#big axolotl man

[omuricebreakfast]

Drew @jukoduko's silly mans in whiteboard w/ em HEHEHEHE I had so much fun!!! GO CHECK EM OUT!!!

We wanted to see how we would draw each others sillies so this is how I would draw Jukenito!!

[bunny-bun-draws]

✨ July's shop update ✨

Half-way through the month with new stickers, and now formally putting up the keychains and sticker albums that arrived since last month x'd an apology for not doing it sooner, it's been a busy month u,wu

As you already know, if something interests you, go to my Big Cartel shop here! Thanks as always for your support 🐰✨

[bed-buggier]

I've had this video in the back of my head all day and omfg my brain chemsitry has been altered I love this voice for the Axolotl and I love him and I want to cuddle up with him and let my sorrows melt away andahouqgyiqcgslpiqbpixbpjxfhkzyeJfkg♡

[slushycoookie]

The Perfect Gift

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8k

Content: Reader stresses about V-Day for her man. A sneak peek into her family too. Small TempXina. Or Xinapest? Miguel's always a cutie. Warning Dana shows up. Masturbation. Vaginal fingering. P in V. Reader literally gets folded. MINORS DNI!

A/N: I'm using the characterization for my story, Between Two Worlds. No one has to read it to understand this one shot, but it does help. And it's canon to the main story too! Please enjoy!

Cookie's Love List

“So, what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?”

Tempest’s question rejuvenates you. You sit up straight in the locker rooms, after complaining about wanting to go home in your bed and watch tv. Customers are getting on your nerves and you could be focusing on more important things right now.

“Well, you see…”

“Mhm, here you go.”

“You know I'm planning to pass out cards with candy inside here the day before. Since it's on a Friday this year.”

“Uh-huh.” She motions you to move closer so she can fix your curly wig.

“I got my mom those twizzlers paired with a shirt of her favorite character.”

“That big lizard that likes to destroy Japan a lot?”

“Yeah, he's holding a heart. I thought it was so cute. And for my sister, I already got her that giant pink axolotl plushie. It says ‘I love you’ on the front.”

“How big was that thing again?”

“Twelve fucking feet. I had to take out a lot of shit out of my closet.” You turn a little for Tempest to get the back of your head. “For idiot one and idiot two, I got them a bag of those hard candies so they can stay out of my personal stash.”

“Didn’t your brothers say they were going to that hotel for valentine's day? What did your mom say about that?”

You shake your head, because if you get into that you'd get a headache. “Let’s not talk about that right now. They keep bothering me about that and not their own mother. Oh! And for my grandma, she's getting another pajama set. I found one that was black with a red heart over heart so I know she's gonna like it.”

“Your grandma loves pjs.”

“That’s all she wants. She's so picky. Let's see who else…”

Tempest finishes fixing your hair and turns you around, “You forgetting somebody.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Your man.”

Your eyes dart away, “I didn't forget about him.”

“Ooooh, yes you did.” Your lips purse at Tempest’s teasing tone. “I thought this was your favorite holiday.”

“It is!”

“Then why wasn't fine ass Science Guy the first on your list?”

“Because I don't know what the hell to give him!"

Tempest gasps, feeling your forehead with the back of her hand then checking your pulse.

“That’s not like you at all. Did y'all break up and you secretly didn't tell me?”

“Please, you'd be the first to know if that's the case.”

Getting Miguel something for Valentine’s Day has been stressful for one reason. You had too man ideas on what to give him. A box of candy? A silver chain that would look so good on him? A candle?

So many options and you couldn't pinpoint on one that would work for him.

“You’re overthinking it.” Tempest stands to stretch, flexing her nature green bodysuit that gave everyone a good look of her ass. “You know him more than anyone else. Well, besides Xi.”

You grimace, “You’re on me about mine, what about yours? You aren't even crazy about holiday.”

“Jokes on you, I'm getting her those flower…block…thingies. Already built by moi.”

You roll your eyes while standing up, preparing yourself to get back out there and earn some more money.

“At least you got something.”

Before going upstairs, your best friend hugs you from behind.

“Don’t stress about it. You know he’s gonna love whatever you got for him. That man is crazy about you, okay?”

You know he is. It's why you want to make sure what you give matches his care for you. Because you care for him an awfully lot. So much that your heart gets crazy every time you see him.

Miguel's been through enough to write a book about it, so you want to show him how much he's loved.

He picks you up at five in the morning, hair tussled, square glasses fitting his perfect face. He doesn't hesitate to take your bag before kissing your cheek in greeting. The simple things that makes your breath linger in your chest, unable to escape from your lungs. This man puts his all into his relationship with you.

“How was work?” He asks, holding your hand while driving.

“Tiring. A little stressful…”

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Was distracted all night.”

His brows lower with concern, “About?”

You pull at your pants, “Valentine’s Day. It's coming soon and I wanted to make sure I have everyone covered.”

“I'm sure you do.” He gives you a smile at the red light. So soft and gentle. You want to kiss all over that face. “You’re very thoughtful and caring. You treat Valentine’s Day like it's Christmas.”

“Oh yeah. Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“That includes you.” He squeezes your hand and your heart squeezes.

“You too.”

Miguel shyly laughs, “We're talking about you here.”

At another red light, you grab his face and kiss him. A make out session that only lasts for a few seconds, but enough to leave him breathless. Speechless. You glance down at his pants, grinning when he covers his crotch with his other hand.

What should you give him? Miguel said that he was okay with a bag of candy, but you wanted to do more. You had to speak to an expert.

Your mother's known for doing a lot when it came to…everything.

When you were in school, before winter break she made a bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries for the teachers in your classes. She participated in decorating during important events like homecoming and prom. She's a pro in everything party related down to the gifts. It's why her job is event planning.

You wanted to do this on your own, but asking for some advice wouldn't hurt.

“Okay,” Your mom pulls out her notebook and pen while you lie on her bed, “what are you thinking about giving him?”

As you list the items, you see the list get longer and longer and longer. Pouring on to the second page which made you realize that it was plenty to work with.

“Are y'all getting married or something?”

“No!” You sit up, “Why are you thinking that?”

“Because this is a lot for a boyfriend not a husband.”

“Alright.” You suck your teeth, wondering if it's a good idea to speak to your mom in the first place. “I got it.”

“Don’t be like that. I'm just saying you don't have to do so much. All that matters is him knowing how much you like him. Or are we getting to that other l word yet?”

“I like him.” You push, but your mom clearly doesn't buy it with a lip curl.

“Okay, okay.” She does another once over of your list before getting a sparkle in her eye. That same one she gets when she comes up with a party idea, “You should do a gift basket. Put a couple of his favorite things in there, make it pretty and boom, you got a thoughtful gift.”

You stare at the list and it all makes sense, solving your issue of giving Miguel multiple things without overwhelming yourself.

Multiple stores were frequented, combing through endless aisles of Valentine’s day decorations and gifts. Your cart being filled to the brim with all the supplies you need for Miguel’s basket. Despite you buying everything so close to the actual day, there were plenty of items for you to use.

In one store, your eye caught a men's pajama set. The red satin under your fingertips bolstered your gift basket idea. Not to mention there was a matching lingerie set for women.

You really hope he likes it.

The already done basket haunting the corner of your room. Hovering over you as you slept. You replay every reaction Miguel would have about your gift. How he might cry seeing at how much care and thought you put into it. Or toss your gift aside and say that Dana always gave him better gifts. Although, you'd kick his ass if he did that to you.

Your stomach hurts, you can hardly breathe. You barely got any sleep when D-Day arrives. You're awake, staring at your bedroom ceiling. Eyes weak, but not enough to fall asleep. It's not until you get a text from Miguel that your heart pangs against your chest.

He wants you to come outside, knowing you weren't crazy about him being in your house like that yet.

You throw on your sweatpants and a hoodie before putting on your slippers. Miguel tends to do this before he has to go to work. Saying that seeing you first before his day begins makes his day all the better. Your mother and grandma are already up, sitting at the kitchen counter and drinking coffee.

“I see Miguel’s outside.” Your mom teases.

“You need to let that man come inside and not leave him standing out there.”

You hold back rolling your eyes at your grandma, “Do you know how y'all are?”

“Oh, I know how I am.”

Your grandma sticks your tongue out at you and you do the same. You open the door and see Miguel on your porch with a large bouquet of flowers. A rose and lily bouquet. Colors of pinks and whites fill your vision. Bits of green foliage accent the piece, circling around the base.

The flowers steals any word that could escape from your lips.

“Oh my god, they're beautiful!” Your mother shouts from behind.

That knocks some sense into you, quickly closing the door at her protest. But she's right. They are beautiful.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” Miguel keeps his gaze on you. “I hope this isn't too much.”

The flowers were past the size of your head. You can't imagine how heavy it might be once you hold them. Tears well in your eyes, pooling down to your cheeks.

“Oh, Mig…”

He stumbles at the tears, going to wipe your face.

“Oh no, this is too much, isn't it?”

“No.” You help Miguel wipe your eyes, “No, I love it. This was so sweet of you.”

He sheepishly smiles, “It’s a tradition to give a pretty lady flowers on Valentine's Day.”

You look down at yourself, “If I knew you were gonna do this, I would've dressed a bit more cuter.”

“What do you mean? You look cute to me.”

You playfully push him, before noticing a heart shaped box. It was smaller than the bouquet, but fitting very well against it.

“I got you some chocolates too. They're assorted and have filling inside.”

“Ooh.” You take the box before reaching out for the flowers.

Miguel steps back, “You should let me take these in. They're heavy.”

“No, then you'll be subjected to my mom and grandma's questions.”

“It’s not like I haven't met your mom before. And I don't want you to carry something that's heavy.”

He looks at you with his large, brown eyes. You're always weak to them. Its why you give in and open the door.

“Hi Miguel!” Your mom greets immediately.

“Hello.” He also greets your grandma while you're directing him to the breakfast table.

“Where did you get those flowers?”

“A florist near my childhood home did them. We always go to her for flowers.”

“How much are they because I've been looking for a better florist nearby for this event-”

“Ma, Miguel has to go to work soon.”

You help him put the flowers in a vase with water. It's as if Miguel’s presence decided to wake up the whole house. Your sister immediately comes down, oohing and aahing at the flowers before saying hi to Miguel.

“She doesn’t need all of those flowers.”

“Shut up.”

Your brothers follow not long after her, ignoring the flowers and focusing on the fact that Miguel is in the house.

“It's our third musketeer!”

“Did you get us something?”

“He is not your valentine, he's mine.” You push your brothers off of him. Not doing much of a dent since they're stronger than you.

“You keep hogging him all to yourself. When are we gonna get a turn?”

“Never. For as long as I live.”

“I'll be right back.” Miguel whispers to you, kissing your cheek before going back to his car. Of course he got something else. This man wasn't gonna stop.

“I need everyone to go away now.”

Your family doesn't budge. In fact, they get comfortable, waiting to see what else Miguel got.

Two boxes of donuts. Your family rejoices when he sets the boxes on the counter. Freshly baked treats that range from chocolate covered to glazed. No one hesitates diving in to take one.

“There’s a donut shop that opens early that I like to go to.” Miguel explains, mainly to you as the whole family revels in his gift. “They always bake their donuts fresh everyday.”

“Thank you, Miguel!” Everyone says while eating. You shake your head, using this as an excuse to push Miguel out the door.

“Okay, I’m sure he really has to go to work now-”

“When are y’all getting married?”

Your mom’s question make you and Miguel look everywhere but each other.

“Stop asking that. Go eat another donut.”

While your cheeks get hot, you continue leading him to the door. Your family saying goodbye and booing you at the same time for making him leave. He chuckles when you close the door behind you.

“Thanks. That was nice of you.”

Miguel smiles, “Of course.”

You sigh, holding your hands behind your back. “I’ll give you your gift later. I want to put some finishing touches on it.”

“Don’t stress yourself. I’ll like anything you get me, even if it’s just socks.”

“You don’t just deserve socks. But if you want them, I can swing by the store real quick and grab a pair-”

He kisses you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs rubbing along your cheeks. A wet pop occurs when he pulls away for a second, his eyes staring into yours.

“I will be happy with anything you get me. Okay?”

You bite your lip, “O-Okay.”

“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?”

“You got something else for me?”

He nods, “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Of course, he has more for you. You don’t typically see Valentine’s Day as a competition, but now you’re starting to see it that way. Miguel is the type to always go above and beyond.

You kiss him goodbye and see him off, your stomach turning and twisting. Full of knots. You go back inside, grab a donut before going back to your room. The gift basket staring directly at you once more.

So, you got yourself together.

Your plan being to surprise Miguel with his gift during his lunch break. The heartbeat in your ears matching the pace of your footsteps when you walked in the Alchemax building. The heel from your boots against the quartz floor resonates your entrance.

Your entire body quivers as you press the up button on the elevator.

Thank goodness no one was inside, allowing you to breathe in, breathe out. Your heart slowly calming down with each exhale.

Miguel will like your gift.

When hitting the scientific department, you make your way to his workspace. Carefully cradling his gift in his arms. Some coworkers saying hello to you while glancing at the gift in curiosity.

You clutch on to his basket when reading his name on the clear glass of his workspace. A mantra of your boyfriend being in awe of your gift lingering in your mind. It’s now or never. If he hates it, he hates it. Then you can break up with him and rant to your friends about what a horrible guy he is.

Except, he wasn’t there.

Margo and Gwen are hanging around, laughing at their phones.

“Uh hey.”

“Hi Miguel’s girlfriend.” Margo waves, putting her phone away. “Why you in here? Oh, wait! Are you surprising Miguel?”

