#bob learned something new about his boyfriend xD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

tuxedo, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your cat turns into a man. No, not, your cat was always a man and turned back into a man. Your actual cat turns into an actual man and neither you or your cat (man? cat-man?) have any idea why he's human now. Also, he's naked, so that’s a problem. Also, he’s kind of attractive. Yikes.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi still thinks he’s a cat; mentions of smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral (choking on a dick, but not in a sexy way), doggy, spanking, wall-fucking, unintentional??? voyeurism); non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook and you being mad horny for him, what’s new; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? you decide

an anon asked for cat hybrid Yoongi, although instead this is some voodoo witch doctor shit, whoops yes, I do reference BT21, Bob Ross, the lady-pointing-to-the-cat-accusingly meme, list goes on... and there is a cameo of 2021 Seasons Greetings Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin XD

Your lungs were being crushed.

You were bundled in your duvet, wrapped like a mint-colored burrito, on your back, head nestled comfortably in your memory foam pillow. Warm, cozy, snuggly. All things considered, a comfortable position. So comfortable that you were blessedly asleep for many hours until your lungs started getting crushed.

You cracked one eye open.

A giant tuxedo fluffball was causing this slow and painful death.

“Get off.”

You glared with slitted eyes, voice cracking from sleep. The fluffball did not move. Velvety, pointed black ears flicked back and forth. The little pink nostrils flared a bit, breathing evenly and contentedly. At least one of you was. You grunted in irritation. The minty-green eyes opened, black slits for pupils.

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

You narrowed your eyes and lips into lines. Stared at your insufferable, not-so-subtle tuxedo cat that was killing his owner. How long had he and his seven-kilogram ass been sitting on your tits? Too long because your sternum was already aching. You rolled over and he gave you a disgruntled meow as he tumbled off. You pulled your arms out and gave him a soft scratch behind his ears before reaching around to his white belly and patting his chest. He started purring, rolling to his side, white sock-like paws sticking up.

“Ugh, my chest hurts, Shooks. You’re a dick.”

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

“I’m getting up,” you announced to no one except your cat.

You tugged yourself out of your comfy, mint-colored duvet and winced, rubbing your breastbone. Did you buy this bedding set because it reminded you of your cat’s eye color? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In your defense, you hadn’t meant to become a crazy cat lady. You were innocently walking on the street when the tuxedo-patterned cat started following you. A large cat with big minty eyes surrounded by black fur like black bangs. White snout and jaw, pink nose, and a raspy meow. The tuxedo pattern was pretty similar to an actual suit, with a white chest and black fur over its back and limbs. White, sock-like paws, on the bigger side. Cute pink toe beans too. At the time, he was skinny and dirty, no collar around his neck, but you could tell he was long-limbed. He had a cut on his right eye, caked with blood.

“You alright, little guy?”

The cat seemed to scoff at you disapprovingly, as if to say, do I seem like a little guy to you?

“I guess you’re not a little guy. You have an owner?”

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

You took him back to your apartment and then it was doomed.

Why was his name Shooks? Well, actually, your cat’s name was Shooky, and it was because you tried many names to get him to respond to you – including, but not limited to, “you little shit” – and he responded to none of them except Shooky. For some reason, Shooky made him turn his black-and-white face around and look at you.

Shooky it was.

The first encounter was cute, but after you had fed him and given him a few pats, you gave him a good, hard taste of reality. Shooky was very upset about getting a bath for the first time. There had been a lot of angry meowing, although thankfully he hadn’t swiped at you very much. As soon as you got mostly undressed and sat in the bath with him, he seemed to relent. Maybe it was because you closed the glass door and he couldn’t leave.

“Do you see how dirty you are? You need a bath.”

He gave you a disapproving meow.

“Look, I even bought pet shampoo and you’ll get treats after. Come on, you.”

He was very displeased.

In any case, Shooky was now your primary companion, a large, long-limbed, fluffy tuxedo cat, following you around as you brushed your teeth and made breakfast, his new black collar jingling with a tiny silver bell. Every morning, you handed him his dry food first – he chomped down immediately – and made yourself some breakfast as he ate. Somehow your life now revolved around him, spending time looking up the best cat food (without paying an arm and a leg, you weren’t a sugar momma), making sure he was brushed (his hair got everywhere), telling everyone you needed to get home because you couldn’t miss his dinnertime (if you were a second late opening the door, Shooky would start meowing very exaggeratedly, like he was dying, what a drama queen). Was he annoying? Yes. Was he the best cuddle buddy? Also, yes. Kind of like a boyfriend, but better, because Shooky didn’t talk back.

You arranged your small dishes on the table. Tofu. Eggs. Pickled squash. Just enough for one. You sat down, holding your bowl of steamed rice.

A tuxedo furball jumped onto the table, licking his chops.

“Look here, this isn’t for you. Shoo.”

He settled onto the tabletop and stared at you as you ate.

Sigh.

Live with a cat was pretty similar to life without one.

Except for that weird habit Shooky had of sitting on your bathroom rug when you got out of the shower, scaring the shit out of you the first time. You lived alone, so you didn’t really bother closing doors, but you considered changing that. But it was just a cat. Also, he walked in here of his own volition. Not your fault if his eyes were scarred.

Shooky was a normal cat, but also a weird cat.

He slept a lot. Normal. He bit his paws sometimes. Weird. You figured maybe it was his nails, so you learned to trim them and he seemed better about it, but sometimes when he was stressed, you would notice fur missing from his little white socks. A lot of things could stress a cat. The internet taught you that. You brought him toys and played with him, but mostly he seemed to want you to sit down so he could plant himself in your lap. This make life rather difficult, so you decided it was time to invest in Netflix so you could at least use your time wisely.

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

Shooky was always stressed when you invited a man into your home.

Maybe he didn’t like men. Something in his past, maybe? Could be. Come to think of it, did you even like men? That was a question for another day, but in any case, your cat always gave you this accusing stare when you brought a guy over, no matter how nice the guy was, even if the guy petted him very gently. Shooky never attacked them. He just glared at you like you had betrayed him somehow. How could that be?

What a needy drama queen.

You figured, eh, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your chances of finding true love and all that stuff.

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

That time you were in the middle of giving a guy a blowjob. It was going great. You were naked, he was naked, he had a tattooed arm – hot as fuck – and he was very vocally enjoying your tongue technology. Hey, you didn’t have many talents, but you had that going for you. Even if a guy was mildly apprehensive about banging you, once you got your mouth on his dick, it was game over. You mentally patted yourself on the back for doing such a good job.

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

Your cat jumped onto your back and made you choke on his dick.

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

“Are you okay?” He was half-worried, half-laughing, and Shooky was climbing up your back, pressing onto your neck, one paw on the nape, trying to murder you by dick suffocation. It took both of you to lift you off the dick – sad – and Shooky left a few scratches on your neck, as if to communicate his distaste of your infidelity. The guy was really nice about it. Actually, he found it hilarious. You scowled at Shooky and he gave you that deadpan stare that all cats seemed to have. The rest of the night was hot and heavy like you wanted and you even eventually got to complete said blowjob, which brightened your spirits.

It was a little disorienting that your cat was watching you from his cat tree the entire time.

Creep.

Honestly, you would have kept dating that guy if he didn’t move to a different city. Sigh.

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

You were passed out on the couch, halfway into season six of American Horror Story, somewhat peeved because you wanted to watch the other seasons, but geez, season five had such a poor story and hard focus on gore that it slightly turned you off. That it was a lot, even for you. Season six was better, but slow. The first four seasons had really hooked you and the idea of them all being connected? Nutty. You wanted to watch all of it.

Idea of season five? Awesome.

Lady Gaga? Yeah, why not, you’d be seduced.

Execution? Eh… could be better.

Shooky hadn’t watched any of it. He just slept in your lap.

Subtitles really helped you out here. You didn’t understand how the English-speaking audience could hear the whispering parts, but maybe that was because your English was garbage. You could read better than listen.

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

You were half-tucked in a fuzzy black blanket with a tuxedo cat pattern. Did you see the tuxedo cat pattern and buy it immediately? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In any case, your head was cocked at an awkward angle on the couch cushion and your mouth was open, snoring away. Attractive. You were wearing mint-colored, striped pajamas, one arm hanging off the couch and the other on Shooky’s furry butt, because you had been petting him.

Netflix was doing that annoying thing where it was asking you if you were still watching or not.

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

Your cat was staring at your laptop on your coffee table. It was open. An HDMI cable connected it to your television. Not a clean setup, but an effective one. Again, you lived alone. Who was going to judge you? Your tuxedo cat?

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

He got off your lap and hopped to the coffee table, peering at your laptop. Then he did what any sensible cat would do.

He walked all over your keyboard.

Circling around and around, smashing all the buttons with his cute pink toe beans, looking for a comfortable spot before settling down and planting his fluffy body on top of it. Windows closed, tabs appeared, the volume got muted, your display settings got fucked, the usual.

The unusual part was that your cat was looking at the screen.

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

A handsome young man with a boxy smile was wearing a sienna floral dress shirt and sunglasses, oddly paired with flared violet pants. He was standing next to another young man with an angelic face who, for some reason, was wearing a pastel floral handkerchief around on his head and a white-and-navy tracksuit with black, red, and green stripes. They were standing in some weird set with a black tablecloth covered round table and a lavender crystal ball, crystal-like beaded curtains glinting in strangely colorful lighting.

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

The man with the boxy smile was speaking excitedly, gesturing to the angelic-looking man who seemed to be in awe. A retro, old school graphic popped up, flowers surrounding a blocky orange and green serif font, mildly tacky but somehow endearing in its own way.

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

Well, you did mostly speak to him in Korean. Maybe he was secretly fluent. He definitely knew, don’t fucking do that, because you would witness him doing the very thing you told him not to do right after you said it. Bastard. But you couldn’t bear witness to this now. You were knocked out on the couch.

Zzz.

Boxy-smile guy placed his fingers elegantly on his forehead, mock dismay on his features, acting as if he couldn’t believe the viewer’s skepticism. Angel-looking guy placed his hands in prayer position, the text now reading, I won’t believe you unless you prove it! Boxy-smile guy flourished to the camera, showing off his brilliant pearly-white smile, mouthing words unheard. Text appeared once more.

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

You woke up with a painful stitch in your neck and Shooky nowhere to be found.

“Fuck…”

You tried to get up, but underestimated the cramp in your back and fell onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You blamed the pandemic for fucking up your sleep schedule. Also, getting old. Fuck getting old and being an adult. Time didn’t stop just because you didn’t go to work. Well, not true. You did go to work; your work was just different now. You were YouTube video editor, which meant you were mostly edited video game montages now instead of travel vlogs. The work was slower now. People were getting discouraged, taking breaks, because, you know.

Pandemic.

Sigh.

Anyway, not the point. You were grateful that your work was mostly internet and computer-based. Not everyone was so lucky. You were also grateful that you didn’t work in an industry that was too negatively affected by the pandemic. It had started off as a hobby, but then the creators you were helping unexpectedly blew up, needing your help more and more. You fell into it by accident, but that’s how life was. Happy little accidents. You couldn’t complain. As long as you had some income to feed your cat and you, that was enough.

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

He normally would meow or trot over to you when called. He was weirdly affectionate like that.

You were still on the floor, on hands and knees, crick in your neck and back aching. Ah yes, age was just a number until your back pain flared up due to repeated nights of unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Lovely. You stretched out your back with a groan and yawned, cracking your neck.

“FUCK!”

That hurt. Ugh, you really needed to stop sleeping on the sofa. You untangled yourself from your blanket and headed to the bathroom, rubbing your neck. You still didn’t see your fluffy, seven-kilogram, kind-of-an-ass tuxedo cat, but whatever. He had to be in the apartment. He couldn’t exactly leave. He was a cat. What was he going to do, grow legs and opposable thumbs?

Pfft.

You shoved your toothpaste-covered toothbrush in your mouth and began brushing your teeth. You hummed, trying to remember if you had any deadlines. Eh, they were on your Google calendar. You would check it after washing up. You spat and brushed for a few more minutes, thinking about nothing. This was nice. Sometimes it was nice to think about nothing. No major problems to address, simply a chill and routine morning.

Seemed sufficient.

You reached over to the spit cup and put some lukewarm water in it before taking your toothbrush out and sipping some water to gargle the minty suds out.

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Your mouth was full of dirty toothpaste water, cheeks puffed out.

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

A pale man was standing behind you, wearing your mint-colored duvet over his shoulders. Messy black hair to his rounded cheeks, dark brown cat-like eyes, small pink pout. His nose was a little red, as if he was cold. There was a black choker on his neck, with a silver bell. He was taller than you, and he looked very confused.

Also.

Pointed, velvety black ears on top of his head, white tufts of fur sticking out, flicking back and forth.

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

The man jerked back as you threw your head into the sink, hastily taking another cupful of water to rinse out your mouth because, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Why was there a man in your apartment? With fucking cat ears? That moved? What kind of kinky shit was that? Were you dreaming? What the fuck?! You grabbed the hand towel from its hook and furiously wiped the dirty water off your mirror, completely convinced you were having sensory and auditory hallucinations. Did you drink last night? Accidentally buy groceries laced with LSD? Snorted three kilos of cocaine off a hooker? Who the fuck knows, but there was no fucking way that you let some fucking man in your home, because, one, pandemic and, two, Shooky–

You froze.

The pale man with black hair was still there, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, looking slightly disgusted, but also scared.

He said your name again. A question, almost like a raspy meow.

It was…

Familiar?

You violently wiped your bathroom mirror some more, nearly cracking the glass.

The man was still there, wearing your mint-colored duvet.

Slowly, slowly, you turned around to face this man, your neck cracking loudly, sending searing pain up the back of your head and reminding you that, nope, this is not a dream, and if it was, it was a very shitty dream because at least in a dream you shouldn’t actually feel pain. You looked up at this man, at his fluffy black bangs shading his dark attentive eyes and pale face, chewing on his lip, clutching your duvet around his body like a giant mint cloak.

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

He gave you an eerily recognizable deadpan stare. “I think you do.”

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

You blinked at him. “What? You have a name?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Relief washed over you. “What do you mean, you guess? That means you’re a human being! With a birth certificate! Thank God, I thought you were my fucking cat for some reason, haha, that’s so fucking ridiculous–!” For some reason, the idea of a random stranger being in your home was much more comfortable to you than you damn cat becoming a human being, because for a hot second, you thought… but no, no, that’s stupid. “Speaking of ridiculous, these ears are crazy dude, they look almost real–”

You reached up and yanked on one of the velvety ears.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

“What the FUCK?” you bellowed and a large pale hand shot out of the duvet to clamp one of his cat ears down, shrinking away from you.

“Stop yelling, please, I have sensitive hearing,” Yoongi winced, ticking his head, as if he was trying to flatten the other ear too, but couldn’t. His other hand was holding tightly to the mint duvet.

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

His hand darted back into the duvet and clamped it shut from your bulging eyes, frowning. He quickly bundled himself up and straightened, thinning his mouth into a line. A few seconds passed. You gawked at him, jaw slack. The pale man sighed heavily.

“My name is Min Yoongi. My parents gave me that name. I don’t think I have a human birth certificate because I’m not a human. I am a cat. You used to call me Shooky, but Min Yoongi is my name, so I would appreciate it if you called me by my given name.”

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

Yoongi made a face at you. “Of course, we do. We are not savages.”

“B… But…” You frowned, shoulders falling. “You seemed to like the name Shooky…”

Yoongi shrugged his duvet-covered shoulders. “It sounded better than all the other names you suggested.”

You puffed your cheeks, placing your hands on your hips. “What was wrong with Tata? Or Chimmy? Or Cooky?”

Yoongi gave you a disapproving glare. “Well, perhaps in a parallel universe the name Shooky is somehow important to me. In any case, it was the best suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes, frowning. “You little shit.”

“I especially disliked that one. Seemed a bit discriminating to our size difference…” He paused, looking down at you. “At the time anyway.”

Your hands fell, looking up at your cat. Er. Min Yoongi. “So, uh… Yoongi…?”

He tilted his head, peering curiously at you under his black bangs. “Hm?”

You pointed at him, gesturing up and down. “Why are you, uh… a man?”

