her forehead.

He stayed there for a bit, savoring the moment. Y/n closes her eyes and runs her hands on Chan's arms, enjoying the vulnerability and sweetness of the moment.

"I love you-" they say in unison again, after Chan breaks off. They laugh again.

This time, it was y/n's turn.

As they giggled at their antics, she pulled Chan by the collar of his shirt, and gently crashed her lips on his. It took him by surprise, but he quickly adjusts, burrying his hands into her hair and softly playing with them as he returned the kiss.

"God, I love you." He speaks first as they broke it off to catch their breaths. He peppers her face with little kisses, making her smile.

"I love you..." she replies, kissing the top of his nose in return. Chan pulls her back to his chest. His heartbeat drumming loudly, lulling her back to sleep after all the fluff.

"Go back to sleep, my love. We've got a lot of time." he tells her. Y/n nods, loving every moment of her rest. Her deadlines flying out of her thoughts.

---------------------

a/n: guyyyyys it's been so long since i last wrote something here😭 uni has been so stressful lately. Maybe that's why I wrote this in this light and theme. I badly need a Dino in my life too.

Anyways, I want to write more😭 someone give me prompts or something.

And as always, if you loved this as much as I loved writing it, please leave a comment or reblog so other people would see my works too🥹👉🏻👈🏻🤍

lot's of love,

aster🫡

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Enthrallment Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 着迷之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Additional warning]: y'know the entire date is not spice-themed, but the steamy part is borderline explicit and highly not recommended if you don’t qualify for the 17+ age rating (CN server). so, the call is yours~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

─  

【Subbed Video】    

[Heads-up]: Read the transcript for reading, of course! But for the life of me, PLEASE DO WATCH THE VIDEO!! YOU DO NOT WANNA MISS WU LEI’S GODLY VOICE ACTING AKSJSJSDGFG!! (also, again excuse my real-time reactions 🤪)

───────

【Transcript Version】

【Chapter 1】

MC: AHHHHH, it’s collapsing, it’s collapsing!

Before my eyes is a landslide. I find myself teetering on the edge of a cliff and can only exert all my strength to flail my hands, seeking something to “hold onto.”

Just as I’m about to reach for the vine dangling at the cliff's edge, the form of a mountain beneath my feet unexpectedly crumbles. The swaying vine slips through my fingers in an instant…

MC: HELP ME!!

System Voice: “Attempt to advance failed. Game over.”

MC: Aw…

A red prompt appears before my eyes as the moving seat beneath me slowly returns to its original position. The game sequence I just experienced vividly replays in my mind.

In order to design a puzzle-themed variety show, I’ve dragged Victor to the amusement park to find inspiration together.

After checking in at several attractions in a row, I noticed a VR game experience not far away while he went to buy drinks. Intrigued, I decided to give it a try.

Much to my surprise, the game turned out to be extremely thrilling. Combined with the hyper-realistic graphics and the seamless integration of the seat’s motion, I had completely forgotten that I was playing a game…

Before I can snap back to my senses, my head suddenly feels a sensation of weightlessness, and in an instant, the lively and joyful atmosphere of the amusement park returns to my vision.

Victor looks at me with a complex expression while holding the VR goggles. Behind him, a crowd of children has gathered, their gazes fixed upon me as well.

MC: Huh? What’s going on?

Victor: Even from a distance, I could hear a certain someone screaming wildly. You scared the kids.

Victor: In the time it took for me to buy the drinks, where did you venture off to?

MC: Don’t even ask. The sequence of events unfolded so rapidly that there wasn’t even a moment to pause...

Unable to contain my eagerness, I leap off the seat and hug his arm, launching into an episode of “complaint.”

Victor silently listens for a while and arches an eyebrow.

Victor: Was it that brilliant?

Victor: But what I saw just now was a certain dummy baring her fangs and brandishing her claws on the chair.

MC: …

Only when I visualize the scene from the perspective of the onlookers do I realize why I had been mobbed, and I feel embarrassed with a sense of belated awareness. 

Victor hands me my drink and pinches my flushed face, an amused smile cresting on his own.

Victor: Only a dummy can be so engrossed when playing games.

Victor: Why not just close your eyes if you were so scared?

MC: But then you’d lose the purpose of playing VR games!

MC: Playing games is about confronting your fears head-on!

Victor: If that’s how it is, why don’t you let go and stop clinging onto someone like this?

Reluctantly, I slightly loosen my grip around his arm and lift my head to look around. My eyes land on an area we haven’t explored yet.

MC: Victor, let’s go and take a look over there later!

Victor: You’re up for playing more?

MC: Absolutely! With the infusion of your love-filled drink, I’m now fully revived!

I beam at him, but Victor doesn’t seem to be moved by my “sugar-coated bullets.”

Victor: We’ve been playing all day, but did it actually help with your show?

MC: Hmm… it’s still too early to ask that question!

MC: Inspiration always needs some time to manifest. Let’s focus on experiencing more things for now.

Victor: I see that you’re just using a pretext to play and satisfy your personal desires.

MC: It’s not purely about satisfying my “personal desires.” I mean, I brought CEO Victor along to play together, didn’t I?

Victor: Submit the first draft of the proposal to me next week, and let me assess the outcomes of your creative process.

MC: But…

Victor: If not, I won’t accompany you on your next trip to collect materials.

Despite saying so, Victor’s footsteps don’t pause, and he is already holding my hand to walk toward the game attractions.

MC: I’ll definitely hand it in next week!

Even though time is tight, considering the relatively higher price at stake here, I still clench my fists to express my resolve to him.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

In the blink of an eye, the agreed-upon day has arrived. I rap on the door of Victor’s office, carrying the first draft of the puzzle-themed variety show.

He takes the documents from me. But instead of immediately diving into reading them, he lifts his gaze and studies me intently for a moment.

Victor: The dark circles under your eyes are nearly matching those of a panda, and your face is also drooping.

Victor: What? All the playing over the weekend was of no good?

MC: There’s definitely some value in gathering inspiration, but I can’t help but feel that there’s still something missing…

MC: Maybe CEO Victor can help me by reviewing and providing suggestions?

Victor skims through it briefly and suddenly breaks into a smile.