“I’m trying. Where is he?”

“He’s doing some labs on the other side.” Gwen informs you, “We got some new blood slides and he wants to check them out before lunch.”

“Ah okay.” You hold the gift close to your chest. You’re sure you can’t go in to his lab area without ruining things. Should you wait until he comes out?

“What did you get him?” Margo and Gwen eye the basket. “It looks like you got a lot of stuff in there.”

“Aren’t you his besties? How will I know you won’t betray me if I tell you?”

“Girlies before homies.”

You snort at Margo before giving them a peek. Well, at least of what they could see behind the cellophane. “Do you think he’d like it?”

“Oh yeah.” Gwen says, “Especially the candy, he hides them in his desk drawer.”

“I eat them sometimes.” Margo cosigns.

That gives you some confidence. Maybe you are stressing out about this for no reason.

“Okay, good.”

You decide to hang around in the break room. Gwen mentions that Miguel takes his time looking at blood slides, so it may be a while. You don’t have a problem with waiting as you park up at a table, taking another donut as you saw that Miguel bought some for the office too.

The anxiety inside you lessens. When Miguel's finished, you’re going to give him his gift and he’s going to kiss you with gratitude. Then you can move on to phase two of your gift that was much much later. After wherever he’s planning to take you.

Which you had no idea what he would do. Knowing him it was going to be romantic. Something to make you swoon off your feet. Give you the urge to suck him off.

“Hi!” Dana waves at you under the doorway, catching the attention of some people.

You’re trying hard not to roll your eyes, “Hey! I’m surprised you’re here. I thought Tyler was taking you out.”

“He is.” She pulls up a chair across from you, sitting down like princess. She even looks like one with her pink, poofy dress, subtle make up, and crystal earrings dangling from her ears. “He just needed to finish up some important stuff at work. Y’know, CEO things…”

“Ah…”

Dana’s eyes trace across the basket, “What’s this?”

“Oh, this is a gift for Miguel.” You grab the basket and pull it closer to you. “I think he’ll like it.”

She hums, standing from her seat to take a peek inside. You curl up your lip, not saying anything as she runs her hands across the cellophane, observing it. Dana doesn’t say anything for a few seconds before tsking.

“That’s all you got him?”

You tilt your head, “I’m sorry?”

“You just got him candy? And a mug?”

“That’s what he likes…”

“Well, of course, but it’s Valentine’s Day. All of this seems…trivial, yeah?” Before you could even go on by what she meant, she keeps going. “I mean, I bought Miguel this nice watch down in the outlet stores over an hour away from here and he loved it. So you know I just think-”

You quickly stand up, moving the table enough so it screeches along the floor. Once again people were looking at you when you grabbed the basket.

“You know what, I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

You push your way out of the break room, going back towards the elevators with your subpar gift in tow. But Miguel is right there, making his way back from the lab. You quickly hide your gift behind you when he locks eyes with you. You don’t miss the shine in his eyes at the fact you’re here.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“This is a nice surprise.”

“It is…”

“We can eat lunch together. That sandwich place you like are doing a deal for couples. You get a soup and a sandwich for seven dollars.”

“That sounds nice, but I actually need to go. Uh, Temp is struggling with Xina’s gift and she called me to save the day so…”

Your heart pangs at his disappointed look, when he notices your odd stance. “Are you…carrying something?”

“It’s your gift!” Dana comes in, with a smile that you wanted to punch. “She gave me a peek.”

“Oh?” Miguel steps closer, but you back away.

“There’s something wrong with it. I forgot to put the fancy ribbon on. It has glitter on it and without it it just ruins the entire look.”

“I-I don’t mind if it’s missing the glitter ribbon-”

“I do! You know how I am, gotta make sure it’s perfect.”

“Oh…”

You give him a quick kiss on his cheek before maneuvering around him so he wouldn’t see the gift. He made a few advances to walk you to your car, but you declined them, knowing he was still going to see.

The urge to throw it in the back of your car is high.

Of course your gift was mediocre. Dana bought him a fancy watch. You got him candy. Totally different in terms of everything; cost, originality, longevity. You might have had a chance if you got him the chain like you thought of previously. His ex managed to out do you. You’re the worst girlfriend ever.

The gift basket should just be nixed from the plan. Phase two was going to have to be the main part of his gift. That’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Miguel’s text is making you feel worse. Asking if you are okay and that he wanted to have lunch with you. You wanted to have lunch with him too. Maybe sloppily make out in the back of his car before he went back to work. But Dana had to open her mouth.

“I don’t know why you let that bitch say something.”

You sigh on the call, fixing your hair in the mirror. Miguel is on his way to pick you up for the next part of your gift. As usual, you told your friends what happened before you went AWOL for the rest of the night.

“I didn’t let her say anything.”

“Yeah, you did because you still didn’t give him the gift you worked hard on.”

You sucked your teeth, not liking that Misty was right. “Did you forget the fact that she brought him a watch? Probably the same one he usually wears on his wrist.”

“She probably brought it with his money.” Monica rebuttals, “Therefore, your gift is immediately better because you used your own funds and not his for his gift.”

“It’s still a fucking watch! The one that you see rich men wear and wonder how much that he has in his bank account.”

Miguel’s text saying that he’s almost there with a smiley face makes you groan. You shouldn’t even go out. Just tell him that you’re not feeling better and he should cancel whatever he has planned for you.

“Give him the damn gift.” Tempest comes in, “I gave my girl a cherry blossom tree that’s probably missing a branch, but she still loved it, right?”

A low confirmation from Xina was heard through the phone.

“See? Fuck what Dana said and give Miguel the gift. You’re the queen when it comes to today, why would you let someone lesser than you say anything?”

You see that Miguel is outside to pick you up. Your friends are right. You know they’re right. You’re ruining the holiday for yourself, the day you enjoy every year. Miguel likes you and you like him. Why wouldn’t he like what you made for him?

“If he doesn’t like it, he’s gonna hear from me.” Tempest says.

“Girl, I don’t have enough connections to bail you out of jail.” Misty adds in.

“Make sure you give us a play by play of him wearing you out tomorrow.”

Everyone laughs at Monica’s words when you quickly hang up, making your way out the house. You say goodbye to your family, ignoring the comment from your mother of making sure you don’t get pregnant before leaving.

On cue, Miguel is out of the car, almost running to get your spending the night bag. He comments on how great your outfit, a red blazer with a matching skirt paired with black tights and heels, looks. All before locking on to the gift basket, lighting up at its presence.

“Is that mine?”

“Yes.” You playfully roll your eyes, “Get in the car first and I’ll show you.”

The two of you get settled. You ignore the anxiety in over your head telling you to not give it to him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Your stomach churns when he peels away the wrapping. Miguel’s wide smile gives you hope when he pulls out the sour candies.

“I’ve been looking for these. I think Margo’s been eating them…”

“Oh yeah, she has.”

He shows you the mug like you didn’t buy it for him. It was white, with the words ‘amor’ in red cursive.

“Another mug for my collection.”

“I think it’s big enough for two cups of coffee.”

“It is.” He flashes you the biggest grin and you realize that you helped with his caffeine addiction.

There’s a pink teddy bear holding a heart that says ‘You’re Sweet’ and he laughs. When he peeks at the red pjs you got him, you stop him right there.

“That’s for when we go back to your apartment.”

“O-Oh.” Miguel quickly puts back the stuff, trying to match with the way you first had it. But he beams and now you wonder why you were so worried about giving it to him. “I love it.”

“Really?” You giggle, “I’m glad you do. I’m…so glad you do.”

“Were you afraid that I wouldn’t like it?”

You twiddle your thumbs, “Yeah. You’re my boyfriend I…I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

“It was.” He tucks his finger under your chin, “It’s better than any gift that anyone has ever gotten me.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No really. This is very thoughtful and personal. You remembered the candy I like. And it comes in hearts.”

“But it’s not a fancy watch…”

Miguel’s eye twitches, “Dana told you about her gifts to me?” You nod and he exhales, pursing his lips. “Those gifts were nice, but they weren’t for me. I’d prefer things with thought put into them, not the most expensive thing in the store.”

You smile, “You’re so sweet.”

“That’s what the bear says.”

You kiss him, any worries or concerns out of the window. Miguel likes your gift and you can enjoy the rest of your night.

“I think you’ll like where we’re going.”

He inputs the destination on his GPS, making you gasp at the location.

“What? A drive-in theater?”

Miguel nods, grinning from ear to ear. “They’re showing that horror movie you wanted to see. You know, the one where the killer is killing couples on Valentine’s day?”

You squeal, hugging him tight and bombarding him with kisses. Each filled with gratitude.

“Oh wait-” You sit back, “You don’t like horror movies.”

“This one doesn’t seem too bad…”

“Baby, I don’t want you to have a bad time because you’re trying to make me happy.”

“I won’t. My night is already made since you’re here.”

Your head lowers, holding in the urge to tell him to go to his apartment for phase two.

“Okay. If you get scared, don’t hesitate to lean on me.”

Your wink makes him glance away, “I-I should be saying that to you.”

“Aww, you’re gonna protect me if I get scared?”

Miguel clears his throat as you flutter your eyelashes, “Yes.”

The drive-in theater is a forty-five minute drive. There Miguel drove down a backroad that lead to the entrance of the theater. A few cars were in line, ready to make their way inside to find a good place to park.

You didn’t comment on Miguel’s punctuality when you noticed the theater didn’t open until thirty minutes from now.

While waiting you noticed the sign of a Valentine’s Day deal. A jumbo popcorn paired with a jumbo drink for couples to share. Your stomach growls at the sight and you realized you hardly ate anything today.

“I'm sorry this isn't fancy.” Miguel apologizes, “The food I mean. It'll be movie theater food…”

“Well, we are at a theater. And I have been craving mozzarella sticks for a while. Ooh a hot dog sounds good too.”

When he's finally able to pay at the booth, the driver goes over the rules and safety tips when they drive past. Where the exits are in case they need to leave and what radio channel to use to effectively watch the movie.

You're shimmying in excitement while your boyfriend searches for a spot. He finds one in the middle of the lot, able to see the giant screen so clearly and it wasn't too far away from the concessions area either.

Hand in hand you follow Miguel inside to get some snacks. The hunger in you took over as you oohed and aahed at the array of food. Nachos, various flavors of popcorn, hot dogs spinning on a cart, curly fries. You should've ate something before you left.

“Just pick for me.” You clutch to his arm. “If I pick anything, we'll be loaded with snacks.”

“Okay-”

“Oh wait! Can we at least get the jumbo drink and popcorn?”

Miguel snorts, “I thought you said I can pick.”

“You can now…” You kiss his cheek and he picks out your snacks. More like you do as you kept pointing at which ones you want. And Miguel wasn’t the type to say no to you.

It's why he ended up carrying most of the food as you happily skip back to the car with your popcorn and drink.

The food felt like the best thing you ever ate. Your hot dog covered in the usual ketchup, mustard and relish taste divine. The marinara on your tongue from the mozzarella made you shimmy. And you wish you could marry the person who made the curly fries.

Miguel glances at you with soft eyes, as if he’s entranced by you.

“You have…something on your…”

You blink, looking at yourself and hoping you didn't get anything on your red blazer. He takes the corner of a napkin and dabs it on the corner of your lips. The gentle action causing you to freeze.

“It was ketchup on your…lips…”

“Thanks Miggy.”

You giggle when he turns away.

The previews were all horror related. Every scary, tense trailer made you glance at Miguel. Worried that he was going to scare himself so badly. His jumps made you jump and right when the movie started he's holding your hand.

He tries to play it off as wanting to touch you, but you know the real reason.

“Mig, I can always watch this when it goes to one of the streaming services.”

“I'm fine. I can deal with horror movies. And excessive blood and guts.”

He squeezes your hand and you don't say anything else.

The movie is dumb.

Not in the sense that you couldn’t enjoy yourself, but you weren’t taking it seriously. You lost count at how many times you laughed at an absurd death or when the characters said an odd line. There are moments that you winced at how the killer manages to get its victim, glancing at Miguel who hasn’t let go of your hand once.

If he wasn’t hiding behind his popcorn, he pretended he was thirsty, getting a drink at the scary parts. You thought he was so cute.

During the middle of the movie, motion occurs out of the corner of your eye. A car shaking. It wasn’t so bad, but it’s enough to catch your eye. The faint outline of a palm on the car window seals the deal.

“Oh my god.”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

You point behind you, eyes wide and filled with amusement. “They’re fucking.”

Miguel looks over your shoulder at the jostling car. His eyes almost went past his frames at the sight.

“Oh. That’s another one.”

“What?”

He points at the backseat to another car having similar motions. “It started doing that thirty minutes in the movie.”

You snort, trying not to cackle. You definitely weren’t surprised at people having sex in their cars. It’s Valentine’s Day. Couples are going to pull stunts like this. You just didn’t expect to see it.

“Happy V-Day to them especially.”

Once the movie finished, Miguel was on his way back to his apartment.

You can say you enjoyed the movie, but you ended up becoming distracted. The way those cars rocked made you wish you were being rocked that way. Getting jostled in the backseat, Miguel handling you with ease. Luckily, you’re prepared for phase two. The rocking cars just helped you out a little.

Miguel kept shifting during the way back. Tugging on his seatbelt, his buttoned down shirt, his pants. You know it must’ve affected him too.

You decide to test it by opening up your blazer, giving him a show of your cleavage.

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

Miguel’s eyes darts to your chest before back at you, “Y-Yes. It wasn’t that good in terms of the plot, but it was fun.”