He looked down at the duvet covering his body. You stared at your bedding wrapped around him. Why was he wearing it anyway? In fact, all you could see was a black choker with a silver bell. The mental lightning bolt suddenly hit you. Oh. Your neck began to heat. Your ears began to heat. Your whole face began to heat. Oh. Oh? Oh! Shooky – er, Yoongi? – whatever, your cat didn’t wear clothes. He only wore a collar… which meant…

It felt like your whole body was on fire with abrupt realization.

Yoongi looked up at your mint-pajama-wrapped, now tomato self still pointing at him.

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

“And yes, I’m naked. Your clothes don’t fit me. I tried.”

Your cat, er, man? Cat-man? What even... never mind, Min Yoongi was sitting on your bed, still wrapped in your mint duvet like a key lime cake roll, waiting as you rummaged around in your dresser, searching for literally any piece of clothing that might possibly fit him. The problem was, you worked from home, so you didn't exactly own a plethora of different clothing options. Your daily wardrobe consisted of slinky black leggings...

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly.

Yoongi had blinked at you. "I don't think so."

"It could work?"

He pursed his lips together. "I think you're forgetting something."

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

Yoongi gave you his deadpan stare. "I believe you are well acquainted with human male genitalia."

Oh.

Right.

He had a dick.

You turned red and robotically shoved your leggings back into their place. A sudden thought flitted across your brain and you spun back to face him, blurting it out before filtering yourself.

"Hahaha, good thing I never got you fixed, eh?"

Yoongi blinked very, very slowly. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed, amused, or wanted to murder you. In conclusion, typical cat behavior.

"I'm not fond of the idea of castration, so I suppose so."

Awkward.

Your vet had suggested it, but since he had been an indoor cat and you weren't intending on getting another, you figured you wouldn't put him under the unnecessary surgery and it would help you avoid the cost. A little irresponsible? Maybe. But you were very careful not to leave the front door open and, so far, he hasn't had the chance to get some poor lady cat knocked up.

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi.

In any case!

The other half of your daily wardrobe was sweatshirts, but Yoongi's shoulders were too broad for them and he was too tall. Why was he so big anyway? Well, he wasn’t exactly big, just long-limbed. You guessed he was actually on the leaner side, judging from the way the duvet wrapped around him and the brief flash of long fingers, slim forearm, and toned chest. He had been a larger cat.

Seven kilos turned into... him?

You suddenly started and yanked open your underwear drawer, shuffling through it to get to the back and pull out a neatly folded dark gray blob.

"I have this–"

"No."

The response was so forceful and dismissive that you froze, the dark gray fabric unfurling in your loose grip. It was a large men's sweatshirt, soft, charcoal, slightly acid-wash, covered with white paint stains. Eggshell white, to be exact. The exact paint color of this very bedroom, because you had worn it to repaint over that original disgusting beige color.

"Why not?" you inquired, holding it up by the shoulders. "It'll fit you, for sure. It used to be..."

Yoongi kept his completely neutral expression trained on you as you reached your revelation, his dark eyes observing every detail of your body's reaction to the memory. Your grip on the sweatshirt tightened. You felt your cheeks and ears heat, pulse roaring in your ears.

Oh.

Er, right, so…

That one time that Shooky – no, Yoongi? – jumped on your back and made you choke on a dick? Yeah, that guy. Tattoo guy. Yeah, well, before that incident, tattoo guy was the friend of a friend who offered to help you paint your apartment because he had experience working construction – “helped my dad fix-up a house to resell for a couple months,” he had said with his disgustingly cute, cheeky grin, making you nod like an idiot and your pussy throb with his endearing adorableness – and you had moved all the furniture out so you two could get it done quickly.

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

You didn’t want him to breathe in the fumes or get paint on his luscious fur. It was for his own good.

Tattoo guy had appeared in said charcoal sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, and the most attractive thighs in the whole damn universe, just out and about, giant holes exposing tan skin and taut muscle. Your eyes widened, frozen at your front door.

Oh yeah, he had paint rollers too. You hadn’t given a shit about those in that moment.

He had noticed you staring and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wore the ugliest pants I own. It might get messy, you know?”

No, tattoo guy. No one thought your pants were ugly.

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I wore this gross t-shirt,” you said absentmindedly, referring to your four-sizes-too-large, free t-shirt that had been chucked at your head while walking past your university common area. It was a hideous chanteuse with magenta writing, a color combination that absolutely deserved to go to hell, and could not even be saved by the quirky, stylish, thrift-savvy TIkTokers of today. It was the ugliest thing you owned, so you wore it to repaint your bedroom.

Now you regretted it.

Tattoo guy looked you up and down. He smirked under his long black hair.

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

Didn’t really matter that you couldn’t conjure a sexy response, because, clearly, tattoo guy had made his decision leagues before arriving here. Painting a bedroom? Oh, yeah, you did that, and with way too much sexual tension. A man should not be that flirty while holding two paint rollers and speed painting your walls. What were you supposed to do? You barely knew the guy. All you managed to do was make awkward small talk to get to know him better. Then he took off his sweatshirt.

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

He had smirked at you, spinning the paint roller in his hand, white t-shirt molded to his body. “Hm?”

You were being mildly disrespected, but also you were gawking at his tattooed right arm and his blindingly beautiful forearms. Cough, no. You didn’t have a thing for attractive forearms. Wasn’t like staring at this muscular pair was making you weak at the knees or anything. Okay, maybe. But you weren’t going to say it out loud. Tattoo guy ticked his chin below you, to the floor. Your job was to paint the little nooks at the corners, ceiling, and baseboards. You spent a whole lot of your job sneaking glances at him and getting caught.

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

You whipped your head to the floor, craning your head to look for it. A paint roller appeared beside you, pointing to a small sliver for nasty beige. He had a clear, silvery voice.

“Right here.”

You frowned at it and raised your paintbrush in warning to the offensive beige, ready to strike.

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

You sputtered, legs tangled, oversized shirt flipping up, trying not to drop the paintbrush and drawing a fat streak across the unpainted wall. You shook your head roughly, clutching the handle of the brush, cool draft floating up your shirt.

Tattoo guy appeared above you, grinning, his front teeth slightly too large and giving him the appearance of a rambunctious bunny.

“You alright?”

You felt your neck and ears heat. No, you were not alright. Yes, you were older, but that didn’t… that wasn’t the time… You didn’t expect it, that’s all. You tried very hard not to look at his thighs. Or his face. Or his chest. Just didn’t look at him. Also, you were pretty sure you were flashing him and pretty fucking sure you didn’t give a shit.

You coughed awkwardly. “Yup, I’m good.”

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

Once the first coat was down, you two stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the plastic drop cloth, him banishing a paint roller and you a paintbrush. Challenge complete and it didn’t take you very long. Nice.

“We have to let it dry and then we can paint another coat,” he was explaining.

“It looks fine like this.”

Tattoo guy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Once it dries, it will look uneven. Trust me.”

You frowned. “Okay. How long should we wait?”

“Couple hours, at least.”

A couple hours? You frowned more. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

He didn’t reply. You turned your head to face him and tattoo guy was staring at you with a smile.

Uh oh.

He was spinning the paint roller with one hand. You felt your ears and neck heat. He switched from his left hand to his right, seamlessly. Incredibly sexy. Were the paint fumes getting to you? You gulped, awkwardly gesturing to the paintbrush.

“Let me just… put this down…”

You turned around and balanced your paintbrush in the paint tray, only to gasp as your felt something foamy roll down your back, covering you with the strong stench of paint. It stopped above the curve of your ass, unable to roll smoothly any longer.

“Hmm, can’t get past your juicy ass, noona,” he teased.

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

No, no. You didn’t forget tattoo guy’s name. You remembered it, even now. Remembered saying it in multiple different ways, even.

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

In surprise, streaks of paint in your hair, him smirking, dropping the paint roller on the other plastic tray and somehow not tipping it over, thank goodness, him walking up to you, taking the bottom of your paint-covered chanteuse university t-shirt, leaning down to whisper hotly against your lips.

“Ah, sorry, it seemed like you didn’t like that shirt very much,” he breathed, sending your brain into overdrive with the heat against your skin, his knuckles brushing your thighs. “You can wear my sweatshirt instead, if you like.”

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

In breathlessness, heart pounding in your chest, gaze locked with mischievous dark chocolate orbs, his teeth catching his lower lip, tiny mole underneath revealed.

“Yeah?”

Why was his voice so deep? The tiny tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lips enticingly.

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

Your hands darted down and gripped his, catching your lower lip in your teeth as well, matching his lip bite, seeing the eagerness growing in his eyes.

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wear anything around you.”

But not for you.

There was a very loud meow from your bathroom, but before Jungkook could ask, you yanked your shirt up and over your head. He gasped and instantly it was lips on lips, messy kisses and stumbling to the living room were your bed, dresser, nightstands, bookcase, knickknacks, everything scattered everywhere, but Jungkook and you were too busy yanking off clothes and getting frisky to give a shit.

Yikes.

You stared at Yoongi now, red from head to toe, clutching the dark gray sweatshirt. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

Yoongi’s dark brows raised from under his black bangs. “Mmm, you forget that I have quite keen hearing. I’m not deaf like you, human.”

The color drained from your face.

Well.

Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook got you to wear his dark gray sweatshirt, forcing you – respectfully, he called you noona, after all – to get on your hands and knees for him, then make you wait in said embarrassing position with his sweatshirt bunched around your neck – because, er, gravity – while he casually made you watch him roll the condom on, highly amused by your impatient glare, only to move away and slowly shove his dick inside your soaking wet pussy and spank your ass until you backed up into him enough times to make yourself cum on his stiff length without him moving his hips.

Respectfully, of course.

“Fuck, noona, that was so fucking hot…”

“Jungkook,” you gasped breathlessly, ass stinging in glorious pain. “F-Fuck me, please.”

He made you scream.

He fucked your hard, making the bed creak, pounding you so roughly into the mattress that your fingers curled into the mint sheets, and when you gasped that you were close, he fucking stopped, the damn sadist, causing you to slam your fists into the bed and buck back into his crotch, Jungkook chuckling at your desperation. In your haze of begging for Jungkook’s cock, you heard a judgmental meow from your bathroom, but before you could address it, Jungkook seemed to have accepted your pleading and began to thrust into you once more, making you lose your train of thought and all thoughts in general, except your dire need to orgasm.

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

Right now, however, Yoongi’s sharp look was making you mute. You were so mortified that you swore your soul stood up and walked out of your body, too ashamed to be in Yoongi’s presence any longer.

“Mmm,” the dark-haired man mused absentmindedly, pointed ears flicking.

From spitting onto the mirror to mentioning his possible castration to remembering that you had locked Yoongi in the bathroom for hours to have mind-blowing sex with Jeon Jungkook under the guise of repainting your bedroom walls…

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

You suddenly remembered Jungkook pushing you up against the bathroom door, your leg hooked around his waist, his cock plunging in and out of you, lips on your neck, and your wrists pinned to the door, rattling it as he fucked you, whispering against your skin.

“You sound so fucking sexy, make more sounds for me, I’ll fuck you as much as you want, fuck you until you can’t think, can’t move, just to hear you say my name over and over…”

“Jungkook… f-fuck, you f-feel so fucking good, o-oh, Jungkook…!”

He pulled his lips away from your neck and smirked in your face.

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

Your back arced against the bathroom door as you came, pussy throbbing and spasming, the top of your head touching the wood, gasping Jungkook’s name in ecstasy, slamming your wrists against the door, Jungkook moaning as he came inside you, cock jerking inside the condom and swelling it with his orgasm, lips crashing down on yours and you whining pathetically into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue roughly.

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

You deliberately shoved the dark gray blob back into your underwear drawer.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“Why is it in your underwear drawer, anyway?”

You slowly closed it, the wood snapping as the drawer touched the dresser.

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

“You know what, let me make a trip to the convenience store…” was your hollow reply as you mechanically walked out of your bedroom, followed by a mint duvet.

“Do you know what size I would be?” came the husky, amused chuckle behind you as you pawed around your apartment for your wallet, two masks, hand sanitizer.

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

You heard a rustle and you whipped your head around, only to see Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow and a slight bit of his exposed shoulders, collarbones on display, silver bell jingling. He yanked it back up, frowning at you.

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

You jerked away and hastily hooked the masks on your ears, fumbling with your sneakers before declaring, “I will be right back!” And then you threw yourself out the door.

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

The door suddenly jerked back open and you plucked your keys from the side dish.

Only to see Yoongi fully naked, sleek black tail whisking around, blinking at you.

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

The mint duvet was pooled around his legs on the ground and Min Yoongi, who was formerly your cat Shooky, was a fair-skinned, long-limbed, lean-bodied, very attractive tall man, with velvety black cat ears and tail and – urk! – completely intact human male genitalia. Your neck, ears, cheeks, chest, ancestors from generations long ago, all turned red in embarrassment. Once again, you soul completely left your body in pure mortification.

“D… Don’t leave!” you blurted, snapping the door closed.

Yoongi just stood there, sighing as he heard the door lock and a body bolt down the apartment building stairs.

“You didn’t even change out of your pajamas…” he muttered, picking up the duvet.

"I can't wear these."

It was a few hours later. Thankfully, when you arrived home with your purchases, your cat... man was asleep, wrapped like a mint cake roll in your duvet. You tried not to think about his naked body on your bed, therefore ending up thinking about his naked body on your bed.

"You need to wear pants! For..."

Dark eyebrows raised.

"Decency!"

After getting home, you had spent the next thirty minutes hand-washing a black t-shirt, black boxer briefs, and loose black pants that were definitely too short but it was the only size available that could fit that waist, so you had to make do. You put the other shirts and underwear in the washing machine, but you needed to wash at least one outfit and hang it to dry. You tried to use the hottest water your hands could handle to sterilize the clothing, wincing at the blistering heat.

You didn't know if Yoongi could get coronavirus but you weren't going to risk it.

Eventually you placed everything on the drying rack and positioned your space heater on them to dry them off.

Then you passed out on the couch. You deserved it, after working so hard.

Only to be woken up by Yoongi poking your shoulder roughly and telling you he couldn't wear the underwear and pants.

He was still holding the duvet around his body and your neck was still regretting every second of sleeping on the couch. Ow. Too much physical labor. Quarantine had turned you into a formless potato. You sat up halfway, wincing. Ugh, pain. You jabbed your finger at Yoongi, who gave you a displeased narrowing of his eyes.

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

Yoongi swept around the sofa, mint duvet and all, determined glint in his dark orbs, lips pursed in annoyance. You started, cracking your neck by accident, yelping in pain as you fell back against the couch.

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

Partly because you were shocked, but mostly because your neck seized a bit.

His legs were on either side of you, body still wrapped up, perfectly balanced despite the sudden leap, surveying you with a disapproving and discerning eye. The silver bell on his neck jingled with his movement. You could feel his calves against your knees.

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You always forget things."

You blinked at him, confused, neck heating. "What are you talking about?" you snapped impatiently.

"This."

Thump.

You felt something long and furry hit your leg. Your body almost jerked up in surprise, but Yoongi hissed at you, making you lurch back, somewhat stunned at how cat-like it sounded. It was definitely a warning. You were still in your pajamas, slightly thinner material than your usual clothes. It had been cold outside, but your everlasting embarrassment had kept you toasty warm.

Like it was now, because you realized your clothed outer thigh was touching his inner thigh.

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

The long, furry thing brushed against your legs as Yoongi watched you reach your slow realization.

"O-oh... Right. You have a tail..."

He grunted, thinning his eyes into slits. "Yes, because I am a cat."

Highly debatable at the moment, but you were too busy remembering your cat also had a human dick and nuts. Well, not also. Only had? Well. Maybe if you had a seco–

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

You gulped, trying to suppress the rising heat in your ears and failing. "I can sew?"

Yoongi tilted his head, nose wrinkling a bit. Then he got off you, circling around the couch. You sat up, neck still hurting, but the warmth of your embarrassment somehow helping. Yes, great, trading temporary physical pain for lifetime mental embarrassment, only for such moments to be remembered at the most inopportune times to throw you off guard.

Awesome.