Victor: It surpasses my expectations, to some extent.

Victor: “Hiding key information within the visuals of a VR game” and “using secret cues during an indoor roller coaster journey” - it seems like you’ve still come up with some useful ideas from it.

MC: I’m just wondering whether these little tricks can be employed repeatedly.

MC: After all, it’s a puzzle game. I want each guest to have a sense of participation and enable them to play a role.

Taking a brief pause, Victor closes my documents.

Victor: I remember you saying before that this is a sort of simple variety show, and you just need to follow the script for arrangement.

Victor: Are you reconsidering your decision now?

MC: Hehe, I’ve seen how others have been able to build a brand with their variety shows, so I wanted to experiment with it too.

MC: I want to create the kind of game that is so addictive that people find themselves unable to break away, ensuring a permanently lasting impact!

–

[Tidbits]: The phrase MC uses here is “欲罢不能” (yù bà bù néng). It conveys the idea of being addicted to something, a sense of strong desire or compelling fascination; you’re so deeply engrossed or captivated by something (/or rather someone) that you find yourself unable to break away. Remember this phrase because it is the key theme of this date and mentioned several times + one of the core themes for Victor x MC~ ❣️

–

Victor: How would you define something as “addictive to the point of being unable to break away from”?

MC: It should be something fascinating, challenging, and you won’t get tired of it no matter how many times you’ve turned it over.

MC: Just like… the attitude you have toward your work and cooking!

A smile forms on my face as I lift my head, and sure enough, I meet his speechless expression.

Victor: Don’t you already have a clear concept? Just benchmark it against something you find “addictive to the point of being unable to break away from.”

MC: Something that I find…

I cock my head and ruminate for a while.

I like plenty of things, but there are also quite a few that instantly fade away after a “three-minute passion.”

But when the standard is set for something “addictive to the point of being unable to break away from,” most things would probably not make the cut.

And the first thing that comes to mind for that standard is the man right in front of me.

Smiling, I take a few steps forward and grab his hand, swaying it.

MC: For that, I still need CEO Victor’s cooperation.

MC: You’re right. I must thoroughly study the thing I find “addictive to the point of being unable to break away from.”

Victor stares at me, and after a moment, he sets the documents down and stands up.

Victor: Sure, but this is your task. You can’t disrupt someone else’s work and rest.

MC: No worries!

Victor: Great. I’m clocking out now.

MC: Hm?

I subconsciously turn my head and glance at the wall clock, then look at him while puffing out my cheeks.

MC: There are still two minutes until the work hours end!

Victor: Are you this precise when it comes to arriving late for work?

MC: …T-this is a completely different matter!

MC: What happened to being “addicted to work to the point of being unable to break away”?

Victor: I never said that. And if you think so, then it seems like you still don’t know me well enough.

Seeing Victor really going to fetch his coat, I pout my lips and follow along.

MC: You’re leaving so early today. Do you have something planned for after getting home?

Victor: The ingredients I ordered for you will arrive shortly, so I need to head back early to get them prepared.

Victor: If you want to work overtime on my behalf, I don’t have any objections.

The moment I hear it’s about me, I immediately set aside my earlier dissatisfaction and hastily latch onto his arm.

MC: No need for overtime, no need!

MC: What’s a chef without his diner cheering him on!  Come on, come on, let’s go home!

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

Back at home, Victor tidies up briefly and carries the delivery box into the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, I tag along to find out what he’s up to.

He takes out the ice bags from the box, revealing a row of fresh sea urchins.

The memories of the last experience of eating sea urchins surface in my mind, and I can’t help but break into a knowing smile––

–

──── [Flashback Begins] ────

Victor had asked me to help taste a new dish, which turned out to be an extraordinarily pretty sea urchin salad.

I took a big mouthful with anticipation, but something didn’t feel quite right. So, I took another taste.

Victor: How is it?

MC: Hmm… it’s not quite how I imagined it to be?

As I pondered the source of bitterness, I shifted my gaze to Victor. His demeanor remained composed, except for the unwavering stare locked onto my face.

I swiftly adjusted my expression and decided to give it another try.

MC: It must be that my eating technique wasn’t right. I’ll have another taste!

Victor: Hold on.

Victor took my fork and tasted a bit himself, knitting his brows into a frown. Then, he picked up the plate and stood up.

Victor: Don’t eat this. Let me prepare something else for you.

──── [Flashback Ends] ────

–

Since then, we haven’t brought up this rare “Waterloo defeat” again. But little did I realize that he was still carrying hard feelings about it.

Victor notices my teasing grin that I’m unable to suppress and lets out an imperceptible sigh.

Victor: Just say whatever you want to say.

MC: It looks like Chef Victor is becoming more and more resilient after each setback.

Victor: I just don’t accept bad reviews.

MC: That’s not an attitude you used to have before, despite all the negative reviews Souvenir had?!

Victor: When a certain someone who usually goes around controlling other people’s reviews gives negative feedback, it’s genuinely a bad review.

After Victor finishes speaking, he puts on his apron and prepares to clean the sea urchins. I naturally take the apron strings from behind him and tie them up.

MC: It wasn’t that bad. I guess maybe the ingredients weren’t fresh enough that time? Or maybe… there was some kind of clash with how it paired with the caviar.

Victor: You don’t need to make excuses for me. I’ve already found the reason.

Victor: Help me with sampling the dish again today.

MC: Sure! Let me help as your Sous Chef too!

Victor assigns the task of selecting and washing the vegetables to me, while he focuses on processing the sea urchins.

Since there isn’t much for me to do, I covertly watch him as he works and notice some differences when preparing the sauce.

MC: Did you change the recipe for the sauce?

Victor: Hmm, it will enhance the freshness this way.

Victor: Try it and see.

He scoops up some sea urchin with a small spoon, dips it in the sauce, and feeds it to me.

The silky texture, complemented by the refreshing sweetness of the seasoning, instantly makes my eyes widen.

MC: It’s so yummy!

MC: Sure enough, Mr. Victor’s culinary skills are beyond question!

Craving for more, I lick my lips to savor the lingering taste and catch a glimpse of Victor’s lips curling up as well. He seems to be in a good mood.