“Good. I thought it was fun too.” At a stop, you stretch your neck, running your fingertips down from there to your blouse to pretend to fix it. “I think those people we saw had fun too. In their own way.”

“O-Oh yeah.” Miguel shakily exhales, “I’m surprised it was, it was during a horror movie. That’s not very romantic.”

“I don’t know. You have the right atmosphere which is dark and cool and it’s only you and the person you like? That’s bounds for love making.”

He gulps when your hand rests on top of his, “You have a point.”

“So you’d want to fuck me in your car? In a lot of a drive-in theater where people are around?”

“…y-yes.” You bite your lip at Miguel getting shy. “We can be discreet.”

“Can we?” Your index finger makes small circles on his hand, “You tend to get riled up when you’re with me. I can feel it when you get rough.”

Your finger slides up his forearm slowly, carefully. You feel the goosebumps on his skin. Miguel’s breathing increasing and a notable tent in his pants. When he pulls up to the parking lot of his apartment complex, you pull away. Grabbing your purse and his gift basket.

He’s looking at you with lowered eyes when he grabs your bag from the trunk. His stare stirring in your chest, making your stomach flutter. You know he isn’t going to make a move until you’re both inside, so you have to deter him a little longer.

“Oh, I need to shower. I feel dirty.”

Your words halt Miguel when he closes his front door, “Okay. Can I join you?”

So he can rock your world under the water hose? If this was any other day, you’d say yes.

“Sorry, baby. Not this time.”

“We…we can save water showering together.”

“When have you complained to me about your water bill?” Miguel grimaces, causing you to giggle. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. Then you can shower after.”

In the shower, you made sure you smelled like you were born in Candyland. A vanilla scented body wash foaming across your skin. Paired with a lotion that had hints of honey. All combined with a red lingerie set that would make him drop to his knees.

When walking out of the bathroom, he’s immediately by your side. His face lighting up at your scent.

“You smell great.” Miguel goes forward and you know if you let him come closer, he'd start asking questions like what's under your red robe.

“Thanks. Go on and shower, I'll be here.”

You try to not take his pout too close to heart. He'd start feeling better once he sees what you're going to do.

You cover his coffee and tv stand with lit candles. All unscented. It creates a soothing atmosphere in his living room, contributing to the sexy vibe you're going for. You take out your portable speaker and play your Valentine’s day playlist. All of it involving sexy, sensual songs to boost the mood.

To tie it all together, you sit on the sofa, legs crossed, patiently waiting for your man to come up.

Time to initiate phase two.

Miguel comes out, wearing the pj set you bought him. The red, satin shirt tied with matching shorts goes well with what you're wearing. He notices the slight changes to his living room.

“I like the candles.”

“I'm glad you do.” You pat next to you on the couch and he obliges, quickly sitting next to you. His scent of earl grey makes your eyes roll back momentarily. It's doing wonders to your core, getting soaked.

“I wanted to show my appreciation for everything you did today.”

Miguel rubs the back of his neck, “Y-You didn't need to. I wanted to do this for you.”

“I know…” Your palm lands on his abdomen, going up across his abs and over his pectorals. “But did you really think the gift basket was all I had in store for you?”

You don't give him a chance to answer when you kiss him. It was short and sweet, enough to have him reach over to you. Dodging his advances, you stand. Reaching over your robe and undoing it, letting it fall down so he can fully see you.

The lacey, red bra with hearts etched on that pushed up your breasts. Panties that matched with a g-string. Black high heels to complete the look.

“Wow…wow you're stunning.”

Your heart flits at the compliment, “You know I am.” Before you make your descent, you raise a finger. “You can't touch me until I say so.”

Miguel’s hands flexed while he pouts. You know he loves touching you, but he needs to wait.

“Okay.”

A song plays and you follow the beat. Your feet carrying the slow rhythm and your hips follow. You don't miss Miguel’s eyes on you, not once leaving your alluring body.

Not when you pull off his shirt, showing his body underneath. You easily slide off your heels, putting them in the corner of the coffee table. Miguel’s hands twitch when you straddle him. Your soft, smooth body against his. Taunting him because he can't touch you.

You press your body along his, breasts against his face. Maybe you should have told him he can't do anything. The moment Miguel is face with skin contact, he peppers the tops of your chest with kisses. Small, desperate ones. Enough to increase your arousal.

A hand grips his hair while you let him kiss you a little longer. Squeezing your thighs together, biting your lip. Miguel does more than kiss though. He licks up to your neck, humming along at the taste and smell of you. It makes you gasp when he continues. Alternating between licking and kissing on the valley of your breasts.

Taking back control, you tug his head back. His full lips part, glasses a little crooked. You lean down for another kiss, tongue colliding along yours. Tasting the minty toothpaste.

Miguel groans in your mouth when you raise your hips. Your plump ass grazing his bulge. You pull away by dragging his bottom lip before starting your descent. Nibbling, licking, and sucking on his neck. He sighs and still doesn't make an effort to touch you. He's always so good at following directions.

Even as your slide your hands from his shoulders, down to his biceps, forearms, and hands. Leaving them there as you kiss his chest. Your tongue flicking his nipple, earning a satisfying ‘aah’ from his lips. While transitioning to the other, Miguel shifts. Trying to make himself more comfortable despite being confined in his shorts. He hisses at you palming his hardness, him gripping the sofa cushions for some self control.

“Can I touch you now? Please?”

You pretend to think it over, “Hmm, no. Be patient.”

A shaky sigh leaves him when you tug at the waistband of his shorts. With some help of Miguel raising his hips, you pull off the shorts in one swoop, ‘accidentally’ removing his boxers as well.

“Oh no, that wasn't part of the plan.” You faux pout while his hard cock is in front of you. Desperate to be touched. His face filled with lust as he still doesn't move his eyes away from you. Or make a move.

Time to cut him some slack.

“My poor baby.” You turn around and bend down, letting him see your bottom when you slowly pull down your panties. The air hitting your sex, showing him how wet you are. “I bet this is torture, huh?”

Miguel hums but doesn't say anything. He's probably too busy focusing on your nice ass. Your pussy that he wants to dive in and taste. With your panties placed on the sofa, you bend down once more to grab the lube. Give him another showing before the main event.

You smirk at him holding your panties, using them while he strokes himself.

“Before you say anything, you said I can't touch you.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything…”

Miguel eyes traces your form, his chest rising and matching his strokes. You decide to let him get some relief, watching him while placing some lube in your palms. You were clearly right about his fascination with your underwear. The sight of them being against his cock, stirs something inside of you.

“Those panties better than me?”

“N-No.”

You move his hand aside, sitting down with your back against his chest. Miguel’s heavy pants tickle your ear, making you shiver in delight. With your palm you stroke his shaft, covering him with the slick lube.

Before you slide yourself on him, you needed to make sure you are ready first.

As you dip your fingers inside, your head goes back. Your thumb rubbing your clit causes you to moan. Miguel nuzzles along your cheek, taking in your noises of pleasure.

“I wish you can taste how wet I am…”

His breath hitches, “I-I can. Please…let me…”

You take out your two fingers and put them close to his lips. Miguel doesn’t hesitate in tasting you, sucking on your fingers and groaning as he does so. His eyes closed. His tongue running all over your digits to make sure he gets it all.

“Good job…”

Your back arches when you flick your clit. Your muscles relaxing, a familiar feeling building up in your lower stomach. Miguel’s desperate pants don't help. They egg you on while he nibbles on the space between your neck and shoulder. His tongue creating a wet trail from your neck to your earlobe. The air drying it off and making you come on the spot.

Surging against his body, your toes curling, your eyes rolling back while you scream. Miguel resolve still remains despite the death grip on the cushions and the tip of his cock getting darker.

“You always sound so pretty.” He mumbles under your skin, placing kisses as you calm down.

You want those hands on you. You want him to create a picture on your skin.

You grab a condom from the box on the table. Your slippery hands make it difficult to tear it open, but he helps you. Easily opening the package and handing it back to you.

When you slide the condom on his cock, you raise your hips. Effortlessly, you lower on to his length, shuddering at the way he's able to bump along your walls. Your legs shake and your poor man is aching to touch you.

“You can touch me now.”

In an instant, Miguel holds the underside of your thighs. His grip helping you raise your hips before slamming back down to the base. His fingertips dig into you, creating a gentle burn. You turn away to make sure he doesn't see you and your pleasure ridden face.

Miguel sucks his teeth, “I- I can't look at you now?”

“You’re already touching me-unh!”

He bucks up into you, hitting a spot that makes you croon. You're struggling to grab on something so you wrap an arm around his neck while the other cups your covered breast.

Miguel notices you're not completely naked either and unfastens the bra, exposing you, maneuvering the straps from your arms before he tosses it behind him. He can't lift you and fondle you at the same time. But it gives him a show at your breasts moving along with your movements.

Up and down. Up and down. His large hand molding on your thighs. His thick cock stuffing you full. You're losing any coherent thought. The way his shaft disappears inside you takes up your mind.

You wonder what he looks like right now. If his glasses are still on. Still a bit crooked. The thought of him looking a little disarray while he's fucking you is tempting.

You want to see him.

While he’s focused, you glance back and your breath is stolen away. Your boyfriend's brows furrow, glasses on the tip of his nose, his lips curl. You want to see that. See him.

“Miguel…” You call, “I wanna…I wanna see you.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

You're not sure what happened.

First you're against his back on the couch and now you're on your back. Your legs up high, locking eyes with Miguel when he pushes into you. His glasses on the brink of falling off. He must’ve notice when he pushes them up on his face.

The grip on your ankles secure you when he fucks you.

Your mouth gapes, eyes rolling back as he's repeatedly hitting your cervix. Sounds of skin hitting skin echo throughout the apartment. Miguel's pants mix in with them. You're seeing stars, any coherent thought gone.

“Fuck, Miggy…right there.”

“Here?”

You gasp at his sharp thrust. He doesn't stop, hitting you just right that it makes a second orgasm rise from within. Taking you by surprise as your eyes widen, your walls squeezing his cock.

It takes him by surprise too, because Miguel immediately comes. Bending your ankles almost to your ears.

The two of you stay like that for a moment. As much as you can until your legs start to ache. To your relief, your man sits back, pulling you on top. Your lips connect as you two slowly make out.

That word is on the tip of your tongue, but what type of person would you be if you say it after sex?

“Did you like your gift?”

Miguel rubs his nose along yours, causing you to smile. “I loved it. It was perfect.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” You take off his glasses and he gives you a questionable gaze. “I don't wanna break your glasses.”

Tags: @nanamincreampie @poachapo

@miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

@slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel @moonlight00sthings

@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie

@ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour @imamexican

@tatatida @aphinthestars @bluesidez

@saintdiior @prettygirleli @twinkdrakez

@vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang @peachipeachy

@sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02 @celi-xxmoon

@roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox @sweeetas

@avengersinitiative2012 @takeyour-pants-off @avis15

@hysterical-reblogging @opaloharas @jaxyy219

[aniisol]

okay i know this was a while ago but WHAT is going on now it's even worse. (Etho's allied with everyone, but the Tuff Guys aren't really allied to each other? Grian's allies died and he allied with Martyn? but Martyn killed Skizz? and Jimmy was allied with Ren but also very much not so? and Joel is allied with Lizzie in BAM but BAM isn't allied with them? where does Big B stand with the 4gs and Renwood?)

The more we get into the life series the more everyone adapts to an "every man for himself" mentality. They've seen each other lie and betray so often they learn to expect it and distance themselves from everyone. They saw Dogwarts and the AHA crew. They know large alliances don't last. They know that keeping their ties light allows them to move freely, and moving freely has proved the only way to win.

Every winner after the first game (Scott, Pearl, Martyn, and Scar) all won with no alliances.

Scott's final words were, "It's just me and Binkie (his axolotl), we finally did it."

Pearl cut off everyone she had in double life, even her own soulmate.

Martyn killed Scott, his one ally, with no hesitation in order to win.

Scar went through the whole season without a team.

Alliances lead to betrayal, betrayal leads to mistrust, mistrust leads to loneliness, loneliness leads to alliances, but they remember the betrayal and betrayal leads to mistrust etc.

They're all willing to turn on each other at a moment's notice. The wild cards only fuel the chaos of the season that would've already been a free-for-all.

[a-fangirltrash]

"Ford treated Fiddleford so bad!!" As if him treating Fidds like shit wasn't directly a product of being constantly gaslighted and abused by Bill.

I'm genuinely getting tired of people flaming Ford, but in a serious tone. Like people are acting like he's a toxic selfish man that used to put Fidd down... and... no he never did???

Ford ADMIRED Fiddleford, he TRUSTED his friend for what he described as "the project of his life" and Ford, being the most prideful man in the world, decided to ask for help because he knew how CAPABLE Fiddleford was.

When Fiddleford arrived Ford let him know how thankful he was that he was there with him, the man even took a bath and made sure to make him feel like he was at home. Ford even remembered his favorite bean brand?

When Fidd got traumatized by the gremoblin, Ford TRIED to help with what he knew. He tried to help him meditate, took days off for him, decided that they could go out and have some good time. Be mindful that this might've been the total OPPOSITE of what Bill wanted, and he still did for his friend sanity. Bill would make Ford work like CRAZY.

Also, for him it wasn't "putting him in danger!!" For him it was sharing adventures with his friend! Just like hi did with *cofcofSTANLEYcofcof*. That's love language all around.