You visibly cringed before standing up, seeing Yoongi's hand snake out and nab the boxer briefs, making them disappear into the duvet. You saw the fabric rustle and then the briefs reappeared, chucked at your face.

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

"Should be about four or five centimeters. Make it quick. It's hot under here."

You yanked the underwear off your face, scowling. "I'm not your maid!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, black ears flicking. He was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes. What was this guy so high and mighty for? If anything, he should be grateful that you even car–

"You're been cleaning up my literal shit for a few years now, so you are practically are my maid."

... Wait a second, he's right.

You growled and hauled yourself up.

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

Min Yoongi was finally wearing clothes and not your duvet and your fingers stung like a bitch.

You ended up snipping a hole and using bias tape to seal off the raw edges. You didn’t own a sewing machine, so this was the next best thing you could think of without destroying your fingers by trying to imitate zig-zag stiches, although you ended up destroying your fingers anyway because you had to sew small, delicate stitches to attach the bias tape. The area was too high traffic to not reinforce.

Sigh.

“Please tell me you know how to use the bathroom by yourself from now on.”

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’ve watched you enough times to know how to expel human excrement.”

Right. Because he was your cat. Don’t think about it too much. You were trying to take everything one thing at a time so you didn’t overwhelm yourself. Those were future-you problems. Why does he talk like that anyway? You didn’t even know how he knew Korean. Was it because you watched too much television? Yikes.

You rubbed your forehead, dismissing the discussion. “Good talk.”

You realized you would have to cut openings for his tail for all the underwear on the drying rack but, again, that was a future-you problem. Instead, you let him change in your bedroom and went to retrieve the laptop on your coffee table. Plugged it in and turned it on.

All your settings were wack.

“The fuck?” you muttered, resetting your display, volume, brightness, sigh, nearly everything. This only happened when a certain someone stepped on the keys when you weren’t looking. You raised your voice, still looking at the screen. “Did you fuck with my computer last night?”

“No. Oh, well, I did sleep on it,” Yoongi was saying as he stepped out of your bedroom. You growled in your chest, annoyed, but setting everything back into its place before opening your Google calendar. Nothing due immediately, thank god. “Er, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

Yoongi mussed his black hair, scratching at his velvety black ear. You noticed he didn’t have a set of human ears. Well, duh. That’d be weird. He was still wearing the black choker with the little silver bell on it. The t-shirt was nicely loose on his frame, the black standing out against his fair skin. The sweatpants were a little short on the ankle, the slim fit showing off his leanness. The sleek black tail swished back and forth.

He was… handsome.

Yoongi looked apprehensive, twisting his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, when I woke up as a human, I was cold, except for…” His hand ghosted towards his crotch. He pulled it away, waving it aside. “Mmm, never mind.”

You gave him a confused look and went back to your keyboard, typing away. Yoongi winced but you were too busy replying to an email to think too much about it.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to inform you of the following.

Min Yoongi had woken up on the coffee table, fucking freezing because humans didn’t have fur, and because his nuts and dick were getting roasted by your overheating laptop keyboard.

Upon waking up, he had a mild mental breakdown as you continued snoring loudly and unceremoniously, before scurrying away to the warmest place he knew – your bed, where he claimed the duvet and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Is this real life?

He had poked at various parts of his new body, trying to figure out if this was a dream or a horrific nightmare.

As we all know.

Life is a horrific nightmare, so indeed, this was real life.

You jumped as Yoongi slumped down on the sofa next to you, sticking his head and ears into your view, blocking the computer screen.

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

“What a-are you d-doing?” you sputtered.

“I’m hungry,” he repeated. He had a bit of a raspy, almost growly voice at times, reminding you of a cat’s meow. His meow, in fact.

You scooted away, neck heating. Yoongi followed, prodding you.

“Why are you like this?” you grumbled irritably, smacking his hand. Yoongi persisted, as if you did nothing at all.

“This is how I get your attention, because you humans will ignore me if I don’t.”

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

“Hello?” You grabbed his hand and jabbed at his palm, pointing to his thumb. “Cats don’t have thumbs!”

Yoongi yanked his hand out, shockingly similar to how Shooky used to pull his paw out when you were massaging his little white socks and he was over it. You noticed his cuticles looked a bit dry and torn up. Lately, Shooky’s paws had been a little chewed up too. You frowned at it, tilting your head.

Yoongi stood up and his tail whacked you in the face.

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

You scowled, rubbing your cheek. Yoongi stared down at you, face expressionless.

Okay, your cat might be a man now, but he was still a borderline asshole, so not much had changed.

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with all this cat food then? I just brought it last week!”

“That’s your problem.”

You threw up your hands and cooked you both some lunch.

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

You had dishes to clean, underwear to make tail-holes for, a cat that was now a man, an existential crisis to address, but you know what? You took a fucking nap instead. You left Yoongi with your computer and Netflix and told him to do whatever as long as none of it involved him leaving the house.

Yoongi had snorted. “What do I need to go out there for?”

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

Only to wake up groggily because your lungs were being crushed.

Actually no, it kind of felt like your whole torso was being crushed.

“Urk…!”

You fought with your sleepiness, somehow worse off than you had been before the nap, scrunching up your face ad blinking blearily. Head on memory foam pillow, check. Back on soft mattress, check. Black hair with sleek cat ears and pale face pressed on your chest? Check.

What, wait?

“Gah!”

You lurched and the head grunted, shoulders solidly pinning you down. He was under the mint-colored duvet. Yoongi, your cat that was now a man, was under the duvet.

UNDER THE DUVET.

“Stop yelling. Is that all you humans do? Yell?”

“Why are you – what are you doing here?” you hissed shrilly, trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was impossible. Yoongi was far too big now for you to throw him off.

“Sleeping, obviously,” he grumbled. “Or I was, until you started shouting.”

“Yes, but this is my bed,” you emphasized, realizing you could move your hands so you grabbed him by the waist, fingers grasping the black jersey fabric. You pressed inwards, hands molding to his sides.

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

An oddly familiar gaze of accusation and uncaring. His eyes were dark brown, not the recognizable mint, but the effect was the same. Pink lips upturned, slightly annoyed.

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

A man who was pressed down against you, long legs around your legs, broad chest to your chest, and shockingly attractive for someone who used to be a cat.

“I sleep in your bed all the time. What’s the difference?” Yoongi muttered.

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

You struggled to find words, completely entranced by how close Yoongi’s face was to yours, watching his ears adjust slightly to pick up all the small sounds around him. You opened your mouth and it only made a tiny squeak. The pressure on your chest was becoming unbearable. You were so shocked that you completely forgot that you were still dying. You cleared your throat as Yoongi looked increasingly displeased.

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

Yoongi yawned, nodding a little. “Yes, but it’s colder now. No more fur. I don’t know how you humans survive. Must be why you buy these warm things.”

Your hands were still on his waist. You pulled them away quickly and Yoongi frowned.

“Y-Yeah, but… you weigh a lot more now…” you croaked. “Can’t… breathe…”

Yoongi sighed heavily, as if this was a great disappointment. He slid off you.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

He nestled close to you and you still stunned, pin-straight body.

“Guess it’ll have to be like this instead from now on.”

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

Yoongi’s velvety, pointed ear flicked against your cheek, a low hum resounding in his chest.

part ii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

683 notes · View notes

tsubaki3192 · 5 years ago

Note

Oh I’d really love to read the aquarium HC’s!!! They sound superfun. And I am curious about the Nicknames with Mitsuhide. An idea for that: MC wants another nickname, one that’s not little mouse and they try out different ones but they all sound wrong and they end up at little mouse again?

Nicknames

[Mitsuhide x Reader]

———————-

Tags: @tsuki-no-usagiii @wingardium-letmefuckyou @unstoppablelinda @zavannahmj

Let me know if you want to be (un)tagged?

———————

Notes: OML I APOLOGISE DEEPLY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS… I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG-

So, uh, what happened was I started writing, went WAY off tangent to both my original idea and your request, came back to a full circle… Before realising I should’ve just rewritten it altogether… If anyone actually wants to read the other fic, well, I’ll post it xD

I feel like such a shitty author… ALSO I may or may not have been watching Stray Kids “The 9″ season 5 and suddenly had an idea-

–—————

Other comments: So, uh, I think I’ve decided to completely scrap the aquarium headcannons altogether and I’m actually really sorry about it as it was the very first thing I started when thinking about Ikesen.

So I want to apologise once again to @wingardium-letmefuckyou and to everyone else who wanted to read the headcannons, but I truly have no idea how to write it…

….. Okay that’s enough from me, I guess! Here’s the long-awaited fic xD

——————————

“How many times have I told you not to call me a ‘Little Mouse’?!”

Your footsteps stormed against the floorboards as you made your way back to your room, leaving Mitsuhide to stare at your back and baffled at your outburst. Hands clenched in tight fists to your sides, you brushed past an equally (if not more) surprised Masamune before reaching your room and slamming the door shut.

“What just happened…?”

You were livid and that was something new. Usually and normally, you were rather docile and that was one of the many things that had initially attracted Mitsuhide to you. (Your inability to use violence was another, but that perhaps merely further worried him whenever Nobunaga brought you to the battlefield.) Nevertheless, your rambunctious yelling and anger had caught the attention of the many castle’s residents, including a particular mother-like warlord and the right-hand-man of their lord.

“How many times must I tell you to not make her-”

But the flickering expression on Mitsuhide’s face, one of rejection, caused Hideyoshi’s words to falter at the back of his throat. Simply speaking, the said caramel-haired warlord had forgotten just who Mitsuhide’s sole weakness was: You. And he could only sigh, placing a hand on your lover’s right shoulder comfortingly.

——–

It hurt.

It really did.

You weren’t sure what brought it up, nor the reasoning behind your anger, but there was nothing you could do anymore. You had lashed out at him, and that was that. To be fair, it was a lover’s spat of sorts- not that you and Mitsuhide got into that many. You would always come to an agreement of sorts; somewhere in between both your suggestions. More than often, it would be in regards to the time and dates of your… well, dates, so this would be the first time you had ever needed to compromise over the whole nicknames thing.

The truth was, you really didn’t mind what he called you. Yes, you were willing to admit, there were times where the nickname could be considered as condescending but you were also willing to admit that you were also naive in many different ways.

Huffing quietly, you plonked down on your still-unrolled futon and brought your knees to your chest. Your arms, however, had found it’s way to the covers you and he shared, pulling it up and over your nose.

You would be lying if you ever thought his scent didn’t calm you.

Sandalwood. Gunpowder. Cinnamon.

….Well, okay. Maybe the last one was impossible, granted you didn’t know exactly when cinnamon had arrived in Japan but the scent was there nonetheless.

But the pain, guilt and regret from your words was enough to send tears running down your face. Truly, you wished you hadn’t said what you had to him. It was his one day of relaxation; a day where he could fully spend time with you, the only woman he promised he would ever love.

And you’ve just gone and ruined it.

“(Y/N).”

You could hear Mitsuhide’s voice on the opposing side of the door through your somewhat quiet whimpers… Which meant, you had come to learn, he could also hear you. Stifling your sobs, you called out to your boyfriend, allowing him to enter the room. You burrowed your head in the covers, hoping you could hide your tears from him… Even if you knew it was simply impossible.

“My dear, will you look at me?”

Mitsuhide placed a gentle hand on your head, brushing your hair behind your ear and allowing the strands to glide through his fingers. The same fingertips made it’s way to the soft curve of your cheek and down to your hidden chin. His whole palm was on your cheek now, as he gently coaxed you from your hidden position behind the comforter. You abided, sinking into the touch of his warm hands as he gently wiped the hot tears from your cheeks.

“As observant as I am, I wasn’t aware you didn’t enjoy the nickname.”

Prick.

As prideful as the statement was, it succeeded in eliciting a giggle from your lips. Your hands found it’s way out of the blanket and began roughly wiping at your tears, laughing dejectedly at the situation.

“The thing is, I really don’t mind. Really.”

You shook your head, resting your damp forearms against your covered knees and your chin against your forearms. But he just knelt in front of your slightly rocking self, raising his other arm to fully cup your face. Gently placing his forehead against your own, his nose nudged against your own- a rare Mitsuhide Eskimo kiss.

Your eyes had instinctively closed on it’s own, allowing the final droplets of tears to escape the corners of your eyes.

One. Two.

Raising his forehead from your own, he pressed his lips against the corner of each eye.

Please don’t cry.

And again his head rose even further, pressing a slow, loving kiss against your forehead.

I love you.

When he finally removed his lips from your forehead, you rose, stumbling, as you regained the strength in your knees from the tight pull towards your chest. Expressionless, golden eyes watch your stance, offering a single hand when you stumbled. He pulled you towards him as you settled yourself in his lap; his legs now crossed before him.

“My love,” he utters, his low, silken voice soothing your trembling self, “had you truly despised the name, you would have informed me early on.”

Your head bobs up and down, agreeing quietly with his statement. Your arms wound itself around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer. And Mitsuhide could only chuckle, pressing another kiss against your left temple as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

“Now, apologies for the sudden curiosity, but I would like to know the terms of endearment men use in your time-”

His arms rested loosely around your waist, fingers clasped together at your spine. His thumbs however, had found that aching knot in the centre of your spine and pulsed gently to release the discomfort. Your lips fell into that of a content sigh, though he could still sense the racing of your pulse that only continued to rise as he continued to probe about your previous lifestyle.

Anything to hear your melodious voice, right?

But he was serious when he said he wanted to hear the terms of endearment lovers gave one another in your time. Changing names wasn’t a huge issue in his mind- people could easily be renamed, after all- but if this was what you truly desired, he would have no qualms in doing so.

After all, if his princess wasn’t happy, how could he be?

Whether or not you did mind what he called you, you responded to his question rather hesitantly. It had taken a few moments for the names to rise to your mind: You were never one to date often, preferring to seek for a ‘Mr. Right’ before going on a first date. But your friends certainly had been, and so you had recalled the various names your friends had called one another… The generic ones, of course.

Mitsuhide only hummed in response, listening closely to your words as you spoke. He would need to test these nicknames out later, gauge your responses, before continuing on.

And today seemed to be just perfectly set up for him.

————————–

“Mitsuhide, where are you taking me?”

It was a futile question, given the smart-looking grin and the sly look in his eyes as you watched him. It was a futile question, knowing just how stubborn your man could be when he wanted to tell you next to nothing… Or when he wanted to keep it a surprise. And it certainly was a futile question as the direction he was heading in was that same, well-trekked path you usually took to his- and now your own- favourite teahouse. Yet you asked it anyway, hoping for some kind of response; any kind of response from the man who wouldn’t give in unless ordered to.

Even then you just smiled innocently beside him, all signs of your earlier anger- whatever the cause had been- dissipating with the early Springtime breeze. Your smile caught the eyes of the Azuchi citizens, as did your linked hands and the same, slight upturn of Mitsuhide’s lips. Your relationship with Mitsuhide hadn’t exactly been made public to the citizens, but the pleased state of both yourself and he was enough to assume.

And though they found it difficult to trust him, the fact that you were happy was enough.

“Come now, sweetheart.”

Tripping, you swore you had heard him wrongly.

Say what now-?

“Babe, there’s not much longer before we’re there. Did you require any assistance-?”

But you had once again zoned out. Impossible.

Granted you had your suspicions from his earlier questioning, but for him to carry it out… Your giggles and that seemingly painful blush was enough for your lover to press a gentle kiss against your burning forehead with a chuckle.

“My my, Princess. Had I known I would receive such wondrous reactions, I would’ve interrogated you earli-”

You slapped a hand over his mouth as your lips overturned into a slight pout, prompting another chuckle vibrating from that broad chest of his. And before you decided to storm off embarrassedly, you prodded him once in the chest with your alternate hand.

“Damn you, you…. stupid enemy of mine!”

Baffled, Mitsuhide couldn’t comprehend the term. And though he had quickly come to a conclusion that you were highly embarrassed by the pet name, he couldn’t help but grin at the irony of the name you had called him.

‘My enemy’… How fitting…

————————–

“Nooo~… Stop calling me those nicknames already!”