I can’t help but snicker inwardly. This man has quite a competitive spirit in this particular matter.

MC: See, I was right, wasn’t I? You really are “into” cooking.

MC: You always have a knack for finding ways to eliminate imperfections, just like collecting materials and leveling up in a game.

Victor: Indeed, and it’s all because we have a gluttonous “Big Boss” at home.

Victor: You eat when you’re in a good mood, and you eat when you’re in a bad mood–– bringing me new challenges every day.

I can’t help but laugh mischievously as I watch his relaxed side profile. Then, taking a piece of seaweed from beside him, I begin chewing on it.

MC: Hearing you put it that way, I suddenly feel like incorporating a cooking segment would be a good idea.

Victor: Will you be able to have secret cues while cooking too?

MC: Absolutely! Cooking can bring you so much insight!

Victor: Like what?

MC: For instance, right now, I believe I know what truly is the thing that you’re addicted to the point of being unable to break away from.

I raise my head and make eyes at him. Victor glances at me briefly before diverting his gaze and letting out a soft chuckle.

Victor: Turns out that a certain dummy isn’t always a dummy; she becomes smarter after eating something.

MC: Hehe, looks like I guessed it correctly.

I brazenly lift myself on my toes and ruffle his hair. Then, I swiftly dart inside the house like a wisp of smoke before he can charge me with his stare.

Victor: Where are you off to?

MC: I’ll tidy up the dining table first and roll out the red carpet for today’s feast~

Victor: …childish.

I pull a face at him and elatedly set the table with the cutlery.

I’ll let him off for his teasing today. After all, I’m not the only one who is “childish.”

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

After having our fill of eating and drinking, with the spirit of “studying,” I launch a two-player game.

The game requires two players to cooperate in searching for the treasure. The character I’ve chosen is blindfolded, so the screen appears pitch-black for me.

On the other hand, Victor’s screen displays textual instructions, and he needs to guide my actions at the right times.

MC: But if it stays pitch-black like this, even if we manage to locate the treasure, I won’t know, will I?

Victor: There ought to be some special hints; let’s keep moving forward for now.

MC: Hang on, my gamepad just vibrated! Oops, it seems like I bumped into a wall again…

Victor: …try moving a bit to the right.

After fumbling around in the darkness again for who knows how long, a glimmer of light suddenly appears on the screen. I try to control the character to crouch, and sure enough, it shows that the treasure has been obtained.

MC: We’ve found it!

MC: Although it took quite some time… we still have a great tacit understanding, don’t we!

Victor: Not too bad, we were quicker than when I usually have to accompany a certain dummy to find directions.

I grunt several times, shift to the side, and lean into his arms while holding the game console.

MC:  I think this gameplay could be quite fitting for the show, you know.

MC: It challenges the players’ tacit understanding and has a decent level of complexity. Plus, watching people getting confused and disoriented and bumping into walls would be quite hilarious.

MC: CEO Victor, what do you think?

Victor: If you’re not concerned about the recording duration, it can be given a try.

MC: If players are blindfolded during the game, we need to take safety issues into account too…

MC: I wonder if it might be better with a slightly smaller space?

As I speak, I observe the room before me, and suddenly, an idea strikes me.

Due to a last-minute notice about a meeting, Victor casually placed the tie he had taken off on a chair nearby before leaving the house early in the morning, without having time to put it away.

I run over to pick up the tie and randomly grab a toy of Pudding’s from the coffee table. Then, I stuff it into Victor’s hands and promptly position myself in the corner of the room.

Victor: What are you up to now?

MC: I want to try it myself.

MC: Let’s treat this toy as the “treasure.” Blindfold me first, and then you can guide me to find it.

MC: We’ll keep the range within this room. How’s that?

Victor sighs and walks over, taking the tie from me. He then helps me tie it around the back of my head.

Victor: You certainly know how to make the most of what you have.

MC: Hehe, this extent is just perfect.

MC: You can hide the treasure now.

I hear Victor’s footsteps gradually move farther away, and then, a soft “click” sound follows. The light on the other end of the fabric vanishes entirely.

MC: D-Did you just turn off the lights?

Victor: Scared?

MC: No, not at all. I’m just feeling a bit out of sorts, is all.

Victor: That’s good, then.

Victor: I remember a certain someone saying that playing games is about confronting your fears head-on. Looks like you haven’t debunked your claim yet.

I try my best to identify the direction his voice is coming from and defiantly crane my neck towards it.

MC: I’m very familiar with this “map.” So, maybe I won’t need your help anytime soon.

Victor: Is that so? In that case, I shall wait and see.

I initially thought it wouldn’t be difficult in a room I’m so familiar with. But once my vision is blocked, things turn out to be not as simple as I assumed.

I walk to the left for a bit. According to my memory, I should be somewhere near the sofa. However, when I reach out to feel it, it’s not the soft texture I expected.

MC: Huh? What is this… the bookshelf?

Victor: Walk five more steps to the left, and you’ll reach the sofa.

MC: Is it this way?

Skeptically, I walk a few more steps and feel a hard object obstructing my feet. I slowly crouch down to touch it and realize it’s actually a cold glass surface.

MC: This is the coffee table! How could you trick me!

MC: I suspect you’re a mole sent by the opposing team, deliberately leading me to go around in circles.

Pouting, I complain as I keep spinning around, trying to locate where Victor is–– until I hear a soft chuckle drifting from behind me.

As soon as I turn around, without a chance to say a word, I find myself being pulled into someone’s arms.

Victor: Alright, the game is over.

MC: Hold on, where’s my treasure?

Victor: Right there by your feet.

MC: Are you serious? Then let me pick it up.

Just as I’m about to crouch down, he pulls me back, locking me firmly in the confines of his arms.

Victor: Still don’t believe me?

Victor: In any case, every time you win something, you just always have to pounce on me to show off.

Victor: I’m just helping you skip an unnecessary step.

I prod him gently as a form of protest, but my lips can’t resist curling up into a smile.

MC: You know everything about me to a T. How is this even fair?

Victor: No matter how thrilling a game is, if played for long enough, it’s only expected that you will figure out the patterns–– let alone a certain dummy.