Fiddleford could abandon the project anytime, but he didn't because he liked being there. And Ford is NOT the guilty one for Fidds creatinf the gun :/ it's nor his fault that fidd interpreted "using his creativity" in that way. Ford NEVER approved that gun.

Also, Ford noticed that RUBIK THING, HE APPREACITE HIM SO MUCH HE KNEW HIS HABITS. AND GOT CONCERNED RIGHT AHEAD.

"B-but he free Frilliam!" The portal was close, did you all READ how much gaslighted Ford was at that point? He didn't free it because "ugh i don't care about this shitty axolotl" but because Bill started to freak out and yell at him to get rid of it. Ford wrote "A friend" with a heart in the title??? Wdym he didn't appreciate it aaaagh

If Stanley took the diaries (i don't like this universe because...stanley:() he WOULD have looked for Fiddleford, they'd have made the Institute of Oddology, he'd have shared his success... with the man that helped him the most.

TBOB SPOILERS AHEAD

He got sad when Fiddleford told him he was gonna get back home to spent time with his family, he PLANNED holidays with him. Even if he DIDN'T like holidays.

He took a day off just to make him happy after his atrocious christmas party, he USED RESOURCES that as you know ford is the most practical mam in the world JUST to decorate the portal as a tree and make Fiddleford happy.

And that atuff of "h-he doesn't appreaciated Fiddleford gifts!" IS SO DUMB OMG, he wore the gloves in the snow and was incredibly thankful about them. When BILL that dumbass triangle pretty much LACERATED his hands, he used Fiddleford gloves as a way to hide those scars, and in a sense, probably to comfort himself because he was ALONE.

I think that was the reason of Fiddleford fast forgiveness, not only because he's a sweet heart, but because after fighting with Bill i think he noticed how BIG was the monster torturing his "partner".

And after all of this i'm not trying to excuse Ford treating him poorly and not listening to him in time

BUT FORD IS NOT A PERFECT VICTIM

Even if i believe he wasn't "the" (at least only) reason of Fiddleford becoming crazy, i know it could have been better for him and he could have avoided so much trauma. But can we please stop seeing Ford as a selfish, evil mad scientist and start seing him as a victim... of a terribly abusive relationship that checks in for all types of domestic abuse... please!!! Ford is not a perfect VICTIM Can we blame Bill!!!

All this rant is because there's certain ship... which i kinda like, but i just HATE HATE HATE the interpretation and how much they put Ford as a villian on it omg

Edit: fixed the use of word narcissism, since it might've been ableist! Replaced with words that actually relate to what i intended to say, instead of referencing a personality disorder

[bogleech]

Actually my CURRENT completely serious personal list of animals I'd add to our current world and specifically local to where I live is as follows. I have shared some of these before but my list is always evolving:

1) A big tarantula sized lousefly because I think they look awesome, would be like vampire bats in that they can bite anything but don't naturally mess with humans. Everyone would find these scary, I would keep one as a pet.

2) a freshwater amphibious barnacle. Larva would have to crawl out of the water and start growing in dirt or mud with long roots. Would smell bad to attract and catch flies when it's exposed to air. In water could catch things like ostracods. I would raise these in pots of dirty scummy water on my balcony. Pokemon would make a poison type Barbacle form out of them.

3) a big huge 12-15 foot long predatory amphibian that looks like specifically this toy of Crassigyrinus. Basically just like a crocodile in size, niche and danger level but slimy and would like cold northern rivers so I can go see them and feed them raw chicken off our fishing docks.

4) a creature exactly like this idiot looking prehistoric lamprey reconstruction, but with a horrible mouth that can bite you like the cookie cutter shark/cookie cutter animals I was hypothesizing. These would live wherever #3 lives so they could have a good food source (#3 should regenerate really well like an axolotl) and so I could catch them and keep them in aquariums

5) a predatory spiny katydid like this guy but as huge as a New Zealand Weta and maybe camouflaged like a clump of lichens

6) a species of glow worm gnats that are maybe just modestly twice as big and just about everywhere in the world in trees and stuff

7) a giant python size freshwater ribbon worm, just like the marine ones with paralyzing venom that swallow whole big fish. Just want one that lives closer. It should be able to come on land, too. I just want the mongolian death worm to be real.

8) a single freshwater cephalopod and I nominate a flapjack octopus big enough to eat a man. I just want the cuero to be real.

9) basket star that hangs from trees and catches birds and stuff. I know echinoderms use seawater as blood but maybe it could fill itself with salty mucus? Maybe it should also protect itself by stinging all over. I'm tired of getting stung by boring nettles in the woods, I wanna get stung instead by spiny tree tentacles.

10) a single surviving pterosaur that evolved to be vampiric and should look as close as possible to the stirge from Dungeons and Dragons

just to clarify that's this one, the one that looks like a miserable piece of shit

[muletia]

Just read the merformer ask about sparklings being referred to as guppies and big scary mer form Megatron trying to snooze but his newly born guppy daughter keeps teething on his little axolotl fins (the ones round their head) 

I keep imagining Mer Megatron going “Let me hear your war cry!!” And his guppy letting out the most squeakiest chirp they can muster 

I had some more ideas with the other Mers but imagine Starscream who also has a lil guppy daughter but they’re just as much of a baby as him, but the guppy tries to act all big and tough. Starscreams guppy chirping angrily at a crab, but the moment the crab raises its claws at her they’re chirping in fear, code for “AAA FATHER SAVE ME-“ and next thing they’re diving under starscream for protection 

Mer Bulkhead. Girl dad. Need I say more?? Miko is his daughter in tfp this man is girl dad coded and I won’t take criticism. I think you said he’d either be a manatee or sea turtle? I’m gonna use sea turtle for this one but imagine the babies (idk how the logics would work with birthing since sea turtles lay eggs so just use your imagination here) Bulkhead is just melting over how cute and tiny they are. You know that anon that said guppies follow behind their parents like ducklings? That’s bulkhead with his pod of baby guppies. Side note, he’ll stomp you into non-existence if you try to hurt his babies. Look but don’t touch 

I know Bee has Raf in the series but ngl…I love the idea of him with a lil girl and a lil boy. He’d be escaping. You’re telling him he a beautiful mate (you) AND he gets TWO adorable guppies?! Best day of his life. Bee is that one young dad in the pod who won’t stfu about how great his kids are, lookat his babies, he made them (with your help of course). I dunno if deals can get zoomies like dogs, but his guppies do literally anything like sneeze cutely or chirp to him and that man has water zoomies for hours  

Rahhh I am so soft for family tropes.

I live, love, laugh for Megatron being this terrifying, massive mer, covered in scars with huge claws and sharp teeth, yet having a soft spot for his guppy. Of course, he’s still rough around the edges and, truthfully, has no clue how to be a good father (see Kratos from God of War), but he loves his daughter with his entire spark <3 Even if sometimes he ends up growling at her a little too loud and a little too harshly.

Meanwhile, Starscream is hiding behind you lmao

Aughh Bulkhead, such a handsome gentle giant. If we’re going turtle, I can totally see him letting his guppies ride around on his shell <3

And aaa Bumblebee getting the zoomies the moment his kid does literally anything. Absolutely precious. If he had the means to take photos, he’d be snapping them nonstop.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hellooooo

I heard that Sun Wukong's not good at swimming

SOOOO.... If the Sun Wukong's had a s/o who is so good at swimming (like a mermaid or an axolotl demon(I love axolotls:3) or something related to a fish demon) and that they love to teach them how to

But knowing how big they're ego is

This is gonna be fun :)

Stay safe and healthy 💕

Now it's your turn to be a little smug😉🤭 I Also love Axolotls They are surprisingly cute ☺️☺️☺️

(Lmk Wukong) God you look so cute swimming to content and carefree. I think he loves water but he can't swim to good, all he does is float in the water like driftwood or a dead body. He would mostly just float on One of those inflatable pool chairs while you would swim next to him and as you guys chat and share snacks.

(MKR Wukong) This is so embarrassing, he watches you swim 🏊‍♀��� so easily and professionally and he'll be the equivalent of a sinking stone😑😠 He refuses to let you teach him because he wants to impress you himself but it's still cute and funny. After a few weeks and many failed attempts he begrudgingly ask you for some swimming lessons which you were more then happy to give.

(HIB Wukong) Oh yeah he's not a swimmer at all, but he has no problem watching you enjoy your time in the water. You have offered swimming lessons but he was very interested but he Definitely has you teach the children under his supervision. He does like to watch you all swim together it looks like a little family spending time together on the beach.

(NR Wukong) He's as good of a swimmer as sonic the hedgehog🙄🙄🙄( Remember the first episode of Sonic x😒😒😒) He would sink to the bottom if you let him not to mention he wouldn't drown but he would be stuck on the bottom. You have to pull him out of the water a lot, but you don't mind, you always offer to help him just as long as you spend the day with him it's totally fine.😊😊😊

(Netflix Wukong) I can't believe I'm saying this but he's the best swimmer out of the other four above👆. He tends to try and show off his basic swimming skills to you despite you being a Axolotl monkey demon who is know for swimming. You never judge him on it though because it's easy for you to secretly teach him and Suitably teach him but you really do enjoy swimming with him.

(BMW Wukong) This man has way too much pride for his own good. Of course, you're on stand-by in case he makes an ass of himself while trying to impress you. You all know he probably has little to no swimming skill, and all that armor he's seen wearing doesn't help his case. At this point, it feels like you're a life guard watching a swimming for beginners student, but you keep that to yourself It's a fun secret project anyway.

(Destined one) Also a good swimmer but he enjoys getting tips and lessons from you. Infact swimming in the lake or river is what you guys do for most of your dates. It also gives him an excuse to hold you close, and you love being intimate with him and vise versa. He also loves how cute and pink and happy you are in the water.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🏊‍♀️

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Well now I need a backstory on Vampire Lord Bill before I finish gnawing through the bars of my enclosure

Also, I’m obsessed with the idea that, if Ford is at all a reliable narrator, Bill was angry at Ford, somehow kidnapped Stan (did he know about Stan or think he was Ford at first then decided this would be hilarious?), turned him, and then left him as a present for Ford

Amazing.

So i don't have a hard back story for him, just a general idea that might flesh out as I write this.

SO. Bill is old, like, pre written history old. He was a messed up kid in his home, an ancient city of some kind, long lost to time. He was born with extra abilities (like his fire :)) and was an outcast, despite his mom trying her best to help him feel loved.

At some point, young and sixteenish, he either got turned by another vampire or became one by less traditional means, either making a deal with a demon, drinking his tormentors blood, something. However it happened, Bill entered his undead life already powerful and with a higher class of vampirsim that makes him stronger, faster, and with a wider set of powers than the norm (less so than he is currently, being so old, but still powerful for a newborn vamp). Then he went and ate everyone in his home, burning the place down in his blood fueled hunger, too out of it to really think about what he was doing or pay attention to who he was eating.

But it was all in good fun! He's powerful and he can do whatever he wants! Its their fault for messing with him in the first place! (He is Not Looking. He didn't do anything Wrong. He is sixteen(ish) forever and cannot hear his mothers screams)

Time goes on, and he gets a better handle of what he can do and why. Eventually starts building an undead army to overtake humanity and give him ultimate control of the human cattle, putting him on top. (He's sixteen(ish) forever and has delusions of grandeur and has become insane).

No one else is happy with this, of course. Not just some of the other, non Bill related vampires, but also humans and other supernatural creatures. They band together to take him out, eventually pinning him down. Except he's sixteen(ish) (or looks it, no one knows how old he really is) and uses his fake tears and baby face to sway some of the softer hearts (axolotl maybe?)(or maybe they couldn't kill him, not with the speed he regenerated) so instead of killing him outright he gets sealed, classic vampire style, chained in a coffin in a blood stained circle and all kinds of signs saying 'hey, this guys bad news! get away from here!'

So of course Ford stumbles across this huge red flag and says 'man life sure is beautiful behind my rose colored glasses'. cuts his finger on the coffin, rousing Bill from sleep and creating a connection, which results in all their dream dates. Bill was sealed so long ago for a misunderstanding Ford! He's so lonely here, and he wants to see the amazing world Ford knows! What is he? A god! His vessel was sealed, trapping Bill in this psychic space, but he sensed Ford was special, and they can do great things together :)

Ford has no idea Bill's a perma sixteen year old vampire. Bill's lying about his age here, catfishing a grown human man.

Anyway it ends with Ford breaking the seal, and Bill gets free. He looks awful and mummy like, and the only reason he didn't kill Ford straight up was because he wanted to turn Ford and has enough self control right now that Fords not bleeding to bypass him.

There's a lovely town down below after all :) Perfect for a hungry vampire.

Meanwhile Ford realizes he's Fucked Up Big Time, scrambles to chase Bill to stop the blood bath he knows will happen. Gets there in time to witness half the town dead and shout about how he's not gong to let Bill get what he wants! Except there's still that psychic connection, so Bill sorta hypnotizes Ford into not fighting him (not that he thinks Ford would stand a chance, but still).

Bill thinks this is so cute! Fordsy is playing hard to get, wants to make a game out of his inevitable turning. Bill, being a perma sixteen(ish) has fallen hard for Fords older man energy. Is convinced its only a matter of time before Ford folds and falls for his charms, let Bill turn him and together they'll take the world by storm. He's got it all planned out, has all kinds of dramatic 'oh no, you've got me ;)' and 'look at who I have here ;)' scenarios planned out. Then theyll make out or something. Doesn't matter, as long as Ford belongs to Bill.