You see, as much as you enjoyed being called these names, there was that dilemma you had foreseen: That furious blush you had first made appear on your face several days ago had not yet faded, thanks to the sudden change in nicknames, and now you were actively avoiding your boyfriend. Naturally, with a man like Mitsuhide and his string of spies, hiding yourself was near-impossible and so here you were in the middle of a War Council, ‘hiding’ yourself in Hideyoshi’s right shoulder- much to Mitsuhide’s chagrin.

Face also buried in your hands, you pressed your forehead against the green haori you made for Nobunaga’s right-hand man. The man in question, however, just reached over his shoulder with his left hand and ruffled your hair comfortingly while Masamune and Nobunaga remained curled in hysterics, though the latter was somewhat closer to Mitsunari’s giggles.

Somewhat.

Ieyasu’s mutters didn’t help either. As grumpy as he usually was, the mild ramblings of “What a waste of time” and “Foolish couples” only spurred on Masamune’s laughter, the latter having had the timely luck of positioning himself beside the porcupine-like male.

“But sugar,” Mitsuhide continued, grinning, “Seeing your face simply brightens my day! Won’t you show it to me?”

“Nooo~”

If anything, your face was now pressed almost painfully against Hideyoshi’s back. As for how out of character Mitsuhide was, both you and he could honestly care less. If there was just one thing you could choose at this moment in time, it would be for your lover to stop calling you those sugary-sweet nicknames he knew you would never become accustomed to.

“Come now, Mitsuhide,” Hideyoshi began, shaking his head with an unmissable frown, “Surely that’s enough teasing?”

And the said male just chuckled, agreeing with the rhetorical question as reaching over to coax you from your ‘hidden’ position with the brush of his fingers to your hair and nape.

“Princess? Will you accept this humble soul’s apology-?”

But if you had anything against it, it was lost to the pearls of laughter and your trembling shoulders from Mitsuhide’s words. Just what part of him had a ‘humble soul’ again? As far as you were concerned, he was the most unorthodox warlord of them all… In his own way. (You had to admit, all the warlords you knew were unorthodox in their unique way.) I mean, how often do you see warlords carry out tortures on their own will? How often do you see warlords tease the way he does?

Mitsuhide was everything but ‘a humble soul’.

“Mitsuhide- love-” you wheezed between breaths of laughter, “Stop. Just stop, okay?”

Slapping your knee, you had unknowingly and audibly labelled your lover with a pet name selected on your own- something only Mitsuhide knew to be a mistake of yours. (You had long claimed yourself to be unable to call him by any other name than his own, after all.) But the other warlords- luckily- hadn’t taken notice, only smiling gently at the sound of your laughter.

Yet you padded over anyway, lips still tilted upwards as a reminder of your earlier fit of giggles, landing gently in Mitsuhide’s lap.

“Welcome back, little mouse.”

Though you had chosen to sit across his lap (rather than in his lap), your arms were wrapped around his neck and your face hidden in his right shoulder. And if it weren’t for the relaxed sigh and your overly-warm breath, he would’ve imagined that crimson blush drifting against his chest as his arms wound around your own. The sigh was one of comfort, he supposed, running his fingers through your hair and untangling what was knotted. Was it perhaps something to do with that old nickname he had brought back?

Ah, he chuckled to himself, I suppose I should question that later. There are more pressing concerns here, after all.

When the warlords were finally dismissed from their posts- granted, with open laughter from Nobunaga at the speed Mitsuhide had exited the room- the golden-eyed kitsune made a beeline to your shared room carrying you princess-style. Sliding the door shut with a talented foot, he settled you down in the futon gently and joined you, sliding a large, calloused hand in your own smaller ones.

“Princess,” he greeted, pressing his lips against your intertwined hands, “Will you look at me?”

Reverting your gaze, your eyes met his own, glittering deep with thought.

“Will the princess grace me with her thoughts?”

Your lips curled into a smile as you stared at the ceiling in wonder. Sure, you were willing to share your thoughts with him, though you supposed some form of teasing was required after everything he had put you through that week.

“And why should I?”

Crossing your arms, you huffed in false irritation though the small upturn of your lips spoke wonders. Teasing him in return was all you had wished for, but your fox-eyed lover had caught sight of that grin, along with that strange sparkle in your eye of the telltale cheekiness. And he played along, intertwining his opposing hand with your own and pushing you gently down to the futon below. His lips fell upon your own, greedily kissing you breathless. Panting quietly as he slowly raised his head, he took note of the sweet blush that had once again made it’s way to the curve of your cheeks.

“I was just thinking about how I’d much rather hear your nicknames for me, rather than the ones from… Well, my time.”

Mitsuhide’s chest just rumbled as his laughter- a true one- echoed through the room and sat up, pulling you into his lap.

“Of course, princess. Anything you ask for, you’ll receive.”

Pressing his lips gently against your forehead, you hummed against his chest in satisfaction. You didn’t need any of that. Any item Hideyoshi or anything else someone had given you was easily replaceable- something you had long since learnt. But it was he, that handsome, fox-eyed man that took your breath away; both literally and figuratively. It was he who managed to steal the one thing you initially weren’t willing to give- your heart- and that, solely, was what made him irreplaceable.

“I’ll never need anything more than you.”

The gentle squeeze around your waist was more than enough to tell you how he felt.

——————-

Bonus:

“Hm… If I recall correctly, you once called me “an enemy”. Care to elaborate? Hm?”

Cackling, your head tilted backwards as you, too, recalled the event. It was unintentional but the so-called term of endearment had suddenly come forth from the depths of your memory, prompting you to announce him as so.

There was no way in hell you would tell him just where you had learnt the name though. That much would be far too confusing for someone who knew next to nothing of modern shenanigans.

“That,” you wheezed in between words, “is a Korean pet name translated directly to Japanese.”

As Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed playfully from opposite the table, you held your hands up in mock surrender, backing away slowly as he stood.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear-”

But it was far too late. Long, pale and calloused had reached your sides, digging and poking gently as peals of precious laughter left your lips from his form of torture, left specifically for you. Your eyes were shut tightly as tears peered through the corner of your eyes, missing the joyful grin-cross-smile on Mitsuhide’s face.

“I- oh god- I yield! Mitsuhide! I- I yield!”

———————————–

And whether for the better or for the worse, every single time Hideyoshi would proclaim your lover to be a traitor, albeit using the term ‘enemy’, you would snicker quietly, only to soon send yourself into hysterics at the sight of Mitsuhide’s lips curled upwards in that same look of amusement.

And as usual, the warlords glanced at each other utterly perplexed at the sight.

Oh, if only the warlords knew why your laughter was so sweet.

#Ikemen Sengoku #Mitsuhide #My writing #oh god this is so late #T^T #I'm so sorry guys #Request

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heartcravings · 6 years ago

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50 Questions Tag!

@jongin-be-my-jagi tagged me for this a while ago, but I took my sweet time to answer. Here is my secret intel if you want to know me a little bit more!! Check hers as well, she’s an amazing writer and friend. 1. What takes up too much of your time? Tumblr, my stupid procrastination prone brain and my thesis.

2. What makes your day better? Friends and loved ones, music and these absolute dorks (Channie especially)

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today? I hopped on the mat today in the early hours of the morning, rain on my window and the neighbours cat peeking at me from his window across the street.

4. What fictional place would you like to go to? Wonderland, bacause it’s “curiouser and curiouser!”

'Who are you?' said the Caterpillar. Alice replied, rather shyly, 'I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'

5. Are you good at giving advice? I think so. Not so good at following my own advice though. I do always consider where the other is standing and if I don’t know how to proceed then I’ll just be honest and say I can’t help. But i’ll always listen with my heart.

6. Do you have any mental illnesses? Not diagnosed. I do think i might be going through something now.

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, but i have a recurring nightmare: the world is made of black and white paper thin layers. I am a paper thin person walking along a street surrounded by paper thin buildings. I walk for a long time, looking up at the white sky. Until the street ends, there is no more building and i fall into the abyss of a blank page. I have had this dream since the age of 8 or 9 years old. Fear of not being good enough, you say?! Ding, ding, ding!! We got a winner in the back! 8. What musician inspired you the most? I get inspired by music all the time!! One of my all time favourite songs is Spanish Sahara by Foals. Its sublime!

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So I’d say I’m mainly inspired by these artists: Queen, Arctic Monkeys, Foals, Radiohead, Bowie, Daughter, Bob Dylan, Beirut, Yeah yeah yeahs, Arcade Fire, The National, Joy Division, Blur, Warpaint, Gorillaz, Sufjan Stevens, Bon Iver, Chet Baker, The Cure, Courtney Barnett, The Maccabees, Car Seat Headrest, Florence + The Machine, Editors, Kasabian, Crystal Fighters, Death Cab for a cutie, The Doors, Efterklang, Explosions in the Sky, Franz Ferdinand, The Horrors, James Blake, José Gonzalez, Los Campesinos!, Metronomy, Nick Cave, Nina Simone, Patrick Watson, Phoenix, Sharon Van Etten, The Shins, Simon & Garfunkel, The Smiths, St.Vincent, The Strokes, Toro y Moi, tricot, Tune-Yards, TV on the radio, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, The Vaccines, Vampire Weekend, The Velvet Underground, The War on Drugs, Wild Beasts and Yo La Tengo.

And the electro, pop and hip-hop groves of my heart: EXO, 2NE1, Janelle Monáe, Big Bang, Kris Wu,LCD soundsystem, SBTRKT, Childish Gambino, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar and Daft Punk.

And special mentions to the portuguese ones (learning from yixing and promoting when i can :P): Capicua, Joana Espadinha, The Legendary Tigerman, Linda Martini, Mayra Andrade, Noiserv, Ornatos Violeta, Paus, Samuel Uria, You Can’t Win Charlie Brown and The Silence 4. I know, tldr right? Sorry folks! 9. Have you ever fallen in love? Yes I have. I have mistaken a crush for love too. But i have definitely been very deeply in love. A wrecked kintsugi heart over here people! 10. What’s your dream date? I don’t think I have one. I’d love to do something unique with that someone special, something special for the two of us. It could be as simple as riding the subway while sharing earphones & listening to our playlist or walking the dogs out! Idk, I’m easy to please. But right now it would have to be with this handsome man :D pretty please?!

11. What do others notice about you? I am very kind and warm hearted, so I think that’s what people first notice when meeting me. Although I maintain good eye contact, I am also timid and will be quieter if there are very energetic people in the group. When alone, I usually take the first step and try to meet people, but only if i really must. 12. What’s an annoying habit you have? It’s really hard for me to ask for help. I also like to tell detailed descriptions of everything... Couldn’t you tell? 13. Do you still talk to your first love? I’ll text him on his birthday and he does the same to me. We met when we were 10 years old and that childhood friendship remains. But regarding my one and truly deep relationship, no we do not talk, unless we randomly meet.

14. How many exes do you have? I have three exes. The first love who was just an idealized crush on my childhood friend: we dated for 2 weeks during summer break xD Then my first real boyfriend, we met in my first year at university, dated for quite some time, he really loved me and made me love myself a little more. Finally the one i loved too much. I mended his wounds and made him love himself as much as I did. I always say all the love we feel makes our hearts grow bigger. I do not regret loving any of them, I am me now due to them and I would not change it if I could. 15. How many songs are in your playlist? I have way too many playlists for each and every mood... But my favourite songs list on spotify has about 1500 songs! uwu! 16. What instruments can you play? Triangles and flute?! I had mandatory music classes in school... so in reality I can’t really play a instrument...

17. Who do you have the most pictures of? Probably my cat, Sushi. With a second close of my doodles and sketches.

18. Where would you like to go before you die? EVERY WHERE!!! But I really want to go to Japan and Scotland and Iceland and South Korea and New Zealand and i’ll shut up. 19. What’s your zodiac? Capricorn. 20. Do you relate to it? Sort of.

21. What is happiness to you? You know when it’s really cold outside in the winter and you manage to find a sheltered place where no wind can hit you and you still get to feel the warm rays of the winter suns on your skin? You hear the birds outside and you are contempt in that moment, at peace. That is happiness to me. 22. Are you going through anything right now? Yes, I am a bit lost. Trying to finish my thesis and trying to find what I want to do after. It’s liberating but also pretty scary. 23. What’s the worst decision you ever made? It’s a series of small decisions really. It started with going for a phd with the same people i worked in my msc. Should have gone to a different place. Then deciding to come home after a traumatic loss in the family. Should have kept my life going but I stalled it then. (I don’t regret helping my loved ones though).

24. What’s your favourite store? Probably Wishtrend for beauty stuff. Other than that I don’t have any favourite brands/stores. 25. (HALFWAY!) What’s your opinion on abortion? I think everyone is free to decide what they want or need to do. I couldn’t possible judge. If I would it? Probably not.

27. Do you have a favourite album? I don’t think so, I have favourite tunes for different moods and moments in my life. But if threatened with my life, I’d maybe say Total Life Forever from Foals.

28. What do you want for your birthday? It’s such a long time until my birthday comes! But maybe a real EXO ot9 reunion as a goodbye to Minseok?

29. What is most people’s first impression of you? Friendly and easy to open up to, i think.

30. What age do you seem according to most people? In real life, people usually think I am way younger than I am. 31. Where do you keep your phone when you’re sleeping? In the crook of my bed, between the mattress and the bed frame.

32. What word do you say the most? No idea really! 33. What’s the oldest age you’d date? 40s? I don’t think too much about age actually.

34. What’s the youngest age you’d date? 20s? Again not very important to me. Love is love, whomever, whenever and wherever <3

35. What job / career do most people say would suit you? I don’t know! People always say i don’t totally fit in anything... so there’s that. If you have an idea please let me know! 36. What’s your favourite music genre? Go back to question 8. I listen to everything! :D 37. If you could live in any country in the world where would it be? I’d like to live around the world, every few months a different place and get to know different cultures.

38. What is your current favourite song? I’ve been obsessed with RM’s intro/teaser song, Map of the Soul: Persona. (I’m not even a bts fan, but this music and lyrics just touched me a lot.)

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39. How long have you had this blog for? I think for about 6 years? It’s my personal space, where I dump all my obsessions.

40. What are you excited for? I’m visiting some friends in Granada in a couple of weeks. Yay, tapas!

41. Are you a better talker or listener? Normally I am a better listener. But there are a few people to whom i open like a book. Either words flow right out of me without even thinking or they see throw me. Those truly are my people.

42. What is the last productive thing you did? Prepped meals and cleaned the kitchen. Open the folder and file of my thesis. Read the latest chapter I wrote. 43. What do you want for Christmas? Well, just like for my birthday, there is still such a long time to it! But let’s say i want to have already finish this part of my life and want to find my next adventure.

44. What class do you get the best grades in? No more exams! Ehehe! But I used to have good grades at everything. Physical Education was my lowest mark i think.

45. On a scale of 1-10 how do you feel right now? Right now, a 4? I have a headache.

46. What can you see yourself doing in 10 years? Smiling? :D I want to be happy in my own skin. To feel contempt in my life, doing something that gives me a sense of purpose and having time to share and enjoy with my friends and family. 47. When did you get your first heartbreak? Oh my kintsugi heart has been broken quiet a lot. By friends and lovers and even by myself. I keep patching it up with gold dreams though. 48. At what age do you wanna be married? I will only want to be married if i find the one. So until then I guess.

49. What career did you want to have as a child? I wanted to be an astronaut and a ballerina. Preferably both!

50. What do you crave right now? Just sitting somewhere and listening to Yeol play the guitar.

Well i finished it! :D I’ll tag @thedeviousdo @ohsenhun @hongseok and @paepsi. I’d love to read yours! Feel free to dismiss it though, it is quite a lot. Lots of love everyone!! <3 <3 <3

#50 questions tag #personal #sam's ramblings #mutuals #hope you enjoy reading about boring old me :)#it's very long i know! i talk too much

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scarletjedi · 7 years ago

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You said that you don't have to choose a Ray in Due South, because both Rays are wonderful for different reasons. Can you talk about those reasons? I love RayV, but I've had a hard time liking Kowalski. There's something about his personality that irritates me.

Sure!