MC: Then, would you still find it fascinating?

Victor: Don’t you know that answer already?

A warm breath teases my ear, and I can feel someone gently tracing his fingertips across my neck.

The mild itch and tingling sensation remind me that he has already proven his answer to me a long time ago.

It’s the prolonged kisses, the embraces to hold the other with all our might, and the marks born out of uncontrollable emotions that we leave behind on each other…

It’s a feeling of immersion and dependence, just like an addiction.

The temperature on my cheeks ascends rapidly from the passionate memories. I want to shake my head to regain clarity, but someone holds it in place, preventing me from moving.

Victor: Your face is so flushed. Looks like you’ve remembered something.

MC: You’re so cheeky…

MC: I just want to hear it from you directly.

A peal of soft laughter glides from my ear down to my jaw, finally settling at the corner of my lips, in sync with my breathing.

Victor: You know how to make demands; that’s good.

Victor: Well, I’ll only say it just this once.

Victor: It’s just like you said. What I’m addicted to the point of being unable to break away from will forever be fascinating to me and will always be worth the challenge.

Victor: No matter how much time passes, I’ll never grow weary.

A stream of satisfaction surges from the depths of my heart, and I subconsciously nuzzle my cheek against the palm of his hand.

Victor: Satisfied?

MC: Not yet.

MC: Words alone won’t suffice; you must prove it with action.

I reach out my fingers to touch him, exploring his soft muscles and tracing my way to the solid collarbones. Skillfully, I find the gap between his tie knot and hook my finger into it.

It’s akin to a signal; with just a gentle pull, I can get hold of my “treasure.”

Fervent kisses instantly catch my breath, leaving me with no choice but to swallow the provocation I have yet to put into action.

The layer of darkness, which is deeper than usual, overwhelms all my senses and draws them to rush toward the area that is being plundered. I can no longer maintain my original posture, my knees give away, and I lunge directly at the person who has started it all.

My impact seems to have knocked him over, causing him to tumble and end up sitting down somewhere, which grants me a momentary interval.

Lowering my head, I breathe desperately, my breaths coming in gasps. He gently pats the back of my head, his deep voice melding into my ragged breaths.

Victor: Do you want me to give you some time?

MC: What…?

Victor: To make the changes in the first draft of your show.

MC: …I’m off work now!

I haphazardly reach out my hand, intending to give him a punch. But I find my wrist swiftly being caught in mid-air, foiling my attempt.

Victor: Good. So, starting from this moment on, forget about your show for the time being.

Victor: Be more focused.

—

Without waiting for my explanation, the hand at the back of my head gently exerts force, sending me back into his arms again.

The soft touch of his lips makes my heart itch. I can’t help myself from lifting my head and craving more.

The pain I expect doesn’t arrive, and I don’t know whether it will or not. Subconsciously, I tighten my grip on the tie in my hand, taking the initiative to deepen the kiss.

Wet and sultry; just like the rain outside the window which has started pouring who knows when.

An array of grotesque light spots dance before my eyes, and a slight sensation of dizziness causes everything around me to appear as if it’s melting away.

His fingers thread themselves into my hair. Unable to withstand any longer, the velvety tie succumbs to the intimate caressing against my ears and temples, eventually sliding down loosely.

–

[Tidbits]: the phrase used here is so fascinating– “耳鬓厮磨” (ěrbìn sīmó). the phrase itself literally means “(one’s) ear rubbing (the other’s) hair at the temple),” which generally dictates a very personal and intimate moment shared between lovers, BUT, it specifically refers to the lovers being childhood playmates. yeah, way to shove in knives oh-so-delicately 🤡

–

The sudden intrusion of light makes me uncomfortably close my eyes, but the person in front of me doesn’t give me the slightest opportunity to evade his presence.

His warm breaths caress my eyelids, and I’m overcome with a sensation as if my entire body is being kissed.

The delicate and closely woven incessant licks and kisses have long shattered my willpower, and at this moment, the person in front of me consumes all of my senses.

Each time I respond to his teasing advances, I’m answered with even heavier and deeper breaths from him.

My eyes slowly open, and I gaze into the moist and profound depths of his gaze. Even amidst the darkness of the night, I know that, from beginning to end, those eyes have always held me.

I have received his proof and also garnered deeper insights into my own heart.

He is the “treasure” I’ve yearned to find countless times throughout my journey of exploration and moving forward.

Even if everything remains unchanged forever, I’m willing to continue this pursuit relentlessly.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

[Anika’s Ramblings]

────

[seriouslysnape]

The Noise and the Silence

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader

Tags: Angst. Depression. Grief. 

A/N: Okay soooo I typically don’t do this, and I try not to...but this is a one-shot from my Hannibal Lecter blog (I am INSANE, I know) that I have remastered for this blog. Here is the original work. It’s quite literally the same thing...but I thought that this idea would fit so well for Severus. Please do not roast me.

Word Count: 2.9k

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.”

The pounding in your ears hadn’t stopped for weeks. The constant, repeated thud of your heartbeat playing in your head had been relentless. It was a loud drum, and if you sat unoccupied for too long, you would catch yourself beginning to count each thump. Oddly enough, there was another sound that seemed to be in competition with the steady booming of every rush of blood to your head. 

It was the loudest of sounds, and a noise that you did not welcome with open arms. It was a silence so loud that it was close to painful. The ring of utter nothingness was beating away at your mind space to the point of near insanity. It seemed that had been your world for the last several weeks. It was either boisterous chatter, or complete emptiness.

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure which one you preferred. 

Today was a silence day. The moment that your eyes had opened from your night of restless sleep, you knew what kind of day it was going to be. The silence days were different from the loud days. The silence days were slower, and they were much hazier than the loud ones. Silence days meant you were functioning on autopilot.

Everything that you did was purely muscle memory and basic functions that your brain had signaled every day of your entire life. There were no out of the ordinary or special tasks to switch up your day-to-day life. Silence days meant existing, but just barely.

The few words that you spoke on these kinds of days were hardly even comprehensible to your own self. The little conversations that you were able to have with others was forgotten and lost just as quickly as it was had. It disappeared into the fog that clouded your consciousness. It was drowned by the sea of anguish that flooded your veins.