Except he got Stan instead. Stan, the other Pines, who's nearly identical but also the bottom of the barrel in terms of humans. Bill wouldn't care about Stan, except that he's connected to Ford, so getting him instead of the real deal is like almost getting a jack pot then one of the spinners goes over or something. I don't know anything about gambling. It pisses him off, but! He can use it, use Stan as a new weird foreplay thing where he kills Stan and gives his shriveled corpse to Ford. Ford will love it! Or hate it, and chase Bill more! Either way, Bill wins!

Then he finds out Ford did not get the shriveled corpse Bill had prepped. Where did it go? Who's going around stealing corpses? Oh, Stan's a vampire now? Huh.

Rage. Rage in Bill 100000 years. He doesnt want Stan! Stan's not supposed to be a part of Bill's undead legion! He's supposed to be dead! Or forgotten once Bill turns Ford and paints the world red! Or fed to Ford in some other, more messed up form of foreplay! He's not supposed to be walking around in undead life!

[cdnonymous]

Hi @muletia !! I’m a big fan of yours, mostly of your merformer drabbles… so I read and reread your Megaxolotl stuff…….. god I am in LOVE UGHHHH-

It’s rare that I write about others’ AUs… but yours just decided to clang to my brain like a nice accessory that I’m hyperfixating on

Sooo… I hope you’ll like my food ✨

(I tried to write the perspective of a more silent/antisocial reader but is fucking hyperfixated on merfolks… oh and it’s not GN it’s she/her… sorry for the GN readers out here…)

(I tried my best UvU✨)

- 💿 anon ^v^

~1700 words

•—•—•—•—•—•

Silence is Stronger than Words

The sun hit lightly on the beige curtains of my bedroom. The logs serving as walls for my cabin were softly lit and awakened me as well. This place was very isolated, like I liked it, my “neighbors” were kilometers away from me. I heard the birds outside, awakened far before I did, but so nice to hear as my groggy eyes finally decided to open up as fast as a rusty door hinge. It was already feeling like a wonderful day today, the next storm wasn’t announced before another week, or maybe 5 days? I don’t remember, all I care about is that morning coffee I’m about to brew.

I put on my morning pajamas and went downstairs as each step creaked in an almost nostalgic way under my feet, which only had toeless socks on. I looked at the time, 10:30 AM only? I’m far from being late, but still I’m sure he won’t mind if I come to see him early… he seems to like me anyway even if his low growls say otherwise. Besides he only growled at me once when I stepped in the water, which was his territory obviously, though I was oblivious to it at the time.

Now I have a fair list of things I have to try out with him, and another one that are big no-nos. I’m curious because he definitely seems to not know human language, but he’s smart, not a mindless “beast” like the books I’ve read told me. I’m sure that if he could talk he would… I think about it as I sit on my chair outside on my porch, my coffee in one hand over the cork coaster that I held with my other free hand.

I took notes, despite him not really engaging, I observed that he seemed to appreciate my presence over the weeks, dare I say days. He’s robust, cold as ice and maybe, just maybe, he has a little tiny bit of an attitude… but he never really hurt me.

At least not yet… After all, I don't think he’d have any reason to do so.

11 AM rings and I’m already with regular clothes on, casual country orange baggy T-shirt with linen ample shorts… I don’t like… No, I HATE Jeans. I take my notebook with me and a pencil, my bag with my “just in case” kit inside as well as a towel, now I’m ready to go see him. I put my sandals on and head outside on the trail to the lagoon… I called it the “Shy Lake”.

I named it this way because it was completely secluded from any other water current, no rivers, no smaller lakes, no canals, not even a little stream of water to let him get out. But hell, I don’t think he’s small enough to fit in a stream solely made of molten snow as it drives towards this pond of a lake. He might be at least twice my size, and I didn’t even get to fully see his body. He has claws that could tear skin apart like a mechanical saw cutting a frail log, the teeth meet the same criterias, and, according to his lower half, or what I could see of it, he seems to be half-axolotl and half-man, if I can even call it a “human” upper half.

I finally heard the familiar sounds of weak waves hitting the thin beach of the Shy Lake. And unlike the other times, he seemed to have noticed my presence without me calling for him awkwardly. I still didn’t have a name for him… well he’s big, silver and an axolotl… Megaxolotl? No this has way too many syllables for its own good…

What about just… Megatron?

I mean it sounds cold, deep and almost knight-like like him. He definitely lived stories according to the few scars around his frame, and if he was human he would not be emotionally available IN THE SLIGHTEST. Hmm… Megatron sounds cool too! When I got to shore, his buckethead was the only thing that got past the water surface, except a hint of his upper bust. His red coral eyes stared back at me as I gently waved at him with my usual calm smile, sitting on an erosion smoothed rock.

Something felt off in his eyes, instead of utter uninterest in what I was doing, he almost seemed to be demanding in his look, as if he expected me to do something, say something. This was new, usually he’d not really give a damn about me, or at least look uninterested, threatening and snarling at me to go away, which happened the first time we met. I looked away from my notebook, talking to him as if he could understand me.

— Do you… need something? I asked, my voice calm and patient as always, despite knowing he surely did not understand my words.

The only answer I got was a slight flicker in his eyes, and a low, quiet grumble, mirroring my low and patient tone, except in his own way and terms. I tilted my head a bit by reflex as I analyzed him, being the careful observant I usually was. He was completely unreadable, odd but it was normal for him.

— Did I make you mad? I asked, closing my notebook, not thinking there was anything worth writing for now.

When I asked this he looked conflicted, as if he was debating what to do in his head, as if I triggered something when saying this, which I highly doubt I did… right? I waited for him to do something… not wanting to overstep his territory after all. For an entire awkward minute or maybe more, he did not make eye contact with me, and I couldn’t see anything on my side either… All I could assume was that he seemed in some kind of odd dilemma with himself.

While in thought, I decided to put my notebook away from the rock since I currently had no use for it… I made a mistake by doing that… why?

Because I turned my back on him… and that’s when he thought it was the right moment to act on his plan. Yes, he acted like this, all conflicted and “lost” on purpose, to lower my guard so he could get me to turn around. Because he liked my quiet and composed nature, my voice which was as soft and gentle as the hums of a hummingbird’s wings, my emerald eyes as clean as the body of a dragonfly. And my soft… oh so soft skin without a single scar, wound or history… unscathed like a freshly polished nail, glittering under the sunlight.

My notebook barely touched the sand beside the rock I was sitting on when I felt his mushy, but oddly soft frame on me, making me lean backwards by natural reflex. I wanted to bolt away, but his claws threatened to slice my shoulders open if I even attempted that. He didn’t push me too hard, and it fortunately spared me some brain injury, and he knew it. Like I predicted, he’s calculating, vicious almost, he knows what he’s doing.

A low, calm growl escaped his maw, which was now showing something that looked like a satisfied grin, I was right where he wanted me to be. I was pinned to that damn rock, not liking being uncomfortable, worrying if my notebook was still dry since he bolted out of the water so quickly, maybe he splashed my notes by accident.

But fear… was never felt once, only surprise was the closest thing to feeling fear by itself. I wasn’t scared, and I knew exactly why; I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, if he truly wanted to hurt me he would’ve done so already, I wouldn’t be alive.. and he knows it. I’ll repeat myself again, he knows what he’s doing. Yes I was breathing heavily, of course I was, the adrenaline rush coming from utter surprise won’t go away in the flick of a finger. And he knew I wasn’t scared, despite his obvious strength advantage…

— Hu-h… what..? I managed to mutter, my body, despite not being scared, was still reacting this way; shutting itself down as a defense mechanism.

At those very few words, he bumped his bucket helm into my chest… was he.. SNUGGLING with me?! When he did so, I was officially not getting up until he decided to… his low rumbles now almost sounded like purring, as if he enjoyed it. And me in all this? Heck I just froze as if I was put in that one liquid that freezes stuff instantly. He was still holding my shoulders, although his grip was less tense, less controlling, he just.. wanted to touch me…

Hold me, show me that he didn’t like to see me go despite his attitude, that he loved to hear my voice, even if it was simple questions thrown here and there not expecting an answer. He liked to see me smile when I got juicy info out of him, which happened rarely, how I was so… fearless around him despite his build, his claws, teeth… he was a beast… How could I not be afraid and not run away like a child crying for their mommy? How could I be so unfazed in front of him?

How could I see him as someone and not something?

Because it’s the truth, because he’s not a mindless beast, he wants to be appreciated, to be loved, or to feel love again in his eternal loneliness… he feels empty when I leave but complete when I come back. And while we cuddle together, while we enjoy the silence, we both know that talking would just ruin the moment. Like I said, he’s not a mere creature.

No… he is Megatron

•—•—•—•—•—•

I wanna do a part two… maybe with more cuddles? I DON'T WANT SMUT RN IM FLUFF-STARVED-

[mongoosingisme]

Having the worst anxiety day I’ve had for MONTHS, so while I like on the couch under my child’s weighted axolotl stuffie, here are some SFW old bachelor headcanons about you having a bad day.

Harvey

- For better or for worse, Harvey’s first instinct is to find a problem to solve.

- Have you had enough water? Did you get enough sleep? Are you hungry? Could you use a shower?

- The questioning probably isn’t helping your mood, and he’ll eventually realize that and apologize profusely.

- He really can’t help it - all those years in medicine have primed him to seek solutions first.

- But once he gets past that he’s extremely doting.

- He’ll pull you in to snuggle against his chest while he reads or the two of you watch a movie.

- Running his fingers along your scalp, or dropping kisses on your forehead.

- An excellent listener if you need to talk something out.

- And don’t forget about the massage if you want one. Super gentle and slow and soothing, followed up by falling asleep in his arms.

Shane

- The second Shane senses you’re having a bad time, get ready for snuggle fest.

- He’s been there. He gets it. Just tell him what you need. Snacks? On it. Foot rub? Sure.

- Did you know you had a weighted blanket? Because you do - it’s a 5’7” man with purple hair and green eyes.

- But also he’ll absolutely wrap you up in a blanket burrito too.

- Open your mouth and he’ll pop a piece of chocolate in without a word.

- Or snuggle you in close on his lap with his hand cupped around your head.

- Eventually he’ll haul you up over his shoulder and put you to bed. Not ready for bed? Too damn bad. Here’s your phone and a drink or something: stay put and get some rest.

- Much more likely to call you by pet names when you’re feeling down. Usually ridiculous ones to make you laugh.

Elliott

- Did someone order the princess treatment? Because you’re getting it.

- Don’t you lift a finger - whatever you need done, Elliott is doing it.

- Have some tea. And a pastry. And some chocolate. And some fruit. And another pastry.

- And if that doesn’t work it’s bath time.

- Big tub overflowing with bubbles (“don’t worry, darling, I’ll clean it up”)

- Got his hair all up in a bun and is insisting you get in together.

- Has you lay back on him and soak until you start to feel a little loser.

- Loves to trail his fingers over your arms while you relax.

- Then he’s drying you off and putting you into a freshly made bed.

- (it takes him a while to join you - he really did put too many bubbles in the tub)

[thicctails]

I C R A V E more gbc au stuff: particularly with Bill: were the twins aware of Bill before gravity falls? what do they tell the twins about bill once they get there? how does bill and his parents even go about reconnecting?? I want to know more about the direct aftermath of the reunion. It's not hard to piece together Bill and Fords relationship from the journals: did they read into it the wrong direction or smth? Like Bill fucking traumatized Ford: Euclid and Scalene's estranged long lost son fucking severly traumatized and manipulated a realtive of their adoptive kids: there's gotta be more complex feelings there? Does Bill blame them for his medical trauma? do Scalene and Euclid regret that? did they have differing opinions on it back when? also like, now Bill is legit insane: what with him having been percieved insane or a ticking time bomb of insanity before how do they feel about that? do they have differeing opinions?????

FNSKJDFNSDKJ DSI C R A V E MORE FERERJSNJKFDNFKE

PLEASE FEED MEEEEE

Ask and ye shall r e c e i v e

Both Scalene and Euclid were under the impression that Bill died when Euclidea inevitably collapsed in on itself. They told Dipper and Mabel that they had a child, but never went into much detail, as it hurt too much to talk about.

(You can imagine how fucking gutted they were when they saw images of him all around the Shack. Journal 3 was just a big fat gob of salt in their open wounds)

Reconnecting for them is like a healing an infected wound: you have to cut out the rot, grit your teeth for the burn of cleaning it out, work to keep the infection away, and accept the fact that there will be a scar.

Bill is so fundamentally broken and mentally unwell that not even the Axolotl can really fix him. The best he can do is help Bill get to a point where he can begin again in a different form. But getting to that point is the real trouble. It's rotten work, a path laden with pain and suffering and hurt feelings, but it's the only option worth fighting for.

Scalene and Euclid feel immense guilt for the mistakes they made raising Bill. They allowed themselves to be pressured into trying to make their gifted son normal, and everyone they ever loved and then some ended up paying the price. Bill may have started the fire, but their misguided good intentions handed him the match.

Bill himself is a whirlwind of emotions. He is unexplainably relieved that his parents are alive, but that also means that he can no longer possess a false bravado and pretend he intentionally slaughtered his entire dimension. His past is red and blue and in his face, and the voices have only gotten louder since he saw his mother's heartbroken face. Not only that, but they have, in his eye, replaced him with two of the people destined to destroy him! They look at Shooting Star and Pinetree with all the fondness they used to look at him with, and it makes his insides burn.