Remember, that all of this is my opinion, and one that has been shaped and polished by 20 years of fanfic. This is also long, hence it’s under the cut :D

I wanna begin by saying that I loved Ray V first. When I started watching Due South (because I read a .rtf fic names XDS - a crossover between X-Files, Due South, and Star Wars that I came to though Star Wars and read because I knew X-Files and figured I could learn enough about Due South to make it work), the show was playing on TNT in the afternoons, and may have actually been *before* Ray Kowalski made an appearance.

I watched the first two seasons, I started reading Due South fic alongside Star Wars fic. I discovered Slash, and read a few Ray V/Fraser stories with my Luke/Wedge and Luke/Biggs fic, but at the time I was mostly reading Fraser/Frannie or Fraser/Thatcher.

I didn’t dislike Fraser/Ray V, but I was young -- young enough that I worried about my parents finding the one slash fic that I dared print out (my dad had the internet, my mom didn’t. So, I’d print out stories on the weekend and read them over the week).

Then I found out about Ray K and I stopped watching Due South. I was pissed! You can’t just replace one half of the duo! It doesn’t work like that! But, eventually, I came back. I missed Fraser, and figured I’d give Ray K a shot - and I loved him. They knew not to make him try and fill the same niche - and, when they finally met, the clash between them was perfectly done to highlight the different roles they filled. I dived headfirst into Fraser/Ray K fic (partially because I was older and had lost my hesitation around slash fic, and partially because my mom had finally gotten the internet).

And that, I think, is the crux of the issue. Ray V and Ray K offer Fraser a different relationship because they’re different people and satisfy different needs - thus telling a different story.

Let’s begin with Ray V.

When you look at the beginning of the series, Fraser, like the protagonist of any fantasy story, is orphaned (literally, the first scene is Bob Fraser’s death) and alone- he’s the odd duck, the isolated character to facilitate his travel. it’s hard to go off and be a hero when you have responsibilities at home (hence why in Star Wars Luke doesn’t leave Tatooine until Owen and Beru are killed, or why Harry Potter is hated by the Dursleys). With no siblings (yet), and his mother and grandparents dead before the series, Fraser has no family.

The driving force of the series is thus born, Fraser is looking for the killers of his father - the last of his family (even if he was a terrible father). The family relationships in the show are all very important, and are highlighted in different ways, thus giving us the theme of the Ray V seasons - the importance of family.

Because, Ray V is *lousy* with family in a way that most Italian-American families are - you don’t always like your family, but you *all* gather for dinner when Ma makes her Sunday Gravy. And, in the *pilot* when he’s known this crazy mountie for less than 12 hours, he invites Ben HOME to his FAMILY for FOOD. (Ben is clearly uncomfortable, and it’s played for comedy, but it’s also heartbreaking. Ben is not used to effusive emotion --or any emotion-- and he is certainly not used to so many people acting like such a family.) Ray, in a sense, adopts Fraser.

Now, you can say that taking Fraser home could be a “meeting the family” moment, like bringing home a new girlfriend. Ray is defensive of Fraser’s honor when Frannie hits on him, after all.

But, there’s something about it that smacks more of *family* to me - he brought Ben home to be his *brother* and give Ben the surrogate family he has missed. (hence why Frannie throws herself at him - and also why Fraser keeps turning her down. Textually it’s because she’s his best friend’s sister, but thematically, she’s his new sister as well)

Further, Ray V doesn’t react with jealousy when Victoria blows into down on her ill wind - he’s proud, and supportive, and then defensive when he realizes how terrible she is for Ben.

I mean, yeah, Mrs. Fraser does dance with Ray V, but it’s because Ray V is the “safe” option. Now, if you want to say that’s because Ray V and Fraser are lovers? I can see why! It was certainly important in the few fics I have read, and I see it.

I think, ultimately, Ray V as Fraser’s New Family was the intent of the writers, and the writing on this show is *tight*. It makes sense that, with a plot focused on finding what ended your old family, you find new family.

But then came the brief hiatus, Paul Gross taking over more creative control, and Collum Keith Rennie. PG said in an interview that they’d taking Ray K in a new direction, “very homoerotic, the fans will love it”

And...they did. Ray V’s telephone call - the ache in his voice because he knows that he’s not gonna be able to say goodbye (like Bob) is palpable, and feels almost like a breakup, signaling a shift in tone. This is no longer a show about the search for family - Ben found his family. Even with Ray V off screen, there’s no doubt that Fraser is a Vecchio -- but about finding a *parter*

There’s red ships and green ships but no ships like partnerships.

This half of the show gives us not only this line, but highlights the relationship between Buck and Bob (that was began in Ray V’s season), and focuses more than ever on pairing Fraser off (with more female love interests than Victoria, even though none of them pan out) and on Ray K’s divorce.

Textually, they are two bachelors lonely for love. Thematically, the focus is on romantic parings, not brotherhood.

“A partnership is like a marriage, son”

Ray K comes in, and he doesn’t try to be Fraser’s brother. Fraser has a brother, and wouldn’t welcome Ray K to try and fill Ray V’s shoes. They spend an entire episode showing all the way Ray K would never wear Ray V’s shoes (and not just because Ray K wears boots like Steve McQueen and Ray V wears Italian Leather), and also showing us that Ray K *is there for Fraser anyway*, symbolically taking a bullet the way Ray V did.

(We also see Ray K fall hard for Fraser’s sister in a way that’s dropped, showing the audience, thematically and sub-textually, what they can’t textually because of the censors)

This new Ray, he’s sharp, he’s prickly, he’s “d-u-m, dumb” the way Vecchio was slick, as a way to disarm and play off of the straight forward image of Fraser’s serge. He’s a paradox - a crack shot who wears glasses, a vulnerable tough guy, a romantic punk. He gets under Fraser’s skin in such a way that Fraser begins to relax around him as well. I admit, I have an existing fondness for the tough-guy-with-a-heart-of-gold, and Ray K is that to a T. He’s not perfect (stalking his X, hello), but he tries to be better, and that I appreciate. It makes him a dynamic character. He has a temper, but he flashes quickly and then cools - it’s a good foil to Fraser’s simmering anger.

Remember, Fraser told Ray V about Victoria, and Ray V was sleeping.

Fraser tells Ray K about Gerrard. and Muldoon. and Bob.

Ray K tells Fraser about Stella. and the Bank. and Beth Botrelle.

The audience gets more of Fraser underneath his serge as a result of his relationship with Ray K - who is, himself, an “orphan” (estranged and living at a distance, his closest “family” is his ex-wife) can connect with Fraser on that level because he gets it in a way that Ray V, who has never not had his family, can’t fully.

All of this comes to a head in the finale, when the Rays meet, and we see them clash - this is the “bringing the boyfriend home” moment. Ray K, the “boyfriend” meets Ray V, the “brother”, and the Brother wants to know if the boyfriend is good enough. They tense, and then they both go after Fraser because Fraser draws people in his wake like he walked through a line of streamers.

They go north, and Ray K steps up as Fraser’s parter, taking an interest in the North in a way that Ray V never did (Ray K goes on the quest, Ray V tried to install modern plumbing). An that quest? The closest to “ride off together into the sunset” that I’ve seen outside of Disney.

Ultimately, Ray V sees Fraser like his family: He doesn’t need to understand him, because he loves him and that’s what families do.

Ray K sees Fraser like his spouse: What he doesn’t already understand, he tries to because it’s important to Fraser to be understood.

Both are amazing partners for Fraser to have. Both fill different niches. Both are telling different stories.

#due south #meta #Benton Fraser #Ray Vecchio #Ray Kowalski #Anonymous

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years ago

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Klaine one-shot - “Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night” (Rated PG)

Kurt goes roaming through the woods on the outskirts of Dalton, trying to clear his head. He gets lost, and while he's alone, he runs into a feathery confidante who listens to him gripe about his love life ... or lack thereof. (3645 words)

Notes: This is a re-write, but I think I might like this one a little bit better. It's literally 180 degrees different from the story it's based off of. Please let me know what you all think. :) Also I know you guys are all going to get the twist in the first few paragraphs. You don't need to tell me xD

Read on AO3.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night … take these broken wings and learn to fly … all your life … you were only waiting for this moment to arise …

Kurt had started singing to punctuate the quiet as he walked the grounds of Dalton Academy, but the more he focuses on the words, on what they mean to him, the more they bring tears to his eyes.

How is it that, by taking a step forward, he’d managed to take so many steps backward?

He’d come to Dalton to escape the bullying he’d been enduring, unchecked, for years at his old high school.

And it worked.

But it came at a price, larger than the hefty one his father had to pay to enroll him here.

Behind Dalton’s red brick walls, where he’s free to be his true and authentic self, he feels more confused than ever. Wasn’t coming out supposed to be the difficult part? But he’d gone through that with flying colors (aside from the roided up jock who’d threatened to kill him). He had the support of his father and his closest friends. And to top it off, he’d found his new sanctuary - a school where he could walk down the hallways with his head held high, and absolutely no fear of being tossed into a dumpster or shoved into a locker.

He should feel complete. Fulfilled.

But he’s not quite there yet.

There’s something missing.

Being accepted for who he is was only half of the dream.

Finding love with someone like him was the other half.

How often had he lamented the fact that he couldn’t walk the halls of McKinley with a boy, or take a boy to prom?

He still can’t, but at Dalton, theoretically, he can.

And when he’d imagined his mythical boyfriend, he didn’t have anyone in mind.

But now, he does.

For all intents and purposes, he’s in love.

And as far as he can tell, the boy in question loves him back …

… as a friend.

Kurt thought he could handle that, thought he could be the supportive bestie while his crush explored his options, and the boundaries of his sexuality, but it’s harder than he thought it would be.

It’s kind of breaking his heart.

Whoever said better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all can go die in a fire because this – this ache in his chest that gets worse every time Kurt sees him, that keeps him awake at night, that grows thorns and pierces his heart with every breath – sucks.

Kurt stops singing but keeps walking, his feet carrying him past the lacrosse field towards a tree line at the edge of the grounds that he’s never explored before. He knows it’s part of Dalton since the outermost limits of the property are surrounded by a high stone fence that you have to drive through when you arrive on campus. Every inch of the grounds are patrolled by security day and night so, technically, it should be safe.

Still, it looks like the kind of place a lone protagonist might get murdered by a masked man with a chainsaw, even at four in the afternoon.

But Kurt can’t help himself. He keeps walking. He has to make it there. Those trees – looming tall, each topped by a thick crown of green leaves blotting out the sky - seem to be calling him, as if they know of his confusion and have the answers he seeks.

Kurt sighs. He knows he must be lonely – or going insane – if he’s about to consult with trees. Too bad he didn’t bring his phone. He could have called Rachel. Or Mercedes. They’d drive over in a snap bearing popcorn, chocolate, and a stack of old musicals to help him through this crisis.

The only reason he didn’t?

He’s embarrassed.

Leaving McKinley for Dalton, leaving New Directions for The Warblers, was supposed to solve all of his problems.

He doesn’t feel like admitting it didn’t.

He’d feel silly and shallow telling them why.

He walks deeper into the woods (if he can call it that), far enough that he can’t see the towers of Dalton when he turns around. Far enough that he can’t see anything but trees behind him … and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Having turned a full circle twice, he no longer remembers in which direction he came. He’s not a Boy Scout. Kurt Hummel doesn’t do the outdoors. He doesn’t hike.

He has no clue why he chose to start now, alone, and without a link to civilization.

Great. Just great. He came out here to the solitude of nature to find a solution to his problems, and he created a bigger one.

He’s going to die.

In retrospect, that might solve a few of his problems. Plus, it would be poetic. And what else could he ask for in a death (other than it happen in a hundred years instead of today)?

Calm down, he tells himself. You’re not going to die. If he just stays where he is, security is sure to happen by eventually. Or another student. He can’t be the only person who’s ever decided to go walking through these trees.

Kurt turns another circle, squinting through the cluster of trunks, trying to pinpoint a navy blue jacket, or a security officer’s uniform.

Or one of those red cloaked monsters from the movie The Village.

Those vibrant red cloaks remind Kurt of the letterman jackets worn by the jocks at McKinley, how he would jump out of his skin whenever he saw a hint of one turning a corner, or passing by the choir room when he was alone inside, and his blood turns to ice. He holds his breath, listening for the sound of footsteps in the dried leaves, the snapping of twigs, overcome by the feeling that he’s not alone.

That he is, in fact, being watched.

He swallows hard, his heart a lump so heavy, it almost drags him to the ground. He considers calling out: “Hello? Is there anyone there?” when he hears a scream – loud and piercing, coming from nearby. He freezes, the sound just about stopping his heart. He grabs his messenger bag, slung around his shoulder, and hugs it to his chest, since it’s the only thing he has with him that can be used as a weapon. He mentally inventories the items inside: two pencils, his spiral bound notebook, his calculus text book, some sheet music - hardly anything he could use to fend off an ax murderer. The calculus book weighs about ten pounds, so if he threw it hard enough, that might slow down his attacker. The pencils are his best bet, but they, unfortunately, are a close quarters sort of weapon.

The sheet music is entirely useless, unless he finds himself pursued by a homicidal maniac with a penchant for show tunes.

Kurt remains still as solid stone, waiting to see if that scream will happen again, even though he knows it would probably be a wiser decision to run. He may not know which direction the dorms are, but anywhere but here seems like a good direction to go. As his feet come close to acting on that decision, he hears the screech again - closer this time.

It doesn’t sound human. That’s a positive, he guesses.

But it does sound like it’s coming from directly above him, and that’s a definite negative.

Kurt rolls his eyes up, his body shaking as he visualizes the kind of creature that might make that sound poised in the branches above him, waiting for him to notice it so it can pounce on him monster movie style. But it’s not above him. It’s in the tree beside him, up and to the left, on a branch growing perpendicularly out from the trunk and stretching its woody fingers over his head.

It’s not a monster. It’s a raven, peering down at him with what seems to be a curious expression on its feathery, black face.

The two consider one another in silence. Then, unexpectedly, the bird opens its beak and emits the same, guttural screech. Kurt yelps in surprise.

“Oh, Jesus Christmas! Do you have to do that?” he snaps. He hasn’t seen a real live raven before so he never knew they sounded like that – like an old man choking on toast. But there is a sense of gravitas to this moment. From the little he knows about ornithology, ravens are rare in Ohio. If he had his phone with him, he’d be taking a ton of pictures right now.

Maybe he could show them to Mr. Phelps, his life science teacher, and bring up his grade.

He makes a note to never forget his phone on any outing he takes ever again.

He steps back to get a better look at the black smudge of an animal inclining questioningly at him. It caws, head bobbing left and right, watching him with keen interest.

“What am I doing here?” Kurt asks, assuming that’s the only question this bird might have for him, seeing as Kurt has been asking himself that same question for the past several minutes. Why the heck is he in this forest? What did he think he was going to find in here?

The raven caws.

“I’m just … going for a walk,” Kurt explains. “Clearing my head. Trying to get my thoughts in order. I’m … actually struggling through some things. Relationship sort of issues … or the lack thereof.” Kurt blinks at the raven staring down at him and frowns. “And … you’re a raven. You don’t understand a word I’m saying.”

The raven recites a series of mimicked word segments that sound unsettlingly like an answer. Then it sits on its branch and tilts its head – its default position for waiting for Kurt’s response.

But Kurt knows it’s not. He knows rationally that a raven, as intelligent as they are, is not asking him questions, nor waiting for an answer. But Kurt is tired – emotionally beat. He has things he needs to get off his chest, but he has been hard pressed to find a non-invested third party ear anywhere.

He had originally intended on commiserating with the trees. He’s in no position to be picky.

Besides, he just needs to vent. He doesn’t necessarily want someone to solve his problems, just to listen.

Considering his limited options, bird it is.

Alright, he thinks. Here goes nothing.