The loud days were different. Your awareness level was a tad higher, your conscious just a bit clearer. There was some variety in these kinds of days. This meant getting up early and spending the entirety of the day running errands and completing a list of missions to check off your to do list. Many of these tasks were pretty meaningless. Just filler activities to kill time and take up space.

Loud days meant pushing yourself as far as your physical energy would allow. The “go go go” attitude kept you on your feet without rest. As long as you were busy and occupied, then it was a loud day. It usually ended with you crashing at the end of the day with hardly feeling accomplished in any way.

Your world had become so quiet, yet so roaring. Your life was categorized as feeling nothing and feeling everything all at the same time -- and it was a lottery system as to which one you were going to get. 

This wasn’t you.

This was the furthest that you had ever strayed from yourself. You were so distant. You were a shell of yourself.

The person that stood before your loved ones was merely an imposter. A stranger had infiltrated your body and was maneuvering it like a worn out puppet. They had all reached out to you, offering their love and services to assist you in whatever you needed. Some of them had been shocked when you pushed them away, while others were unsurprised. 

You didn’t want the help. You refused it, in fact. So, there wasn’t much else they could do outside of leaving their offer on the table free for you to take. 

Severus was the only one that you had welcomed to stay, but even then the invitation was hardly obvious. It was hard to see the light in front of you when every bit of your had succumbed to darkness. His efforts had been persistent. Again and again he held his arms out to you, and each time you had turned him down.

There was a battle between the noise and the silence, and you were caught in the middle of this tug-of-war. You had been drained of emotional and mental energy long ago. At this point, the opposing sides were fighting over a ghost of a human. Severus had watched you crumble and fall apart in the last several weeks. There was very little spirit and soul to be sought after at this point. At the end of the day, the winner would really have a whole bunch of nothing. 

That was what Severus was most afraid of. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he was worried. He was terrified that you were close to having nothing left to cling onto. He feared that you would have nothing to build yourself back up with. Once you were completely chipped away, there was no coming back -- and that would be the end.

It didn’t help that Severus was a chronic worrier, and anyone who knew him personally knew that he had a tendency to be anxious…particularly when it came to the person he cared about the most. 

But other times, he was pretty cool and collected, which made sense that he had all kinds of things that needed to be kept under wraps. 

But this was a different kind of situation. You were a part of his life that was disconnected from the more secretive parts. You were the light that shined over the darkness, so in a way, he felt like he had a right to be concerned. He knew that you needed time and space. He had given you as much of it as he possibly could’ve without seeming as if he wasn’t there for you. 

In the beginning, he had been there for every initial breakdown, meltdown, and sob fest that you erupted into. Looking back on it, that had been the easy part. He had comforted you as a lover, and guided you through the emotional storm as a man who empathized with you. He stayed up many sleepless nights with you when you couldn’t settle down enough to fall asleep. He soothed every sense of panic and anxiety with ease. 

He had not once taken the curt words and the lack of any kind of affection personally. The distraction of your heart was clear to him, and he knew that your reluctance to offer him any kind of attention was not intentional. 

He wanted to do nothing more than support you through this process. He was there for you at every step of the initial impact, and after a while, he thought that you were getting better. 

He observed you carefully, never once letting himself get too comfortable. The intense emotions ceased, and you began to somewhat return to a day-to-day routine. Suddenly, you weren’t reacting or talking about it at all. Your demeanor had completely shut off from the life that you had around you. It was as if your brain had stopped processing the incident completely. 

And that was when he knew that you were actually getting worse.

He partially blamed himself for your deteriorating state. He had dealt with this sort of mental fragility before. He knew the signs, and he could identify them from personal experience. 

He found himself wondering if there was something that he could’ve done differently. Was there something that he could’ve said that he didn’t already? Had he not utilized enough of his attentiveness and patience? All kinds of questions had crossed his mind, and none of them had been answered.

He knew that dwelling on what he could’ve done then would only get in the way of what he could do now. He had to do something now, or else he feared he’d lose you completely.

****

It was a bitterly cold February night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been an abnormally frosty winter, which was alarming considering that the winters were already very wintery. Despite the frigid temperature, it hadn’t deterred you from taking yourself to the dock of the boathouse by the lake to sit in the open air.

The school had been your safe zone for all these weeks that had gone by, but now it was beginning to feel more like a nest of misery that you had created for yourself. 

The boards were cold underneath you from where you sat. In all honesty, you had hardly even noticed it. A little chill wasn’t going to rattle you enough to matter. 

Your attention was focused on the inky black canvas painted above you. It was dotted and speckled with glittery stars from one end of the horizon to the other…and the water in front of your painted a picture to match. It was the clearest night that you could imagine. There wasn’t a single flaw or imperfection to taint the night sky that you were so infatuated with. In any other time or circumstance, you’d find joy in this scene in front of you. 

But not now. 

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in that sky above you that seemed to be rolling over you. There weren’t any answers to your questions bouncing around up there. In reality though, you really only had one real question. Over the course of your life, you felt as if you had never gotten a good answer to the age-old question of “why?”. It’s the simplest, yet most complex question in the universe of human language. It seemed rare that anyone ever had a satisfying answer for it. 

You hadn’t gotten any real answers or resolutions yet, and tonight was proving to be no different. Just another silence day had come to a fateful end. Nothing had changed. Everything was the exact same.

You exhaled a long breath -- the kind that sank your shoulders to their lowest physical point. The rush of air that escaped from the depths of your lungs was transformed into a white condensed cloud that dispersed into the environment just as fast as it had formed. Sometimes you wished that would happen to you. Exist for a moment, and then vanish into nothing. Nothing lost, and nothing earned.

Your head lowered behind your knees that were bunched against your chest. Just your eyes and the top of your head were visible from the bundle of a shell that you had made for yourself. Your lashes fluttered each time you blinked, and every time that your vision returned upon reopening your eyes, you were met with the same starry sky.

There was a brief commotion from the behind you. The footsteps of a person approached from behind, and they were familiar to your ears that were now cut with sound again. You knew those heavy, slow footfalls anywhere.