They also are constantly setting off each other's triggers, like some kind of sick oroborus of trauma. Bill's powers often manifest as pyrokinesis, which isn't great when your parents are still living with the horrific injuries caused by said fire. On the other side of the coin, Euclid has been soothing the twins with gentle TV static since they were little, since his preferred method of manifestation is screen-based technology, (whereas Scalene prefers music and books) which has caused Bill to spiral into a violent panic attack more than once.

As for Ford... well, neither Cipher parent is fond of him, as i've stated, but while they don't know the entire story of how his and Bill's time together was, they know enough to know that it ended in violence and misery, and they are not so heartless that they do not feel pity for the man and disgust towards their son's actions. They make it very clear to their eldest, when they can stand to speak to each other, that he is to never possess another member of the Pines family.

He only breaks that promise once, though it was for a good reason. Gideon needed a good beat down, and Pine Tree was too hurt to make that jump without help.

[hexcorehugz]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Headcanons for age regressor Viktor + caregiver Jayce because my brain is rotten and they are soft

💙 Viktor regresses mostly when he’s exhausted. Like not even consciously. Jayce will just find him curled up on the lab couch in a hoodie two sizes too big, hugging a pillow, unable to say anything. Just a soft, sleepy little “Mm?” if you get close.

💙 Regression ALWAYS sneaks up on him. Viktor is like “I’m fine” and then thirty minutes later he's chewing on his hoodie drawstring. Yes he is a chewer. It’s canon. TO ME.

💙 Jayce, being the amazing partner he is, has an entire kit in his lab locker meant for this. plushies, juice boxes, a night light he designed to look like a tiny moon (for when they sleep overnight in the lab. Which is ALWAYS), and a fuzzy blanket.

💙 Viktor’s nonverbal and shy tendencies when regressed hit Jayce right in the gut. Like this is the same man who broke into Heimerdinger’s lab and now he’s just tugging on Jayce’s sleeve and hiding his face in his shirt. Jayce MELTS. he would fight the world to keep him safe.

💙 Jayce speaks SO softly to him. Softest of voices. “Hey, V. You wanna sit with me?” “You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

💙 Viktor has an extreme attachment to his Axolotl stuffie from his childhood. It’s very well loved! And it only smells a bit of mildew! Please don’t separate them. Viktor needs to cuddle his stuffie when he’s little.

💙 Jayce reads to Viktor when he’s too little to read on his own. Viktor loves when Jayce reads him textbooks or their blueprints. He finds his voice soothing <3

💙 Viktor has this really quiet hum when he’s comfortable. It’s barely audible, like a tiny purring. Jayce loves hearing it.

💙 They never talk about it when Viktor is big again unless Viktor brings it up first. And sometimes he does, very awkwardly. Like, “...Was I a bother?” and Jayce is like “You? Never. I love you always. All of you.”

Ahudjrsysjjwhah thank you for reading to the end. If you want any (any at all!) character/ship agere headcanons feel free to send me an ask :3

[werezmastarbucks]

U N18

U N7 masterlist 13/14 + 2 extra chapters

word count: 7420

music: fall in love again by aleph, then by gaho and villain, i swear i'll never leave again by keshi, truth untold by bts

when he tells you that you need to come to Seoul with him, he is ready to fence off your immediate reaction.

"why?"

"to keep an eye on you, nothing more".

he thinks a little, his serious, heavy-lidded stare examining your face.

"how many friends do you have in Busan?"

"i have my neighbour".

"isn't she around eighty though? she will feed Komangi while you're gone".

you flare your nostrils. don't look at his hands held out, offering you rice. his heart-shaped lips show you how you need to open your mouth, but you refuse to.

"i mean actual friends?"

"i don't need friends".

he's feeding you carefully; in the morning you found one hand is not good for opening palm because of the abrasion, and the other hurts after falling.

"i have my Seoul friends".

"nobody to come over if something happens?" he presses. "from university? no one?"

"why are you rubbing it in, man? i am too old to make new friends".

he backs off, a :] on his face. looks like an axolotl. he spoons more rice and puts a piece of kimchi on.

"you came over when something happened", you admit, displeased.

he shrugs with unease.

"it was so lucky".

he shakes the hair off his face and looks up, keeping in the sunlight from the window. he said he got cold at night.

you look around the kitchen to see if your perception of the world changed after last night. you got a little more jumpy, if anything. head hums, you can feel the cut up there, and the big, round bandaid on the knee makes it impossible to bend or unbend it. you sigh shakily, tired again. you'd rather sleep a little more.

"what about Holly?"

"he'll live".

"duh, but what was up with him?"

he looks at you curiously, chewing. the sun is warming up his broad shoulders, and golden dust floats around him like it's his fairy powder. atrociously soft sight.

"well, he's almost blind now and his hip is bad".

"sounds salvageable. but you still came to Daegu?"

"my..." he pauses, frowns, calculating. his brows go - one up, the other down, "first cousin once removed died, as well".

your brain pretends to compute.

"i saw him once, maybe twice in all my life".

"wow. i would be pissed if i was him".

you scratch behind your ear. can't believe it's been twelve hours and you resorted to these well-hidden, dry compliments, again.

"why isn't the police calling?"

"they're calling. me".

silence is only broken by Komangi noisily drinking his water next to the window.

you measure your breathing, keeping your face expression in check.

"a bit yandere of you, no?"

Yoongi punches his cheek with his tongue, pretends to be chill.

"when i google what it is, i can tell you yes or no".

"aren't you learning Japanese?"

"not anymore".

he adds,

"i'll handle it. you won't see him again".

"i don't feel comfortable about it".

it's clear that he's also treading carefully not to snap.

"you could simply say thanks".

another pause.

"you never thank me for anything".

you go back in your head, trying to remember instances when you didn't thank him. it's no use. your brain is currently an egg on a pan, sizzling when poked to work.

"thanks, oppa", you blurt under your breath, mouth curling in disgust.

he nods. it never occurred to you that maybe he doesn't see himself as this impending cloud of eternal happiness and eternal doom as you do. probably not... saying things like please and thank you is one of those gestures you generally struggle with. you prefer to repay in services. you sometimes even forget to pass him things with both hands, and he never mentions it.

"for a week", he says, "to see if you feel worse all of a sudden".

you agree. even the home doesn't feel safe for now. the aftershock still vibrating somewhere deep. you know you will pay for this peace later, when Yoongi is not around.

after unhurried preparations, you knock on eoreusin's door and explain to her the state of your face and the need to take Komangi under her care. she quite likes the little cat; he's well-behaved, doesn't steal anything from her garden and looks cute. you wish you could take him with you, and Yoongi asks if he has papers to travel by plane. you give him a look in lieu of an explanation.

you drive to Daegu to return the father's car. his Santa Fe is heavier looking and grumbles louder, with a forgotten drinking tumbler in between front seats. Yoongi's parents are intense people; you spend your time bowing to them even though it hurts your head, wonder if they have any idea of your existence at all; you prefer to spend time with his brother in the garden, saying that you don't feel well inside the house. now you have the injury card to get out of conversations even if politeness calls for them. can't stand being surrounded by his family, it's like he's doing it on purpose even though it's unlikely. you used to try to imagine what it would be like to be introduced to them, and it always horrified you. the Min clan, even in pictures, has the energy of royals who are going to spare you one indifferent look and pass you by. the old self-esteem problem.

his father takes you and your bag sitting on Yoongi's lap to the airport, and you suffer with your head for an hour, groggy and weak with painkillers. flying further away from home; and the only thing keeping you happy is the thought of his big, light house with dark green plants and the nice thick garden in the yard.

"you know how, Tae, stop, you know how... ahhh... Tae here's your spoon, don't bite my hand. you know..." Jungkook winces, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"i forgot what i wanted to say".

the intensity with which you sometimes have to listen to him is torturous. Jungkook's hyperactive, easily shattered speech is gasoline to the fire of your adhd. sometimes you want to knock his teeth in for dragging thoughts like that, never delivering. you feel your blood boil.

"remember".

"i can't".

"it's something about Istanbul", Yuri helps. it's no use: the idea skipped his mind like a calibri. you put the hand to your face, and Taeyang starts crying upon seeing your bloody flesh.

"why aren't you wearing a bandaid?" Yuri exclaims, not out of concern for you. Yoongi's hands place a new bowl on the table. he's waiting on people who visit his house, sparing you of his company.

"they need to breathe..."

"are you very hurt?" she asks finally, handling her son. Jungkook wiggles his tattoed fingers in front of his face, and the boy forgets the horror. he is two years old, and he already jumps. crawling from Yuri's lap, he walks over to Yoongi who senses him like a cat. he lifts the boy to his shoulder and shows him the inside of the dishes rack, asking which plates he wants to put next.

"green. white. yellow. grey. white", Taeyang replies clearly.

"he already knows so many colours?" you whisper over the table. Jungkook nods,

"Namjoon reads to him a lot. it's scary".

your brows shoot up. then there's pressure behind your eyes: angsty, heavy heat travels to your nose. you put a fist to your mouth and pout with sobbing. they exchange glances. you recall Taehyung's sore messages when Jungkook says,

"job still good in Busan?"

you nod. job still good. weather, too. house pretty. people nice. Seoul is moving while Busan is frozen in time, beautiful like a postcard. Jungkook lets it be, tucking his curiosity away. you turn your head to look at Taeyang.

"isn't he a bit too tall, as well?" you ask, slightly choking. finally, the real horror strikes. Tae is growing at an alarming rate. you're missing it. Yoongi turns to you.

"he'll be taller than you in no time", Jungkook handles everything that revolves around his son. "Tae, come here".

Yoongi lets him down and Taeyang's hand unclutches his hair. it's growing out pretty long again, soon to ask for a wolf cut. the boy now runs towards you, forgotten all about your scary hands.

"how tall are you, Tae?"

he looks at his parents for aid.

"almost ninety centimeters", Yuri helps.

"that can't be right", you crawl down on one knee that doesn't hurt, carefully put the other on the floor. "you're a big guy, huh?"

"i am big like tree", Taeyang says. you point out the glass wall into the garden:

"that tree?"

"yes".

"or that one? or the plum tree?"

he bites his plump, shiny lower lip. Jungkook's tapioca eyes are staring outside with concentration his father rarely masters. you can feel your heart shatter in a thousand pieces.

after they leave, Yoongi finds you by the wall between the living room and the guest room. you're staring at the divider, measuring ninety centimeters with your finger. crying is bad for your head now, even the light sobbing makes it hum and puts pressure inside, like your brain inflates inside your skull.

"when i was little, my mom used to mark my height every year on the wall, like this", you whisper. his hand lies carefully in between your shoulder blades like he is afraid you'd push him away.

"mine did, too".

he takes your hand and adjusts it a little higher, showing you the ninety one centimeter that Tae has grown to.

you switch feet, relieving your injured knee. Yoongi's house fucking rocks. you entertain yourself by imagining outworldly scenarios on how to steal it from him or at least stay here forever. you could die and become a ghost and haunt this dwelling like in the movie about the ghost. when the evening comes, the whole space of the first floor is woven with the golden sunlight. it crawls off the light walls, turns them golden and beige, lights up the cosy furniture pieces, brings out the shine of the wooden floors, makes the succulents glow in emerald. it's beautiful like home that you never knew. once the darkness falls, the small lights in the kitchen ceiling are lit, and in the depths of living room, the floor lamps give the perfect golden-beige shine. you can tell Yoongi took the interior design of this place very personally. the house insides are as gentle, smart and relaxing as he is. that's what he is, that's his shade, you think. he used to be pink and white to you, like the moon and the cherry blossoms. but inside, he is really amber sand of the safe touch.

you cut the vegetables, holding the knife only with your fingers to engage the injured half of the palm as little as possible. the technique is not perfect. by the evening head booms and aches, especially because you made attempts at reading in the afternoon. this is what you do here: read, lie in bed, look out the windows and waddle.

the door beeps and clicks, and you hear his steps in the other side of the house in the corridor. he must hear the music immediately. kicks off his shoes. something's rustling gently. he turns up in the kitchen without a hurry, a plastic bag in his hand. cheap package, clutched by the hand wearing a silver Rolex. his hair is ruffled, he's been raking his hand through it a second ago. he's full basketball today, team bomber thrown onto a stool at the invisible line signifying the beginning of kitchen. there's fear in his eyes.

"what are you doing?"

"salad".

Yoongi exhales a little. your cooking is not that atrocious, he is being dramatic.

"you want sushi?" he raises the bag a little. you're quiet, so he shakes it again.

"yeah".

he's pretty good at making simple sushi. you know that because he has made them for you eight years ago one morning, at the countryside getaway house, when he got up earlier than everybody and found you in the kitchen. probably recalled seeing you cry on the lake the night before (everybody did). you sat at the counter staring into the white body of the fridge as if it could start cooking for you. well, instead you summoned Yoongi. he had shorter hair back then. just a day earlier he has devastated your whole soul by casually, politely mentioning his new girlfriend. recently started going out. yeah, she is Japanese. also an idol.

then, clueless, he silently started cooking upon seeing you. only said 'good morning' in the rusty, sleepy voice. that was such a long time ago. his quiet presence soothing the wound that he himself inflicted was like a loop of a trauma. you watched him neatly cut the fish, plop the small balls out of rice and shuffle with the nori with bangs covering his eyes. he also made you tea. it put him firmly into the category of good people, that morning. the silent caregiver. the friend whose existence near you puts literally no pressure, he has that rare aura. the sushi were good, and you said you needed soy sauce with them, and he crunched his nose but complied. back then you were going through a surgery, your heart tearing itself into pieces.

tonight he rests the bag at the end of the counter and goes to wash his hands. soon you are quietly chopping next to each other, without speaking. sex is almost completely off the table, and he hasn't asked for it. at nights, he only helps you adjust the broken knee onto his hip because that way it doesn't rub against the mattress.

it's late, but Yoongi has never been an early sleeper, always in a habit of spontaneously starting to work at one in the morning. the dinner comes in the dead of night, with summer salad and sushi. you drop a chrysanthemum flower bud into the teapot to let it bloom yellow.