“If you want to know, then here it is.” Kurt sighs, and for all of the ridiculous this is, it seems the raven takes a step closer and leans a hair in. “I transferred to Dalton expecting everything in my life to change for the better. And it has, for the most part. I feel free – free to be me for the first time in my life. With a few minor exceptions, Dalton is everything I could have asked for and more … except for one thing.” The raven takes a step closer, tilts its head in the opposite direction, and continues to stare, patiently waiting. Kurt stares back at it, expecting it to tire of him and fly away just to prove his point, but it jerks its head up as if encouraging him to continue. “You see, Mr. Bird … can I call you Mr. Bird?” The raven clucks. Kurt takes that as a yes. “There’s this guy. His name is Blaine. He’s my best friend, and I would never, ever want to lose his friendship, but …” He cringes at how clingy he sounds. How whiny. “I don’t want to sound reductive. I don’t want my life to be about needing a boyfriend, because it’s not. My life is about me. Me, me, me. I know that. I really do, but … it feels so good having him around - having someone standing in my corner, cheering me on, holding my hand when things get rough. Someone who isn’t my dad, or my friends from Glee. Someone who looks at me and sees the things that have been so hard for me to see my whole life.” Kurt puts up a defensive hand, as if afraid the raven is going to butt in before he gets the chance to finish. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve always known that I’m better than Ohio, better than McKinley, better than the bullies and the drama. I don’t necessarily need him to point that out to me. I can stand on my own two feet.” Kurt shakes his head. “But it’s nice, you know? I don’t need a boyfriend. But I’d like one. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, and I’d like it to be him.”

The raven ruffles it wings, clucks softly, and Kurt can’t help the crazy feeling that the thing honestly seems interested.

“I’m sure you know,” Kurt jokes to get over the awkwardness that he’s pouring his heart out to a bird. “Flying all over, you must stumble upon people falling in love from time to time? An impromptu proposal in the park, or friends skating on the Auglaize River in winter, discovering for the first time together just how much they love one another? Or maybe I’m just a silly romantic, and I should get my head out of the clouds. I want a chance with him so badly. But, if it was meant to happen, shouldn’t it have happened by now? I mean, we have coffee together every day, we sing flirty duets together …” Kurt shoots a nervous glance around on the off-chance other ears are overhearing this part of the conversation. There aren’t any. It’s just him, the raven, and the trees. “I thought … all of that meant something. But I think I just made it all up in my head? Didn’t I? I mean, what did I expect? For him to show up at my bedroom door with a red rose and say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you my entire life. Please go out with me?’?”

The raven hops down a few branches closer to him.

“It’s not just that he’s handsome,” Kurt muses with a far off look. “He’s talented, kind, charming ... I’ve never met anyone like him. I look up to him. He’s confident, and so damned sure of himself. Sometimes it’s almost like he’s not human or something. Or … you know … too good to be true.” Kurt leans back on an obliging tree and exhales. “And you know what they say – if something’s too good to be true, it usually is.” Kurt picks at a sliver of loose bark, working it away from the trunk as he talks. “I wish I was better at the casual flirting thing, you know?” He asks the question, expecting an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he makes a face for being stupid, but feels compelled to continue. “I wish I had some kind of sign, that I knew for certain he and I are on the same wavelength. That he’s not just that way with everybody. That he’s interested in me … as more than a friend.”

Clouds pass overhead, and the sky suddenly darkens. From what Kurt can see of their grey silhouettes, it looks like it might rain. The raven twists to look over its shoulder, at the sunlight barely breaking through the cover, then back at Kurt, giving him an apologetic sounding caw, and Kurt knows that their conversation has come to an end.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Go on.” Kurt waves the bird away. “I know you’ve got … raven things to do. Thanks for the ear. I’d better get going, too … if I can find my way out of this place.”

The raven hops up to a higher branch, ready to launch, but before it spreads its wings, it gestures ahead with an emphatic nod. Kurt looks in that direction, and with a hint of understanding, points.

“That way?” he says, feeling the stupidest he has since this began. But considering he’s lost, he’s not about to look a potential gift horse in the mouth. “Dalton is that way?”

The raven caws. It sounds affirmative.

“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Bird. I’ll be seeing you … I guess.”

The bird nods again and takes off. It circles once overhead, then flies away. Kurt watches the raven go, swiftly climbing higher, disappearing above the leaves. Kurt wishes he could fly away, too. Not from Dalton, per se, but from himself for a while. Take a break from his hectic life and his confusing feelings so he can come up with an answer to this. Pluck up the courage to do what he wants to do and ask Blaine out. Birds have long been thought of as messengers of the natural world, right? Maybe this raven, appearing out of nowhere in a place where it shouldn’t logically be and listening to his woes, is the sign Kurt was looking for.

But a sign of what exactly?

Only Kurt can answer that question. No mystical bird can make that decision for him.

And he can’t expect the universe to lend him a hand twice in one day.

***

It’s around eight o’clock in the evening when a knock on the door of Kurt’s room lures him out his ear buds and the super angsty playlist he’d compiled earlier just for the occasion. It was a combination of show tunes he’d been narrowing down for an upcoming audition, along with some standard ballads, and a few top 40 tunes he thought Blaine would appreciate.

Songs they could be listening to if they were in his room together, lying side by side on his bed, sharing his ear buds, and enjoying the rain that had been falling steadily for the last few hours. Kurt always thought of rain as romantic, but right now, it only seemed to emphasize how lonely he felt.

“Who is it?” Kurt calls, puzzled because he’s not expecting anyone.

The halls have been quiet since before dinner time. It’s Friday night, and a large majority of the boys in his dorm head home over the weekend … including Blaine. He would be, too, except he has a huge project due in lit class on Monday. Besides, Finn would be spending the weekend attached to Rachel’s hip, and he wasn’t in the mood to act as third wheel. When no one answers, he says, “I’m coming,” and gets up to open the door. He fully expects to find the hallway empty, himself the victim of a good-natured practical joke, probably by Jeff or Nick. They’d been hounding him lately to tell them what’s up. They always seem to be the first to notice when something is bothering anyone. But instead, he comes face to face with Blaine, standing somewhat strangely with one arm tucked behind his back. Kurt’s face lights up.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Blaine says, a guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but I waited till the dorm emptied out because I wanted to get you alone.”

“No, no, no. That’s okay.” Kurt steals a quick glance at Blaine’s outfit. He’s out of uniform, and a bit less casually dressed than usual in pale yellow slacks and a short-sleeved white button down, with a black-and-white checkered sweater vest over that. His hair is slicked down, as per usual, but it looks more meticulously styled.

Like he’s going on a date.

Which brings Kurt’s attention to the state of his own clothes - half dressed in his uniform, blazer gone, tie loosened, top button unbuttoned. He’s barefoot, and his slacks have to be wrinkled to the high heavens. He’s not sure that his room is Blaine’s last stop, but he feels like he should excuse himself for a moment to change.

“Shoot,” Kurt says, crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously. “What’s so important that you waited until now to talk to me?”

“Uh … you are, actually.” Blaine pulls his hand from behind his back, and with it, a single red rose. It’s positively exquisite – the single most beautiful rose Kurt has ever seen. “Because I’ve begun to realize that maybe I’ve been a tad too subtle when it comes to my feelings towards you. I’m not good at romance, Kurt. I know how to act it out in song ...”

“You’ve told me that before,” Kurt interrupts, his eyes leaving the rose to focus on Blaine’s face.

“I know. But what I want to re-iterate is the I don’t want to screw this up part. Because I think there’s a chance that I have been. I’ve been stumbling through a mess of new feelings, most of them for you, and I haven’t been handling them well. And for that, I apologize.” He takes Kurt’s hand, raises it, and slips the rose between his fingers. Then he leans forward and whispers: “I’ve been waiting for you my entire life, Kurt. Please … go out with me?”

Kurt looks at Blaine, and his beautiful rose, in awe. How had he gone from hoping for exactly this to it showing up at his doorstep in one day? Kurt had no idea. He wasn’t that lucky. “How did you know …?” Kurt shakes his head, disbelieving, unable to complete that question. Because Kurt can only come up with one answer, and it’s too impossible to believe.

That raven wasn’t necessarily a sign, he tells himself.

Maybe his luck is simply changing.

Falling in love with your best friend? It happened every day, didn’t it? Why shouldn’t it happen to him?

“Call it intuition.” Blaine shrugs, smiling as Kurt puts the rose to his nose and sniffs. “Or … we can say a little birdy told me.”

#klaine fanfiction #Klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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kryptsune · 6 years ago

Note

For the trope prompt: star crossed lovers fell!frans (you got me hooked on this ship i blame you XD)