An immediate rush of warmth and security flooded your senses when a blanket was wrapped around you securely, covering any exposed skin on your body from the harsh wintery cold around you.

“Darling, it’s freezing tonight,” Severus remarked. “I would hate for you to fall ill.” 

An extra layer of warmth was added when Severus joined you in sitting at the end of the dock. His body heat was much more than yours as his radiated to you through the thickness of the blanket. It was greatly appreciated, because you hadn’t realized how cold you had actually become. 

“I’m okay.” You returned without offering any more of a ticket to a real conversation.

Severus didn’t mind the quiet. In many scenarios, he preferred it. His introverted nature thrived off of it. Silence allowed time for self-reading and understanding, which he was all for. 

However, he didn’t like this silence. This silence wasn’t the good kind. 

His legs were folded under one another rather than planted on the boards. His lanky legs would be too crammed if they were bunched up at his own chest. His hands were clasped together in the open space of his lap, his forearms resting on his thighs as he scanned over the view in front of him.

The landscaping of Hogwarts always looked so depressing during the winter months. But in its own way, it was beautiful. It was typically blanketed with snow and ice, little flurries and snowflakes fluttering from the gray skies. 

His vision didn’t remain on the landscape long, however. His sight eventually diverted to you, which was what he was more interested in.

He saw the way the stars twinkling above reflected off of the glassy sheen over your eyes. Those very same stars above were the ones that he often described as being trapped behind your eyes with the way that they stunned him when he looked into them. It hurt his heart to know that it had been far too long since he had seen those dancing stars in your eyes. He missed that.

He missed you. He wanted you back.

“I know that reminding you of this isn’t necessary…but darling, wishing on a star won’t change what happened.” Severus’ words cut through the still beats that had passed and disappeared into the past. 

His voice wasn’t cruel or unsympathetic. Just the opposite actually. He knew where you were right now, and what you were feeling. 

“I know.” You answered, the hurt dripping off of your words.

The desperation for relief to be delivered to your heart was unlike anything you had ever experienced in your life. It was a pressure in your chest that damn near made it impossible to focus or feel anything else. It was so beyond uncomfortable. It was inescapable no matter what you did to try to get away from it. It had seeped through you and over you to the point where you weren’t even sure who you were anymore. 

How were you supposed to live like that?

“No one in your life, including myself, expects anything from you right now,” He went on once he got the sense that you were warming up to talking. “No one expects you to be okay. It’s a plain statement, but it’s all right if you’re not okay.”

He knew that you weren’t okay. Everybody knew. Severus never wanted to tell you (or anyone for that matter) what you should feel. He knew that you needed to figure it out for yourself. 

Because that’s where real, fruitful healing came from. 

“I feel so confused....amongst other things.” You confessed.

“Understandable. You’re navigating a rather bewildering path.” He encouraged you to keep talking.

He wanted you to get better. He wanted to see you thrive and be the happiest that you could ever be. This was the first time in the weeks that had passed that you sounded like you wanted that too.

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.” You answered with full transparency, a crack sneaking into your sentence as you turned to look at him.

Tears had formed and come forth in your eyes. It hurt him to see it, but in a way it was a relief because he knew that you were feeling something.

“You don’t have to know. It’s more than okay to take each day minute by minute,” He shifted closer, taking a bit of an initiative to wrap his arm around you and pull you into him. “But this? When you keep it to yourself, it only makes it worse and pulls you down with it.”

He was right. You knew it. You weren’t going to get better by not dealing with it at all. Moving on without attempting to patch the wound would only come back to haunt you later. You wanted to do this right. You needed to do this right. 

“I feel too far gone. I don’t know if I can ever feel okay again.” You admitted, double lines of tears streaming your face as they left a stinging chill on your cheeks.

“You can. You absolutely can,” He encouraged, even a little bit desperately. “I know you can.”

That statement brought a sound out of you that Severus had been longing for so dearly. As weak as it was, hearing you laugh brought a firework of joy exploding into his chest.

“You have far too much faith in me.” You joked, and he returned a smile. 

“I have to disagree. I have just the right amount,” He said. “I’m here for you. Just say the word and consider it done.”

“I want to be here for you in whatever way you wish. Just say the word and consider it done.” He said.

Your first request actually surprised him a bit. He had expected you to play shy and turn down his offer or even ask for more advice. Instead, you asked for something much sweeter and much needed.

“Kiss me?” 

And kiss you he did. It was the most uplifting, comforting kiss that he’d ever given you. It spoke a thousand words and pumped him full of more hope with each passing second. You were going to be okay. You’d be happy once again and you’d be stronger than you ever were. He’d be back to throwing flour on you when he cooked meals and chasing after you around his house dripping wet and naked after you stole his towel from the bathroom counter.

Life was going to return to the way it was. He was going to be able to love the  woman that he loved so dearly even harder now. You were going to come back to him. He had all the patience in the world waiting for that. 

Because you were worth everything.

[growinguparo]

Hii! this is my first post here and i'm not sure about what to say, but i hope someone can help me. I'm really new to all of this, this world of aromanticism, it's like i found something that was missing. i just came to realize being aroace this year, so i'ts just a few months of knowing that i'm aromantic, but i'ts years of being aromantic and honestly, i couldn't say i'm not confused, but i really want some advice on how to.. accept myself. because, honestly, i reaally love romance movies and books, and i grew up thinking some day it would be me, but what if it isn't, what if it's not going to be me, like ever. how do i lead with that? how do accept the possibility to not fall in love like everybody else does, and meet someone to stay together for all life an get married. i know i don't want to get married, but this idea is internalized in my head, how to be happy without romance? without a partner to take care of me, to support me, to help me. maybe one day i'll wake up and realize that i've fallen in love and that i'm not going to be single forever and that i can be just like people expect me to be. but what if i don't? what if that day won't come and i'll be "Loveless". i really loved that book Loveless and i't just felt like maybe it wasn't that bad to be like this, i also watched Koisenu Futari and honestly, i never felt so part of something, like i've found the REAL happiness for me, not that one that people always talk about, saying that is the only happiness, to date, get married and have kids. i know most people feel fulfilled with this, but what if i don't? i'm not everybody else, i don't need to live based on people's expectations. if anyone reading this, feel something similar, please(if you like) share your experiences :) thank you for your attention

tbh my first impression here is that you've already figured out what i think is the most important part: the fact that what will (most likely) make you happy is different than what seems to make everyone else happy. and you being happy is the goal. you've figured out that you don't want that traditional romantic relationship, and that that's okay. that's awesome!