"remember when Taehyung kept complaining how you put too much parsley in it?" he asks, grinning. chuckle comes out of him in chunks. he swirls the chopsticks above the bowl. you nod.

"it irritates his gut".

"i never got why he was so mad at you".

you nearly ended each other that day, shouting over the table, which led Namjoon to be very upset.

"he also said i didn't chop it properly. you're not supposed to chop herbs at all. just open your freaking mouth".

he chews with a smile. shoulders hunched over the table out of habit.

"Taehyung's often mad at me".

"i know. but why?"

"cause i left. cause i breathe and walk wrong. cause i taught Jimin wrong English", you rub your chin, smirking. because he was projecting his own failures onto you, becoming desperate that you wouldn't make your move on Yoongi. he always wanted at least one of you two to have the person that you yearned for.

"we kissed once, did they tell you?"

Yoongi pauses for a moment, his face elongating.

"how's that work?"

"we were immensely drunk at the club. i am surprised i remembered it at all".

someone's expensive car bangs with exhaustion outside, beyond the fence. there, covered by the wall, street is quieter, but it's still an audible pop, and you suddenly jump, surprised by your reaction. oh, there. ptsd kicks in. Yoongi's eyes stay calm, his reactions are generally slower in daily life and startling him is almost impossible. he sips tea. he also has an invaluable quality of keeping the peace when there's chaos around him. he is the shelter.

"you think you'll need to talk to somebody?"

"nah", you adjust the strap on your top, a little humiliated. "i only have one regret, that i didn't square him in the face".

you sincerely believe you could've handled the situation better. suddenly, a picture of the top of Yoongi's head on your knees makes you want to bring your knees up to your chin.

"i saw you did kick him".

"that was weak".

"that was weak, man", he parodies in English. probably a line he heard in a movie. reaction immediate, a tagline his brain brings up for the occasion. you snort quietly.

"your pronunciation is further improving. are you studying now?"

he shakes his head. there was a time Yoongi hated word endings. they simply didn't exist for him in English. yes, i like it a lo-; you don't wanna see thi-; they are barber-.

now you hear all three of your former students speak fluently and want to attribute it all to yourself but you're also aware of other tutors and their own natural, inevitable improvements.

after dinner and tea are over, Yoongi takes the salad bowl off the table and goes to wrap the leftovers in the film to put them in the fridge. he opens the door and you relax on the chair a little, thinking about which shower to take: the first or the second floor. the second floor bathroom is bigger, but the one here is cooler, has a jungle vibe with grey stone walls and that window.

"what's that?" he calls from the fridge.

"i made you skewers. for breakfast", you say.

"you can cook?" he is horrified, impressed. you don't look at him but hope he's not too disgusted at their sight. actually, they turned out okay. visually the same as the pictures on the internet.

head aches. you need to take painkillers and go to sleep. today you already have dark circles under the eyes, a sign of concussion. but it's surely light; the world doesn't spin and there's no sickness.

"what are you doing tomorrow?"

your stomach drops a little.

"i don't know? Hobi's not in town yet, Jimin is the day after tomorrow".

"will he come over?"

"can he?"

"sure. i'm asking because tomorrow i need to play video games".

you turn around, surprised and amused. Yoongi moves things around on the counter to put away the dirty dishes.

"huh?"

"i need to write a song for Dark Pictures. but i have no idea what the game is about".

"i was planning on lying down all day. i cooked today and feel too tired".

he nods into the fridge. you take the shower upstairs because fatigue takes over, and slip into bed, neglecting the night routine.

Yoongi says the next day that you cried in your sleep. you brace for the onset of consequences of your little adventure. you wonder how you'd feel without his shoulder to lean on at night, so soon after the attack. you hear (from the yandere) that Kim Seongjun has been transported to Seoul and there's a chance you will be called to court to testify. he had been fired from Hybe last month for coming to work drunk.

the timeline is this: he had let you go when you left to Busan, clocking other women in the company. but when you came back in May and didn't recognise him, Seongjun felt the old flame rekindled. started spiralling. felt like it was his unfinished business. got kicked out. followed you, angry.

that's what you theorize at least.

Yoongi sleeps until almost one in the afternoon and you do, as well. tiredness, stress coiling in your body in the head, belly and limbs, keep you in bed, a pillow between your bodies pressing into his side. when you finally get up, the sun is high, and he's hungry like the wolf. the fabric of his home pants stretched with morning erection, he groans sleepily and retreats into the bathroom and you fall back asleep, feeling guilty for some reason. you're also falling, period. balancing in between, and refusing to think about it even. never thought the comfort, the tenderness, peace, could be so devastating. in the past, Yoongi's disarming and indifferent friendliness was the blunt weapon. his current gentle non-invasiveness, quiet care, the overwhelming, muted love is akin to that now. it's like that invisible maze from one Lovecraft story where the astronaut got lost, bumping into transparent walls.

inescapability.

you meet on the couch in the living room where Yoongi is playing the buggy test version of the new game and you read while the eyes are still fresh. Yoongi likes sitting on the couch monkey style, feet up, with his knees below chin, wiggling his toes to help himself. he doesn't curse as he plays, but instead whimpers a little, like he's begging the game to comply. hair gets in his face too often and you sigh, biting your suggestion to get a haircut before it leaves your mouth. back in winter, you had no problem commenting on his appearance, talking about his body, because it didn't matter. now this again: should i say something, or will he think something. you keep chewing on your cheek, biting dry, tortured lips. this whole arrangement was a trap, of course, but of what nature, and what you should've done instead, you don't know.

the day is short and painfully pleasant. you don't get into each other's faces instead just moving around the couch, touching only accidentally. a foot to a hip, shoulders, a hand to a butt. the last couple of hours you feel too tired to read so you watch him play. he's surprisingly bad at this, although you're sure you'd be even worse. it takes him a whole day to finish a six-hour game. he keeps his little notebook on the coffee table and sometimes writes something down if it catches his attention.

you realise it has been a glimpse into the alternative life you could've had if you had been normal and he, ordinary. Yoongi stands up from the couch and stretches his back, moaning like a big cat. he walks slowly across the living room with his old man walk, to the shower, and in a minute calls out your name. it always sounds like rain when he says it.

"y/n!"

you heave yourself up. had been lying great, in the shape of a shrimp, big cushion propping your back, about to doze off. you come to the bathroom to find him standing at the mirror with a bottle in his hand.

"you know oils?"

"cooking oils?"

"no. my hairdresser told me to use rosemary and coconut oils but i don't know the proportions. and what's a carrier oil?"

he looks up at you simply.

"you don't know what a carrier oil is?"

he shakes his head. unreadable.

"rosemary is too concentrated, it should be used in drops and mixed with a fat carrier oil like coconut or almond".

"how much do i need?"

he looks quite helpless. his hair is fine, though. thick, dark, two silver strands on top.

you take over the bottles, heat up the coconut oil and mix them together, explaining it to him, slightly surprised he'd never had run ins with this thing. Yoongi sits down in the kitchen as you sink your fingers in the bowl and put the warm concoction onto his scalp. you think that people generally have no idea about the true shape of each other's heads. it's all mystery covered by the hair. you massage him gently, adding the oils, rub them in, then go for the hair.

"i need to cut half of it off", he murmurs as your hand keeps sliding down to reach the ends. it's easily spreadable, not like your constantly tangled long hair. you find the spot at the base of his skull where the hard turns softer and the muscles begin, and press on the depression between. Yoongi hums, too eager to tilt his head forward, used to the quick massages to relax the neck. you find a birthmark on the back of it that you've never seen before, and frown. one little renegade, trying to hide from you, but you eventually got it. the abrasion on your palm pulls painfully. you brush over the birthmark with your finger on your way to rub his neck lightly. then return to the hair and what's beneath it. hands hurt. wrap him in the food film and let him go for thirty minutes. the book has put you in a cranky, tired state, so you retreat to the bathroom upstairs, take the shower and go straight to bed before nine in the evening. Yoongi warns that he's going to work in his music room until night. it doesn't matter. his presence in the house is enough.

Seongjun finally catches up with you. it's a shaky, quick, violent dream in which he slams you onto the ground. you've never been attacked before so you had no idea ptsd dreams are just reenactments of what happened, but at x2 speed. Yoongi has to pull you out of it by the shoulder and you come back to the dark bedroom, feeling the cry still hanging on your lips like saliva. you woke him up with a sob probably, and he woke you up in turn. his hand pulls on you from across the bed, his body turning, and you don't think, you race to him, press yourself into his broad body, burying the face in his neck. he smells like shampoo, rosemary and home. your lips stick to his skin as you place a small kiss of gratitude for being Min Yoongi. and he decides against something. his knee kicks the blanket away and his arm tightens around you, and his mouth searches for yours.

the kiss is slow, as usual, but less hungry, which is atypical. it's tender, it takes a while to gain the heat like there's introduction first, with the words you need to decipher. you have never misread each other's silent cues, even when your acquaintance was relatively new. it's hard with Yoongi as he has all these trenches, booby traps and walls around him that one needs to cross before he lets someone in. but you always managed to read each other pretty well from a distance. you just decided to be steady with him from the very beginning, sensing his natural calm. with others, you have always been louder, more energetic. you are the peaceful twins. doodling three chairs away from each other, sharing one couch in harmony, driving home listening to music, without the awkward silence ever disrupting the moment.

you pull down your pants a little, hate sleeping in them because as soon as there's some action in between your legs, it all gets onto fabric and bothers you. Yoongi doesn't mistakingly take it as a call to undress you, but instead makes his way down slowly, fingers tracing the line of your stomach, warm palm on top of your belly button in a weirdly protective gesture. for once, the tips of his fingers are soft. no blisters.

only after does his hand slip inside, plunging them in your wetness. this is the first time he doesn't get possessive or kinky but instead just loves you silently. it cracks the night. feels like there's someone else in the house for whom you have to be really quiet, and this play pretend keeps you right at the center of the bed, under him, engulfed in the rosemary smell. you touch the side of his face, your hand small against it, and he closes his eyes and leans into. there's still ample chance to ruin everything, you think. you don't know what this everything is, either.

you stand against the glass wall and look at green trees plaguing his garden, and ponder whether it's possible to fall in love with someone because of their house. when the dwelling is so expressive and hypnotizing that it gives away the owner's character. especially these trees, small, underdeveloped baby fruits spotting the thickets of the leaves. there's still two days to go because you have a week's worth of sick leave. don't think concussion will cease by then, but it's still better than nothing. Hoba comes over, and you dance together for hours, as you try not to shake your head too much; he shows you the moves that only employ the lower part of your body, and he's burning to record another short video, a recreation of the old one. you think it's sweet, nostalgic. Hobi has that easy agender elegance about him, he always dances in and out of your day, calling you that bitch, grabbing your waist and leaving you better than he found you. the old you it trying to crack her way with a stick out of this hard egg shell, you can feel it. the overenergetic you, the loud you, the y/n that laughed too noisily and kept her eyes too open, and ached too sharply. the y/n that had fun instead of peace.

it's been a great while since your last getaway with the Bangtan boys, and you heard they didn't stop renting houses when you left. out of courtesy they admit that yes, without you the weekends seem quieter (more peaceful, big Tae adds), with fewer bursts of laughter (and the number of bloody accidents dropped to zero).

it feels immensely nostalgic to be in front of a rental, knowing how little time you have before you need to fly back to Busan, and seeing how, as the family grows, the houses become bigger. now there are more people than you can count on the fingers of both hands; everybody makes it. Jin takes a day off to ride with you, and Hobi extends his stay because suddenly they all feel the forties approaching and say, oh, yeah, we actually haven't spent time together in months. the seven of them are big men who can barely fit in one elevator anymore; plus there are three women: Nari, Yuri and Yuna, and even a child. Nari's belly is still too small to tell anything but Jimin touches it like he alone can hear what's going on inside.

you sit with your injured knee bent a little and the toes of the other foot grabbing at the long grass, in a garden chair. and watch not one, but two pregnant women chat, flipping bread on the grill. they both have cravings, Yuna and Nari. they both have vanilla ones. bread on fire. fat sausages. coconuts.

you still reel from the news.

"it's like a crowd effect", Jungkook mutters.

"chain reaction", Jin helps. Namjoon licks his lips, thinking about, well, what can he be thinking about? his big tanned thighs are spread so wide that you had to scoot over towards the eldest.

"sheep phenomenon", Taehyung helps. you wince at that.

"you're calling my wife a sheep, Taehyung?" Namjoon asks calmly but with the hint of exhausted annoyance in his voice.

"i thought we're searching for the term?" Tae makes an innocent face, brows up. his getting-out-of-bottle face. Namjoon glares.

"it's nice", he adds, "they will all be almost the same age. i think it's perfect".

Jungkook sighs. little Tae's shrieks are close by, Yuri is showing him something in the water. if there's a house, there's always a lake. funny how Taeyang, the oldest of Bangtan children, is the son of the youngest of them. this all brings you to tears too easilly now; you know it's just the fragile time. but it twistedly makes you scared you are pregnant, too.

"i don't wanna be the one to bring this back up again", Jungkook begins.

"then don't", Joon chimes in, but the maknae ignores him.