🌼This was an old RP that I had sitting around between @riskyredfontaine and I. I thought it worked nicely for this prompt. I have so many of these it is not even funny. It is literally just a google drive filled with one-shots and other writing. I also… I have no shame in converting you my friend >;3 Risk is OTP and life. I will win everyone over one shipper at a time! MUHAHAHAHA

~~~Heaven and Hell~~~

It was a late morning as the sunlight streamed through the only open portion of the curtains. It was mid-morning at least. A girl with a short auburn bob of hair lay in bed. She was wearing only a black tank top and a pair of white shorts with little blue hearts all over them. One of her hands hung limply off the side of the bed as she snoozed. It was clear from her appearance alone that her physical prowess was probably lacking but she had a greater power. It was a hidden power. An ancient one. As well as a task. To protect the mortals of this world from the immortals wanting to cause havoc. She mainly slept in so late due to her late night missions and one mission in particular always weighed heavy on her mind. All she knew was after a long day at work all she wanted was to come home to the person in her life that meant the most to her. She just prayed that he would never learn the truth about her “side” job.

Red always tended to sleep in, the guy was a night owl for sure, but made the attempt to get up during the day for her. In truth, this was why he sought others. He refused to harm her. He even went so far as to protect her from others like him. He had no such loyalties. There was this feeling that he received when human’s soul, their essence, drained away giving him added life and vitality. It was a wondrously almost addictive thing. He kept her blissfully ignorant of his life after dark. It was one of the reasons why they lived together and yet stayed in separate rooms.

Now, Red was awake and the scent of bacon wafted from the kitchen in the house that they now shared.

Frisk groaned lightly as the scent of succulent juicy bacon found its way into her room. Her inky lashes parted to reveal stunning cobalt blue eyes like sparkling gems. She moved her head to look at the clock only to gasp and scramble out of bed. The hardest part about being some kind of anointed demon hunter was the cleanup. She would come home with wounds that would heal quickly but difficult to explain. Totally forgetting that fact she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen still in her pajamas. How embarrassing. She rubbed her eyes gently before taking a place on one of the bar stools, “Good morning.”

He used his band gigs as a kind of cover as not to raise suspicion not that humans even believed in his kind in the first place. The acceptance of monsters had made it easier for him to blend him being a skeleton and all. He gave her a sharp-toothed grin, “Mornin kitten.” We came close to her, kissing her deeply. Her scent intoxicated him so very much. It was from this love that kept her from feeling his teeth in her soul. The only time she ever felt his sharp teeth was when he loved to nibble at her neck, “I admit.. I don’t want to go ta my gig tonight and spend all ma time with ya instead sweetheart.” He had a smirk on his face the usual fair, “And uh somethin else~”

It was a good thing that she was not eating or drinking anything because she would have either choked or spit it out. She recollected her rather scattered thoughts to clear her throat. Her cheeks were a pale pink, “Kinky but not unwanted. I’m sorry I was out kind of late last night so I got up too late.” She did not know why she had to apologize for her own schedule but she had not seen him much lately. She was not one to back down from a challenge even if he was not joking but no one in this world could cause her to melt like Red could. It was simply unnatural and unfair. She smirked lightly, “Humm did I say I was out late at the hospital? Nah, I was at a strip club because my boyfriend is just so rough with me” She knew he was playing around.

He chuckled, “Eat yer breakfast. Then after….” He did not even have to finish his sentence. He had no shame with that baritone voice and people wondered why his singing was always so entrancing. He leaned in close behind her whispering something in her ear laughing when her reaction caused her to nearly fall off the stool she was sitting on.

Frisk was wrong dead wrong. She should have known better but damn who could say no to- Her thoughts were cut off for a moment by the growl that just randomly came from her stomach “Uhh… I guess I am more hungry than I thought. ” There was something about the way he spoke that just put her into almost a trance. It was hard to stay focused. How the hell did she snag him in the first place?

He could say the same. What about her called to him that made him want to keep her and not just play with her and kill her? It was something he spent hours thinking upon and never held an answer for. He moved away from her, putting a plate of bacon and eggs with toast on the table, “Eat up kitten.”

Frisk had spotted a look in his eyes that told her he was deep in thought. She was not going to question it and instead turned her attention on her lovingly prepared breakfast. Her hand reached for the fork only to place some eggs on the toast munching quietly. “You know you don’t have to make breakfast for me. I feel bad enough already sleeping in so late.”

He stood behind the island and rested his elbow on the countertop before speaking softly, “Well I wanted to.” He took a plate for himself mimicking her action of placing the eggs upon the buttered piece of toast in his hand, “I figured you’d be hungry in any case.” He did not exactly have to eat the way monsters or humans had to but he could still enjoy a meal. It was not like he could not taste just that his body did not need food to survive.

Frisk flushed slightly he was always so thoughtful of her even when she felt as though she was not of him. She had been so exhausted lately that normally she would just come home and crash as soon as she was in the vicinity of a nearby couch or bed. She just prayed that she never ever brought her work home with her. She did not know what she would do without him. After a while, she just smiled and shook her head, “How on earth did I manage to be with a guy like you? You’re too good to me.”

There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice, “Guess ya got lucky huh? I’ve got another gig tonight so I’ll be out late, rougher part of town but it’s payin me well. The sooner ya eat as well the sooner I can relax those tired muscles of yours.” He emphasized the last part with a wink. His fingers were like magic when it came to giving massages, among other things.

Frisk stared at her empty plate for only a moment, “I sure as hell hope luck had nothing to do with it.” She shook her head before nodding and pushing her plate away, “Alright. I think I might take the day off. I have not been feeling so well lately”. His wink only caused the flush on her cheeks to spread further.

That just fueled the fire more, “Ooh I gets ya all to m'self, do I? Well then.” He rose to his feet and pulled her up to him, “Let’s make up for missed nights shall we?” He claimed her lips in a deep kiss holding her tightly to him. He loved all of her, to be sure, every part of her from her feistiness to her loving loyalty to him. They were traits that only she possessed and it made him lover hare all the more.

Stars Frisk was unable to resist that freaking smirk and let’s face it his hands all over her. Her cheeks only darkened in color as she was not prepared for the sudden kiss. He was tall but not too much taller than her so she usually had to look up at him. She was about to answer his question before she was caught off guard by the deep kiss. It caused her head to spin a little bit. He was like a drug that she just could not get enough of, “o…only until you leave for your gig.” She replied rather breathlessly in an attempt to calm her already racing heart.

He said as he pulled back, “Then we got plenty of time, darlin~” He beckoned her toward the open door of her bedroom, “Com’ere and lay down kitten and let’s get ya nice and relaxed shall we?” He certainly had ulterior motives if his tone held any indication. This was typical for him especially when it came to something he wanted. He was not used to be turned down.

Frisk had to clear her thoughts before following him into her own bedroom. She knew by his tone of voice that he wanted something from her but she also could not pass up the opportunity for a massage. She needed one desperately. Just the other day a demon nearly attempted to slice her arm off. It failed but the thought was a none too pleasant one. She laid down on the bed and sighed in content. It just felt good to relax for a change, “Darling? That’s a new one…” He had given her a long list of pet names but dear was never one of them.

He raised a brow bone, “Ahh… I heard some gossip that human women loved that kinda stuff. When they get called dear. That wrong?” It hard to believe he was actually a true monster when he was always so suave and composed but times like this, well it just seemed cute how hard he was actually trying. He came to straddle her legs then, as those magical hands of his laid upon her, a soft red magic would give her a tingly sort of sensation as he began to rub her back.

Frisk only chuckled at the question, “Well I suppose so but it just sounds strange hearing you say it.” She completely melted against his hands like butter. Stars he could get her to do just about anything he asked. She closed her eyes relaxing. When she felt him getting a little handsy she just couldn’t contain the sass. “Shameless huh?”

Red chuckled as he continued, “Do ya really expect anythin less from me?” He chuckled, leaning over her to nip at her neck, trailing that faintly glowing tongue right over her soft flesh. Yep, 1000 percent shameless.

Frisk shook her head as much as she could in this position, “Pfft not really. Humm? Needy much?” She had that typical seductive yet snarky tone to her voice. It usually meant she was flustered to the point that she had to cope somehow. She couldn’t suppress the pleasurable shudder though. There goes her ability to think again.

He continued to massage her back, even as he licked and nibbled at her neck. He would lean over to whisper into her ear. “Don’t hear ya complainin~” His tone was seductive and yet loving. He would never do anything against her will, never. He knew that her job had been wrecking her with its long sporadic hours and overnights. It was a wonder she was able to have energy at all. He just enjoyed teasing her as much as he could.

Frisk took a deep breath. All she could do was facepalm in response cheeks burning, “Do you want me to?” She asked quizzically. Typical of Red. He was flowery in tone until he couldn’t control himself anymore. She was so worn out she feared with the relaxing massage she was being given that she just might fall asleep in the process, “Can we just stay like this?” She was being worked into the ground regardless if a job at the hospital was not the cause.

She just wanted a relaxing massage. She was getting waaaay more than she bargained for as always. I guess that’s what she gets for being out late so long and crashing nearly every night for 2 months straight. He was whispering sweet nothings into her ear nibbling at it again with those sharp teeth. She wanted to roll her eyes at the wording but they were still closed, “Stars that feels good.” She opened them turning her head to try and see him. She felt so much better after this even though she knew he wanted something more. She could only chuckle at his nibbling antics, “H….hey hey that tickles.”

He smiled down at her, “Well… You are certainly easy to please.” He replied with a soft chuckle, kissing her lips, “I need to get going my little kitten but know that you are the only woman that’ll ever look at.” He kissed her again softly as he felt that hunger begin to creep up on him once more. He needed to feed and he was not going to do it on her. He could kill her even if he was able to control himself.

Frisk gave him a deadpan glare accompanied by a defensive flush, “I…I am not!” The look disappeared immediately when he kissed her. He had to leave so soon? She could not exactly argue with him about it since she had to leave so often. She was about to object before she received another kiss, “I will never doubt you. I will be here when you return.”

He smiled softly running skeletal fingers through her hair, “I will see you soon sweetheart.” He grabbed his guitar from the stand in the corner of his own room and left for his so-called ‘Gig’.

Frisk just lay there for a moment before deciding to take a long shower. It was her day off but her job never really rested. As long as demons and other things preyed on humans her job would never be done. She always played so innocent and sweet but the truth was that she was much stronger than she appeared. She was half angel after all. A blessing to most but a curse to her. She let the hot water wash over her. This house was the only place she could be herself. Naturally, she would have to disguise herself when she did her work making it impossible for them to find her. She leaned her head against the tile wall before staring off into space in thought. She removed herself from the warm water and dried herself off. She put on some comfy clothing in order to relax and took a spot on the couch. She was so tired. It was unnatural. A tired that exceeded what it should have. She didn’t care she was able to spend the morning with the one she loved and that put a smile on her face as she closed her eyes to try and slip into dreamland.

The starving demon snapped his fingers changing into a form that would be unrecognizable to others of his kind as well as the angelic hunters that roamed the streets. No one would be able to recognize him as he lured unsuspecting humans and monsters alike to feed on their life energy draining the soul to the point of collapse. He finds another target grabbing a hold of the poor human and forcefully grabs their neck forcing it to the side.

———————————

Frisk had been asleep for a little while before a ring when off on her phone. The sound caused her to jolt awake and roll off the couch only to rub her side, “Owww.” She stared at the screen and began to chew her lower lip. The one day she might have gotten some rest. Of course, that was too good to be true as she stood up quickly. She nearly ran out the door before realizing she was without her illusion. She closed her eyes letting the magic work over her letting her human form change to what she actually should have looked like. No humans could see her as she ran her way through the streets searching. A few rooftops later and she gritted her teeth in frustration.

There was her nemesis to be sure the dark demonic vampire only known as Crimson, embracing a human as he fed on her neck. The human did not even resist. Frisk finally spotted who she was looking for or rather what she was looking for. She dropped down right in front of the two. Her now amber eyes were cold and her tone demanding, “Let the girl go!” She had been hunting the bastard for years and he always somehow managed to slip out of her grasp. It set her very much on edge. The council, or rather the group of angel blooded humans that she reported to, had alerted her that he was probably one of the most dangerous out of them all. As a younger girl, she had gone off on her own thinking she could take him on by herself with disastrous consequences. He nearly killed her save for the others that came to save her. Her hand was balled into a fist as she remembered his teeth in her nearly inches from death. All the warriors had a codename of sorts she happened to be integrity.

Red looked up as he heard her, letting the dead woman fall to the ground. His mouth stained with her blood. He chuckled when his red eyes fell on her, “Well if it isn’t the cute little rookie again! Out and about without your babysitters, I see. That’s sweet. Run along home little rookie, or do you actually have a deathwish?” He half spat yet he seemed so amused with her to Red she was nothing special as those hypnotic eyes stared right up at her.

Frisk would have bit through her jaw if she ground her teeth anymore but she had to speak. She had been too late. There was another person dead because of her. If she had been just a little bit sooner. It had always tortured her the nature of her job. She had to save others but it she failed, “I am not a rookie you bastard! That was a long time ago and I am never letting it happen again!” It was true it had been years since that time and she had pushed herself to be one of the best. He always mocked her and her anger only grew.

His laughter echoed off the alleyway as he jumped up, scaling the wall to stand on the roof opposite her, "Very well then little rookie. We’ll dance if you so wish to die, but don’t say I wasn’t sporting enough to give you an out.” He then jumped towards her, using his speed as an advantage like his brother had taught him oh so long ago. He had learned over the centuries that angels could be dangerous, even the foolish ones.

His laughter only seemed to enrage her even more. It was unbecoming of someone with her lineage but there was no helping such feelings. One day she was going to wipe that smirk off his smug fanged face. She immediately dodged his incoming jump by jumping to the side materializing a set of golden and white pistols, “Don’t underestimate me!”

He continued to taunt her as a sword formed of red magic. It was his standard fare, as his eyes blazed with red, “I am going to enjoy draining the life from your eyes!” He hissed as he lunged forward, wanting to knock her down, to pin her and to hurt her. All without knowing just who she was to him.

She only smirked as she dodged his attacks with a look of boredom on her face. "A sword… really? How predictable… it’s the modern age grandpa why don’t you upgrade a little bit and give me a challenge?” She pointed her right pistol at him and fired.

His laughter echoed behind her as she fired dodging the attack effortlessly smirk ever growing before he toyed with her, “Hmm not bad..” He teased her sides with his fingers. He said as he moved to grab her, to bring his sword to her neck, “That fire is rather lovely my sweet angel. Maybe I just might keep you~”

Frisk jumped in surprise. It wasn’t an attack but an extreme violation of her personal space that only made her even angrier. Now she just wanted to shoot him in the face. She elbowed him directly in the face her eyebrows furrowed and twitching, "I am spoken for thank you very much! You are not in the least bit enticing so hands… OFF!” She whipped around and pointed both of the pistols at his face firing consecutively.

One hit him right in the arm as he managed to dodge, which caused him to hiss, “Well I suppose I deserved that one..” He laughed it off, however, as he kept coming at her, aiming attacks that fired at her, with a summoned hand sending tendrils of light blue magic to try and wrap her tight,

“Besides.. you? Spoken for? Ha! Come now, everyone knows that you angel kin are just lovely little~” He was cut off before he could say the word.

Frisk cracked a small smile when she was able to hit him. Not in his face directly but she would take it. She never actually had seen the demon under the hood, no one had. She slid to the side only to realize he was trying to grab her. Just as the magic was about to close in on her she took to the sky. She rarely used her wings but they were useful in times like this, “Nice try… w…what?! Yes, I am spoken for! Why is that so hard to believe?“ She floated in mid-air ready to go on the defensive or offensive if the opportunity presented itself.

He flippantly replied, "Frankly yes. I do find it surprising. You are entirely plain only worth for a quick meal and a little fun.” HEe chased after her shooting attack after attack not letting the angelic hunter rest, “Besides…I didn’t gain the reputation of Angel killer, just by killing angels little rookie. Didn’t your superiors tell you about just how bad it is being a female angel around me?” He smirked, letting it sink in. He played with female angels in more ways than one and then killed them after.

Frisk’s eye twitched. Even if she could hold her own the mental battle was one she was not winning. Her evasion in the sky had increased but the onslaught was causing her strength to drain. She was tired earlier for some reason she was unable to place and this was not helping. He caught her off guard when she heard what he was saying. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach causing her to lose focus enough for one of the attacks to clip one of her pretty gold and white wings, slowly the wound began to dye the feathers a crimson. The pain was harsh but she grit her teeth and bore it. Her superiors had told her nothing. They said his name was due to his danger class, crimson being the highest of them all. They never mentioned- “My superiors told me… nothing.” Why would they not tell her this information?

He laughed as he shot out red strings of magic to bind her tight, “Well why would they tell a rookie who shouldn’t even be out on her own yet? Or maybe…” He chuckled as he reeled her in, “… they believed your plainness to be a deterrent since beauty is my forte.” They were harsh words, but Red fought dirty.

Frisk didn’t catch the attack as the magic wrapped around her trying to reel her in like a fish caught on a line. She struggled but like before her energy was being sapped. If he caught her then…She did not even want to imagine it, “Y…you don’t know what I look like!” Why was she getting so defensive? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought back to Red. If what Crimson was saying was true then would he get bored of her? WHY WAS SHE THINKING ABOUT THAT IN SUCH A CRITICAL SITUATION?! Nonetheless, a tightness began to form in her throat. She had slipped very crucial information, that this was not what she looked like. She continued to struggle as much as she could. She could not raise her arms but she could raise her wrists as she fired as many shots as she could with her arms bound at her sides, “l….like hell I care about your opinion! L….let me….let me go!”

He laughed evilly as he dragged her close to him using those strings, “Well my little angel. I’ll give you at least some bit of pleasure before I send you back to the heavenly hole you came from!” His eyes burned as he thought of ridding the world of yet another angel.

She audibly gulped. It was true she was young but she wasn’t a rookie. What was wrong with her!? Her disguise was starting to falter as the wings behind her seemed to crack and shatter. Why was her body not responding like it should! It was maddening. Why was nobody coming to her aid? What was going on?! She dropped the pistols to the ground unable to hold them any longer. The grip on her would have suffocated a normal human, “W….why…why can’t I ever.. beat you?” Her pride was wounded. No matter what she did just couldn’t do it.

He frowned as he brought her close to him, “Because I am more than you angels will ever understand.” What he would never say was how her scent drove him wild. He wanted her badly. As much as he wanted his own… wait a second… her wings.. they faltered! Red was not an idiot. He grabbed her hair roughly, holding her back to his chest as he bent to sink his teeth into her. He had to taste her. He wanted it more than he could ever understand. It was driving him mad.

Frisk gasped for a moment when he tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her back roughly. The wind was nearly knocked out of her. No one was coming to her aid. Had they intentionally sent her to her death? They hated that she was in a relationship with a monster no less. It was like an unspoken sin to them. Her decisions had made her an outcast within their ranks as powerful as she was. She could best any demon, any vampires, any creature that crossed her path but when it came to Crimson there was no doubt she had been unable to live up to her potential. Either he truly was that strong or something happened where she had become weak. It made no sense to her. All that she did now was fight the tears threatening her eyes at the thought of never returning home. He would never know. She had never told the truth. She should have but she was afraid. She was always so afraid. Her eyes screwed shut at the feeling of teeth at her neck. She expected it to be an excruciating pain but it was the opposite. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t whimper and give that devil the satisfaction. All she knew was that her angelic form was fading away little by little. It started with her clothing returning it to its original state. A black fluffy sweater, black pants, and brown boots. Her final attempt was to pull his arm away from her and rip herself out of his grip even if it would tear her neck open. She would die on her own terms.

He gripped her tightly forcing her neck to the side after he had taken a few deep sips from her only to shove her away and growl, “Damn it! Fuck no..” Red growled again as he moved back from her, looking at her now as if she had grown a second head. .That was when he fled.

He had her right where he wanted her WTF?! Frisk fell to the ground hitting it rather hard and whimpered. She was still bleeding and her illusion was completely gone now. Her face was turned down as she panted. What on earth? She looked up to see him running away? What the hell!? She managed to sit up and cover her hand over the wound. How was she going to explain this? The wound hurt and stung but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She stood shakily to her feet blue eyes scanning the area, “Don’t you run away from me you asshole!” She whimpered at the pain before sighing in exhaustion. Her hand slipped into her pocket to see the time and panicked if she was not home before Red!!? She made her way back as quickly as she could, bursting through the door to find her secret stash of healing items that would fix her wound. She was starting to feel light headed. It just kept bleeding and her face was starting to pale. “Come on …come on.”

What she heard then was the sounds of anguish from Red’s room. He was yelling at someone? “What’s more, it’s her! That fucking rookie, it just HAD to be her didn’t it?! and I damn near killed her! Son of a bitch. Why did I have to fall for a fucking angel of all creatures?!”

At least you know now Sans but we did tell ya this could happen. No one could find a damn thing on her background, not even your spy network could figure out anything. That shoulda been tip number one Crimson. It wasn’t a girl’s voice, but it wasn’t masculine either.

Frisk grabbed a hold of the bottle she was looking for and downed its contents as the wound disappeared completely. She lay on her back letting the bottle roll out of her grip until she heard someone. She lifted herself up and peeked her head around the corner only to hear it coming from Red’s room. She leaned her ear against the door and listened in only to feel her chest tighten. Everything fell away into a black abyss as she leaned against his door. Her blue eyes were wide and filled with a combination of horror and disbelief. The words went in one ear and out the other 'rookie’, 'angel’, the nickname Crimson’. She couldn’t breathe all she could do was stay there frozen until the door gave way and caused her to end up face first in his room.

He turned as a tall skeleton looked at her then at him with a look of disbelief. Well, that speaks to the healing power angels have. You really need to kill her Red.” Red looked at her, “I can’t Saros. I really can’t.” He used his red magic to bring her closer to him, “Suppose this is what they mean by sleepin with tha enemy. I Wonder what yer angels would think of you now. I have drunk of yer blood and even taken all that ya were. So now little angel…Frisk. What are we goin ta do? Know you ain’t stupid, ya have much too bright a mind for that.”

Frisk could feel her entire world spiraling downward. What would they think of her? Did they know? Is that why they continued to send her out after him hoping they would eventually kill each other? Frisk had a hard time looking at him for a moment. All she could do was look off to the side fighting back her urge to cry. Her voice wavered, “D…do you want to kill me? It would be easier for you right? Not having… to deal with me an…anymore?”

He shrugged, “If I’m honest, yeah. It would be easier but I meant what I say nearly every mornin kitten. You have managed to ensnare my heart when no others could. That would explain why it physically hurt me to drain you of ya soul’s life. So ya tell me, dear little angel. What does ya soul feel when I’m near? Before you knew I was Crimson? or when I was Red to ya.. What did your soul feel?”

Frisk heard the words 'honest, yeah’ and her heart nearly broke. She had closed her eyes in defeat in that split second before opening them again. She shouldn’t be afraid of the one she loved right? In essence, even though she did not know who he was he still loved her and she felt the same. The question caused her cheeks to flush a soft pink. She couldn’t look at him, not yet. She let a soft yet painful sigh escape her, “Like I would die if I could never see you again. In fact, I think it begins to. Every time you leave I become physically weaker it would explain why I can’t fight you at my top ability. Something inside me prevented me from doing so. N…Now I know why. I think about you all the time when I am out there. I thought about you at the time even though I didn’t know… How I wouldn’t be able to come home and…” Her voice choked up.

Red let her go then, letting her sit on the bed, “It did always make me curious.. hmm..” He attempted to bring her soul out for him to look at, “I wondered why ma soul had started ta crack recently. I assumed it had been from lack of sustenance.” A muted white soul combined in a glow with her bright blue when he drew it forth. It was Red’s own soul with a muted white base, tinted with blue and red, “Shortly after we met tha first time, these bright blue swirls started appearin in my soul. Care ta take a guess where they came from?”

Frisk fell gently to sit on the bed. It was a weird feeling to have your soul extracted from your chest. It was a bright blue just like her eyes and glowed turning everything around them blue. She had never felt something so strange. So this was her? The very culmination of her being? She stared at the souls in front of her unable to fully comprehend what she was looking at. The very sight of a soul was foreign to her as her cheeks flushed. “M….me?”

He nodded gently, “There’s tha mind I enjoy so much. Yeah, these blue lines are in fact, from you.” His tone was soft and informative just looking at her not caring the information from before, “It’s not cracking it, but rather healing tha cracks and my soul pulses as it wants to join with yours.”

Frisk’s cheeks darkened exponentially at what he was saying. Her hands came to rest in her lap. She was healing the cracks in his soul? How could that be? “W..what are you saying?”

He sighed softly only giving her a lopsided toothy grin, “Our souls want ta bond Frisk, pay attention. Did ya not read the books I gave ya? I’ve been hintin for a week now.”

Frisk just blinked before scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “I…I’ve been so busy I have not had the chance to. I…I’m sorry though technically you have been keeping me busy so…” She closed her eyes with a nervous laugh before returning to normal, “W…why me? If… if you know the truth then why would you still want to be with me?”

He had never felt this way about anyone in his entire existence. She was healing the cracks that made him what he was and that was unheard of. He couldn’t stop thinking about her or wanting to be around her. Even his more physical desires were calmed by her. She made him better than what he ever thought he could be, “Tha soul wants what it wants Frisk every monster is bound to it If my soul wants ya, I can’t fight that without havin a metaphorical hole within it for all time.”

Frisk’s heart skipped a small beat at the implication of it. In front of her the heart that made her who she was quivering by the strongly held emotion. She had her hand held against her chest. Her heart was beating a little too quickly for her liking. She lowered her head slightly, “You asked me once before how I would feel…w…without you. I don’t think I could bear it. It would tear me apart. E…Even knowing… what I know… I…” She tried to get the words out.

Red looked at her, “Same here sweetheart. My soul doesn’t want ta live apart from ya.” He put a finger to her lips, “But herein lies tha problem my angel. What we are will try ta tear us apart. My end will urge me to just chain you up like a toy…absolutely barbaric honestly and I doubt yer kind will be as forgivin knowin that I’ve been a demon this entire time.”

Frisk took a slow and steady breath as if the air in her lungs burned with every breath. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her. The soul was something even she couldn’t resist. She would rather rip it out of her chest then be apart from him. Normally she would have made a snarky remark about how she was into it or it was a kinky notion in general but the light-hearted words were stuck in her throat. She finally looked up at him cobalt eyes filling with unshed tears. She was on the brink and all she could see was her lack of options. When he mentioned her kind she scoffed, “Angel…don’t call me that I know you mean it endearingly but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. My kind…my kind has no love for me. They sent me to you time after time with limited information so you would do their dirty work. I…don’t care about them or what they think.” Her voice wavered for a moment, “The only person that’s ever loved me….is you.”

Red smirked, “Well ya ARE mine and ya are an angel” He chuckled and pulled her onto his lap, “One solution ta this little problem is ta just stop fighting and remain with me.”

Frisk was ready to protest to anything he had to say next thinking it would be something along the lines of star-crossed lovers never meant to be yadda yadda. Just as she parted her lips, “I can’t live witho- wait what?” She felt that heat rising in her cheeks as he pulled her onto his lap. Stars he had her wrapped around his little finger. That’s right she was his and she wouldn’t have it any other way now that the drama had ceased she could be a little snarky again, "Goodness me of all people? I distinctly remember someone saying I was only good for ah…how did you so eloquently put it? Oh right… a little fun and a quick meal?” She had a small smirk playing on her lips now she could use all those things over the years as payback. They didn’t hold any value anymore to her only ammo.

He chuckled, trailing that tongue over her neck and back into his mouth. “Ta be fair kitten. Ya didn’t even know who I was until this moment, and I didn’t know who ya were till I nearly killed ya.” He touched the side of her neck where he had almost drained the life from her soul, frowning, “I feed on others so I’m not tempted ta feed on you.”

Her body shivered at the feel of his tongue on her neck. Damn, why did her body always betray her? The smirk she had curled on her pale pink lips faded at the look on his face, "Sure you could say that but… Well, I think my soul knew deep down. It wouldn’t let me fight you which is why you always bested me. H…hey I’m still here and you didn’t know. I…I was going to tell you the truth before you left this morning but I was afraid you would think I was crazy. Talk about taking your work home with you.” Instead of a lewd remark or a snappy comeback, all she did was smile gently, “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” The comment hit her hard as a look of surprise passed over her face followed by concern, “d..do you want me that much? I…I don’t want to hurt you like that.” She was the reason others had died? No, she couldn’t think like that.

His eye sockets furrowed giving him a look of concern, “Of course I do. Why else would I have stayed with ya? Ya know my MO Frisk. I find a victim, sometimes play with em, then kill em and move on. Never once had ma soul reacted like it does for you… Never once.” His voice was soft as he kissed her deeply before he whispered against her lips., “You are the only one that makes it sing.”

She just smiled gently relaxing against him. She knew this was not going to be easy. His side would come after her and her side would come after them both. That did not stop them from being together. A painful revelation that somehow changed into the happiest moment of her life. She did not care about Crimson the demon but rather Red and skeleton. He felt the same way about her. Even if they are truly the epitome of star-crossed lovers.