i also love that you were able to see yourself positively within Loveless and Koisenu Futari in a way that felt authentic to you. representation helps us imagine what our life could be like. if you can't see yourself in a traditional marriage, what can you see yourself doing? you could live a life like in Koisenu Futari. allow yourself to imagine a life you would be happy and authentic in. try to be free with it, not shooting down ideas because they're "unrealistic". (btw - this might be hard. there are nearly infinite varieties of romantic relationships that are spoonfed to us from birth. coming up with your own ideas is harder than being spoonfed, so don't get discouraged.)

if you haven't already i'd suggest reading about relationship anarchy. it's basically the idea that no one type of relationship is superior to another, and within your relationships you can do whatever you want forever, tailoring them to your needs and wants.

besides that, i think acceptance takes time. you're altering your view of yourself and your future and your place in the world. you've had your whole life to get used to one reality, one self-image, and now you're changing that. it takes time to get used to.

there are also some very real material concerns that come along with being aro. to name a few: navigating the world as a single person is harder legally and financially. western society is built on individualism and we are trained to only seek emotional support from a life partner, even though that is a blatantly unstable way of living even for allos. that can result in single people struggling to find continued support throughout their lives.

accepting being aro doesn't mean the hard parts go away, and ignoring them will not help. it's like accepting being gay - there are real material concerns that come along with being gay, but you can still love being yourself and love being gay. and you can fight to make the world a better place for people like you, if you want to.

followers, any advice?

[smallidarity-rpf]

HIIIHIHI TUMBLR USER SMALLIDARITY-RPF can I get some smallidarity of the hurt/comfort variety with Joel getting comforted maybe for a change or jimmy idk I just need more fluffy smallidarity pretty please okay bye

Hell yeah! Sorry it took so long I didn't realize job would tire me out so much yesterday-

Fair warning, I couldn't think of a setting like when and where this takes place- just knew i wanted a life game so like- details on that is vague, hope it's alright-

_______________________

Joel was lying in bed curled up, his eyes puffy from crying. He was tough, he was strong, he wasn't someone who cried- but he was alone, and he couldn't stop himself. It's easy to save face around everyone during these games, but once the session was over… once he was alone… He shouldn't have cried, not over Timmy of all people. Of course he died, he always does! It's just… Joel couldn't understand why it felt different this time, was it because he saw Tim die? Because for once he'd actually hoped that stupid canary wouldn't? He didn't know. All Joel knew right now was his bed and the itch left in his eyes as they dried and the salt left started to crust up.

“Wow you look terrible!” A familiar voice laughed out through the empty room, and Joel quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes. Both wanting to hide the evidence and see if he was crazy.

There at the end of his bed was Jimmy- well it looked like Jim, but they were a transparent blueish-gray and emitted a slight glow. Joel stared wide eyed as the entity slowly began to smirk. “Did you miss me that much?” And yep, that was Tim’s voice.

“Jimmy!?” He called and pushed up in bed, getting onto all fours to crawl closer, “You- but you-”

“I’m dead?”

“You died!” He announced, laughing a bit hysterically. It was impossible, the only way they should be there was with spectator-

“Yeah, something’s going on so I'm a ghost for a bit.” Jimmy shrugged, “I thought I'd visit you though before it's fixed.” Tim smiled and quickly sat on the bed next to Joel, who stared absolutely dumbfounded. “So, what’ve you been up to?” Joel stared at their expectant look and slowly sat next to them, shivering a bit- Tim was cold.

“Uhm… killed some people uh-” Joel stared into Jim's eyes and went quiet, he couldn't find his words. As he stared though the other frowned.

“Have you really been crying?” A cold hand was placed onto Joel's cheek as Jim gently rubbed a thumb under his eye. “Are you doing okay…?” Jim's head tilted to the side as he asked, Joel watching his features. Same Jimmy as always.

“W- well you- you died what do you think!” Joel was quick to retort, trying to hide what he'd been feeling. A blush spread onto his cheeks as he went to shove Jim away- but only ended up falling through the other. Right, ghost.

Jimmy looked down at Joel and smiled softly, “I dunno,” his smile became lopsided, “thought you didn't care that much.” He shrugged and thread cold fingers through Joel's hair. He almost closed his eyes, it felt nice.

“Of course I care,” The shorter grumbled and sat up, frowning as Jim's fingers left him. “you’re still my friend, I'm still watching you die…” He meant for it to come out sharp, but instead his words were soft, melancholy even as he thought about how much he'd seen Jim's massive and goofy grin stolen away from him in blood.

When Joel looked back at the blond he was frowning softly, looking at Joel with pity- no, it was something else, something kinder but he couldn't place it. “Oh… I never thought- I didn't realize-” Jim tried to say but stopped, glancing away as he found his words. “Everyone… Everyone always treats my death as a joke, I didn't think it'd ever be… well y’know, that big of a deal…” Joel frowned, feeling a bit guilty about all the canary jokes all of a sudden. “Well-” Jim smiled at Joel, “at least now I know you're soft!” He teased, his tongue sticking out.

Joel took the bait, suddenly smiling as he tried to look annoyed, “What! Me soft!? No no- I'd never be soft!” He joked and smiled more as Tim laughed.

“Then what's with those red eyes!” Jim pushed a finger into Joel's face making him snicker quietly.

“Uh, red name so red eyes. Wow, you're so stupid.” Jim made a face of mock hurt.

“No! You're the stupid one, thinking you can act all- all emotionless!” Jim pushed Joel over onto the bed, both of them laughing now.

“It’s cause I am babe! So so emotionless.” He turned to Jim and smiled, his chest fluttering as he saw them smile back. They stayed like that for a small moment, just smiling and giggling quietly, until Tim spoke up.

“Better?” Joel nodded, and Jimmy was quick to roll closer and hug the other man, making him shiver.