"but you're the only one left without a belly. gotta be careful".

you snort quietly.

"don't specifically have anyone to inseminate me".

Tae winces at the word and puts the ginger beer bottle to his thin, curved lips.

as if to mock you, Yoongi steps out of the house with Bam at his side trotting patiently, dog's eyes fixated on the meat in his hands. he crosses the line between your viewer seats and the girls. he throws you one bored glance and continues towards the grill.

"uh-huh. and what if hyung accidentally does this?"

"there's no way to accidentally do this. if he does, i'll break his jaw".

Taehyung throws his head back, his voice coming out in gulps.

"ha! ha! ha! you?"

you don't let him get to you. should you react to his provocation, you'll end up rolling on the grass, clawing at each other's eyes.

"i am so confused..." Jin is whispering into his rice bowl like he's praying to it. nobody helps him.

"you? break his jaw?"

"he himself taught me how to do it", you grumble.

"why didn't you apply this skill with Kim Seongjun then?" Tae demands, his voice on the verge of shrieking, egging you on.

"he didn't stand stillyouknow", you drop your head to your chest, grumpy.

Jungkook chuckles and tries to hide it, not to make you feel too bad. Yoongi helps the pregnant ones adjust all the food on the grill and Yuna feels sick and steps away. she stopped eating meat, Namjoon explained earlier, as soon as she got pregnant. morning sickness and dizziness came right away and hit her hard. it's a bit worrying, so he's constantly racing from elated to alarmed.

there's nobody to jump on the trampoline anymore; Yuri never liked it, and your head is not healed at all yet. so it's standing on the side of the house, abandoned. Taeyang tried once and fell badly and doesn't approach it anymore. he is sensitive, remembers things. when he saw you today, his eyes darted to your hands, and he visibly braced himself and didn't cry anymore. but his big eyes told you everything. he's only two and he already feels for the others. you wonder what it's like for Namjoon to have raised Jungkook and so seamlessly move on to his son. it brings stinging tears to your eyes. you also want to be the aunt who takes Tae to his classes when he's a bit older. whom he sees hanging out with his mother. you've never been over the moon about kids, but now it hits you like a train, this natural female urge, the feeling of love for a baby. it must be Jungkook's toddler aura magnified tenfold. this baby alone is an argument heavy enough for you to start shyly thinking about Seoul.

Jimin's head pokes out of the window on the first floor.

"rooms distributed? there's fewer rooms than us!"

"Jiminie", Jungkook calls, "those of us who have partners sometimes sleep in the same beds with them".

"oh, right", he gives out a charming giggle.

"including you".

"right".

Hobi's clapping laughter is heard from the kitchen.

they don't say it, but they circle around you when you're in the field of vision. throw glances. Jungkookie offers his hand at the two-step porch of the house as if all your bones are broken, and Taehyung bickers with you with a smile, brings you water and pokes you painfully in the shoulder. Hoseok gives you a long stare and caresses your head like you're a piece of art. Namjoon cranes his neck to speak to you, quietly, like you two are scheming. Jin silently cuts you fruit in cubes. Yoongi is just the same, weightless comfort around. you compartmentalize. you feel happy around them. you have a place at the table and it's been a while since you questioned if you deserve it. you don't feel like an imposter anymore.

now Yoongi takes a chair from the grill side after Yuna and Nari join Yuri and Tae on the shore, and drags it towards all of you idle spectators. he doesn't get in line but instead places it in front, becoming the view.

"what are you talking about?" he puts one foot on his knee.

"hyung's thighs are finally growing", Jungkook says with a laugh. Jin nods absent-mindedly, his eyes on Yoongi's legs. Yoongi winces, dismisses him with a hand.

"i'm on a new course".

"only took you twelve years".

he keeps waving his hand.

"i'm thinking", you say, "once the babies are born, you'll have to rent even bigger houses".

"we should start renting several country houses next to each other", Namjoon says.

"no, hyung, the point is to all live together", Jungkook nags. he finishes his beer and places it on the grass next to himself. Tae kicks it lightly to knock the bottle over.

"haven't you had enough of living together?" Namjoon glares, a little frustrated.

"first rule of a getaway?" he demands.

"no making out", Jin replies. "the only rule".

"can't even do that. so, separate little houses, and one big house to eat together".

"who keeps breaking the rule?" you ask.

three fingers point at Jungkook and Tae.

"him and Yuri".

"we don't anymore".

"and now Taehyung and Haneul".

your eyes grow bigger.

"is that why he hasn't come today? have you banned him?"

they shake their heads.

"he's out of the country", Taehyung explains. he pinches his nose. you're dying to see his boyfriend but of course the mean tiger is going to drag it out until one day you won't be able to wait anymore and break into his apartment.

dinner is loud, long and hot. the days are only getting more humid and unbearable, the weather is raging. all windows in the house are open so that any little of big bug can penetrate it and scare Hoba to death. half of you go dipping in the lake at nightfall to regulate body temperature, the others take cold showers in the house. Yuri and Jungkook with little Tae retreat earlier to put him to bed, and don't come back; it's now their ace plan on just saying, fuck everything, and going to sleep. they do everything together: feed him, walk with him, wash him. they want him to see both of their faces. it's a whole struggle between all of you, to get Taeyang's attention: too many people want to hold him. and everybody has a reason to go first:

Jin is the eldest and he already started his campaign of winning the boy over by buying him presents.

Taehyung demands him because it's his given name right.

Hobi competes for the role of the rich uncle with Jin.

Yoongi says he is the only uncle who hasn't dropped him even once.

Yuna and Nari claim they need to practice for their own children.

Jimin just whines in a tiny voice.

Namjoon claims he spends his time tutoring the boy.

you, you play your victim card that beats everybody else clean tonight. one look at the bruise on your forehead, and everybody feels bad. you even mewl about how distressed you are after the attack, how ptsd is killing you, and a child would de-e-efinitely help elevate the anxiety. Yoongi at least doesn't say anything not to ruin the pretence. as you walk around the house, heavy, 91 centimeters big Taeyang in your arms, Bam is also at your side, and you feel like a princess, the chosen one.

there's nothing to complain about, except the heat, as you lie in bed at night, a phone in your hand, scrolling through the old pictures from years ago. when you compare them like that, you can even see the differences in your own face. the jawline getting more defined as you lose the remaining youth fat. Jin is right on track of turning from the oldest one into the hottest: he now has a face of a fifties' movie star.

the door hisses open, and you turn around and see Yoongi's shoulder in the dark. his hair is in a ponytail on the back of his head.

"no making out rule", you whisper. he frowns.

"maybe i want to watch a movie".

"do you want to watch a movie?"

the mattress caves in under his knee as he slithers into bed quietly, swiftly.

"no".

he lies down on his side, and you watch his face. head empty, no thoughts. just his crescent eyes. this is all that is going on. him in your bed, no past, no future.

"you'll have to be really quiet".

your finger touches his cheek and traces it to the chin.

i will never fully get over you, you think. like you used to confess your love to his back, before. it's so loud he might hear the echo of it. his hand catches your wrist and then finds the other one and pins them above your head. Yoongi is determined to test you, there's a suspicious spark in his eyes that excites you. his free hand crawls down, without a hello, without petting you first, almost aggressive, and your thighs shudder at his touch.

every time you produce a moan, his mouth bares teeth and bites you in the nape of the neck. you have no idea what exactly during the day triggered such a wild response that he is pushing you into submission so harshly; thoughts curl into unrecognizable shapes as he works your body. there's only one place to push your buttons and he has mastered it to the point where he has the full control. by the time he finally decides to pull down his own pants, you are covered in sweat, all but begging, only holding on to the shreds of your pride which he, perhaps, wants to destroy. knowing that even the pain won't shut you up, his hand lies on your mouth to at least make it quieter. you try to cut your voice off; it's sending the chunks of pleasure back down the throat and into the stomach, turning it into a hot ball coursing your body. Yoongi keeps thrusting into you and you finally relax, your wrists released, numb, and itchy to pinch him. abrasion hurts. he slows down as soon as he feels your back arching too much; he is toying with the emotions that drip out of you like tears. rage kicks in and you land your hand on the back of his head, tugging on the hair. he is having quite a trip. thrusting, then stopping with a low hum, the muscles on his back flexing painfully, then fast again, then to a full stop, wearing you thin. it's a power play designed to force you into complete capitulation; he couldn't not have noticed the barriers you still have in your head. even when you're spread underneath him, you still hide your eyes as you call his name. the walls you yourself have raised up against him in the past years are so massive that you can't even be sincere when you're orgasming. the sincerety is like a ghost tail he's chasing, employing various methods of torture. you don't know what he expects from you: to blurt something out when you're completely subjugated? isn't it a bit cruel? it's a bad case of alexithymia where both of you push each other to admit it first but when you start feeling for words, there's nothing there. only doubt. only fear of being now shoved away. so far into obscurity that hope will get evaporated into nothing.

you move your hands lower and grab his hips with all four limbs to keep him from stopping. the abrasion on your knee, the one you'd been so careful with, tears with an almost audible sound. you feel the blood bubbling under the bandaid patch. Yoongi produces a low chuckle; he's stronger than you.

"let me come", you gasp through the gritted teeth.

"what do you say?" the breezy whisper against your chin. taste of cherries, petals, ocean.

"i say let me come".

another chuckle.

"no".

you put your arm around his neck, trying to get him into a chokehold, but your limbs don't really agree with you now. the shock of pleasure travels across every inch and the body actually prefers to betray you. you're layered.

"why are you so stubborn?" his arm hooks up your leg and raises it, and you open your mouth to let the breath out, instead of yelling.

"because i hate you", it takes time to gather all the words together.

"i hate you, too. promise to keep hating you".

you freeze because he starts gaining speed again, and this time the determination is evident. his breath gets shaky, you feel his shoulders tense; when Yoongi is about to cum, he throws his head forward to find a hiding place in your neck. the wet t-shirt sticks to him like second skin.

he hasn't broken you out just yet. you have severe trust issues, mainly with yourself. the heat is making it impossible to sleep pressed into each other, so you grab his fingers and both crawl away from each other, kicking the blanket down.

the knock on the door grows a little more aggressive and turns into a rapid ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, and you dream about Hoba clapping at someone's joke before you wake up completely.

Yoongi slides off the bed like a robot, swaying from side to side, and opens it.

"ah-ha. i knew it", the frustrated grumble. "found your room empty".

"what are you, twelve?" Yoongi mutters, his voice still asleep.

"you got my cleanser".

"i didn't take your cleanser".

"everybody's up, it's almost one".

"Koo, go away".

you sit up slowly, clutching the pillow against yourself. you're wildly hungry and thirsty.

"come, Taeyang is asking for you".

Taeyang is going to reign his ass soon. Jungkook will spoil him to the point that he's going to become a bad person, you think. it's so hard not to spoil adorable children like him.

in the kitchen, there's pleasant smell of cooking. Bam is lying on the floor between the cooking counter and the island and makes everybody watch their step. Taehyung is battling with something in the deep pan with a red apron on.

"were you bothered?" Yoongi punches into the maknae, "did we wake anybody up? what's the problem?"

"there's a baby in the house", he hisses.

"you?"

Taehyung crunches his nose and laughs.

"yeah, you're getting insane, Jungkookie".

Bam raises his head and looks at his father. the father glances back and sighs. you dive into the fridge, waiting for Jungkook's frustration to dissipate. no idea what got him so worked up, you are sure you were quiet.

the day is too short; before the sun starts setting, you need to leave them and ride to the airport to go home. you ask Yoongi to stay behind so that you can think. he understands and settles in, part of the memory, part of the ship. after saying your goodbyes, you take a moment to watch them, wandering around the yard, cooling themselves in water. Jimin lost his slipper, and Jin is walking around white-faced with three layers of spf on. even now, Yoongi doesn't stop you from leaving, you realize he will always give you space if you ask for it. he will never chase you through the airport or follow around, because that's not what he is like.

but he did drive from Daegu in thirty minutes.

before you turn around to get into the taxi, you catch him staring from across the lawn. he waves his hand goodbye.

sweet, beautiful, kind, funny boys. they have no idea that U N7 stands for "you and seven".

you have no idea how much they really love you. that they all stayed up almost all night when they heard about the attack. that every autumn, they are waiting for the pear confiture. that they speak about you casually, like you're a limb. that Jungkook isn't the only one who writes a song about you; that they placed you in their minds in the family category. that there are other songs about you; born out of their observations of you, equipped with advice and consoling word and confessions. wandering thoughts, easy, friendly and loving lyrics. someone will be consoled by looking at your thorns for sure. it's really stupid of you to not know, to have no idea that Yoongi has written a whole album about you. they are musicians after all.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @lili-spots , @kiki-zb

[starlitsequins]

kill your darlings (ao3)

The Duchess Approves is terrible. He wants to bleach every brick of his body just to purify himself of this three hour experience. He wants to pluck out his eyeball and treat it to a ten-day spa as reparations. He demands a sequel from the Axolotl during their next therapy session. The Axolotl tilts their head. “There's no sequel. Only one movie has ever been made.” Bill glowers. “But what happens after?” “Production went into debt after casting big name Grampton St. Rumpterfrabble,” the Axolotl answers sadly. “Rumor has it he charges fifty thousand per letter.” “Wonderful,” Bill drawls. “Real useful information. So what am I supposed to do now, doc?” The Axolotl’s eyes gleam suspiciously. “I suppose there’s always fanfiction.”

Or: Bill hates a certain fanfic author almost as much as he hates the man who killed him. Crazy, wouldn't it be, if the two were the same person.