~~~THE END~~~

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years ago

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “Fighting Words” (Rated PG13)

Sebastian and Blaine get stuck in line while trying to get to the ice where Kurt's warming up for his next competition. They're standing behind three girls making obscene remarks about Kurt. When Sebastian tries to defend him, they not only don't recognize Sebastian, but they don't believe that Sebastian is his boyfriend.

And Sebastian doesn't take that well. (2007 words)

I think I may have written something similar to this before in another verse, but I don't care. This turned out too good. :) I'm really enjoying writing this reluctant friendship between Sebastian and Blaine xD Thank you for sticking with this series, and please leave comments if you're enjoying it. <3

Part 11 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“I can’t believe we still aren’t inside yet!” Sebastian taps his foot and checks his watch. “We’ve been waiting on this line for four hours!”

“With everything going on in the world these days, security’s tight,” Blaine says. “They’re not taking any chances. They just want to make sure everyone stays safe.”

“But we’ve got V.I.P. passes!” Sebastian gripes, flashing his pass in Blaine’s face as if he doesn’t have the exact same pass hanging from a lanyard around his own neck with his picture on it. “What is the purpose of having these damn passes, going through the nine other security checkpoints, getting patted down by Man Hands Dolores downstairs, and having our credit checked if we still have to stand in line like everybody else!?”

“They said there was a glitch in the system. I’m sure they’ll have it straightened out in no time.”

Sebastian sighs dramatically and hangs his head. “Look, Blaine, if this friendship thing between you and me is ever going to work out, you’ve gotta stop being so damned accommodating. We are being inconvenienced here! At least have the decency to act upset!”

Sebastian lifts his head. Blaine looks Sebastian square in the eye.

“Those bastards,” Blaine says flatly.

Sebastian gives Blaine an approving pat on the shoulder. “There you go, my dude.”

“It probably would have helped if they hadn’t put coach on your uncle’s pass instead of yours.”

“Yeah, well, these people are ageist. No amount of gold medals is going to change that.”

“Oh my God! Let us in already!” a blonde girl in front of them whines over the heads of her two bored-looking friends. “I need to watch the pre-competition warm-up! It’s what we came here six hours early for!!”

“You see!” Sebastian points to the girl ahead of them, slamming her head against her friend’s shoulder and making loud weeping noises. “Now that’s how you act when you’re being inconvenienced.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“They’re streaming it on ESPN right now!” The friend that blonde girl isn’t assaulting shows her her phone.

Sebastian takes out his iPhone and loads up ESPN in the hopes that he can catch a glimpse of Kurt. Since they’ve been together, Sebastian hasn’t missed a warm-up yet. He’s pissed off that he’s missing this one.

“Oh look! It’s Nathan Chen! He’s here!” the sore shouldered friend exclaims.

“And Brendan Kerry! Oh my God! Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Sebastian bobs his head as he watches the feed, craning his head as the camera pans as if he’s going to be able to see past it and around the rink.

“Stand aside, ladies and gentlemen,” blonde girl says, beaming at her phone, “because there’s my new boyfriend - Kurt Hummel.”

Sebastian and Blaine snap their heads up and look at one another. Not seeing what this chick is obviously seeing, Sebastian peeks over her shoulder to take a look at her screen. She’s streaming feed from ESPN 2. He quickly switches over.

“God, he’s handsome,” blonde girl’s friend agrees as Sebastian watches his boyfriend stretch against the boards, leg up, hands caressing his skate as if folding himself in half is no big deal. “I mean, look at those legs. And those hips. Those are some thrusting hips right there.”

“And those pants … mmm,” blonde girl hums. “I wonder what it takes to get into those, if you know what I mean.”

“A dick,” Sebastian says, disgusted by the running commentary about his boyfriend’s body. Yes, his boyfriend is an attractive man. Sebastian gets it. That doesn’t mean he necessarily wants to hear about the lewd fantasies of strangers regarding it, especially when said strangers are probably a good three to five years older than him.

“Specifically, his dick,” Blaine adds, bumping Sebastian’s shoulder.

“What?” Blonde girl scrunches her nose. Then she laughs. “No way! You’re trippin’!”

“Way,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah, right. I don’t believe you.”

Sebastian’s brow wrinkles, confused. “I don’t want to pull a don’t you know who I am? but … don’t you know who I am?”

Blonde girl looks from one friend to the other, each shaking their heads. “Should I?”

“Well, believe it or not, I’m Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend … and his coach.” All three girls stare at him for a moment, blank as a sheet of paper, then they laugh as if that comment is the punchline to the joke of the century.

“Stop frontin’, alright?” blonde girl says through harder than normal snorts of laughter. “It’s pathetic and sad.”

Sebastian’s face goes red. “You can actually Google it, you know!”

“If you’re his boyfriend, why aren’t you down on the ice instead of up here, waiting on this line?”

“There was a glitch,” Blaine says helpfully.

“Look, I’ll bet you $50 that I can prove it to you in about fifteen seconds,” Sebastian says, frustrated by this situation he’s never been in before - not in a skating venue anyway. With success comes fame, and Sebastian doesn’t begrudge his boyfriend any of his success, but Sebastian’s no slouch. He won two gold medals here. His photo’s in the lobby. He’s been on TV! With Kurt! How can these sheeple not know who he is?

“You’re on,” blonde girls says with the confidence of a person who thinks there’s no way they can lose.

Sebastian goes to the photo gallery of his iPhone and brings up the last twelve pictures of him and Kurt together - some from the Spring Hop, a few candids from skate school that the Ice-plex put up on their website, and one of Kurt standing beside Sebastian, dressed in his hockey uniform, after Sebastian and his team won their last big game against Northwest High. He holds the phone up to her face and scrolls through the images, but she seems unimpressed.

“No way those are real.”

“What do you mean no way those are real!? I was there when they were taken! I know that they’re real!”

“I took some of them,” Blaine says, raising his hand to be acknowledged. “So I can vouch for them.”

“Gentlemen,” blonde girl says condescendingly, “I’m no naïve sap. I’m what you might call a professional fangirl. And I know a manip when I see one.” She leans in closer to Sebastian’s phone to look at one particular photo of Kurt and Sebastian on the ice, performing a pair sit spin. “This one isn’t even a good manip. You can see the cut and paste right there.” Her comment brings her two friends closer. “Do you see where it gets fuzzy in between? Right there?”

“Oh yeah,” one friend says even though she doesn’t really sound too convinced. But that’s what best friends do – defend you even if you might be wrong.

“Yup. The colors on the costume don’t even match,” the other friend chimes in more certainly. “The red on the sleeve is much lighter than the red on the rest of the shirt.” She tsks. “Definitely Photoshop. Learn to use filters, dude.”

“I don’t believe this!” Sebastian closes out the gallery and pockets his phone so that the heathens can’t insult his pictures any more than they already have. He turns to Blaine with arms thrown in the air. “When did we cross the border into crazy land!?”

“Well, it’s been over a minute and you haven’t proven anything, so pay up,” blonde girl says, arms crossed over her chest.

“Make me,” Sebastian counters, taking a challenging step forward.

“Hey, Sheila,” blonde girl’s friend says. “Your man just left the ice.”

“No!” Blonde girl looks back at her phone. “Dammit! I spent so much time arguing with this loser, I missed his whole warm-up!” She glances at Sebastian and seethes. “Where do you think he …?”

“Sebastian! Blaine!”

The five of them turn as Kurt’s voice rings down the walkway. Sebastian smiles at the sight of his boyfriend, blockers on his blades, jogging down the carpeted hall to meet him and Blaine.

“Ugh! I knew something went south when they split us up downstairs. Your uncle and I have been looking for you guys everywhere!”

“Kurt, we’ve talked about you running in your blockers,” Sebastian scolds, the coach part of his brain kicking into gear at Kurt violating a small but important rule. “I don’t want you twisting an ankle before your performance.”

“Sorry, coach.” Kurt giggles, sneaking underneath the retractable barrier and throwing himself into his boyfriend’s arms. “You gonna spank me for it later?” he whispers, so low in Sebastian’s ear that, even in the now pin-drop silence, no one, not even the girls creeping closer, can hear.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” Sebastian teases, his hand ghosting Kurt’s ass before settling on the small of his back. “But that means finishing your warm-up and landing that jump. So let’s get down to the ice.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt says with a playful growl. “Oh, you’ll need this.” He switches out Sebastian’s incorrect lanyard with a new one, the same badge and picture but with the addition of the word coach imprinted in holographic lettering on the front. “And I got a new one for Blaine, too.” Kurt turns in Sebastian’s arms, grabbing his boyfriend’s hands and reseating them on his hips when they fall away. He replaces Blaine’s lanyard with one that has the word assistant written across it in the same holographic lettering. “We’ll have to get these old ones shredded downstairs.”

Blaine looks at his new badge and smiles. “Thanks! But how did you get them to make these up so quickly?”

“Quickly!? It’s been over four hours!” Sebastian scoffs, still not copacetic with how forgiving Blaine is. But that’s one of the reasons why Blaine and Kurt get along so well.

They both have the same temperament.

They’re both so damned forgiving.

“Thank Sebastian’s uncle when you see him,” Kurt says, cuddling close to his boyfriend’s chest. “He ripped admin a new one for misplacing you guys and not doing a simple Google search when you checked in.”

Sebastian flashes blonde girl a triumphant smile. She huffs and rolls her eyes away.

“But assistant what?” Blaine asks.

“I don’t know. Assistant to me and Sebastian, I guess. But it means you can flash this badge and go everywhere we get to go, even if we’re not with you.”

“Sweet.”

“Totally,” Sebastian agrees. “So does that mean I get to send him running around for water and pens and small pastries?”

“Sure,” Blaine says. “If you start paying me.”

“It’s an internship,” Sebastian says. “You’ll get paid in experience.”

Blaine laughs, but Kurt slaps Sebastian on the shoulder. Or he tries to. Sebastian catches his hand by the wrist. Kurt looks at him, surprised. Sebastian smiles, biting his lower lip. Then, as if in silent agreement, they kiss. It’s short and sweet, but long enough to earn them a few aww’s and a couple of photo snaps.

“I missed you,” Sebastian whispers.

“I missed you, too. Let’s get out of here. I still have a warm-up to finish.” Kurt bounces his eyebrows.

“Absolutely.”

Kurt starts to walk away, but Sebastian keeps him tethered by his hips. He turns to the three girls glowering behind him and puts out a hand. He makes a give me motion with his fingers and blonde girl groans.

“All right!” she concedes, begrudgingly handing over two twenties and a ten.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says, shoving the bills in his pocket. He takes Kurt’s hand, kisses it, then leads him underneath the barrier and down the hallway to the elevator.

Kurt looks from a smug Sebastian to an amused Blaine. “What was that all about?”

“He made a bet and he won,” Blaine says simply, not eager to rat out his new friend.

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“Have you ever tried to stop your boyfriend doing anything? Plus, I’ve seen your man play hockey. I’d like to keep my limbs, thank you.”

Kurt makes an agreeing face, wrapping his arms around one of Sebastian’s as they stroll towards the elevator. “Fair enough.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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