“Cold…” He lightly complained.

“Want me to leave? I can go visit Grian or Scott-” Joel quickly put arms around him.

“No. My ice cube.” He smiled and was glad when Jimmy snuggled up to him.

“Okay weirdo, I'll stay right here.” Joel smiled and closed his eyes, holding on tight to the ice cube next to him.

[trashiewrites]

More girlboss ghost's wife plz 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

HAHAHAHAH!!!! MORE BAD BITCHING AND I LOVEE IT!! btw for those who have sent in requests, I am doing them in the order I get them! I don't have that many but work has been killing me recently!

Don't Fuck with That~

Ghost x F!Reader (Never really mentioned gender-wise)

Rating: B for Boss Bitch

Warnings: Harsh language to women, and alcohol? yeah

Words: 1150

One thing you may expect about the life of a mother of two is chaos, especially with your husband gone for long periods of time. It's a lot, you will admit. Yet, you bring the Bad Bitch you were and made it looks like child's play. To be honest, you didn't know how the fuck you did it yourself, but you managed! After a month or so you do start to lose your mind, saying that you barely have any free time after handling things. Luckily you have the best husband ever!

On days when Simon would return home after a mission, the first thing he does is take the kids to go see your family! Or if that isn't available, he'll ask the boys to babysit for the night. Usually, Soap loves to babysit the little monsters. In any case, the kids are out of your hair! Simon takes this to have you go buck wild wherever you want. This time you chose to relax and have drinks at a dive bar! Nothing is more distressing than the one day you can pump yourself with your favorite alcohol!

Simon, during this time, stays relatively sober just to watch the chaos unravel. You being drunk is what he calls a spectacle. "You know Simon," you looked over at him taking another swig of your glass, "how did you of all people end up with such rowdy sperm monsters??" You growled as you leaned upon the table. Simon chuckled, sipping some more whiskey.

"I don't know," he placed his glass down, "why don't you ask their mother?"

"Yeah, you're right!" your face lit up for a mere moment before fully taking in his words, "wait a fucking minute you bastard! I'm their mother!!" 

"Exactly," He took another sip, "Look at yourself, I love you but those rascals get it all from you." Simon chuckled before looking back to see you gulping another glass. 

"Bartender, another glass for me please!" You spoke in a mopey tone, "Imma need more to drink away the sorrow of my husband's harsh but true words!" Having said that, you burst into laughter. Leaning against your husband's shoulder as you tried to grasp your breath. Simon shook his head, leaning his head upon yours. 

"Honestly, what do I do with you." He chuckled as the bartender motioned that this was your last drink. Wasting no time, you took a large gulp; letting out a refreshing sigh you flashed Simon a content smile. "Enjoy that drink, It's your last." You placed your hand over your mouth, so close to spitting out your precious booze. You leaned your head back downing what you had in your mouth. 

"Says who!" You clutched to Simon in desperation, "How could you deprive me of my only day off!" Simon finished his glass, motioning for another. He pointed to himself; the bartender nodded.  "How come you get another!"

"One, the bartender. Two, I'm going to be here for a bit." Simon nodded as he swapped his old glass for a newly filled one, "Lastly, cause I'm not nearly as drunk as you." You huffed in defeat, despite being hammered, you could tell you were HAMMERED. You downed the rest of your glass, standing up from your seat. 

"Imma head to the restroom," you kissed his cheek and left. Simon took a moment to look around. Most things you'd see in a bar were there; The noisy folk, the drunk asleep in the back corner, and groupies of all varieties. One thing caught his eye, more like he had caught their eye if anything. A group of ladies whispered among themselves as they looked over to one of them and then back to him. Not necessarily an uncommon sight for him, saying he is fairly attractive without his mask on. Yet he looked away, paying no heed to the group and returning to his drink. Surely no one is stupid to hit on him seeing he had been hanging with you this whole time... keyword he thought...

"Hey, there Handsome," a voice called out next to him. He ignored it despite no one being on the other side. Until sadly, someone poked his shoulder. "I'm speaking to you sir; can I buy you a drink? " Simon sighed, a frown staining his face. 

"No thanks, for your sake you should leave; I'm happily married." 

"To that wreck? Oh, honey, I can show you a real woman." the woman cackled as she leaned closer, "I can rock your world baby; just give me a chance. ~" she spoke in a seductive whisper into Simon's ear. He placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her away. 

"One last time, it's best if you leave." 

"Oh, come one, leave with me, baby!" She beckoned, "you'll send those papers after one night with me, trust me. ~" 

"I wouldn't fuck with that if I were you," Simon turned to face you, "you must be blind 'cause I'm sure you and your group of whores knew he was mine." Your eyes flared with anger. You cracked your knuckles, leaning your head to the side with a cynical smirk. The women slowly turned around, seeing the demon incarnate festering with glaring eyes that could kill. She went pale as a ghost, "Now, I suggest you turn tail to your groupie before I shove something in those open legs of yours that you won't find pleasurable."  The woman gulped loudly, comedically loud. Rushing off to return to her little gang, you laughed loudly as you watched her run, "Go on run faster bitch; pick a better target next time!" You sent a kiss in her direction and returned your gaze to your husband whose eyes were on you the entire time, admiring you with a soft grin. "Liked the show?" 

"I believe that's your best performance yet." You walked to him, and instead of sitting in your seat next to him, you sat promptly on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, "Extremely attractive, if I may add; Despite all these years, you continue to amaze me, dove."

"Can I have one more drink then?" you turned to face him, hitting him with big puppy eyes. Simon sighed, never one to give in to puppy eyes, yet perhaps today will be his exception. 

"Fine," He motioned for two more, "last one, so enjoy it." You cheered happily, grabbing Simon's cheeks and giving him a big smooch. 

"Thank you, thank you! You're the best husband ever, Simon!!" You hugged him tightly; in response, he rubbed your back, "I love you so much, Simon..." You spoke softly. 

"I love you too, (y/n)," he whispered in return. Taking his glass in hand and handing you yours, "Cheers?" You stared down at your glass and then back to him with a warm smile, both sharing that longing for each other. 

"Cheers."